Zach was inside his office when he smelled the delicious aroma of food. That morning, Anna had practically convinced him to let her cook lunch and prepare dessert even though he had told her he was full and that he could always ask for the cooks to prepare any food she desires.
Scrunching his nose, he stood from his seat and went out of his office towards the kitchen. The sweet aroma grew stronger to his senses as he drew nearer. Once he had entered the kitchen room, he was dumbstruck. Speechless, even.
Wearing his large shirt that reached her mid thighs, revealing her flushed bare legs and bare feet, she stood behind the kitchen counter with her back turned to him. Her dark hair was fixed in a fishtail, braided strands trailing down her one shoulder.
Her scent mixed with the delicious scent of food and just that made him want to eat her out. As the smell clouded his eyes and nose, he walked towards her until he stopped behind her only a few inches away. He snaked his hands around her waist hearing a soft gasp escape her lips as he buried his lips at the side of her neck and placed soft kisses.
"What do we have here?" he softly whispered in her ear.
She hummed and said, "Well, I made fried rice and fried chicken." She hummed again as he watched her preparing the dish.
"Is it delicious?" he asked.
"Absolutely," she responded happily. "Have you eaten fried rice before?"
"No."
"Well then consider this a grand meal."
"Where did you learn to cook and eat fried rice?" he asked while kissing the side of her neck and the sensitive skin below her ear sending shivers crawling down her spine and tingles creeping under her skin, as his hands gently sneaked under the shirt she wore, caressing her upper thighs and shifting higher.
"My Grandmother taught me," she answered, her voice bright as if she remembered the memory all too well. He didn't have to look at her face to know she had a smile plastered on her lips.
"She's Asian," she continued. "She used to miss her home everyday and so she told me stories of her past, of her childhood days, fairytales and such, and taught me her culture. It was fun. I remember when I burnt the rice we were supposed to cook and she came downstairs finding the kitchen smoking hot and me trying hard to pour water on the burning stove." She laughed silently and he chuckled lowly.
"Bad girl," he murmured while embracing his arms around her waist under the shirt she wore and playing with the edge of her thin underwear.
"I won't forget that look on her face when she saw the smoky kitchen. She's always good in showing the disappointment on her face and making me feel bad in an instant. I cried that night. But then, she told me it was alright..People make mistakes and I'm not perfect."
"You are."
"No, I'm not," she disagreed although a pink tinge colored her cheeks. "You make me feel pretty..But it doesn't mean I'm perfect."
"Your imperfections make you perfect to my eyes, Kitten," he said. "Not the other way around."
He heard her sigh as she said, "Why are you always lying?"
"You think I'm jesting?" he questioned, almost in disbelief.
His eyebrows furrowed as he turned her around and looked into her eyes. "What makes you think I'm lying?" he asked her again.
Looking down, "You always have your way with words," she muttered under her breath.
He lifted her chin and brought her gaze to his devilish eyes. "You don't know how beautiful you are so why would you deny the truth?" he murmured just as he slowly leaned his head to kiss her plump parted lips. Once they parted, their gazes were locked and he saw the twinkle in her eyes.
