Page 67 of All Her Broken Pieces

She steps closer, walking me back until my calves hit the tiled bench, then pushes my chest, forcing me to sit before dropping to her knees between my open thighs.

Taking my dick in her hand, she palms my length, licking from the root to the tip while cradling my balls in her other hand.

My head falls back and a growly “Fuck” escapes my throat as she places the tip of my cock against her lips and licks around the crown in a circular motion. A second later, her mouth is filled with my cock, taking me in as far as she can before my length hits the back of her throat.

I grab her hair, fisting it as her mouth works up and down, sucking me in hard as her cheeks hollow. She tries to take all of me, and when it’s clear she can’t, her hand pumps the base of my shaft, twisting and pulling as her saliva drips down, coating me.

“That’s it, you can take it,” I encourage, holding her head in place as I thrust my hips up into her mouth, her gagging noises echoing off the shower walls. She moans, and the vibrations feel like heaven on my dick, tickling the nerve endings until I’m about to explode.

“Fuck, sweetheart, I’m gonna come. Be a good girl and swallow every drop.” I’m barely able to bark out my command before I’m spilling into her mouth. She laps it up like a kitten starved for milk.

Her finger swipes around her mouth, then dips between her lips as she sucks it clean, before releasing it with a gentle pop. My dick likes that a whole fucking lot as it starts to harden again, thinking there’s going to be a round two.

“I’m going to go finish the projections I was working on. Are we on for dinner?”

“Going out tonight?” I excitedly ask.

I deflate a little when she says, “I thought we’d stay in. Didn’t you say you wanted to teach me?” The thought of her in nothing but an apron briefly flashes in my mind, and I’m excited all over again.

“Embarrassed to be seen out with me, hellcat?” I joke, but a pained look crosses her face briefly. Fuck, maybe she’s ashamed of me.

“I’d rather not deal with the stares and judgment,” she counters quietly, toweling off as she puts her robe on and exits the bathroom, leaving me to deal with the aftermath of the small emotional bomb she just detonated.

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I decide on chicken parmigiana and gather the ingredients when she emerges from her room.

“First, I’m going to show you how to make the chicken,” I explain, pulling the package out of the fridge and placing it on the counter.

“What about the sauce? Can I use the premade stuff from the jar at the store?”

“I mean, you could, but it’d be shit. True marinara sauce needs all day to marinate and soak up the flavors. I make it in large batches and can it so I always have it on hand. We’ll use the jar I brought. But one day, I’ll teach you how to make gravy the right way. Now, are you ready to get dirty?”

“Yes, chef,” she replies with a wink.

And now my cock is hard, pressing against the seam of my pants as I pause my movements, setting down the ingredients I was gathering.

“That got you hard already, pup? I just sucked your cock in the shower.”

“That’s not helping,” I warn, blowing out a breath as I continue organizing my cooking space.

I spend the next several minutes teaching Bridget how to butterfly and bread the chicken, dipping it in the dry mixture, then the egg wash, and the dry mixture again.

Her chicken is butterflied unevenly in spots, and I show her how to use the knife to perfect the cut as we repeat the process with more breasts. We make enough for our meal, leftovers, and sandwiches. I want to make sure she has something to eat when I’m at the restaurant and can’t cook for her.

Feeding people is my passion, but feeding Bridget is my calling. That this woman allows me to take care of something so sacred, fills me with a joy nothing else ever has. My one hope is that she’ll still need me once these six weeks are over.

CHAPTER22

Bridget

I’m closingmy laptop when Ethan emerges from the bathroom. He’s fully dressed, his hair still damp from the shower, the ends curling around his ears, framing the handsome features of his face as he joins me, sitting on the edge of the bed as I set my laptop on the nightstand.

“I missed you,” he admits as he leans in for a quick kiss. “The restaurant was crazy today. I’m starting to miss the dinner rush. It’s constant and predictable, but lunch is utter chaos. Right when you think the rush is over, you get another wave of people. And whoever prepped this morning did a shit job. We had to eighty-six like half of the menu. Servers were pissed because customers were pissed. It was a total shit show.”

“Mmm, you smell like Italian food,” I moan into his skin because I didn’t follow half of what he said.

He pulls the front of his shirt to his nose and inhales. “Fuck, do I? I showered, but it’s hard to scrub off the smell of garlic.”

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