Master Chef

by Danielle Berggren

  I motioned toward the sleeping man with raised eyebrows, pantomiming stealing his wallet, and Veronica shook her head, smiling. “Yeah, I know, you celebrated your engagement here. I’m happy for you two. Congratulations, Mrs. Sanger.” She made a choking noise, “No, I will not take him to your place, are you kidding? Look, I’m out of here in ten minutes. If you or someone you know hasn’t picked him up by then, I’m just going to leave him for the wolves.”

  She listened some more and nodded, “Okay, then.” She hung up. “Jesus, I swear that woman has nothing but air between her ears.”

  “Not the sharpest knife in the kitchen?”

  “Not by a long shot.” She sighed, “Let me see your hands.”

  I shook my head, “I’m fine.”

  She grabbed my arm and pulled my hands toward her, holding them with her fingers. I could have pulled away, but what would be the point? I could overpower her, and we both knew it, but this wasn’t the time.

  She sucked in a breath through her teeth, “You might want to get these X-rayed, you may have broken a knuckle.”

  I flexed my fingers in hers, “I don’t think so. I’ve broken them before, I know the feeling.”

  “Well, when we get home you should put ice on them.”

  Home. I loved that she called it that, despite her short stay. “Whatever you say, dear.”

  She glared at me but smiled. “Did Esteban leave? I didn’t see him.”

  I looked around, but the man’s car was gone, “Yes, it looks like.”

  “Good.” She stepped forward and stood on tip-toes, catching my lips with hers. I growled and pulled her to me, cupping her ass. She wriggled against me, breath warm against my face, her hair falling forward to brush against my neck. It was she who demanded entry, finding my tongue with hers, moaning into the kiss, her grip tight around my neck. Christ, yes, I thought, my cock growing hard, this is why you’re mine.

  She broke away from me with a gasp, her eyes shining with unshed tears. She buried her face in my neck, “Thank you,” she said. “I don’t know what would have happened if you and Esteban weren’t here. Especially you.”

  I crushed her against me, breathing in the heady sweet smell of her golden hair. I closed my eyes and ran a hand up to the base of her neck, curling those soft tendrils around my fingers. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

  She laughed, “Except you. You can hurt me.”

  “We both know you like it.”

  She laughed harder, “Yeah, I do.”

  We disentangled ourselves and stared down at the sleeping form of Jason in silence for a time. “Well,” I said. “I can’t help but wonder what he’s going to think about all this in the morning. What did he want?”

  “I don’t know. He started ranting about what we had done. He took some—he took video once. I had a copy, and he’s afraid that I’ll shop it to the press. I told him I don’t even have it anymore. It’s gone. Deleted. I never even wanted it to begin with.” She wrinkled her nose.

  “For the record, I’m not interested in recording us.”

  She shot me a grateful look. “Jason didn’t believe me. He kept circling back around to it, asking where I backed up my copy.”

  I shook my head. “From what I’ve seen of the man, that’s not out of character.”

  “And he kept saying that he was worried about me and wanted to make sure that I was safe, but through it all he kept demanding to know who I had told about us. I just told him that it was none of his business who I talked to and I’m not the kiss-and-tell type.”

  “That’s good to know,” I said, reaching down to cup her ass. She had such a shapely one, even through the baggy work pants. “I take it you haven’t been shouting our extracurricular activities from the rooftop, then?”

  She slapped my hand away, “Of course not. Oh, but,” she paused, biting her bottom lip, and looked over her shoulder at me. “Fiona knows. She guessed, and I kind of fell into the trap.”

  I shrugged. “Fiona is good people. I’m sure that she’ll keep it professional.”

  Veronica rolled her eyes, “Just don’t be surprised if she calls you Chef Sexy-Pants.” She murmured.

  “What was that?”

  “Nothing, nothing.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Ethan

  Veronica and I found our rhythm over those first few weeks.

  I had thought that sleeping with her, having her at my mercy in the play room, would have dampened some of my ardor, but I was wrong. If anything, her presence became even more distracting.

  One afternoon, while we were waiting for the deliveries, I went so far as to trap her in the break room and show her just how much I wanted her. She had whispered that we would get caught, but we were the only two in the restaurant at the time. After I had pulled her pants down and lifted her up against the wall, she had few other arguments. She had blushed every time she went in there for the rest of the day.

  At my condo, Veronica was rebuilding her life. We settled on an amount of rent and, that little unpleasantness out of the way, she started making herself at home. New tools and utensils found their way into my kitchen, and she brought home a desk and shelving unit from IKEA to set up in her room. Her closet soon burst open with new purchases.

  In one of our aftercare moments, she had confessed that, yes, she did enjoy shopping. “I finally have the money to do what I want,” she had said. “I’ve spent so much of my life doing without, but now I have enough put by that this isn’t a struggle.” She paused, “Well, I’m going to have to track down a bunch of those family recipes and I don’t think there’s any replacing my vintage Beatles album, but nevertheless...”

  I helped out a little with the shopping as well. We spent an evening on one of my favorite websites, selecting costumes for the playroom and beyond. We also bought some toys to start our collection. Some of the items had caused her to flush red all the way down to her chest, but she was willing to try. She was always willing to try.

  It was a Monday, our first day off in a week when Veronica received a call from the police officers informing her on the status of our case. Since it was not my condo that had been burned down, she was asked to relay any pertinent information to me. They had established that the arson was, indeed, responsible.

  They reviewed security tapes from around the area, but aside from grainy footage of an exterior camera on a corner store, there was nothing. The camera image was of three large men walking with a gasoline can, and given that we were attacked by three men in the alleyway the police believed the cases to be linked.

  “But they don’t have any leads,” she told me once she had repeated what the investigator had told her over the phone. “None of them left any fingerprints.”

  “That seems rather well thought-out for a bunch of small-time thugs,” I said, whisking the Hollandaise sauce for the asparagus.

  She leaned her back against the fridge. I had learned that she was not to be denied kitchen privileges, no matter how I threatened her. God, but I love that she is so submissive in the bedroom but has a spine outside of it.

  She folded her arms, the motion pushing her breasts up and together. She wore a black tank-top today, the heat in the condo high enough that she did not need a sweater. Her yoga pants hugged every delicious curve of her hips and thighs, and I had to wrench my head back around to the saucepan before the Hollandaise burned. Get a hold of yourself, Craymore.

  “It seems like it has to be connected to something,” she said from behind me. I heard her open a cabinet and then the sound of her filling a glass of water. I had learned that she drank nothing but that unless she took wine with her meal. “I’m just trying to figure out what. I mean, unless Julio and the guys put out a hit on you...and it doesn’t make any sense why they would torch my place afterward.”

  I shook my head. “Let the police handle it, Veronica. That’s their job.”

  She grunted. “Well, they’ve found almost nothing.”

  “They have plenty
of other things to worry about,” I reminded her. This was not the first time we had had this conversation. While we both felt safe here, there was a tension in her body anytime we walked through that alley, in particular after closing. Mr. Simmons had implemented a new policy at Poisson that no less than four people were to remain until closing. One attack was somewhat good press, more than that and our customers would shun the place.

  “I know,” she sighed. “Big city. Big crime. You have to realize that where I’m from, a fire that took out a half-million dollar home would have been the crime of the year, maybe the decade.”

  I finished the sauce and drizzled it over the vegetables, then grabbed an oven mitt to retrieve the salmon from under the broiler. “Half million, you say? You got one hell of a deal.”

  “It was an in-family purchase,” she grumbled. “And I’m still paying it off. The bank is in the same position as me, waiting to hear from the insurance company.”

  I smiled, glad she could not see it, “They do like to take their time.”

  I felt her hands on my back and stilled. She wrapped her arms around my stomach and leaned her cheek against me, “You’ve been very patient with me.” She murmured. “With the whole attack, living situation, funding issues... and everything else.”

  I turned in her arms so that I could face her, “You’ve paid me back for everything, and it has been a pleasure teaching you.”

  Her cheeks were red when she looked up at me, her eyes shining. She licked her lips, “It’s been a real pleasure learning.”

  I bent and kissed her, savoring the sweet taste of her lips and her smooth, talented tongue. She made a little sound and pressed against me. Just the touch of her, the feel of her warmth against mine, made me hard. I broke away. “The food will get cold if you distract me.”

  “Damn the food,” she whispered, her voice husky, her eyes filling with need.

  I smiled. “That’s no way for a professional chef to talk.”

  Her lips curved, her tongue peeking out to wet her lips. God, I loved her expressions. Everything she felt was laid open for me to read. It should have been boring, but it was intoxicating. I loved how she reacted to the very sight and touch of my body.

  Her hands ran up under my shirt, her fingernails tracing along my skin. “Are you saying you would leave me all wound and not give me a release?”

  My smile widened and I pulled her hands away. “Stay right there,” I said.

  I didn’t wait to see if she would comply. She knew better by now. She could back-talk me and give me attitude all she wanted when we were just talking or out of the house, but as soon as we had started something, she knew what role to play.

  I went to the box filling with the toys we were collecting from stores and websites. We had not tried any of them yet—I was still breaking her in on the most rudimentary items in the playroom, slow but sure. I palmed the device and went back to the kitchen where, sure enough, Veronica stood, watching me.

  I knelt before her and tugged her yoga pants down to her knees. “Spread your legs,” I said.

  She did. I looked up at her. Her lips were parted, her eyes wide. She watched while I ran a hand up her thighs and started to run my fingers along the outer folds of her. She gasped and I could see the struggle in her. She wanted to look away, but that had become one of our rules—she had to watch.

  I ran my fingers along her entrance, teasing her. Her color darkened and she began to breathe heavy, her chest rising and falling, her nipples hardening under her thin black tank. I slipped a finger inside and found her wet. Her hips bucked against me. I moved with her, finding her clit and rubbing. I bent forward and put my lips where my fingers had been, plunging them into her as my tongue flicked out to caress. I heard her moan, but I was concentrated only on her, on tasting her and bringing her to the very edge.

  She breathed, “Am I allowed to come?”

  I gave her another long, slow swirl of my tongue before answering. “No. Not yet.”

  She whimpered and I kept up my assault on her pussy. When her legs were shaking so hard it was a wonder she still stood, I pulled away and inserted the device, warm from being in my hand so long. She cried out, more in shock than in pleasure. “What was that?”

  I smiled and rose, pulling her pants up as I did so. Once she was straightened out, I showed her the remote in my hand. She looked at it and her eyes widened. I switched on the device and she gave a little yelp that ended in a moan. “Now,” I said, turning up the intensity a little and catching her elbow as she swayed. “Dinner’s ready.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Veronica

  I have a vibrator in me.

  I have a vibrator in me while I’m sitting down to dinner.

  I have a vibrator in me that Ethan controls while I’m sitting down to dinner.

  I had spent the day with Fiona, shopping and catching up. While I had enjoyed being with my friend, I was distracted by thoughts of Ethan. Once I got home, I wanted nothing more than to jump him, but by then he was midway through dinner prep, and he always got cranky if I disrupted those moments.

  But this was worse than all the anticipation that had been building in me today. The vibrator contoured enough that my muscles clamped down on it, holding it in place. Ethan kept it off while I walked, very carefully, to the dinner table and sat. It moved within me and I shuddered. Having his fingers in me, his tongue on me, and now this was nothing short of torture.

  Hot, amazing torture.

  Ethan brought me my plate and poured a glass of red wine. The food smelled heavenly, as always, but I my eyes went unfocused when he switched the remote to the lowest setting and a subtle vibration coursed through me. “Oh, god,” I murmured.

  “What’s that?” He asked, a teasing smile on his lips.

  I licked my lips and shook my head, “Nothing.”

  “Good.”

  He had told me a moment ago, before we left the kitchen, that I wasn’t to speak of the device at the dinner table and that I was forbidden to come. I wasn’t sure if I could last that long.

  This was one of the sets of ‘punishments’ that Ethan had devised for me whenever I failed to follow the rules in the play room. A few days ago he had me sit in a chair, naked and spread leg in front of a mirror and watch me touch myself without coming. The punishment had lasted almost a full hour before he told me I could stop. He had knelt in front of me and licked me until I was given leave to come, telling me to watch the entire time.

  Ethan set the remote down next to his place setting and started to inquire about my day, the mischievous smile never leaving his features. I sat there and tried to make small talk, but my mind kept fogging as he adjusted the sensation. I could feel the vibrator rotating within me, swirling around inside as it was programmed to go higher or slow done. The heat rising up my chest to my cheeks was so intense that it felt like I was feverish.

  “So did you get to meet the infamous George yet?” Ethan asked, all innocent.

  I tried not to glare at him, clutching the edge of the table to help center myself. I shook my head and gasped, “No. Not yet.” My tongue felt too thick in my mouth. I had a sudden image of sliding under the table and crawling across the floor to where he sat. Unzipping his pants, taking his cock in my mouth, and all the while with him remotely fucking me. I shuddered.

  “Is something the matter? You almost look ill.”

  I shook my head again. “I’m fine.”

  We continued on this way for a few more agonizing minutes. Ethan slid the power up and up until I could feel the vibrations through the wood of my chair. I whimpered and, at last, he rose, wiping his face with his napkin. He tossed it down on his empty plate and came to my side, leaning down so that he could whisper in my ear. “You haven’t come yet, have you?”

  “No,” I whispered. The vibrator was still moving within me, my pussy pulsing and clenching around it. I was so wet I almost felt like there would be a spot when I rose from my seat.

  “Good girl,” he mur
mured. “Stand up.”

  He helped me rise, fiddling with the remote as we went from the dining room and into the play room. I could feel that other side of me rising to the surface, the side that wanted nothing more than to be dominated by this man. His muscles bulged like cords of steel underneath my hands. I wanted to kiss him, to run my hands over every inch of his skin, to take everything he had to offer into my mouth.

  I wanted him to tie me until I couldn’t move even if I wanted to, and force his cock past my lips until I almost choked, all the while with the vibrator inside of me. I wanted to ride the pleasure and only come when he allowed me to when the orgasm would send me over into that realm where the only sensation was a white-hot pleasure.

  Ethan paused with the key in the lock, “What are you thinking about, Ms. Delaware?”

  I flushed, “I’m thinking of you.”

  “Be more specific.”

  I licked my lips, “I was thinking of going under the dining room table and taking you into my mouth while this was in me. And I was thinking about you mouth-fucking me while I’m tied up.” I swallowed hard, “Sir.”

  He moved his hand to the back of my neck and gripped a fistful of my hair, pulling it tight. “And what would you like me to do, Ms. Delaware, once we’re in there?”

  He pulled tighter and I whimpered, my hands rising as though to fend him off, though I ached for him to touch me. “I just want you, sir. I want you to take your pleasure.”

  He bared his teeth in a smile and released me. I stumbled a little, but he caught my arm. He unlocked the playroom and led me within, turning on the light as he did so.

  Ethan had me strip. I left my clothing at the door and he set me up on the bench. He bound me at wrist and ankle, along with a strip across my torso and a collar that he fitted to my neck and strapped down. My legs were in an upright V, my ass and pussy bare to the room, to him. Last, he brought out a blindfold, fitting it to me with a few whispered words and a gentle kiss.