Lena's POV
I hurried upstairs to change into casual wear—shorts and a polo.
When I got to the kitchen, I noticed Bertha had already brought out everything I needed to make breakfast for Raymond, and it warmed my heart.
"Thank you, Bertha," I told her.
"You're welcome, Lena. Would you like me to stay and assist you?"
"No, it's okay. I can manage."
Cooking was nothing to me. My mother had always made it a habit to prepare my dad's meals herself, and I learned from watching her. Over the years, I'd perfected my skills.
I moved seamlessly around the kitchen, humming softly as I cooked.
"I didn't know you could cook."
I turned and saw Raymond leaning against the doorway, his head resting on the frame, smiling. I became lost in those mesmerizing eyes again. Can someone really be this handsome?
"Lena, am I really that handsome that you can't take your eyes off me?" he asked, snapping me out of my trance.
I retorted quickly, "You wish. I wasn't even looking at you."
I turned away to hide my flushed face, silently berating myself for being so obvious. Did I really have to drool every time I saw him?
"Alright, hide it all you want. It doesn't change the fact that I saw you drool," he said as he stepped closer.
I was already squirming, wishing he would just leave. I didn't expect his next words.
"Do you want me to make love to you right here in the kitchen?" he asked.
"I can see you taking off my clothes with your eyes. Since I'm a nice person, I can bring your wish to life."
He said that while rubbing his hands over my ass, which caught me completely off guard.
"No, I don't want that," I said quickly. "I just want to make dinner for you to thank you for saving me from my family the other day."
I turned to face him fully.
"Can I choose another way for you to thank me?" he asked.
Naively, I agreed, thinking he probably wasn't hungry.
"Okay. What do you want?" I asked.
"I want you," he replied.
"No, I'm not on the table," I shot back, silently grateful that I had already finished cooking.
Otherwise, we would have burned the house down tonight with our constant bickering.
"Girl, you already agreed. And you've been on the table since the night you signed that contract. Didn't you read it?"
As he spoke, he cleared the table with one hand and started pulling at my top.
"I did, but—" I trailed off when I realized what he was doing.
He lifted me effortlessly and dropped me onto the kitchen table.
His lips trailed kisses along my neck, my face, before capturing my mouth in a deep kiss. His kisses drowned all my complaints. Soon, the only sound left was my own moaning, which startled me.
I pushed him back quickly and covered my mouth.
"Bertha will hear us."
"What if she walks in?" I asked.
"She wouldn't dare," he replied calmly.
"Stop talking," he said, irritation seeping into his voice.
He kissed me again. His hands moved expertly, unhooking my bra, massaging my breasts before his mouth followed. I threw my head back, moaning openly.
My eyes almost rolled back when he touched my clit. His fingers slipped inside me, then withdrew. Moments later, he unhooked his pants, and his huge dick stood before me.
I swallowed hard.
He positioned himself at my folds, one hand gripping my ass as he slowly pushed inside me, filling me completely.
We moved together in rhythm. He held me tightly, thrusting slowly, deeply. The sensation was heavenly. I rocked my body against his, resting my head on his neck as I clung to him.
Something began to build inside me. My breathing quickened, my moans grew louder. I didn't even know what I was begging for—I just kept calling his name until everything exploded inside me.
Raymond quickened his pace, pounding into me harder until he buckled inside me as well.
Exhaustion washed over me, leaving me weak and sleepy. He lifted me up and carried me upstairs.
"You need to start exercising to improve your stamina," he said. "You can't keep falling asleep after every little lovemaking."
I didn't respond. I was truly exhausted.
He took me into the bathroom and turned on the shower.
The warm water soothed my skin, and I opened my eyes, enjoying it.
Raymond didn't leave. He stepped into the shower with me.
We bathed together, his hands roaming, kneading my breasts, kissing me like we hadn't just made love minutes ago. I wondered where he got his strength from.
When he turned off the shower, I thought we were done—but I was wrong.
He went down on one knee and lifted one of my legs. I quickly tried to cover myself, embarrassed by the way he was staring at me.
"Keep your hands still, Lena. Remember, your body is mine for two years."
"That doesn't mean you can do every shameless thing you want," I snapped. "If you have some weird fetish, go do it with other girls—not me."
I was already pissed. Every minute, he reminded me of the contract. One day, he might ask me to jump into a lagoon, and when I complained, he'd just pull it out.
What a joke.
"Trust me," he said calmly. "You'll love what I want to do to you. You might even beg for more."
"I don't want you to do anything. All I wanted was to make dinner for you, and now here we are."
He paused, then stood up. "Alright. Let's postpone the fun for another time."
To my shock, he actually listened. He turned the shower back on, and water cascaded over our bodies again.
After a few minutes, he turned it off, and we stepped out.
He helped dry me despite my protests.
"Lena, you have a beautiful body. I can't help staring at it all day. Let me."
I didn't mind him drying me—it was the way his hands kept lingering that made it difficult not to moan.
When he was done, I went into the closet. Every nightwear there was sexy. I sighed. Definitely
Raymond's doing. Before this contract ended, I might actually turn into a slut.
I put on pants and an oversized top. When I came out, Raymond was already dressed in shorts and a polo, and he complained immediately.
"I can't wear that, Raymond. It's too slutty."
"Well, you are my slut," he replied. "But fine. Let's eat."
We went downstairs, and I reheated the food, adding a side dish.
I made roasted chicken, rice, mashed potatoes with gravy, salad, and vegetables.
We ate in silence. Raymond stayed on his phone the entire time, never looking up. I was
disappointed—I wanted him to tell me the food was good.
Afterward, I cleaned the table and washed the dishes alone. Raymond was on a call, sounding angry, but I didn't care.
When I finished, I went to bed without checking on him.
Not long after, Raymond came in, lifted the duvet, and lay beside me. He pulled me close and inhaled deeply.
"Thank you for the meal," he said softly. "I really enjoyed it. Maybe someday you'll tell me who taught you how to cook this well."
"My mom," I blurted out.
"She's a good woman for teaching my kitten how to cook like that."
"She was," I replied.
He held me tighter, and we fell asleep together.