Mister West R.J. Lewis (macos ebook reader txt) 📖

is also responsible for this. I’m sure all this stuff is for her to use, but I’m inclined to think she won’t mind me grabbing some things. I need something soulful. Some sort of comfort food.

Didn’t I promise Aidan a home cooked lasagna?

“Yes, I did,” I answer myself.

I gather my hair and throw it up in a messy bun. Then I fetch all the ingredients, hunt down the breadboard and begin chopping away. It’s early. Like super early. But we can have this as an early lunch. I don’t know how long it takes for him to work out, I assume a while because you don’t get that big doing the bare minimum.

I mince the garlic cloves, chop up the bell peppers, dice up some onions, and find a brick of minced meat in his fridge. I scroll through my Spotify, hunting down the perfect song.

6’s to 9’s by Big Wild later and I’m grooving, rocking my hips, humming.

See, I’m okay!

The oven is really fucking fancy. I have to Google: how the fuck do I operate a posh oven?

I figure it out an embarrassingly long time later.

The kitchen is a bombsite by the time I’m ready to throw the tray in the oven. I’m covered in sauce and I smell like garlic. I pull out my French Press because I don’t know how to use Aidan’s fancy coffee machine and Google is an asshole that won’t answer my questions. I make another cup of coffee for myself, and the aroma of lasagna mixed with coffee beans is to die for.

I’m scrolling through my phone, looking up more meal ideas when I hear footsteps behind me. I turn around. Aidan’s standing just outside the kitchen, staring at me and then the oven. He’s all sweaty and shirtless. There’s a towel wrapped around the back of his neck, and he’s still panting. An odd expression forms over his face as he takes in the sight.

Did I do something wrong?

“I’ll clean everything up,” I tell him. “Don’t worry about the mess.”

“Couldn’t give a fuck about the mess.”

“Oh, good.”

“You’re making food.”

“Lasagna, like I promised.”

His chest slows as he gapes at me. I don’t think he’s mad, not at all. He’s…something else. He looks away before I can analyze him some more. “I’m going to rinse myself off.”

“Okay, no problem. Lasagna should be ready soon.”

He disappears for a shower.

I pull the tray out not long after and set it on the island to cool. My stomach grumbles as I salivate over this sad mess. It's not long before Aidan reappears in another pair of sweats, his hair wet, his bare chest damp. He approaches the island and looks down at the tray, a thoughtful smile spreading along his lips.

“Is it better than it looks?” he asks, amused.

I gasp in dismay. “I warned you I’m no Gordon Ramsay.”

He laughs lightly. “Literally.”

I muster a glare and point a finger at him, stifling my laugh when I say, “You know what, you cheeky fucker, you’re having none of this.”

He takes my hand and kisses it. “No, don’t be that way.”

“Too bad.”

“I want your sad lasagna.”

“My lasagna is not sad. It’s just a little confused.”

He kisses me, silencing me. “I can’t wait to eat it, Ivy.”

I press a hand to his chest, accepting his kisses. When I pull away, I can’t help the way my eyes dance along his bare torso. “Are you trying to torture me, Mr West?”

“I thought the suits tortured you.”

“You’re half-naked. That would drive any woman mad.”

He looks me over quickly. “And you’re in just a t-shirt.”

I bite my lip. “How do you know I’m not wearing anything underneath?”

“Because I stood outside the kitchen for a few minutes, watching you bend over, staring into the oven.”

“Oh, God.”

“Yeah, I said that same thing. I said to myself, ‘Oh, God, she’s flashing me her pussy.’ I need that pussy now, Ivy.”

“You can’t have it.” I wrinkle my nose. “I smell like garlic.”

“I don’t give a fuck. I want you now.”

“I have to rinse off first –”

“Ivy,” he cuts in, and I recognize that look in his eye. He really does want me now. “Turn around and bend over the island for me.”

There’s no way I’m going to fight this. I want it, too. I want everything he does to me because it means having his dick buried in me. I need that distraction today more than ever.

I turn around on shaky legs. I can’t believe I’m still feeling nervous. Aidan got acquainted with every inch of me, and yet this simple demand is making me shake all over.

I slowly bend over the island, pressing my front flat against the tabletop. I’m very aware of the way my shirt rides up. It ends just below my ass. I press my forehead against the wood and shut my eyes, listening intently as he approaches me. Both of his hands slide up each leg. I hold my breath when he gets to the hem of the t-shirt. He pulls it up, revealing myself to him. His hands roam my ass cheeks, his fingers dig deep, caressing my skin.

“Fuck, you’re already wet,” he groans. “I can see your pussy glisten, Ivy. You want this?”

“Yes,” I whisper.

“Speak up,” he demands firmly.

“Yes,” I say louder.

He slaps my ass suddenly. “Yes, what, baby?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Aidan pushes his pants down. I feel his cock resting over my ass. He’s harder than ever, teasing me as he roams his tip along my crease. The room is silent and I’m hardly breathing. Then, he presses the head of his length against my entrance, working his way inside me slowly. My body doesn’t resist. It opens to him, welcoming him in as far as he can go.

He lets out a big breath like he was also holding it in his lungs.

Then he says, “Hold tight, Ivy.”

I raise my arms, gripping the edge of the table as he pulls out and slams back into me. Pleasure explodes from my center, and I let out a deep moan.

Aidan isn’t holding back.