Page 58 of The Preachers' Promise
I chop the mushrooms and rinse the spinach. Then I add the mushrooms to a pan with some butter and gently stir them as they brown. Once they’re looking ready, I crack eggs into a bowl.
Ophelia slips out of the room, returning a few minutes later with supplies for Roman’s back in hand.
I try to focus on whisking the eggs, but I’m distracted by her as she guides Roman to one of the stools running the length of the breakfast bar. They’re facing me, so I turn back to the stove, but I can’t resist looking back at the way she takes care of him.
She sits him down and pours some liquid onto cotton gauze. The pungent tang of antiseptic hits the air. Then, so gently it makes my heart hurt, she begins to dab at his back. He sucks air between his teeth but doesn’t flinch. Turning away, giving him some privacy as she cleans up his wounds, I pour the eggs into the pan.
“Hey, Cain, grate some cheese for me?”
He does as I ask, and I sprinkle it over the eggs.
It’s a huge pan, and I’ve got twelve eggs in there, so with the cheese, spinach, and mushrooms, it should be enough for us all. Cain has taken some fresh bread out of the breadbasket on the side, and he cuts it into thick slices.
God, I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until food was imminent. Now, I feel as if I’ll pass out if I don’t get sustenance in my stomach.
At the last moment, I add the spinach, so it only wilts a little before I serve it.
Ophelia has left the kitchen again, probably to take the medical supplies back and wash her hands. Roman is sitting with his elbows on the breakfast bar, and Cain passes him a large glass of red wine. Roman takes it and glugs half the glass in one smooth swallow. Fuck, I guess he’s still on edge.
Food all served, and drinks placed on the bar, we sit, me on the other side from Rome and Cain.
Ophelia returns. “Oh, yay, this looks amazing, Mal. I’m starving.”
She walks past me to take the seat next to mine, but I grab her around her waist and pull her to me.
She stumbles a little and sits awkwardly on my lap.
“Mal, let me go. I need to eat.”
“I’ll feed you, Little Ghost,” I say.
She stills, and her body tenses but then relaxes in a lovely moment of submission.
“Okay,” she breathes.
The way she gives in makes my cock twitch. It hardens more when she shuffles into place, making the t-shirt ride up really high on her legs, so I get a glimpse of her pussy.
She’s sitting on my lap, with nothing but the cotton of my sweats between her pussy and me.
“No panties?” I raise a brow. “Little Ghost, you are so naughty.”
She sighs. “This t-shirt is as long as a nightdress on me. I figured I didn’t need any.”
“You figured right.”
Taking some of the omelet on my fork, I carefully lift it to her lips. I’m ravenous, but feeding her matters more to me than satiating my own hunger.
She opens her mouth for the morsel, and I oblige. As she closes her lips around the food and pulls back, she moans soft and low.
My dick jumps at the sound.
Shit, this meal is turning into something else entirely.
If I don’t eat soon, I’ll pass out from hunger, but my God, it will be worth it to be able to finger her wet pussy as I feed her delicious food.
I take a bite myself and then load my fork for her again. She takes it and this time adds a dramatic lick of her lips. Her eyes flutter closed, and she moans again, wriggling on my lap.
Is she teasing me?
