Daddy's Dirty Pet

ELIAS' POV

I have wanted him ever since the first day I stepped foot in this mansion.

My employer's husband.

Damien.

Something deep inside of me had shifted, on fire, the moment I saw him.

How could it not?

He was a tall handsome man.

Damien carried himself elegantly as if the entire world belonged to him.

Once I had caught him half naked while he was relaxing in the pool area and saw that his entire body was covered in tattoos.

It had been so hard to look away.

And I mightn't have if he had not turned and caught me staring at him.

An apology had rolled off my lips before I turned and hurried away.

Cheeks flushed.

Cock hard.

I knew it was dangerous.

Staring at him.

Wanting him.

But I could not bring myself to stop thinking about what it would feel like to have those strong hands wrapped around me.

And those thoughts had plagued me for the several weeks I've been working here.

I couldn't leave.

This was my dream job.

I've always wanted to be in fancy kitchens cooking private dinners for rich people.

And voila, I got this job.

I liked working in this kitchen that looked more like one in a five-star restaurant than one in someone's home.

Leaving was not an option.

The sizzle of the sauce I was cooking drew me back to reality.

I turned to stir it.

The bright lights bounced off the white counters and stainless steel surfaces while I moved fast through the kitchen-chopping vegetables and prepping the meat.

My heart was beating a little harder than usual as I plated the main course.

My movements were careful.

It had to be because this meal was a rare steak dish Damien himself had asked for.

I couldn't mess it up.

When I was done, sweat was gathered on my brows and poured down my cheeks.

The steak sat perfectly in the center of the ceramic, drizzled with the sauce I made.

My face instantly beamed.

The meal had come out perfect.

My work.

Damien would definitely like it.

I tried to keep my face calm as I carried the plates gently to the dining room.

Damien was sitting at the head of the dining table.

And his wife was not there.

I wondered where she went.

Our eyes met.

"Good evening," I greeted.

He looked straight at me and his hard gaze stayed longer than it should have.

A hot shiver ran down the length of my spine and I swallowed softly.

"Evening, Elias."

The quiet way he said my name with that thick baritone made my dick hard.

I set the plate down in front of him.

My fingers were trembling.

"Dinner is served. Bon appetit," I said to him before I quickly stepped back.

His gaze went over me.

Slowly.

I shifted on one foot, feeling uncomfortable under the intensity of his scrutinizing eyes.

Clearing my throat, I spoke.

"I noticed your wife is not here tonight. Did she travel by chance?" I suddenly said.

He made a small sound in agreement.

"She left for Milan this morning," he replied. "She won't be back till maybe two weeks later."

My heart clenched.

"Two weeks?" I repeated softly.

He nodded.

My eyes widened.

Not because she was gone.

But at the fact that we were completely alone.

Both of us.

Me and the man I wanted to fuck me.

The star of my wet dreams.

Alone.

In this huge house.

The thought made my mouth dry.

An inaudible sigh of relief finally left my lips when he looked away.

His eyes dropped back to the steak I had served.

"Everything looks good tonight, Elias," he said in that deep, calm voice.

Heat pooled in my stomach.

"Thank you, sir," I replied.

I was trying to sound confident.

But I was failing.

My voice shook.

My hands trembled.

I had to hide them behind my back to keep him from seeing how bad it was.

Though he was still inspecting the plating.

"I hope you enjoy the steak. It was cooked medium-rare, just how you like it."

He nodded.

Then he picked up his knife and fork by the side without saying anything else.

I waited until he took a bite.

His eyes closed.

Then he opened them, staring at me.

"You've outdone yourself once again, Elias," he acknowledged me.

A smile curved my lips.

"Thank you sir."

"You're dismissed," he said.

I nodded.

He bent and took another bite of his steak.

The sound he made as he chewed turned me on.

Desire shot through me.

"Get a grip Elias!" My brain yelled.

I took a deep breath to do that.

Then I turned and went back to the kitchen, skipping like a coaxed child.

Who wouldn't if Damien praised them?

A sigh of relief left my lips the moment I shut the door and leaned on it.

He was done moments later.

I knew because the maid came in with the plates after clearing the table.

"I'm done for the day," Martha said. "I will be heading back home now."

I nodded at her.

"Goodnight."

After she left, I started cleaning up.

And then I heard footsteps right behind me minutes later.

Whirling around, I expected to see Martha.

Perhaps she had returned because she had forgotten something here.

After all, I thought Damien had gone to his room already after having dinner.

But I was wrong.

Because it was Damien standing in the doorway and watching me intensely.

A lump immediately rose in my throat.

"Sir?" I breathed.

The black shirt he wore had the three top buttons open, showing a sexy hint of the tattoos sprawled all over his chest.

I gulped instantly.

"You're still working?" he asked.

I swallowed softly before I spoke.

"Yes, sir, just finishing up here," I lied as I wiped my hands on a towel.

I tried to force a smile.

"Do you need anything?"

There was silence for a moment.

Blood roared in my ears.

Yet he was just standing there.

Staring straight at me.

Like prey.

"If the food hadn't been-"

Then he moved.

The rest of the words?

They died in my throat as Damien approached me like a predator.

And my throat went completely dry when he stopped just beside the counter.

"Are those new dishes?"

He looked down at the few dishes I had left out for the heat to escape.

I nodded, trembling.

"Let me see what else you made."

My heart was hammering in my chest.

He did this all the time.

But something about the way he moved tonight suddenly felt different to me.

I picked up a small spoon.

Then I scooped some of the sauce I had made earlier.

"This one goes with the beef. It has shallots in it and a touch of balsamic."

He took the spoon I was offering from my fingers in order to have a taste.

But his hand brushed over mine on purpose.

I flinched like a sacred cat.

He glanced at me.

"Sorry," I whispered.

His hands became bolder, curling around mine.

"Sir?" I whispered as he brought the spoon to my lips.

Our eyes met.

His skin felt warm in mine.

"Taste it first," he ordered quietly.

My pulse jumped.

But I ignored it.

My head dipped towards the spoon.

However I ate the sweet warm liquid in it without a word.

When I looked up, he was looking at my lips through dark hooded eyes.

Blood rushed down to my loins.

"Excuse me," I said.

The warning was just before I snatched my hand back from his grip.

My wrist still burned where his hand had been.

I placed the spoon in the sink.

Then I reached for another spoon in the stand and dipped it into the sauce.

After which I held it out to him.

He leaned forward.

Then he took the spoon into his mouth while his eyes never left mine.

My breathing quickened.

He swallowed the sauce.

"Not bad," he said. "But I think it may need a little more salt. Try again tomorrow."

I nodded slightly.

"Yes, sir. I'll adjust it."

I expected him to.

Yet he did not move away.

Instead, he leaned towards me till his arms were touching my shoulder.

The air instantly became heavy.

"Elias."

A gasp left my oesophagus.

"You work hard," he added.

His voice stayed low.

Meanwhile my body was burning with the heat of desire I was feeling.

"Most chefs we have had here don't bother to pay this much attention to details."

I swallowed softly.

"I like doing it right," I answered. "Especially when the person eating actually notices."

A small smile curved the corner of his lips.

"Is that so?"

The glint that appeared in his dark eyes looked quite mischievous.

But I nodded and kept my tone light even though my stomach was churning.

"Hmm, that's intriguing."

Then he came even closer.

He took the small tasting spoon from my hands again.

My head tilted as he scooped some of the collage soup I had also just made.

I watched him curiously.

Then he held it near my lips.

"Open."

I parted my lips without a word and let him slide the spoon into my mouth.

The sauce tasted rich and warm.

"Swallow."

His words were like a spell.

I found myself obeying without question.

He watched me swallow.

"Good?" he asked.

"Very good," I said.

My voice was a little rough.

He set the spoon down slowly.

Then he leaned in until his face was only just a few inches away from mine.

His breath brushed my cheek.

"Next time," he murmured.

I stilled like iced fish.

"When I tell you to make something, I expect you to get it perfect."

I felt heat rush to my face.

"Understand?"

I swallowed.

"Yes, sir."

His eyes darkened for a second.

And he just stayed there.

Close enough for me to smell his musky cologne.

The redolence intoxicated me.

It was hard to think.

I stood right there with my heart pounding hard and mercilessly against my rib cage.

For a moment I wondered if I was imagining the fervent hunger in his stare.

But then, he leaned in and claimed my lips in one move I hadn't even seen coming.

The kiss was explosive.

I didn't move even as his mouth moved over mine because I was so taken aback.

And when he stepped back?

I just froze.

My breathing was ragged.

I did not know what just happened.

But I knew one thing for sure.

I was in trouble.