Page 59 of Total Abandon

“No clothes until morning,” he growls, lifting one hand to snap open the back of my bra.

“Yes sir,” I breathe, allowing that to slide off too, and leaning back on my palms so that my nipples peak toward his face. I’ve never been ashamed of my body, but even if I was, the fire smoldering in his eyes would wipe any shyness away in an instant. My gaze tumbles to the front of his pants, which are stretched tight by his erection.

“You didn’t eat tonight,” he says simply as he straightens and twists to pull open the enormous stainless steel refrigerator doors and begins pulling out ingredients. The divots on his back flex with the movement, which has my mouth watering in a way that has nothing to do with food. Cheese, butter, and onions hit the counter.

“I had some fantastic vol-au-vents,” I counter, hoping he’ll agree to skip dinner and go straight for dessert.

“I gathered by the all the sex noises you made while you were eating them,” he throws over his shoulder as he pulls a frying pan out of a deep drawer.

“Would you rather I chewed on dry salad like the rest of your dates?” I snark, feeling a little flicker of jealousy.

“I don’t date. But if I did, a prerequisite for the women would be that they eat real food, actually.” He slices off a knob of butter into the pan and begins finely slicing an onion.

“You’ve never been on a date before? Even as a teenager?” I’m suddenly struck by the realization that I can’t picture this man as anything but what he is now. It’s strange to think that he was once a kid, or maybe a little awkward as a teenager.

“No, it never interested me.” The smell and sound of onions sizzling in butter makes my stomach growl. A handful of chopped herbs hit the pan, too.

A man who can cook is…wow. Bonus points. But also annoying, because I’ve yet to figure out something this man can’t do, except hold down a traditional relationship perhaps. But even then, I’m sure if he set his mind to it…images whizz through my mind of a domestic life with Zeke. Cooking in the kitchen, lazy Sundays spent wrapped around each other in bed, trips to the park with Diego, a big white wedding with friends and family. The fat two-carat canary diamond on my ring finger suddenly feels like it weighs a thousand pounds and I shake off the train of thought.

“Ever been tested for autism?” I snipe, crossing my legs. He laughs and shakes his head as he spoons caramelized onions out of the pan and onto the bread and Swiss cheese he’s assembled on the counter. Flipping them together into what I’m sure is going to be a stellar grilled cheese, he turns the heat down and plunks them both back into the pan. Turning to face me, I see his face split into a devilish smirk.

“I’m serious. They have dating services for people like that, you know. I saw it on Netflix. Maybe you could find someone just as socially stinted as you and live happily ever after?” I smile sweetly, watching the muscles on his chest flex as he folds his arms.

“Chloe.” His voice is deep and gravelly as he assesses me. “Much as I like your smart mouth, when we’re like this”—he gesturesto me naked on the counter—“you’ll watch your tongue unless you want to be punished.”

My tongue teases the corner of my lips as I stare, entranced by the sudden dark energy radiating from him. Power and strength leach from every pore, making no mistake that he means what he says. The muscles in my thighs flex as I squeeze them tighter together and his eyes fall to the subtle movement.

“Get on your knees.” The words are wet, smoky gravel to my ears and send a pulse of excitement through me. I am so on board to play this game with him that I might pass out. Offering him a slow, seductive smile, I lower myself from the counter and sink to my knees. The cool marble bites at my skin, sending goosebumps up my thighs. He probably wants me to play a good little submissive and keep my eyes to the floor, but I hold his gaze wantonly.His top lip curls into a smirk born of all seven circles of hell, gratification flashing in his eyes. “Crawl to me.”

My stomach clenches as I lean forward on shaking hands, crawling with slinky movements toward him, making my breasts sway. His gaze drops, and the faintest flush crests his high, tawny cheekbones.

“Good girl,” he purrs when I reach him, dropping down a hand to caress the back of my head lightly as I sit back on my haunches into a kneeling position. Surprisingly, the simple praise makes my chest glow. I want to please him, want to be whatever little dirty plaything he wants for the night. The soft clink of metal tears my gaze from his and I watch with quiet anticipation as large hands unbuckle his belt, slide his zipper down, and pull out his enormous, hard cock. I let out a low moan as moisture floods my mouth, my gaze tracing the snaking veins up to the rounded, wide, dusky pink head. My hands jump up to touch him of their own accord.

“Uh-uh, hands behind your back, mi fuego,” he growls before I can touch him, and my lips part as I bounce my gaze back up to his. He’s staring at me like I’m the sun, the center of his universe, and it makes my skin burn. Clasping my hands behind my back, I wait with bated breath. The hand is back on my head, tangling in my hair and guiding me forward as he fists the base of his cock with the other.

I flick my tongue out and swipe it up over the tip of him. He shudders, his teeth gritting out a curse word I don’t understand. Before I can react, both of his hands are at the back of my head and he’s pressing his hard length into my open mouth. A moan vibrates over my tongue as I taste him, all masculine and enough to drive me crazy. He glides easily to the back of my mouth, holding himself there. I feel my throat close as my gag reflex kicks in, but I keep my eyes open and on his face as he groans.

“Mujer diablo, te sientes tan bien.” He pulls back, allowing me a brief moment to suck in a breath before he thrusts back in, a little harder this time. My lashes flutter, a red-hot poker of desire piercing my lower belly from being used by him this way. “Mi misión será romperte,” he growls, pulling back and snapping his hips forward again. “Para poseerte.” Another flex of his hips, this time breaching my throat so that tears pool and cling to my lashes. “Tenerte retorciéndose en mi cama todas las noches.”

I have no idea what he’s saying, but that silky drawl of guttural Spanish is sending me into freefall, my sex-drugged synapses misfiring as I feather my tongue across the base of his cock, meeting every hard thrust with fervor. “Tu eres mio,” he snarls, flashing his white teeth at me as his face screws up into a mask of beautiful pleasure.

I feel him swell in my mouth, pressing my jaw impossibly wide as tears fall over and roll down my cheeks. Low, desperate sounds tumble from his full lips, his face alight with awe as he begins to pulse and spurt hot ribbons of cum directly into my throat. Moaning, I swallow everything he has to give, marveling at the sight of him unraveling above me, all tight muscle and burning grace. Once the last drop has spilled, he pulls slowly out of my mouth and lets out a deep, husky chuckle as he swipes a thumb across my wet lip, breaking the line of spit that connects us.

“Not until you’ve eaten, mi fuego.” He smirks, tucking himself back in his pants and sliding his hands around my ribs to pull me up to my feet, answering the desperate plea in my eyes. I frown, my whole body vibrating with the need to have him inside me. My knees shake and the steady pulse between my legs grows stronger, as if in protest.

“Trust me, you’ll need your strength for what I have in mind. If I only get one night, I’m making the most of it.” He leans down and places a chaste kiss on my lips before turning to flip the sandwiches in the pan.

“You’re bossy when your dick is hard,” I grumble, hopping up onto one of the long-legged stools beside the island and wincing as I feel the slick mess between my thighs.

He laughs, pulling plates out of a cupboard and setting them onto the counter. “Baby, you have no idea.”

We sit in comfortable silence and eat. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until the first mouthful of caramelized onion and melted cheese hits my tongue. It’s heaven and so is the half-naked, behemoth of a man sitting next to me. Once he is satisfied I’m full, he clears the plates away and takes my hand, leading me up the stairs and along the hallway.

Instead of turning into my room, he turns right, pausing beside his own bedroom door. His jaw muscle pulses, and he slides his gaze sideways to mine for a moment, hesitating. Tilting my head, I try to figure out the emotions warring in his eyes. The soft click of the door rings out and it swings open to reveal an expansive master suite, sparsely decorated with pale stone colors except for the back wall behind the enormous black bed, which is painted a deep, vibrant red.

Chapter 26

Mia:One of the servers told me they overhead two people fucking in the bathroom last night. Any comment, Zeke?