Personal Chef


[erotica, romance, hardcore sex, alpha male, chef, dirty talk, food play]

Work has been hectic lately. I’m desperately in need of some rest, relaxation, a little excitement… Thankfully, I’m seeing my boyfriend, Javier, after two weeks without meeting face-to-face. I’m really lucky—he’s a chef, but could easily pass off as a model. More importantly, he knows me so well that everything he’s planned is perfectly to my taste. What I didn’t know is that dinner’s not the only thing on the menu tonight, and I’m in for much more than ‘a little excitement.’


      What a tease! I know he deliberately revealed his plans just to see me squirming and uncomfortable. Anticipation is singing through my veins as that familiar coil of heat swirls in my lower belly. It’s actually kind of embarrassing…like I’m one of Pavlov’s dogs, body hopelessly conditioned to respond to the passion burning behind those sinful eyes.
      The rest of dinner is terribly tedious seeing how I’m distracted and lost in my own fantasies; sumptuous as the steak is, I find the idea of Javier himself more tantalizing than all the food he could cook. Which is testament, really, to his seductiveness. To make matters worse, he’s deliberately eating slower than usual, a darned smirk on his handsome face the entire time.
      We’re done. We’re finally done. He lets his cutlery clatter onto the plate with no concern for etiquette, stretching his arms out and eyeing me with amusement.
      “How was the meal?” he enquires, voice lilting.
      “Delicious, but I think I’m ready for something a little more…stimulating.” I can’t help the pout creeping into my features.
      The chair creaks against the floor as Javier slides out and gets behind me in a blur of motion. Snaking his arms around my shoulders from the back of my chair, he leans in close. A sly tongue darts out and licks the shell of my ear, causing me to shiver involuntarily. “Meet me in the bedroom,” he whispers darkly. “Naked.”
      Holy mother of...
      I needn’t be told twice, scampering to my room at record speed.
      I kick out of my heels so hastily I stumble and barely manage to right myself against the nightstand. My fingers are trembling as I tear off my dress, which I carelessly toss aside. I remove my necklace and am about to do the same for my panties when Javier saunters in. A bowl is perched on his left hand, but I can’t quite make out its contents under the warm, dim glow of the lamp. My heart is pounding out a rapid rhythm as he approaches me, looking for all the world like he’ll eat me alive.
      And god help me, I’ll let him.

Word Count: 4,778

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