The Billionaire’s Bun In Her Oven - Ellie Rowe Page 0,31

him and guide him inside me. Fuck, that feels good, every fucking time. I scoot myself down so my thighs are clasped around his legs and I arch back, almost perpendicular to the couch.

I’m controlling the movement, slow but hard. He has a fantastic view of my naked body, so I snake my hand down my front to touch myself. I hear him groan and I speed up my grinding to the time of my circling fingers.

“Oh, fuck, that’s fantastic,” he moans as I circle my hips against his, keeping up the pace. He reaches forward to grab my hips, so I bring myself back up, bouncing on top of his dick.

He enjoys that for a moment, watching my breasts shake before he pulls me on top of him, kissing me as he thrusts up. Our tongues tangle together.

I’m starting to wish I’d thought to search for fruit. But I can taste the wine on his lips and, for tonight, I’ll say that grapes will do nicely. He reaches behind me and spanks me hard. I gasp with a newfound fire in my eyes.

Oh, he likes that I liked that.

Stephen’s eyes are black with lust as his hand finds my throat. He squeezes, gently forcing me forward to cover him in kisses. I grab a fistful of his hair and pull, testing his response.

He growls against my lips. I love how we’re figuring each other out. His couch is so wide, there’s room for him to flip us over, so he’s on top again. He fucks me slowly, but with growing intensity.

I grab hold of his powerful arms and move my thighs between his, making me as tight as possible. He moans my name and I squeeze around him as tightly as I can. He grabs my throat and I grab his, both of us squeezing ever so gently as we thrust into a climax.

I break first, moaning against the tightness around my throat. The sound of me coming again sends him off, and he explodes inside me, releasing his arms to collapse on top of my chest. He kisses me as he moans in ecstasy.

Our sounds finally cease, and we lay panting together, sweat pooling between our naked bodies. Holy fucking shit, that was fantastic. He lifts his head from mine and raises an eyebrow, blowing out a sigh between his lips.

“Cynthia,” he says, as I laugh and stroke his beautifully thick hair. I’m awash in my post-orgasmic bliss and lean back as he slips out, kissing me again to keep contact.

“Alright, Stephen,” I say as I kiss him again. “That was… amazing, but…”

“Don’t say it,” he groans and kisses me to keep me from speaking. I laugh against his lips and pull him from me by the hair.

“Stephen, if we’re caught, if anyone finds out, we'd be in huge trouble. Like, career-ending trouble. I can’t let that happen to you, and I certainly can’t let that happen to me.”

He closes his eyes and gives me a bemused look that makes me smile.

“So, this is the last time. Got it?”

“Got it.”

Twenty-Four

Stephen

“You’ve got too much heat under that pan, Cynthia.”

“I think it’s OK, Nadia.”

“Who’s here to save whose restaurant here?”

“It’s how I like it. You’ll see.”

“Guess we know why your food always tastes a bit burnt!”

The passive aggressive rivalry Nadia perpetuates every day of the shoot is unrelenting. We’re three weeks in now, and somehow, Nadia finds a way to criticize Cynthia’s cooking, taste, style, and – of course – her posh background. It all makes my head spin. I can only imagine what it does to Cynthia.

Unfortunately, I’m more or less powerless to do anything about it. Because the other thing that’s got my head spinning is Cynthia.

Since we slept together again, I’ve been totally off my game. I can’t concentrate on my TV persona because all I can think about when I’m around her is taking the mask off and just being myself.

More than that – she’s mesmerizing. Watching her cook is like watching Picasso paint. Not since I studied for half a year in Paris have I watched someone approach cooking with such a sense of purpose and passion. She’s not just making food, she’s making something she wants the world to try because it’ll make them happy for a while.

“Stephen, tell her the flame’s too high,” Nadia says now, turning to me.

There’s silence as I realize I have no idea what we’re talking about. So, I say, “Hey, if you can’t take the heat, am I