Page 101 of With a Cherry On Top

“Yeah. ‘Impressive’ is a way to describe that man.”

Sensing the disdain in her voice, I ask, “Did you know him?”

“Not personally, no. I saw him on TV more than I cared to though.” She smacks her lips. “Distasteful man, I always thought.”

“Sometimes,” I agree, thinking of the way he often blew up at the contestants of The Silver Spoon. “But duck à l’orange? That’shisrecipe.”

She turns around, shoulders stiff. “Excuse me?”

“That’s, uh...that’s what you’re doing, right? Duck à l’orange?” For a moment, I’m afraid she’ll throw a knife at me. “You used Grand Marnier—that was one of his staples.”

Charlotte makes an amused “hm” sound, and just when I think Beatrice will walk over and shove a duck breast down my throat, she grins. “I had no idea.”

“I’m not surprised. It’s in most recipe books about French cuisine.”

“I’m really looking forward to eating at Daisy,” Beatrice says, her voice casual. “But not until Amelie’s back. I refuse to eat anything from a backup chef.”

Charlotte’s fingers are inching closer to the danger zone, massaging and caressing, and all I can fucking think about is her hand—how her thumb is pressing into the flesh of my leg, how her nails are just barely scratching at my jeans.

“Yeah, no, you should definitely wait,” I manage to grind out. Fuck, she’s so close to my dick now I can feel the heat radiating from her palm. My balls tighten, and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from groaning. “There’s no one quite like her.”

“Mm. Well, I can tell you’ve been trained by someone exceptional. Your food speaks for itself.”

“Thanks. Really.” I try to move Charlotte’s hand away, but her grip tightens. Fuck, she’s killing me. “I was—lucky,” I choke out.

Beatrice’s eyes linger on me for a moment too long before she turns back to the stove.

Charlotte takes that as her cue to go full throttle. Her hand moves again, and this time her fingers are right there, cupping my dick through my jeans, her palm pressing into the length of it.

She’s not even fucking touching me directly, but after five days of eating her out, it’s enough to make me want to explode.

Beatrice’s phone buzzes loudly, cutting through the silence. She wipes her hands on a dish towel before pulling it from her pocket.

“Oh, damn it.” She gives her silver hair a quick fluff. “I forgot about this meeting. It’ll probably be fifteen minutes,” she says, tapping to accept the call. She turns off the burner. “Lunch is ready. Serve yourselves if you’re hungry, all right?”

She steps away, voice dropping as she answers, her words trailing off as a door shuts somewhere in the penthouse. The second she’s gone, I turn to Charlotte, my hand snapping to her wrist to remove it from my leg.

“What the hell are you doing?” I hiss. “Your mom is rightthere.”

Before I can react, she swings a leg over mine, straddling my lap with the kind of confidence that makes my cock throb. Her weight settles over me, her pussy pressing on me through our clothes. Fuck—she’s warm. Soft.Sosoft. “She said fifteen minutes.”

My hands fly to her waist in an attempt to push her off, but she just grins down at me, her lips curling into a devilish smile.

“What’s the problem?” She says into my ear, her fingers trailing up my chest. “I thought you could handle a littlepressure.”

She rolls her hips against mine and I choke back a groan. My erection is trapped between us, aching and desperate, and when she rocks forward again, I can’t stop the sound that escapes me—a low, guttural noise as her teeth sink into the side of my neck.

“Charlotte,” I breathe. “Beatrice could walk back in any second.”

“Then we better enjoy it while we can.” Her hands slide up my chest, her fingers splaying across my pecs as she grinds down on me again. “Or would you rather think about howamazingAmelie is?”

Amelie? Is that why she’s doing this?

I thought she was annoyed her mom was talking to me, that this was just another act of rebellion and I was caught inthe crossfire. Is she jealous? Is that the problem? Because she’s never reacted that way to Josie, but this isn’t the first time she’s seemed annoyed at Amelie.

The friction is maddening, the heat of her pussy burning through the thin fabric of her panties. My hands tighten on her sides, but the fight in me is melting faster than ice cream in a heatwave as I pant hard and fast.

“You feel so tense. Does this help?”

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