Page 115 of Bite Me

His emerald eyes darken. I wish he could read my mind. I do want to touch him, but I’m scared of doing all the wrong things. I want to learn.

“You’ll let me teach you?” With a soft grip, his hand finds mine, and he moves my hand to the bulge in his boxers.

I gasp, entranced by the way he seems to know what I’m thinking.

Mimicking his pressure and movement, I do as he instructs, and a sprinkle of satisfaction courses through me at the soft sounds that leave him.

“That’s good,” he urges, and his praise is all the encouragement I need to keep going.

With one hand, Dacre frees himself from his boxers and guides my hand to stroke him. I’m obsessed with the way he shudders at my touch.

“Grip harder. Just like that.” His fingers knot in my hair, and he nods with satisfaction.

He shows me the pace, the pressure, everything he needs, until hot cum coats my stomach, and my breaths blend into a heady haze.

“You’ll need to get used to this.”

I nod. Watching, waiting, as he moves what’s gathered on my stomach and presses it inside me, unable to think in a capacity that doesn’t feel primal.

“This is what you want, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm. Yes, what?”

“Yes, Chef?” I tease.

He curls his fingers in and I nearly levitate. “Very funny, but not the word I’m looking for.”

I’m pulled back into pleasure again. He pumps his fingers in and out of me, feeding this building desire that’s there. Again.

“Please.” I think he’s wrung it all out of me until the desire snarls and tears into me, and I ride the wave on his fingers, wishing they were something else.

“We’ll save it for next time,” he purrs.

Chapter Forty-Two

Dacre

I’ve already gotten numerous texts, calls, and screenshots of the forums as the shock wave of our news runs rampant around the university. I make my way through the castle and to the culinary lounge. I’ve pissed off enough people to make rubbing it in my face fun for them. Tasting the consequences of my own actions is like swallowing a knife, and it feels as if it’s stuck in my throat as I brush my teeth and ready myself for the day.

When I spoke to my grandfather this morning, he instructed me to go to the culinary lounge immediately, and that was hours ago. By letting Emma sleep in and cooking her breakfast, the morning really got away from me, but he can wait.

He’s made me wait for years, serving, requiring loyalty, and always moving the finish line at the last second. Not anymore.

This time, I’m telling him how it’s going to be.

I’m not going through with the marriage. He’s leaving Emma and her family alone, and I’m leaving the culinary club board indefinitely.

I’ve already prepped some things for Florence.

“I need you to do something for me,” I said over the line.

“Did you just add me to a three-way call?” Florence snapped.

Daniel laughed. “Hey, Florence. How have you been?”

“Fuck you. Dacre, what is going on?”