Page 6 of Filthy Chef

It’s just an innocent lunch. That’s all this is.

We’re not doing anything else today, Jason. We’re just setting her up for success. That’s it.

I don’t know when my conscience started referring to myself in the third person, but it’s not like I can think straight with this bombshell sitting across from me.

“I can’t let you leave Dallas without trying this dessert,” I say.

Journey turns a skeptical gaze on me, dabbing wasabi from her lips. “Sushi joints aren’t known for dessert. I’m fine.”

“This one is. I know the chef personally. You gotta trust me on this.”

She cocks her head. “How do you know the chef?”

And now we’re getting too close for comfort. “She’s famous,” I say. “Everyone in Dallas comes here for sushi and dessert.”

“Fine,” she says, setting down the chopsticks on her empty plate. “I’ll try a bite, but just a little. I’ll even let you order for me.”

“Good girl.”

Journey’s emerald eyes widen at that. She glances around the room shyly, then reaches for her sake and jokingly murmurs, “Thanks, Daddy.”

What I have planned for her is no joke.

The dessert shines under the low amber lights.

“Raindrop cake!” Journey says, gasping in delight.

“Wait until you taste it,” I say.

“Hold on, I need to Instagram this,” she says, standing up and moving around the table until she finds herself next to me, her scent teasing my nostrils. On instinct, my arm circles her hips to keep her there.

Journey laughs as she snaps photos of the round work of art that resembles a large single drop of rain. Inside the clear-gelled bubble is a delicate pink rose that looks too real and perfect for eating.

She doesn’t move away from my touch. “I tried making one of those in culinary school, but it’s so hard—Hey!”

When I pull her down onto my lap, her girlish yelp of surprise turns several pairs of eyes toward us.

“What are you doing?” Journey laughs, wriggling on my lap. My arm cinches her closer, and it’s all I can do not to let out a groan at the painful neediness pressing against her backside.

“Making sure you get your share of dessert.”

She makes a slight sound of mock sadness when I cut off a piece of the confection and lift the spoon to her mouth. Her eyes stay on mine as she closes her lips around the spoon.

“Mmm,” she says, her eyes fluttering closed.

“What did I tell you?”

Her throat bobs as she swallows, and the urge to nibble her throat is almost irresistible.

“This is a weird thing to say but it tastes like dew.”

“You like it?”

She sits up straighter, the movement making my already-hard cock even stiffer. Needier. “Are you kidding? I love it!”

Journey takes the spoon from my hand and fills it, bringing it close to my lips.

I laugh. “I’ve had this before,” I tell her.

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