The Deal (Arranged Book 1)

by Stella Gray

  Untying my apron, I dashed upstairs to change. I hadn’t wanted to risk setting a sleeve on fire or splashing oil or clam juice on my silk dress, but I realized when I got to the closet that I was still covered in a fine sheen of sweat. This would not do. I jumped in the shower to soap up and rinse off, then dried quickly and slipped the dress on.

  But looking in the mirror, I saw that my mascara had run, my face was shiny, and my hair was a limp wreck. I touched up my makeup and tousled my hair under the hairdryer, then put on the teardrop diamond necklace from Stefan. Heels seemed like overkill for a dinner at home, but I still tried on a few pairs before finally settling on bare feet. I didn’t want to scuff the floors.

  Stefan was going to be so floored when he saw what I’d done for him—when he tasted what I’d done for him. He’d walk in, tired out from his long day at work, and come to find me in the kitchen in my sexy little dress, just about to put the finishing touches on the plates with sprigs of parsley and lemon wedges. One thing was certain: Gretna deserved a fat bonus for all her help and guidance. I couldn’t believe I’d actually pulled this off.

  I had just given myself a last look in the mirror when I heard a shrill beeping sound. That’s when the smell hit me. Something was burning. Fuck.

  I rushed to the kitchen amid the screeching of the smoke alarm and found smoke pouring from the oven. The asparagus! It had only needed three minutes to broil, and I’d left it for—at least twenty minutes, maybe thirty. I turned off the oven and flung the windows open to let the smoke out, breathing hard as the cold November air poured in all around me.

  “What is this?” Stefan asked.

  I whirled around. I hadn’t even heard him walk through the door.

  “Um,” I stammered. “Hi. I made you dinner.”

  “Is that what this is?” He looked around at the mess, the haze of smoke, the pans on the stove. The alarm continued to beep. Stefan got a chair and climbed on it to disable the alarm. The beeping finally stopped.

  The whole kitchen smelled like burnt asparagus. I knew when I opened the oven door, they’d look like sticks of charcoal. But at least the risotto was okay.

  I rushed over to the pot and pulled the lid off, waving my hand over it with a flourish.

  “It’s seafood risotto,” I told him proudly. “We can just skip the veggies tonight.”

  I dipped the serving spoon into the pot to show off, but it stuck fast into what had turned into a gluey brick of rice and bivalves. My heart sank as I realized I’d left the burner on the simmer setting for the last half hour. It was ruined. “Oh no.”

  I nearly deflated right there. In my efforts to do something nice, I had basically destroyed our entire kitchen and almost set the place on fire. Stefan was probably furious right now.

  Why had I tried to make a big, fancy dinner when I could barely make myself toast?

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I wanted to do something nice for you—I’ll clean all of this up.”

  My eyes stung with tears. I was upset that I’d ruined dinner, but more than that I was humiliated that he’d come home to find me like this. I was a total failure.

  I looked up and saw the slightest hint of a curve at the corner of his mouth. Elmosolyodik. “Are you laughing at me?” I croaked.

  “Shh,” he said, reaching out toward me. “Come here.” He pulled me against his chest.

  “This is so embarrassing,” I moaned, covering my face with my hands.

  “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. You know what you’ve made, Tori? The world’s most perfect appetizer.” He led me over to the scallops sitting on the stove, speared one out of the pan, and popped it into his mouth. As he chewed, I could see the gratification in his eyes. “This is flawless,” he said after swallowing. “You’re a pro.”

  He turned me to face him and traced the curve of my cheek with his palm.

  “You look nice,” he said. There was heat in his eyes, and that smile still teased his lips.

  “Thank you,” I murmured.

  “I’m going to make a call right now and have someone come in to straighten up in here,” he said, gesturing at the destroyed kitchen. “You, get your coat. I’m taking you out.”

  I bundled up and we got in the Town Car. I still felt bad that I’d botched what was supposed to be a romantic gift to Stefan, but at least he seemed charmed by my complete and utter lack of culinary skills. When I heard Stefan tell the driver where to go, I was pretty sure that I had heard him wrong.

  I turned to him. “That restaurant has a waiting list six months long. We’ll never get in.”

  He shrugged. “I know the Executive Chef.”

  I sat back, still worried. There was no way we’d get in on a Friday night during the dinner rush. I could only hope that Stefan had a back-up plan when we got turned away.

  But when we arrived at the restaurant, there was a hostess waiting out at the curb for us. We were escorted inside and shown immediately to a table.

  “Did you think we wouldn’t get in, kitty cat?” Stefan teased as we sat down.

  I could only nod, trying to take everything in. The restaurant itself was fairly unassuming for a place that people were clamoring to eat at. It had a quiet, rustic vibe, with live edge wood tables and industrial fixtures. There was no menu, either—everything was prix fixe, like our meal at Atera in New York had been. Based on that experience, I couldn’t wait to see what kind of courses would be brought out for us.

  While we waited, the waiter brought us a bottle of champagne.

  “Are we celebrating something?” I asked Stefan.

  “Just a night out,” he said. “You can have a small glass.”

  I nodded, sipping at the drink and trying not to feel too dejected about the dinner I’d ruined. As excited as I was to be here, we’d only gone out because I’d made something inedible.

  “What is it?” he asked, noticing my silence.

  “I wanted dinner to be a gift to you,” I confessed to him. “I wanted to impress you. And now you’re taking me out.”

  Stefan’s glass of champagne stilled just before it reached his mouth. He paused, took a sip and then lowered it.

  “You do impress me,” he said. “And you don’t have to be the perfect housewife to do it. My mother couldn’t cook either. She loved food, she appreciated food—but there were other things that mattered more to her than spending hours in the kitchen each day. Sounds like someone else I know.” He grinned. “Don’t knock yourself if your talents lie elsewhere. And I’m not just talking about your schoolwork.”

  I felt my cheeks heat, my heart leaping in my chest. When I looked back up at him, his gaze was intense, as always, but there was something else there too. Something softer.

  He had just finished telling me a story about the time his mother set their kitchen on fire with a pan of frying bacon when the waiter brought out our first course. We were still laughing together as the plates were set before us.

  I couldn’t believe this was my life. That I was married to this man.

  Stefan raised his glass in my direction.

  “Enjoy,” he said.

  I fully intended to.

  Tori

  Chapter 28

  Dinner was absolutely incredible. The food, the champagne, the company; everything had been just perfect. I was a little buzzed by the time we got into the Town Car heading home, but it was a good, nice buzz. I wasn’t drunk, I was just happy. Comfortable. In love.

  I looked over at Stefan and found that he was gazing at me. His expression was half in shadow, but I had a feeling that even if I’d been able to see his face completely, I still wouldn’t have known exactly what he was thinking or feeling. He was still so often a mystery to me. One that I desperately wanted to uncover.

  “Thank you for dinner,” I said. “For everything.”

  He nodded. “It’s my pleasure. All of it.”

  And then he took my hand.

  We arrived back at the condo and headed upstairs. While we were
out, the kitchen had been returned to its usual pristine state, almost like magic. I couldn’t even smell the slightest hint of smoke, and the counters were sparkling, the dishes cleaned and put away.

  I felt Stefan’s hands on my shoulders and was surprised to find him helping me take my coat off. He removed it and carefully hung it over a chair, beside his own. Turning toward him, I waited for him to sweep me into his arms, to devour my mouth hungrily, the way he always did.

  Instead, he picked me up and carried me to the bedroom.

  As I nuzzled against his neck, I realized how drastically things had changed between us. It wasn’t just my imagination, or something I had been hoping for. Things were different. The way he touched me was different, and now as he bent to kiss me, his mouth pressing firmly but gently against mine, it became clear that this was different too.

  He took his time kissing me, as if he was savoring a meal. As if we were still at dinner, and I was the chocolate soufflé at the end of the evening—he was licking and tasting and enjoying me. I nearly melted into his arms.

  In the bedroom, Stefan laid me down on top of the blankets. He climbed over me, pressing his weight against my body as he continued to kiss me, slowly and languidly. His fingers were in my hair, tightening just a little bit as his tongue stroked against mine, hot and hungry. I could tell he wanted to go faster and harder, but something was holding him back. Something inside of him was demanding he go slow. That he take his time.

  He wanted to enjoy me. To ravish me. And I wanted to be ravished.

  “Turn over,” he ordered.

  My entire body heated at his words. The last time he’d taken me from behind, I’d had a red mark on my ass the following day from all the spankings I’d gotten—a mark I kept surreptitiously touching as I remembered how hot it had been.

  But instead of pulling me up onto my hands and knees like before, I felt his hands at the back of my neck, where the zipper for my dress was. I felt him slowly, slowly, slowly slide the zipper down until the cool air in the room brushed my bare skin. I wasn’t wearing a bra, and I felt Stefan’s hand on my back, tracing a line along my spine all the way down to my lower back.

  I waited for the slap. Waited for him to pull me into the position he wanted me in. Waited for him to grab me roughly and fuck me hard the way he always had.

  Instead, he kept his motions agonizingly slow. I was nearly dying with anticipation as he slipped the dress off my shoulders, exposing more of my bare back.

  “Sit up,” he ordered. “Face me.”

  I followed his orders. He pulled me to my feet and then slid the dress off my shoulders, letting it drop to the ground and pool at my feet. I stood in front of him, in nothing but my lacy panties and a pair of Jimmy Choo heels.

  He removed my underwear next, hooking his fingers into the waist band and tugging them down until they dropped onto the pile of fabric on the floor. He gestured for me to step out of the dress and the panties, and when I did, he kicked them away.

  Then Stefan swept my hair aside, exposing my neck and my bare breasts. He placed a palm on my chest and with a gentle push, forced me to sit down on the bed.

  Then, to my shock—and extreme arousal—he knelt in front of me.

  His hands were on my knees, and he pushed them apart, spreading my pussy wide open, exposing me completely. I could feel the air against my wetness, every nerve ending charged. He looked at me and his lips quirked. It was a devilish smile, wicked and self-assured.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, my heart racing.

  “Lay back. You’re going to like this,” he said. “Trust me.”

  I settled back and waited, my breaths already turning shallow and fast with heady anticipation. He was still fully dressed, kneeling between my legs. I didn’t know what to expect, but I was ready for him to tug his clothes off and take me like this, my body ready for him.

  But he didn’t.

  Instead, he bit the inside of my knee. I gasped at the sensation, almost pain, almost a tickle. My skin broke out into goosebumps, and I shivered. Then he pulled away, his breath warming the soft skin of my inner thigh. Unable to help myself, I let out a helpless little moan. Then he bit the sensitive skin there, applying gentle pressure with his teeth, and my moan pitched higher. He licked me at a leisurely pace, gradually dragging his tongue higher. I was panting for air. Finally, I felt his tongue trace a line up my wet seam, stopping to rest on my swollen clit.

  I cried out, the intensity too much to bear.

  All I could feel was burning need, a deep ache, my desperation for him. No one had ever put their mouth on me before, lapped at me like that before. Not even close. And now, he was spreading my thighs even further apart, making room for himself as his tongue drew maddeningly slow circles around my clit. The sensation was overwhelming, and I arched my hips toward his mouth, not knowing exactly what I was asking for, only knowing I wanted more.

  He gave me more.

  Stefan pinned my knees to the bed, my thighs burning as he stretched them wide apart to dip his head and thrust his tongue inside me. I groaned, pleasure spreading through my body like wildfire. I bucked under his strong hands and wet mouth, his tongue fucking me hard and fast.

  He licked me up and down, breaking to tease my clit with his tongue before thrusting inside of me again. He would bring me right to the edge and then back away just as I was getting close. It was the most delicious form of torture I’d ever experienced, and my head thrashed from side to side as I cursed and moaned, begging him to bring me release.

  I felt him smile against me, and I knew he was enjoying tormenting me. My hands fisted in the blankets and I thought I might go insane from what he was doing to me. Nothing we’d done before felt as intimate as this, and I lost myself in it completely.

  Just as I started to feel tears of frustration gathering in the corners of my eyes, Stefan’s hand moved from my knee, all the way up my leg. He slid a finger inside of me, and then another one, his hand fucking me while his tongue lapped at my clit.

  It put me over the edge.

  I came hard, my voice jagged with moans, hips jerking as my pussy contracted around Stefan’s fingers. I was pretty sure I screamed his name out loud.

  I’d never felt anything like it before. My entire body was limp, and I lay on the bed, feeling completely worn out. Completely satiated.

  But we had just begun.

  Stefan rose from the floor, pulling his clothes off with impatient jerks. Once he was naked, he crawled up on the bed, making room for himself between my legs. He was gorgeous and ready to fuck and I couldn’t stop staring at him. Because he was mine. He was all mine.

  Holding his perfect cock in his hand, he rubbed the head against my already sensitized pussy. I jerked at the sensation and he smiled. He knew exactly what he was doing to me. He rubbed against me again, and this time I let out a little moan. God, it was good.

  “Are you ready, kitty cat?” he said, positioning himself against my soaking wetness.

  I was so turned on, I could only nod, my bottom lip caught between my teeth. Gripping my hips, Stefan thrust deep inside of me. Both of us let out a moan of pleasure as his cock went deeper than it had ever gone before. I could feel his entire length filling me up.

  He stayed there for a moment, not moving, his body throbbing inside of me, his arm muscles taut and straining as he held himself above me. Our eyes locked. It was intense and intimate and perfect. It almost felt like we were having sex for the first time. Like we were making love for the first time. My heart seemed to swell in my chest.

  Then he began to move and all I could focus on was the pleasure he was giving me. Each thrust was long and deep and languid. He took his time, savoring me the way I was savoring him. There was no rush, only the electric connection between our bodies, and I lost myself in the feel of his cock. He paused to kiss me, slow and deep, and then resumed his agonizing pace. I wrapped my legs around his waist, drawing him even deeper inside me.

  Already, I could feel an
other orgasm building, shocks of heat twisting and tightening with each of Stefan’s powerful strokes. This time, though, I wanted him to come with me. I wanted to watch him lose control. Wanted to watch Stefan lose himself in me.

  I slid my hands up his back and down again, pulling him even deeper. Lifting my hips, I locked my ankles behind his back.

  “Come with me,” I begged. “I want you to come inside me.”

  I was grinding in rhythm with him, urging him to move faster, harder. He heeded my silent urgings, thrusting so roughly that my head started knocking against the headboard. I pressed my hands back against it, using it as leverage, meeting each of his thrusts with my own.

  I felt it when he began to break, his thrusts turning less smooth, more frantic. Looking up, I watched the muscle in his jaw tense as he clenched his teeth, searching for control. I didn’t want him to find it.

  But he was more experienced than I was. And he had a hold on his control that I couldn’t even compare with.

  Sliding his hand between us, he pinched my clit and gave it an agonizing squeeze.

  “Oh my—fuck,” I panted. “Stefan.”

  He squeezed again, and I heard myself moaning helplessly, my pitch desperate. The spot where he was touching me was white hot, the alternating pressure and release shooting through my whole body like lightning. I was losing my mind.

  “You’re mine,” he told me, and I felt myself start to slip over the edge. “Your body is mine and your orgasm is mine. Now give it to me. Give me everything.”

  I exploded beneath him, crying out and shaking as my body clenched around his. I gave him everything. Even my heart.

  Somewhere in the middle of my own orgasm, I felt Stefan’s control finally break as he slammed his hips against mine, riding out his pleasure as he jerked deep inside of me.

  As we fought to catch our breath, he rolled onto his back, chest heaving, running a hand through his hair.