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“To bring my body back into balance.”
“You don’t have to track your calories, Paigelynn.”
“But—”
I pick up the fork and gently push it toward her mouth. “Open wide.”
Those beautiful, full lips do exactly what I ask, and as I slide the fork into her mouth, they close around the tines, my body turning hard, blood rushing to my cock as I watch her take the forkful of food.
“Mmmm,” she moans, making my blood race, the urge to kiss her, hold her, touch her, strip her naked and fuck her until she cries out nothing but my name so strong, I have to drop the fork abruptly and walk over to the convection oven, where I pretend to be intensely involved with the egg rolls.
Out of the corner of my eye, as I adjust the wood in my pants, I see her pick up the fork and take another bite.
“What kind of cheese is this?” she asks, so much gusto in her voice that I can’t help but smile. Knowing how she’s been repressed, treated like a failure for wanting a small protein bar, likely shamed into the ground for something that’s perfectly normal makes me want to give her all the food. All the pleasure. All the freedom.
Everything.
I want to give her everything.
I want to be her everything.
Playing my cards right means giving us a fighting chance. But the deck is stacked against us, and the dealer cheats.
We’re fighting against powerful forces. I’m playing them against each other, some of them aware, some in the dark. That’s how I’ll prevail, though:
Using chaos as a weapon.
When you can’t out-power them, all you can do is harness the element of surprise.
Or be so batshit crazy they back off.
“Probably a mix of ricotta, parmesan, and mozzarella. I guess?”
“You know more than I do. Do you cook a lot? This is incredible!”
“I can’t take credit for that. The chef deserves your praise.”
“Chef?”
“There’s a private chef who handles all the food. If you have favorites, let me know. They’ll restock in three days.”
“Restock?”
“Yeah. Everything we need is here for now, but they’ll provide more fresh fruit and vegetables, prepared meals, that sort of thing.”
“You expect us to be here more than three days?”
“Maybe.”
“But – I turn twenty-five in three days.”
Time has escaped me, but clearly she’s keeping track.
“We can get you a birthday cake.”
“That’s not what I meant at all! Cam! The prophecy.”
“What about it?”
