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“You said ‘he’s gorgeous’ and unless you’re speaking about someone else, thank you for the compliment. Would you like to tell me why you’re cooking breakfast? That’s what the meals are for, little one.” Raphael grabs my hand and raises it to his lips, kissing my knuckles before pointing to the fridge. “You could have just pulled something out.”
“That’s so boring. I wanted to cook for my boyfriend.” I pull back my hand and continue plating up what I’ve made, fully aware that I’ve introduced a new term into our relationship.
“Boyfriend? Is that a step we’re taking?”
“Why do you sound so surprised?” I want to stomp my foot and throw a temper tantrum but that won’t solve anything.
Raphael catches onto my internal discourse as he rounds the counter. He stands with his chest pressed against my side before pulling me into his chest and kissing my forehead. “Because you never offer to show me off. We spend most of our moments in places that are pretty empty except for yesterday.”
“I’m your employee, though. It’s weird.” I try not to think about yesterday because there are several instances both yesterday and the day before that people will start to catch on that I’m not just Raphael’s coffee maker. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m trying.” Raphael huffs a playful sigh as his lips press against my temple again, his hands moving to sift beneath my shirt and play with the skin there. I lean into his touch, groaning when he manages to slip a hand down my pants and grab my cock.
Those long arms are going to be the death of me.
I shriek and flip a waffle a little too hard, the breakfast item flying across the kitchen and splatting against the wall. “Raphael!” I hiss. I should slap him away but he’s already in front of me, backing me up and hoisting me up onto the counter. I grip his arms as he steps between my thighs, a devilish smile on his lips. “No! Your maid just cleaned.”
“And I’ll clean right after,” he purrs, making it hard to fight him on that. His hands flatten against the counter on either side of my legs as he steps a little closer, his lips hovering over mine. “Tell me to stop, little one.”
“Um-”
Raphael sifts closer, his cock resting against my inner thigh. I swear I can feel it throbbing and I clear my throat as Raphael’s lips meet mine. It’s a sweet kiss in contrast to what he’s asking and over too soon. “Little One, I need your words.”
“What are you going to do to me?” I ask, breathily, squirming on the counter when his hands move to the hem of my shirt. This is a big step, showing him all of me but I give in because I want it. So fucking bad. “Yes, I want this,” I whisper and then raise my hands as he helps me out of my shirt, his cold hands making me gasp when they touch my bare waist. His lips fall to my jaw and begin traveling down my neck before landing on my chest.
My hands hold onto his shoulders as he swallows one of my nipples, running his tongue around the erect nub before nipping at it and making my back arch forward in response. His attention moves to the other one, following the same pattern until I’m panting for more.
“Patience, little one,” he muses as he continues his descent. Raphael ends up on his knees, his hands sliding my pants and boxers down my legs until I’m woefully bare in front of him. I swallow nervously, hoping he doesn’t hate what he sees but there is only love and adoration in this man’s gaze. His hands glide up my thighs, pressing into the skin before widening them. My cock bounces with the movement and I whine as cold air caresses it. Raphael meets my gaze as he leans forward, his tongue darting out to lick my tip and I buck forward, unable to control myself.
None of my other partners would have ever dropped to their knees for me and yet, Raphael is here, showing me that nothing else matters than just the two of us.
“You asked me what I’m doing, little one. I want to own your pleasure. Your screams. Your love. Your heart. Your soul. We’ve been doing this dance for far too long and I want more. I am a greedy man, little one.” He sucks on the tip of my cock and I whine at the absolute pleasure that shoots through me. Raphael changes our position so that my thighs are now thrown over his shoulders, his hands slipping beneath my legs to grab my ass and drag me forward. “Give me this orgasm, little one.”
I swear I’ve died and gone to heaven as Raphael swallows me whole, my head falling back against the cabinets. A groan tears from my throat as my hands dig into his hair, yanking him forward. My thighs squeeze his head and despite the embarrassment that heats my cheeks, I thrust up into his mouth, wanting more of that warmth around my cock.
Raphael digs his fingers into my ass as he sucks me off, hollowing out his cheeks and picking a pace I can hardly follow. He’s too much and not enough, pleasure zinging through me again when one of his hands prods between my ass cheeks. Two fingers rim my hole and I jump forward, Raphael continuing his pace. I try to push him away, my eyes widening as I feel the familiar build-up of my orgasm.
“Raphael—ungh—I’m going to come.”
“Then give it to me,” he growls when he pulls back. His gaze meets mine, a fire in his eyes as he swallows me again, those fingers prodding my hole dipping in just the slightest bit. It’s enough to set me off as I cry out and spill down my lover’s throat. Raphael swallows my release, lapping me up like a man-starved until I’m whining for a reprieve. “You taste divine,” Raphael muses as he stands up, licking his lips. His hands move to either side of my thighs again and I suddenly don’t know what to look at. His chest? No. His hands? No, that just brings memories of the punishing grip on my thighs. His eyes?
Dammnit.
A smirk hangs on Raphael’s lips and I can’t help but pull him forward so I can kiss him, tasting myself on his lips and tongue. Raphael dominates the embrace as he presses me against the cabinets, taking what he wants and giving me what I need. We are content to hold each other, kissing and touching, hands roaming until I pull away out of breath. “I should-”
Raphael shakes his head as he kisses me again, this one short and sweet. “My pleasure comes with you falling apart, little one. No, I’m serious,” he says as he catches my hand before it reaches his pants. “You were never ready for more or maybe you were and I never asked. My release comes from your happiness. In everything. Watching you smile. Hearing you laugh. Feeling you wrap yourself around me these past couple of days? Your greedy little hole is only part of what I love about you, little one.”
My flushed skin does nothing to hide my embarrassment as he helps me off the counter. I scramble for my clothes and point to the food I made. “Eat. I need to go take a shower.” Raphael grins as if my need to wash up again is an accomplishment. I rush up the stairs, spending maybe a few minutes too long enjoying the warm water. I don’t have time to wash my hair so I avoid getting my curls wet. Ten minutes later, I’m struggling into my clothes and rushing back down the stairs.
I don’t expect to see Raphael standing at the counter, indulging in the breakfast that I made. Although he seemed thankful earlier, I wasn’t sure if I had overstepped. A hearty moan filters through his lips and I stumble forward, alerting him of my presence.
“You–you like it?”
“Little One, if I had known you could cook, I would have stolen you away earlier. Maybe I should set up a little kitchen in my office and just keep you there.” He cuts off a small piece of waffle, dripping in syrup, and raises it to his lips. “It’s delicious.”
I don’t know what to do with that information. It’s just breakfast. However, I got a pretty good snapshot of how Raphael lives outside of work with all those prepared meals. “Thank you.”
Raphael’s brows furrow as his head cocks to the side, watching me fidget with my hands. I make my way to my plate, scarfing it down to avoid the awkward situation. Even so, I don’t notice Raphael at my side until he’s twisting me to face him. “I think that maybe I don’t say enough how much you mean to me. Little One, the last time I had a homecooked meal was when I went home for dinner. It’s either restaurants or catered dinners to events or the company. I rarely have the energy nor the time to make food for myself, let alone do much when I come home. This-” He points to the dishes. “Means everything to me. It’s more than anyone else has done.”
I can’t help digging myself into a hole. “I just wanted to make you breakfast.”
