Page 35 of The Revenge Plan

My hands were all over her back and neck in frantic motions that betrayed my earlier cool composure. I got up, lifted her from her seat and placed her on the bar counter.

She looked at me with a gaze heavy with passion. She was beautiful. My touch roamed over her legs, pushing up the dress in the process, exposing her thighs, and went up and up, revealing her body like a naughty Christmas present. Her silky panties were wet when I brushed her there. She moaned, I did it again and tasted her lips again. She squirmed and glided against my hand. The compulsion to feel my cock stroking inside her was overwhelming. I pulled her underwear down to her legs. They dropped to the ground over her shoes, which had fallen a while ago.

Her pussy was glistening and inviting. The erection strained against my slacks, making them feel even tighter. I brushed her nub and watched her as she leaned back in ecstasy. I continued to rub her clit as I pulled her towards me and tasted her. She moaned. I think I heard a small, “Caiden,” as I licked her. She was just as sweet as I remembered. I licked and lapped. Her hands went down to my head and slid off when she exploded in ecstasy.

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Icame down in a sea of pleasure. I had never felt like this, ever. Caiden was the king of cunnilingus. I felt like a thousand fireworks had lit up inside me and popping at the same time. When I opened my eyes, Caiden was looking at me with a self-satisfied grin. It made me feel like I had stumbled onto shaky ground.

“I guess that puts the argument to bed.”

“What argument?” I asked in a daze. My voice was barely audible.

“That I have no effect on you. I obviously do.”

“Do you need help with that?” I asked, my hand going to his erection.

“No. Goodnight Hailey.” And with that, he left me. He left me there with my dress askew, my legs wide open and my pussy dripping on the counter. The fucking asshole. I got down on shaky legs and I went to bed angry.

I woke up feeling worse than when I had slept. The night before came flooding into my head and I wanted to hide in my room for the rest of the day. I could still feel the embers of the fire he ignited in me last night. The man had left me feeling boneless, and I hated how much I had enjoyed it and how it went to prove to him that he had power over me.

I got up, showered and went downstairs. He was already in the kitchen drinking coffee and scrolling on his iPad. From my vantage point, it looked like he was reading a newspaper.

He was wearing chinos and a polo shirt. His hair was well brushed and perfect. He looked perfect and unaffected. Whereas I was a bundle of emotions inside. It wasn’t fair. My stomach grumbled. The last meal I ate was yesterday’s lunch. I opened the fridge, praying that they would be some leftovers Caiden forgot in there. I had noticed that he liked to cook for himself and I would hear him cook sometimes, but only a meal for one and he rarely left food.

There was nothing. I might have to buy frozen pizza or tv dinners for myself, if I was going to survive in this household, and I could not continue this diet of cornflakes and muffins in the long run.

I took out the milk and went to the cereal bar. The cornflakes were no longer as tasty as they were before, now felt like munching cardboard soaked in milk.

“You like that stuff.”

I looked up and saw Caiden watching me. “Not really. There isn’t much in terms of food here.”

He frowned, “there’s bacon and eggs?”

I smiled, “thanks, but I can’t cook that.”

He gawked at me and I thought that was the end of it and went back to my food. Then I heard, “bacon and eggs? You can’t cook bacon and eggs?”

I suddenly felt a deep wash of embarrassment. I ignored him and continued with my food. A few moments later he got up from his stool and he went to the fridge. He took out a bunch of stuff and went to the stove. I went back to my phone and scrolled on the ‘gram as I heard and smelled the sizzling bacon and eggs. It was making me hungry, even though I was consuming food. If his point was making me feel sad for eating pathetic food, then he was succeeding.

Next thing I know, I see a plate in front of me of bacon, eggs and pancakes. “Eat,” he commanded. I looked up at him, my mouth open. I stared at the delicious-looking food. “Thank you,” I said, and abandoned my cornflakes in favor of proper food. I wolfed it down. It tasted so good. I had never had food that was this good before. It was simple,, but it felt like a Michelin star restaurant meal. Maybe it was the food, or maybe it was the person who had made it.

“You should have told me,” he looked concerned. I noticed that I had eaten half the plate in less than a minute. I slowed down as I squirmed in my seat under his gaze.Don’t be embarrassed, I said to myself.Lots of people didn’t know how to cook.“What would you have done? You’d have laughed, I’m sure as you’re now. Called me a spoiled princess.”

“I’m not laughing,” his serious tone changed to a more jovial one as he said, “But yes, you’re a spoiled princess.”

When I was done eating, I thanked him again.

He said, “What I would like to know is why you never bought takeout. You can certainly afford it.”

I was about to tell him I was broke when I remembered he didn’t know that I had sent all of my allowance to the foundation. I didn’t want to spend his money. And until now, I was, or he was, the biggest donor at the foundation. I scurried for an answer. “My allowance usually ends up going to clothes,” I shrugged and tried to put on my best spoiled rich girl vibe, “Jimmy Choos can be expensive.”

His face contorted in disgust, and I wanted to shrink in shame for lying to him. “I’ll increase it next month.”

“No!” I jumped in. He looked surprised by my quick rejection, “I just need to watch how I spend things, that’s all.” He nodded.

My phone chimed. It was a text from Bryce. I took the phone and looked at it below the table.

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