“Come for me, baby,” he said, as his movements became more frenzied. “Just a little more and you’ll be soaked,” he growled into my ear, sending shivers down my spine. “Such a perfect little slut, Rebel. Begging me to pull over and be fucked right here. You are so fucking perfect.”
As he thrust into me one more time, I lost control. My body shook violently, the release overwhelming. Wave after wave of pleasure washed over me as I clung to Rook, feeling him pulsate inside of me. Finally, as the last shudder subsided, I let out a ragged sigh, my breaths coming out in short gasps.
Rook’s grip on me tightened, holding me close as he slowed.
The engine rumbled as I caught my breath. He pulled me up, getting closer to my ear, and kissed along my neck.
“I’m addicted to every part of you, Rebel. You are mine, and I will be spending every day reminding you of that.”
I couldn’t find words, my body exhausted as I leaned back against him. He kissed my shoulder, a simple reminder of how gentle he liked to be. We stayed like that for a moment, and I savored every second.
“Come on, Rebel,” he whispered, his voice low and rough. “Let’s get you home.”
I nodded, feeling a sense of contentment wash over me. Rook got off, sliding me back onto my seat before getting on in front of me.
The engine roared to life, and I wrapped my arms around his waist, feeling the steady thrum of the bike beneath us. The night air was cool against my skin, but I leaned down, wrapping my arms around him and resting my head on his back as we headed home.
Rook had helped me into bed last night before sliding in next to me. We had talked for a while, but it didn’t take long before I had fallen asleep. Now, I woke up alone. I assumed Rook had snuck out until I saw his helmet still on my dresser.
I leaned over the side of the bed. His boots were still sitting there, too.
“Rook?”
He didn’t answer, and I couldn’t hear anything, which didn’t mean much in a house this big.
I crept downstairs, stopping to listen every few steps but still not hearing anything. My heart hammered in my chest, wondering where he was or what he could be doing. None of the options I could come up with were good.
And when I turned the corner into the huge kitchen, I really hadn’t been expecting the sight in front of me.
Rook had his back to me, his jeans slung low on his hips as he opened cabinets and pulled out ingredients like he was right at home here. He moved confidently around the kitchen, and then back to the stove to mess with one of the burners. It was all so simple, and surprising. Here was a man whose life was filled with danger and darkness, yet he stood in the kitchen, cooking breakfast for us as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
“What are you doing?” I asked, making him spin back to me. The entire room smelled like coffee and toast, and I took another step inside with a deep breath.
“Making breakfast?”
“But…why?”
He smiled, turning back to the stove. “I was hungry. I thought you would be, too. So breakfast felt like the natural choice.”
“And you thought you should come down here to make it?”
“Is there a problem?” he asked.
I moved around the island to him. “Not at all. I’m just surprised.”
“That I eat?”
“That you cook,” I said with a grin.
“Don’t you? Or do rich princesses never have to cook?”
“I have to cook!” I said, knocking his arm. “Do you see a private chef around here?”
“Yeah, why is that? Your dad is one of the richest guys in the city. Why not have a chef?”
I shrugged. “We used to when I was younger. Then he got more paranoid about everything as I got older, until he decided we wouldn’t have one at all. I think he has one that brings him meals once a week because I cannot imagine my dad over there in that small kitchen cooking.”
“He seriously has his own kitchen?”