Page 47 of The Billionaire Submissive
Determined to face whatever sensual torment he’d been devising for her, she threw open the door and sailed into the bedroom head held high. Only he wasn’t in the bed, which Annette had made while they were eating dinner. She’d even thoughtfully turned down the covers and left a chocolate on each pillow.Oh, honey, not even enough for an appetizer.
“Lilly.” His low voice strummed her spine, making her jumpy and fidgety, totally unlike the Mistress’s cool control. She fought to keep her face smooth and her nerves buried as she turned to face him.
Lounging on pillows he’d scattered on the floor in front of a large gas fireplace, he watched her with dark, steady eyes. He wore a pair of cotton pajama pants but nothing else, the white startling against his tanned skin. He’d spread a fluffy comforter out on the floor. Dark chocolate. The same color as the pie sitting beside him.
“Dessert is served.” He lifted his hand, holding out his fingers to her until she came and slipped her hand into his. He pulled her down beside him, uncomplaining when she sat instead of lying back on the pillows. “Unlike you, I’m going to serve our pie now before we get carried away and waste it.”
“What does Big Apple Chocolate Silk Pie mean?” She hated the quaver in her voice. The uncertainty. She wasn’t completely sure how to be with a man if she wasn’t the Mistress any longer. Even the lusty wench channeled the Mistress’s power and confidence. She’d taken what she wanted without hesitation.
But his desire to make love to her had somehow disabled her confidence.
“New York Style cheesecake topped with French silk pie. Sometimes he does chocolate cheesecake on the bottom, but…” He lifted out a piece of pie with the server and laid it on the waiting saucer. “This one’s plain.”
Now she could see the white and dark layers and her mouth watered. Graham cracker crust and traditional New York cheesecake, with another inch of thick chocolate custard, topped with yet another layer of whipped cream and curls of chocolate shavings. “There’s far from anything plain about such a decadent dessert.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
She searched his gaze, trying to pinpoint the deeper tone to his voice, but he merely smiled. “We even have forks. So you don’t have to eat with your fingers. Unless you want to, of course.”
She accepted the plate and waited while he served his. It was strangely proper, despite the fact that they were reclining on the floor barely dressed. Her mouth quirked.
“There she is.” She risked a glance back to his face and he smiled, scooting closer and then reclining on his elbow beside her. “It’d be a crime for you to be so nervous you can’t eat this incredible pie.”
“I’m not nervous.” To prove her point, she took the first bite of pie. Cheesecake, thick and creamy. Chocolate silk on top. Oh oh oh. So good, it took her a minute to realize he stroked her thigh, fingertips feather soft and gentle. She also noted his untouched pie waiting on the saucer. “Aren’t you going to eat any?”
“I will. I’m having too good of a time watching you enjoy it. Why don’t you try a bite of only chocolate silk?”
Not a bad idea. Carefully, she separated the top layer so fluffy chocolate cream slid down her throat as easily as silk. “Fuck. No wonder it’s called chocolate silk.”
“Mmmm.” He nuzzled the outside of her knee while his fingers roamed her calf. “Yes. I agree completely.”
“You haven’t even tried any yet.”
“I’m sampling my own dessert.”
Trying for nonchalant, she ate the remaining bite of cheesecake without its crust. So rich and creamy and heavy, authentic New York Style. No shortcut cheesecake for Ricardo. “So that’s the way it’s going to be tonight?”
“It’s only fair. You had dessert last night and I didn’t get any.” No wonder he’d spread the blanket out to protect the carpet. “I must confess to being disappointed in these.” So softly she hadn’t even felt it, those wicked fingers had slipped up beneath the negligee to touch the satin covering her crotch. “I always thought I was a thong man but now… I’d much rather see you wearing nothing at all.”
“That can be arranged.”
“Soon. Why don’t you roll over and remind me why I thought I liked thongs first? You can still keep your pie.” When she hesitated, he widened his eyes and pretended innocence. “I’ll make it worth your while.”
Somehow when she’d imagined him eating pie off her, it wasn’t off her butt. It made her laugh, though, which was exactly what he wanted. “You’re getting better at this light-hearted teasing gig.”
“Thanks to you. Mr. Douche Bag has to unbend sometime, right?”
“Oh all right.” Pretending to grumble, she rolled over and propped her cheek on her hand so she could still eat her pie. She lifted her feet and crossed her ankles, kicking her legs gently. “But if you don’t hurry up, I might eat yours too.”
“Take another bite.”
His voice sounded funny, making her look over his shoulder. Donovan Morgan stared at her ass like he’d just found nirvana. Chuckling, she couldn’t help but arch her back a little to lift her butt higher. “I took you for a boob man.”
“I am, sweetheart, but damn. I’d have to be dead not to think your ass was a gorgeous work of art. Are you eating your pie?”
She sampled the whipped cream and had to admit it was just as good as Dmitri’s. However, the shaved chocolate took it up a whole other notch.
His lips fluttered against her hip, butterfly kisses up to the skinny little waistband of the thong. Then he followed the thin strip down the crack of her ass, pressing gentle kisses on either side. His hands stroked the curves of her ass, kneading slightly harder.
