Page 22 of His Cabin Obsession

By the time I’ve dug out a tray from one of the cupboards and piled the pastries onto several plates, then carried them through with some juice and two glasses, Olivia has cleaned up a little. The towels we used during the massage are gone, and she’s under the covers, tucked in up to her neck. I notice her eyeing my dick as I re-enter and grin to myself. Looks like her appetite might be coming back in more ways than one.

I scoot in next to her and set the tray down in front of us, gesturing for her to help herself. I grab a soft, buttery croissant from the top of one of the piles of pastries and begin to dig in, leaning over the tray so the flaky pastry won’t rain down on the bed.

“This is a lot of breakfast,” Olivia says, taking a pain au chocolat with a wide-eyed look.

“I didn’t know what you liked,” I shrug. “I figure it was better to get a bit of everything.”

“What did you say you do again?” Olivia asks, before taking a bite of her own snack.

Alright, maybe I have overplayed my hand as far as hiding the fact that I have a bit of money to play with. But I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to make sure that everything was perfect for her.

“I didn’t,” I shrug, laying back against the headboard and settling my back comfortably. I eye the tray. There’s a lot to choose from, that much is true. Maybe I’ll take an apricot tart before I put the food away again.

“That’s not fair,” Olivia pouts. “You know everything about me, and you won’t tell me a thing about yourself.”

“You know plenty.” I run the back of a hand down the outside of her arm. “You know my name. You know what kind of food I like to eat. You can tell I like to hit the gym. And you know I’m good in bed.”

Olivia stifles a chortle at my last words. “And I know you have a big enough ego that I don’t need to reinforce it,” she laughs.

“There you go, see? You know plenty about me.”

“That’s not enough.” Olivia shakes her head. “I don’t even know your last name.”

No, she doesn’t. Because the second she hears my last name, she’ll know exactly who I am and why I have so much money. And that’s when the game will be up. I’m so sick of people wanting me only for my money. She’s mine, and I want to keep the rest away for a little longer. Knowing that she is mine because of who I am, not because she wants to be wealthy beyond her wildest dreams.

“I don’t know everything about you, either,” I say, teasingly. “That’s an exaggeration.”

“No, it isn’t. You know about college, and my family, and what I want to do.”

“Yeah,” I say, reaching out to grab that apricot tart. “But there’s so much I don’t know. Like whether you have any pets, what your favorite color is, if you have a favorite singer or band…”

“That’s easy,” Olivia says, polishing off another pain au chocolat. I’ve learned a little something extra, she loves chocolate with her French pastries. “No, but I’d love a puppy, pink, and Taylor Swift.”

I stifle a groan. “Taylor Swift?”

Olivia offers me a grin. “Don’t worry, I only like singing along with her. Not breaking men’s hearts and then bragging about it. Although, more power to her.”

“Fine, fine,” I say, slipping my hand around her shoulders. “So long as you don’t have a posse of girlfriends ready to take me down if I even so much as look at you wrong.”

“There’s a simple solution for that,” Olivia laughs. “Just don’t look at me wrong.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t risk looking at all.” I shut my eyes tight, putting one hand over them, and start feeling around in the air with the other one. “Where are you? Where’d you go?”

Olivia laughs, then screams playfully as I deliberately grope through the air towards her chest, pulling the sheets down and taking her breast in my hand. I squeeze it as if trying to figure out what it is, making a curious humming sound.

Olivia, still laughing, swats my hand away and then pulls the other one down from my eyes. But, mission accomplished, she’s topless again and I can’t help my eyes gravitating downwards, especially when she moves towards me and makes them swing and bounce with the motion.

“You’re going to knock the food over,” Olivia says, grinning.

“Huh.” I look at the tray. “One way to fix that.

Within moments the tray is on the floor at the far side of the room, where I don’t think either of us is likely to tread on it, and I’m back on the bed, pulling the covers away from Olivia. It’s only been a short while but I’m already hungry for her again, and I don’t want to miss a single second of enjoying it.

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