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And then he just walks away, as if he didn’t spout poetry in my ear in his delicious accent. “You too,” I say, in a daze, following in his footsteps to the kitchen. I draw up short when I see someone has laid out bowls, pre-measured ingredients and chopping boards for this baking lesson. “Did you do all this?”
“No, my assistant is somewhere in this hotel. Probably hiding from me. I wasn’t in the best mood when I found you’d run away from me.”
Shyly, I tuck some hair behind my ear. “How did you find me, anyway?”
He picks up a package of butter and examines the label, looking every inch the culinary genius. “I paid off someone in a headset.”
“That has to break some laws.”
“I’d have done far worse to track you down.” He reaches down to preheat the oven, then crooks his finger at me. “Come, Alice.”
I join him in the kitchen, no choice in the matter. He’s the silver fox of my dreams and I’m the little girl who’s going to obey him, because I need to.
Because I want to.
Sebastian catches me by the hips and settles me in between his hard body and the kitchen counter. Slowly, he fits my butt against his lap and he grunts into my hair, subtly rocking his erection between the split of my cheeks. “When people ask what you did this weekend, you can say baking.” His breath is hot on my neck. “It won’t be a lie, will it, darling?”
“No.”
“That’s a good girl.” His fingers find the buttons of my shirt, starting at the top and popping each one through their holes. Slowly, slowly. “I want you to be comfortable here.” He tugs the open shirt down my arms, untucking it along the way, before letting the white material slip to the ground. “We can be comfortable with each other, can’t we, Alice?”
I nod, biting my bottom lip hard when he unsnaps the front of my bra, easing the silky cups aside and exposing my breasts. They’re already heaving up and down, the air conditioning causing my nipples to pucker.
He traces a single fingertip up the center of my belly, dragging it between my breasts and around each nipple with breathtaking lightness. “These are very pretty and your Daddy wants to see them.” His voice is a thick, masculine scrape of sound above my head. “Good Christ, I better leave on that skintight skirt or we’ll never get this cake in the oven.”
“Why?” I whisper innocently, tilting my head back to look up at Sebastian.
His palm cradles my right breast, molding it gently. “Ah, Alice. You’re going to get quite an education tonight.”
My brow furrows. “The kind I learn in school?”
“No, the kind only I can teach you.” His hand travels to my opposite breast and teases my nipple with a rough knuckle. “The secret kind, remember?” I start to question him further, but he takes my chin in his hand and directs my attention to the cake ingredients. “Right. First, we’re going to make the mixture. These are the ingredients for a basic Black Forest cake.”
“Okay,” I say, eyeing the pre-measured cups with distrust. In addition to the cups, there is a standing mixer, greased cake pans, bowls and several utensils I recognize from the kitchen at Landmark, but don’t own myself. “Um. I’m using the standing mixer, right? Which ingredient goes in first?”
Sebastian’s mouth lands on my neck and licks in a slow line up to my earlobe. “Start on the left and work your way right. Flour, sugar, cocoa, baking soda, salt. Combine them slowly,” he rasps, making goosebumps break out down my arms. Nearly shaking from our closeness, I do as he says, which is incredibly distracting considering he’s raking that wicked tongue up and down my neck and his fingers are busy playing with my nipples. “Good. Now use the bowl to whisk the wet ingredients. Pour in the hot water slowly. We don’t want to cook the eggs.”
I huff a sound. “This is where I went wrong today, isn’t it?”
There’s a smile in his voice. “Perhaps.”
“I can’t believe you even tasted it.” My head falls back on his shoulder, enjoying the gentle way he’s kneading my breasts. “I’ve seen you refuse to taste way better cakes than mine on television.”
“This was different, Alice,” he says, kissing my temples. “It was you.”
My heart belts out a high note in my chest and it’s almost impossible to concentrate on the task at hand. With Sebastian’s hands on mine, guiding me through the process of cracking an egg, it’s suddenly easy. Time has slowed down and the stress of making a mistake has vanished. There’s only him and me and the perfect buildup to what’s coming.
Once all of the wet ingredients are combined, he guides me through combining them with the dry mixture. He hums in my ear as we run the standing mixer, his hands over mine, grinding his erection slowly against my bottom, almost as if by accident. But we both know it’s not. We’re both well aware that he continues to inch up my skirt, little by little, leaving my cheeks exposed. By the time we pour the cake mixture into the waiting pans, my panties are soaked through and it’s taking all of my willpower not to push my backside into his lap and beg for more, more, more of whatever he’s planning to do.
