AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"Yeah, really," I confirm, my tone almost admiring. "The stuff you were doing was pretty complicated. It made me nervous enough to tighten a few things up."
Her confidence grows a little at my admission, but I quickly add, "Don't enjoy it too much, though. After today's misbehavior, you now have negative one point."
"Negative?" she exclaims, her eyes going wide. "I didn't know points could go negative! That's unfair!"
"Unfair?" I scoff, amusement dancing in my eyes. "How is that unfair? Points go negative, Lulu."
"What does that even mean?" she asks warily, her lips pressed into a thin line.
I smile darkly at her, my eyes locking onto hers. "Negative points, if they accumulate, become punishments."
"Wh-what kind of punishments?" she stammers, her bravado crumbling under the weight of my gaze.
"Let's just say you'll hope you don't find out," I tease, enjoying the way her eyes widen even more in apprehension.
The elevator reaches the ground floor, and we make our way to the car. The ride back to the mansion is quiet, the air thick with unspoken tension. When we arrive, I invite her to grab something with me for dinner.
"Wait," she says, confusion etched on her face. "I misbehaved today. Shouldn't you be sending me to bed without dinner or something?"
"Considering you didn't throw a tantrum or sit on the garage floor today, I think you still deserve dinner," I reply, a small smile tugging at the corner of my mouth.
Her lips curve into a tentative smile, and I'm momentarily entranced by them. Thoughts of how good those full lips would feel wrapped around my cock briefly cloud my mind before I shake it off, refocusing my attention on the present.
"What do you want to order?" I ask, trying to keep my voice casual.
"Actually," she says, looking around the extravagant kitchen with a hint of disbelief, "I don't really want takeout. Don't you ever cook in here?"
"Me? No," I admit, chuckling. "Teddy's the only one who ever really cooks."
"Then I'll cook something," she declares with newfound determination.
I watch Lulu make her way around the kitchen, her hips swaying as she confidently grabs ingredients from the pantry. The dress she wears today is significantly tighter than yesterday's A-line cut, and it accentuates every curve of her body. As she lifts her hands above her head to reach for a jar on a high shelf, the plunging neckline reveals just enough skin to set my imagination ablaze. Her beautiful heels click against the marble floor, adding an air of sophistication to her movements.
"Can you hand me that cutting board?" she asks, snapping me out of my reverie. I pass it to her, trying not to let my growing arousal show on my face. Briefly, I consider grabbing my phone to text one of the many escorts I have on speed dial, but something stops me. Tonight, I decide, I'm going to close my eyes and imagine Lulu in my bed, conjuring up visions of punishing her for misbehaving – spanking her until her curvy ass is as pink as the dress she ruined, twisting her nipples until she screams my name in a mix of pain and pleasure.
"Is everything okay?" Lulu asks, catching me staring at her. She raises an eyebrow, a playful smile on her lips.
"Everything's perfect," I reply, returning her smile. "I'm just... admiring your cooking skills."
"Uh-huh," she says, clearly not buying my excuse. But she doesn't press further, instead focusing on her task at hand, chopping vegetables with practiced precision.
With each passing moment, my intrigue with this woman grows, and I wonder what it would be like to truly possess her – not just in my fantasies, but in reality as well.
ChapterThirteen
"Tell me about your father," I ask her as she sets the plates down in front of us. The aroma of the traditional Cuban dish she prepared fills the room, and my mouth waters in anticipation. She hesitates for a moment, clearly taken aback by the question. I take a bite, and the flavors explode on my tongue – it's really, really good. Before she can even answer, I'm praising her food, the words tumbling out of my mouth like an avalanche.
"Wow, this is amazing! You're an incredible cook!"
A small blush spreads across her cheeks, and I apologize for interrupting her so abruptly. "I'm sorry, please go ahead and tell me about your father."
She looks down at her plate, her fingers playing with the silverware as she begins to speak. "My relationship with him was... complicated. He really babied me and never let me do anything I wanted to do. Like with the computers, for example."
I consider her words, curious. "Why is that?"
"His upbringing," she replies simply. "He didn't think women should be involved in business."
"Really?" I shake my head, disbelieving. "I don't think gender has anything to do with a person's work ethic. And that means more than any perceived talent, male or female." Her eyes meet mine, searching for sincerity. "We actually conduct interviews blindly at my company. Our system eliminates any references that would let us know if the person is male, female, what race, or age. We want people based on their experience and ethic, and that's it."
