Page 42 of The Devil's Chaos

She turned in my arms. “Only for the special ones,” she replied softly, a vulnerability seeping into her words.

“Are you trying to make me horny?” I challenged.

“Is it working?” She threw a towel at me playfully, turning to flip the pancakes.

I grinned, catching the towel and draping it over my shoulder.

“Breakfast is served,” she announced with a flourish, placing two plates on the kitchen island.

I pulled out a chair and gestured for her to sit, taking a seat next to her. I watched her as she ate, taking small bites of the pancakes she had made. The maple syrup glistened as it dripped down the edges, and she closed her eyes in satisfaction of the first bite. Her lashes fluttered open as she caught me staring, a small smile playing on her lips.

“What?” she asked.

I reached out and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, my fingers lingering on her skin.

“Nothing,” I responded.

Her cheeks flushed pink, but she didn’t look away. Instead, she leaned into my touch, savoring the connection between us. The morning light danced in her eyes, turning them into pools of emerald green with slender strands of gold-like spikes around a wheel. I stood up and turned her around in her chair to face me. She stared up at me inquisitively while I trailed my fingers down her chest to the first button on her shirt.

“As.”

Another button.

“Much.”

Two more buttons.

“As.”

Another button.

“I.”

Another button.

“Love.”

One more button.

“Seeing you.”

My hands trailed across her stomach and gently opened it to reveal her nakedness underneath.

“Wearing my shirt,” I kissed her lips softly. “I really enjoy a little dessert with my breakfast.”

“What do you have in mind?”

I reached around her, grabbed the syrup bottle, and popped the lid. “Maple syrup,” I said with a sly grin, drizzling it over her chest, letting it slowly drip down to her waist. As I poured the syrup over her breasts, her breathing quickened.

My little lamb knew what I would do and was wet for me.

I tilted her head back, and my lips met hers in a passionate kiss. She moaned softly into my mouth, her hands finding their way to my chest. I picked her up and carried her to the kitchen table. Her legs wrapped around my waist, and I pushed her against the cold marble surface as my erection pressed against her. With one hand, I held her in place while the other drizzled syrup all over her body. It formed small puddles on her stomach, between her breasts, and on her inner thighs. The sweet liquid started to run down her skin, coating every curve and valley.

I dipped two fingers into her warm folds, now covered in sticky syrup, bringing them up to her lips.

“Taste,” I commanded before pressing them against her mouth. Her lips parted, and she sucked them in, savoring the sweet goodness.

She closed her eyes and moaned as the flavors danced on her tongue. I watched her, mesmerized by the sight of her pleasure. Her gaze met mine, and I could see the raw hunger that lived there.

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