God of Temptation

Chapter 23

~Remington~

I crawled upwards towards Ariella, to find her eyes shut.

What? Did she pass out? Or is she sleeping?

I tap on her face, checking on her. Ariella's eyes snap open as her sharp gaze takes in her surroundings, "What?"

Yo, you good?" I ask her, concerned. Uncle Cole is going to have my head if anything happens to his daughter under my watch.

Ariella peels open her eyes, the blue and green hues resembling Earth. Her eyes, no matter the circumstance, breathe life.

Her gaze softens at the sight of me, and an odd sensation tugs at the strings of my heart. Weird bubbles flutter in my stomach, and something clenches so hard it feels like my heart might break. She's beautiful, to the point of pain. More beautiful than Belle herself. Ariella is the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on.

My hand instinctively reaches for her face, fingers brushing through the strands of her hair. Soft and silky, yet wild and rebellious, her chestnut brown hair provides a stark contrast against her pale skin.

"What are you doing, Remi?" She asks, confusion framing her face as she pouts.

I give her a genuine smile as I try to tame the small wild strands that refuse to behave. Not that I want them, but, "Nothing, are you hungry?"

She ponders for a moment and glances at her stomach, "No?"

Amused because for some unfathomable reason she checks her stomach before answering, I tease, "Because you seem to faint whenever you're hungry. When was the last time you had food?"

Her eyes sparkle with playfulness, and I can't resist a gentle smirk. "I'm not letting you faint on me, you know."

She chuckles, a melodious sound that warms my insides. "Well, someone's my food guardian now."

I grin. "Guilty as charged. So, when was the last time you ate?"

Her playful tone matches mine as she retorts, "A few decades ago. Or maybe just a few hours. Who's counting?"

I playfully roll my eyes, pinching her cheeks, "Classic Ariella. Well, let's get some fuel in you. Don't want you turning into a fainting masterpiece on my watch."

She laughs, and it's as if the room is filled with warmth and love. She holds onto my biceps and helps herself in a sitting position. "Lead the way, oh guardian of snacks."

As I guide her toward the kitchen, a mix of playfulness and an unspoken layer of affection swirls in the air.

I know I should be cautious about whatever atmosphere is building around us, but I can't help it. It's too warm here, and I like it more than I probably should. Next time, I promise to be mindful of my actions.

I find myself enjoying Ariella's company more than I ever imagined.

I lift Ariella by her waist to sit on the white marble slabs as I search for ingredients to whip up something for her. She actually weighs nothing and that's really disturbing.

"So, what are you craving, ma chérie?"

"Umm... How about pasta?"

"No, no pasta," I say firmly, concerned about the health consequences of too much pasta.

"What do you mean no pasta?" She asks, frowning, her brows crunched together. She looks adorable.

"Let's make steak?"

Clearly offering a good alternative, she immediately nods in agreement. The prospect of cooking together brings a playful energy to the air, and I can't help but enjoy every moment with Ariella.

The first time I cooked was when I was sixteen. Ariella was home alone, because her parents were out for a date night and Ava had been with her grandparents. Ariella didn't go because she refused to and I still don't understand why.

That night she texted me for the first time that she was hungry. I felt special because she texted me, so I went to her house. Back then, I had no clue about cooking, so I attempted to prepare spaghetti. However, I managed to turn it into a bizarre mix of overcooked noodles and a tomato sauce disaster. Ariella, being the trooper she is, took a bite, cringed, and declared it the "most unique" spaghetti she had ever tasted.

It's a memory we still laugh about, and despite that culinary catastrophe, it marked the beginning of my journey into the chaotic world of cooking. Now, here I am, years later, attempting to whip up steak for Ariella, hoping to redeem myself from that spaghetti fiasco.

I feel a tiny arm press against me and I see Ariella staring at the steak. Her nose is crunched as she is trying to sniff it.

"Can you make it quick, the smell is making me hungryyyyyyyyy." Her 'hungry' sounds so cute that I could resist but trap her between the slab and me and kiss the life out of her.

Ariella moans into my mouth as my tongue brushes the inside of her mouth. Her hands wind up to my neck as she tugs at the tiny hair. I fist her hair and stroke her insides, bite her lower lip, and suck on her tongue.

Her tongue and cunt are the sweetest thing I have ever tasted. They are freaking addictive. It was my first time going down on someone. And Ariella was my first. My first blow job was also given by Ariella and I never knew it felt amazing to have someone wrap their lips around my cock. For some reason I know it wouldn't have felt good with anyone. It would only feel good with Ariella.

Everything with her feels good. And it's scary.

Ariella pushes me away her hand on my chest. Her chest rises and falls in quick breaths. Rosy flush covering her cheeks as she looks at me.

"Were you planning on snuffing my life out of me?" She pants and something about that idea sits wrong with me. I don't care if someone lives or dies but if something happens to her, I don't know how I'll react.

"If you keep standing here, the steak is going to end up burned, darling." She nudges me towards the stove.

I can't bring myself to recover from the kiss tho. It was so passionate and had so much emotion in it. My dick is hard just from thinking about it. But I feel so full at heart.

Fifteen minutes later, I brought the food to the table. While I cooked, Ariella set the table and I must say she is learning. At least the plates are of the same colour now. Tho, the folk and knife for the steak is wrong and it will take years to cut down one piece of steak but we will do something.

"Remi is this fine?" She asks to set out different shapes of glasses without any coaster. Why can't this girl put the same glasses or put it on a coaster, even when it's right there next to the glass itself?

"Yes, ma chérie. It's perfect." I say, even when my OCD feels like it might choke me.

However the grin that takes up her lips is so bright and huge, I can't bring myself to tell her otherwise.