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There had been something about Levana that I’d found impossible to ignore from the first moment I’d seen her. Acomplexityto her that I wanted to unravel; a delicate meal with so many flavors I wanted to investigate.
Usually, sex was the fastest way to cure me of my interest in someone. The mystery was unraveled. The thrill was gone. The spark of curiosity went out.
But the spark with Levana was only growing larger.
With a breathless, needy sound that I would hear every night in my dreams for the rest of my life, Levana clenchedhardaround me, strangling my cock and practically tearing my orgasm from my body.
It was fucking glorious.
My knot pulsed and swelled, and I began shifting my weight to one arm so I could reach between us and tend to it.
“Let me,” Levana rasped, sliding a hand between our bodies. I grunted at the exquisite feel of her tight grip around my knot, squeezing and kneading in time to her own continuing waves of pleasure.
No one had ever done this for me before. Attending to a swollen, uncomfortable knot, desperate for pressure, was an incredibly intimate act.
“Feel good?” Levana asked, clearly torn between her own pleasure and what she was doing to me. “I’ve never done this before. Should I squeeze tighter?”
“That’s perfect,” I replied, voice shaky.
“For one night only. Don’t get any ideas.”
Too late.
Far too fucking late.
I closed my eyes and reminded myself to think calm thoughts as something crashed on the other side of the kitchen.
Torin, the latest addition to my kitchen staff, had spilled an entire vat of stock, set two small fires, and left an entire delivery of meat in front of the palace gate because he’d gotten distracted on his way outside—all in his firstweek.
But he had a good palate.
Perhaps hand-eye coordination could be taught.
“Everything okay, boss?” Katriel asked. “It’s just an empty pot, no damage. This time,” she added in a quiet mutter.
As my second-in-command, and often more directly responsible for the staff, Torin’s clumsiness was personal for her.
“You do seem more… agitated than usual though.”
I shot her my most impatient look, wondering when my staff had grown comfortable enough to pry into my state of mind. Back when I’d first started working here, having been poached from one of the finest restaurants in Cartava, the staff had been scared of me.
I missed those days.
“You’ve been grumpy since the party the other night,” Katriel continued, not at all concerned about the warning looks I was giving her. “Actually, didn’t you leave with someone? I could have sworn I saw you dancing—”
“I suggest you stop talking.”
That had clearly been the wrong thing to say. “Ooh, so youdidleave with someone! Who was it?”
“None of your business.”
“Are you going to see them again?”
Ah, and there it was. The crux of my bad mood. The source of the frustration I wasn’t allowed to have because she’d warned me all along what to expect.
“No.” I pulled out my favorite set of knives and a whetstone. “No, I’m not.”
Chapter 3
