"Shhh... take it like the good girl you are."
"I'm a good girl?" I whispered.
He gazed up at me, eyes glowing in amusement. "Do you want me to prove it to you?"
My eyes glistened with his reflection.
"I can prove it to you," he answered, "but I'll...
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TW: MINOR SMUT (18+)
Riley
After taking an hour nap, I lazily walked out of my bedroom and to the kitchen to find Paris at work at the cutting board.
There was a pot steaming, and a grill set on the stove that was sizzling with the meat on it, and Paris was skillfully slicing a tomato.
I rubbed my eyes, yawning, and looked up to him. "What are you doing?"
The corner of his mouth tilted, and he glanced up at me while still cutting the tomato. "Making burgers for dinner."
"Burgers?" I echoed tiredly.
"Yeah," he said, "you know, lettuce, cheese, tomato—"
"I know what a fucking burger is!" I responded harshly.
He chuckled, shrugging while focusing back onto what he was doing.
We were silent for a moment, and I stared down at what he was doing.
The way he cut the fruits was so graceful. I'd never seen something like this before.
It was like he was a Bollywood dancer, waving his hands everywhere and such.
I didn't even notice how close I was to him; how I was practically breathing down his neck while he diced the first tomato and opened the steaming pot, gathering all the fruit and dumping them into it.
It was clearly a side dish of some sort, and I kind of wondered what it was.
He seemed like an expert chef or something.
He got another tomato from a plastic bag, and set it neatly on the cutting board, turning to me while I glanced up at him in surprise.
He smiled. "You look bored. Come here. I'll teach you how to make burgers."
I yelped when he caught my arm and reeled me in front of him, so they switched places.
"Let me see what you do," he uttered, setting a knife on one side of me as he leaned on the wall, clearly watching.
I breathed shallowly when I picked up the knife, sloppily sliding the point into the middle of the tomato until the blade slipped and I yelled out, dropping it before it cut me.
Paris laughed then. "Angel, it's a knife, not a rattlesnake."
He walked over to me then, pressing himself to my back as I stared down at the cutting board, breathing shallowly still. "Let me show you," he whispered, breath warming my neck.
He slipped his hands around me, catching my wrists as I closed them back around the knife.
"You hold it like this," he told me, adjusting my fingers as my cheeks reddened. "And then you do this." He guided my free hand to one side of the tomato and held it there, and then he neatly pressed my wrist so I could slice the tomato. "See?" he whispered, making sweat stick my hair to my temples. "There you go, now let's do it again."
He guided me as I sliced the tomato neatly this time.
"Do you have to stand this close?" I whispered.
"Would you rather slice your hand off?"
"Never mind."
He chuckled. "Here, I'll guide you through the whole tomato."
And I stood there, face reddening as he stayed overwhelmingly close and did as he said.
Guided me through the whole tomato.
But about halfway through the piece of fruit, his lips brushed the side of my neck as he spoke in whispers, but I couldn't focus on what he was saying because of the shocks of heat that went through me.
I was overwhelmed with the warmth of his body, and the stove wasn't really helping.
But one thing that I noticed... I wasn't uncomfortable.
I was actually liking how close he was.
Though, I didn't really know why, honestly.
I never felt this way with Ryan.
Was that bad?
But while I started getting close to the end, Paris kept a hold of my hands as I sliced the tomato, but then lightly started kissing the skin on my neck, making the shockwaves get stronger.
"Paris..." I murmured.
But he never responded, holding my wrists as he kissed me slightly harder, making me moan as he gently suckled on the skin.
He moved to my ear, and I dropped the knife when he flicked the lobe with his nose and moved to trailing his tongue along the side of my neck.
He continued teasing the skin until he tasted my sweat, and drew back, kissing behind my ear softly before whispering in it, "And that was for talking back to me when we came in here."
"It's burning..." I whispered to him, clutching the counter.
"I know," he responded. "And you're not easing it tonight, Sweetheart. I know what you're planning, and I'm going to make sure you don't touch yourself tonight by coming in at random times in the night. This is a lesson, hear me?"
I nodded, the space between my legs throbbing.
Almost twenty minutes later, Paris and I sat at the mini dining table beside the living room and ate our burgers happily.
Paris smiled when I let out a silent, "Mmm...." And the fact that my cheeks were lighting at how good it tasted.
"You like?" he said.
"Yeah," I told him, "I feel like you were a professional chef before."
He shrugged. "I cook for myself a lot."
I kept eating, making him smile.
I never really finished my food before, and now I was almost three-quarters of the way through the burger.
"Well," he knocked the table, stretching out when I looked up at him curiously, "I have some work to attend to, so I'll be out for the night."
"Outside?" I said.
"No," he told me, "I meant I have something to do on my computer, and yes, I'm still making sure you're not disobeying my orders."
"Oh."
"Yeah, I'm mean, huh?" He stood and ruffled my hair. "Holler if you need me."
