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Jake pushes the fork full of cannoli into my mouth, almost choking me with the amount he’s picked up from the plate. I struggle to push him away, stifling a giggle, but he tries to ram it in further, close to choking me. I lift my hand and push him off, taking half out of my mouth and dropping it on the napkin in front of me, attempting to chew what’s still in it. He stuffs some into his mouth, seemingly oblivious to what he’s done to me.
“What is this thing you have with ramming food in my mouth?” I finally say, shoving his shoulder playfully. He leans around, attempting to push more into my mouth, but I turn away. “Jake!” I scold, moving his hand back. He shrugs, redirecting it into his mouth instead.
“Feeding you is part of taking care of you,” he smiles, but I only look at him in disbelief.
“There’s feeding someone.” I laugh. “You know, like sexily in the movies? And then there’s your version of trying to ram my mouth full in one fell swoop and almost choking me to death.”
“Just seeing how much you can fit in there,” he says, winking suggestively, and I turn crimson as I get what he means.
Oh, boy! We have never crossed the whole ‘me giving him oral pleasure’ yet. I wouldn’t even know how, and he’s never tried to initiate it. He’s never mentioned it despite doing it to me so many times. Is this a hint?
“Before your overactive brain starts going on a time-out thinking I want you to drop your face in my lap right now, I don’t.” He looks at me pointedly, always able to read me before I’ve even finished thinking. “You’ll get there when you’re ready. And if you don’t, it’s not an issue.” He picks up another piece of cannelloni and points it toward my mouth. I shake my head and watch him eat it instead.
For some reason, eating our meals on or in his bed has become the norm lately. We’re in the stages of undress again after coming home and making out on the couch. Actually, it was more like grinding and squirming hotly on the sofa and trying to stop his wandering hands in case Nora appeared. His lust led us to the bedroom soon after as he could not stop knowing I had no underwear on, obvious by the speed at which he got me naked.
I’m full to bursting, and his bed looks like a food explosion happened. He’s fed me what the housekeeper left us for lunch, a steak dinner followed by cream-filled cannoli, a Jake favorite. I’m wearing his shirt over my nakedness, and he’s wearing only his jeans with all his delicious torso, muscular back, and arms on show; I love looking at him.
“I hate girls who play with their food and eat nothing except lettuce,” he finally adds, looking me up and down. “You’re thin and seem to have a fast metabolism; I like seeing you fed.” He smiles at me before making another attempt at pushing food my way. “There’s something sexy about a girl who eats normally.”
“I swear I’ll be sick if you try that again. I’m not you with your endless stomach,” I laugh. This time he aims at my nose, smearing cream down my face, then dives on top of me to lick it off. I squeal and wriggle as his weight flattens me to the bed, his mouth sucking parts of my face the cream didn’t even touch. Cream smears up his hand from my fighting him off, and he tries to rub it on me. I squeal his name in objection, wriggling and battling those overly strong hands. Finally, he plants a kiss on my mouth, smiling as he does so, making me laugh in the process.
“Sometimes you’re like a child,” I giggle, pushing him up so he’s no longer squashing me; he plants his hands down either side of my head to take his weight, my favorite view of Jake.
“Yeah, well, get used to it; men never grow up, baby.” He picks up a piece of cannoli and throws it toward the plate, the sticky mess on the sheets making him frown. I look around at the carnage from eating lunch here.
“Your bed is a total mess,” I point out.
“It’s our bed. And I’m not sleeping here tonight, so good luck with getting comfy in it,” he grins, leaning down to kiss me again. Suddenly reminded that he’s leaving in a couple of hours, I stop and sigh, melancholy at the thought. It’s only for one night, but it’s why he’s going, and we haven’t been apart since we started this relationship, making me feel depressed about it.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he says, breaking into my thoughts as he leans closer. “You make me want to cancel it and stay home with you, Bambina.” His eyes come to mine, and I try a happier look, despite wanting him to do anything else but go.
“You need to sort this out, or she’ll just keep trying to call the shots,” I say.
And endlessly calling with her huffs and demands as though she owns him.
That thought makes me grumpier than hell.
He grins and pokes the frown on my forehead, saying, “Definitely don’t do that … or I’ll just have to run away with you and forget about responsibilities.” He frowns too and flops down beside me on the bed. Flinching in disgust, he arches up off the bed swiftly. “What the …? Ugghh.” He looks over his shoulder at the splodge of cream down his back and sends me into hysterical laughter.
“We should start using your dining table,” I laugh as he slides off the bed and grabs a towel to clean it off. He surveys the mess we’ve made, from the smears of cream to the gravy spills from when he tried to get a hand up my thigh while eating steak.
“You think that’s funny?” He locks eyes on me menacingly. Still flat on my back, I watch him with amusement, then squeal as he yanks the sheets completely off the bed, causing me to land in a heap on the floor at his feet, covered in white and gray bedding.
“Hey!” I choke, trying to untangle myself before a strong hand grabs my ankle and hauls me across the floor out of the bundle of sheets. I’m lifted and thrown heavily onto the mattress, covered with just the fitted sheet, and Jake straddles me with a determined look on his face.
“Little girls who laugh at their boyfriends deserve to be disciplined.” He pins my arms above my head with one hand, then tortures me with tickles until I’m howling, pinned under him expertly. I squeal with laughter, writhing and wriggling in protest until I’m too exhausted to fight anymore, tears are pouring from my eyes, and I am unable to breathe properly. Finally, his relentless torture stills, and he lies on top of me again, kissing me softly.
“You’re a horrid boyfriend,” I gasp, trying to wipe my face and catch my breath, exhausted. A smile forms on my lips as he moves close enough to rub noses, leaning over me, toying with almost kissing me, but keeping his mouth just out of reach.
“I guess,” he teases, smiling again, coming close as though he will kiss me, then moving back slightly with a gleam of wickedness. I get infuriated and lift my head to kiss him instead. He’s quick and rolls around, smiling. “Too slow!” He’s enjoying this. Playful, teasing Carrero has a new game … torturing Emma!
“Fine!” I pout and turn my face away so he can’t kiss me anymore. Still, he grabs my chin and pulls me back with a look of sheer annoyance on his face that his game has been turned on him and plants on me an extra seductive, passionate kiss, but with a glint of childish rage in his eyes that he has been outmaneuvered. He moves over me with more than a hint of his intentions. My body instantly ignites at the slightest signal that he wants sex, and she’s already purring.
* * *
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