Page 32 of Maid For The Mafia Informant

I can’t wait to water everything and Ben reminds me about Enrico’s advice of not too much.

“I guess I’ll start on lunch?” he suggests absently, not being anywhere near as keen on plants as I suddenly feel.

I nod eagerly and set about finding the equipment to water Enrico’s prized plants.

Everything’s pretty much laid out, almost as if Enrico has someone do it for him when he’s not here anyway.

I sense Ben hovering at the door of the greenhouse. “I’ll be fine,” I tell him, trying to put the whole day so far behind us so we can relax for a bit and maybe even have some fun. But mostly, I want to calm things down so Ben can get on with his work, I know how important it is to him, how much he needs to do this.

Eventually, he seems satisfied I’ll be safe in here and I hear him take off back up to the house.

Hopefully to make some lunch. I’m starving.

I get lost in the act of admiring the exotic looking plants, trickling just a little water into each so as to not overdo anything.

The heat of the place gets to me when I’m done, and I make my way up to the house again, giddy from the heat but mostly from hunger.

The smell of cooking reaches me before I get to the open patio doors, wafting out what I can only hope is enough to satisfy my instant and raging hunger, made stronger by the fact that I know Ben’s prepared everything himself.

And it looks like, even at a glance, that the man can cook as well as he can...

Oh. My. God.

At a glance I can spot thick, crispy potato skins, fresh salad with guacamole and even thicker steaks sizzling on a grill.

As Ben turns to grab something else, I’m not sure which is wetter, my mouth or my panties as I realize he’s wearing nothing under his red apron.

Not a thing.

His huge bulge at the front, matches his broad smile when he turns around again.

I’m speechless, and still not sure which way is up or what I want in my mouth first. Him or the food.

“I couldn’t find anything for dessert, so I’m it,” he says, matter of fact as I notice his bulge shifting into a thick line as he speaks, threatening to overtake my desire for food and replace it with his man meat.

His eyes are on my body too, and I sense the moment when he’s about to sweep all the plates, food and everything right off the counter and just have me instead, so I change the topic.

“Let’s eat!” I squeak, unable to take my eyes off his rippling flesh under that red apron, which I could swear was made just for him.

Ben’s bulge twitches under his apron, straining against the fabric and I notice a dark spot emerging right at the tip, making me flush so hard I feel like yanking my clothes off, but his eyes are fixed on my chest.

Looking down at my shirt, I can see what’s got him going.

I must’ve gotten all wet again, something I seem to be so good at in his company.

His low growls of interest are enough to make me dizzy but he forces himself and me to focus on eating.

For now.

“First lunch and then dessert,” he says with authority, making me nod as I suddenly remember how hungry I really am.

We both eat greedily, sitting across from each other at the long stone counter top, each mouthful Ben takes feels like an invitation and he responds to each of mine with a bigger and heartier growl after each bit he takes.

I’m getting hotter and wetter with each bite and by the time we’re almost done, it’s unbearable.

Pushing my plate aside, I signal Ben I can’t take it one second longer and I strut around to his side of the counter, moaning out loud when I see he already has his apron lifted up over his thick, pulsing length, which is twitching in his hand.

I fall to my knees, lurching forward, and take his length with both hands, which still leaves more than I can wrap my hands around he’s so big.

I can’t stop myself, I need him inside me again. I want to touch him, to taste him. I suddenly want everything, everywhere, and right freaking now.

I pump what I can in my hands until he moans louder, one of my hands stroking his balls as I marvel at their size close up.

But it’s his length I want.

My mouth travels up his veiny shaft, and I greedily try to fit his swollen tip into my mouth, but it’s useless.

He’s just too big.

I try and content myself with running my mouth over every smooth inch I can take until he commands me to stop, warning me he’s about to explode if he doesn’t take me here and now.

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