Don’t give me that look. I can cook. Did you really think there was nothing I couldn’t do? I went to fucking UCLA and made myself a billionaire fucking smut lord. I can do any fucking thing I set my mind to.
It’s true, I usually eat out. Or I have my chef prepare my meals. But given the opportunity to, you’d be surprised what I can whip together.
Like today. I’m going to grill some steak and then slice them real thin, and maybe sauté some vegetables and some couscous on the side. I ordered a cake for dessert, but it should be a perfect dinner for two.
That’s right. I said two.
As in Brittney is coming over for dinner.
I know, I know. You’re either squealing in delight because you think she’s going to come over and we’re going to have dinner together, and then fucking cuddle, and then make sweet tender love. Or you’re rolling your eyes and wondering how I went from being the baddest motherfucking CEO in the country to some sort of fucking pussy.
Well, it’s neither.
Sure, I totally acknowledge that Brittney is coming over, and I’m excited to see her. It’s been a long fucking day. And she’s fucking gorgeous. Those tits. So fucking perky. That cute as a button face. That slender body. Oh my God, that ass. I want to rub my cock between those ass cheeks and then cum all over that tight fucking ass.
Try it. Have some guy you know cum on the small of your back. I fucking guarantee you that you will love it, babe.
And don’t look away or wonder who I’m talking to. I’m talking to you. If you have the opportunity to get someone to cum on the small of your back, then do it. Because literally every single girl I’ve ever done that to has cooed and told me the feeling of warm, thick, jizz right there in a sensitive spot has been one of the most pleasurable fucking experiences that they’ve ever felt.
I get out of the elevator and walk to my door. My apartment is the only one on this floor and as usual, it's fucking immaculate. The building has a maid service that usually comes in and cleans once a day—or more—if I need them.
Anyways, what was I even talking about? I was so focused on cumming on ass cheeks. Oh, right. Brittney.
Yeah, she’s coming over for some dinner. Yeah, I’m probably going to fuck the shit out of her. But something about her, I really want to make dinner.
There’s a ring on the doorbell and I open the door. The attendant from the downstairs gourmet food store has all my groceries and I let him in. He proceeds to the kitchen to unpack my purchases.
I mean, sure, I rarely invite girls over to cook dinner for them.
Okay, I don’t think I’ve ever cooked dinner for one girl before. There was one time I invited three girls over and I made some food and fed them while they took turns sucking my cock, individually and then all together. But that was work. We were fucking rehearsing, okay?
I’ve invited girls for a drink before. One, maybe two glasses of wine before the dress is on the fucking floor and I’m ripping the panties.
But dinner?
Fuck.
This is going to be a first for me.
The attendant comes out after loading my kitchen up and nods to me. I tip him as he leaves and pour myself a scotch.
All of a sudden, I’m thinking whether I should just take Brittney to dinner instead. Maybe I’m not ready to cook this girl dinner.
But then, I think of her wide, innocent but sexy looking eyes. How they look, looking up at me. Shit, everything about her face is fucking beautiful. Even her neck is sexy. I just want to fucking kiss it and nibble on it until she’s squirmy.
Her body is out of this world.
Fuck.
There is something fucking wrong here. But one thing I know is not wrong at all.
Making her dinner. It feels like the most right thing in the world.
I start preparing the food. It’s not that hard, really. Chopping vegetables isn’t that big of a deal when you can ask the chef at the store to pre chop it for you so it’s ready. The meat is already marinated and ready to go so I get those ready. The couscous is set to boil.
I put the vegetables on a pan with some olive oil
and I turn on the stove.