Page 46 of Trapping His Darling

“Dominican. I was adopted by an older couple who couldn’t have children. But they’re gone now.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

She shook her head before shutting off the water. “You didn’t. I miss them, but it’s for the best.”

For the best?The way she said it made me suspect she was the one who’d seen them out. “How did they die?”

“Poison. But the cause of death was listed as fire, I’m sure.”

I would have pressed for more information, but she then stepped around the glass wall and onto the mat, looking at me expectantly. When I didn’t move, because my eyes were too busy eating up her exposed body, she cleared her throat.

“Can you hand me a towel?” she asked.

Fumbling, I handed the closest one over to her. I could feel my ears growing hot when I saw it was a hand towel, rather than a full-sized bath towel. She raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, and just started using it to dry off her skin.

“I brought you a robe.”

She smiled, picked up the fabric, and smelled it. “It’s yours.”

I nodded.

After she put her robe on, I escorted her to the kitchen and helped her into a chair. I knew her ass and pussy were sore, so I retrieved some painkillers and a glass of juice, both of which I set in front of her.

“Would you like a full Russian breakfast?” I returned to the stove and the meal I abandoned earlier.

“You can cook?”

I nodded. “Is that so strange?”

She laughed. “Well, who would’ve thought a powerful man like yourself would know how to do anything domestic for himself?”

“I learned from the chefs my family hired, and made sure I could fend for myself.”

“Will it disappoint you to know I do not know my way around a kitchen?”

“Not at all.”

If the jars of dicks showed anything, her talents in a kitchen were not completely lacking. She knew how to butcher and cure meat, as well as dry plants for long-term storage.

When Tiffany smiled, it was almost hard to concentrate on our conversation. What were we discussing again?

“Breakfast,”my mother’s ghost replied.

That’s right. “So back to the question: do you want a full Russian breakfast?”

She shook her head. “Some toast would be fine, and maybe some water.”

Bread and water?

I arched an eyebrow. “Do we need to revisit the conversation from the freezer?”

“No, please,” she murmured in a pout. “I learned my lesson.”

Her face had changed color slightly. I think she was blushing, and it was the most endearing thing I’d ever seen. Even after giving all her virginities to me, she was still so fucking innocent.

“Tell me about yourself,” I offered as she sat down.

Tiffany’s eyes locked onto mine as I placed butter, and a variety of jams and jellies, in front of her. I would give her the toast, but she would be adding more to it. I even got the Nutella out.

---