Read Online RecipeforSubmission by Sindra van Yssel - Free Book Online

without
vegetables, but since you had a salad for dinner, I thought you were pretty
well covered for the green stuff.”
    “Mmm. I still think you were a meanie for getting me all
revved up with that kiss, but given this meal, you’re forgiven. Do you always
cook like this?”
    He shook his head while savoring some of his own food.
“Normally I eat at my restaurant, Ryan’s.”
    “I thought your name was Drew.”
    “Ryan is my last name.”
    “Oh. You own a restaurant.” Okay, not the most brilliant
of responses.
    “Can’t spend my whole day tying up girls and making them
scream in pleasure,” he said. “No money in it, for one thing.”
    She laughed. “If there were, would you do that instead?”
    He shook his head. “No. I think I like variety too much.”
    He cooks, he’s at least as tidy as I am and he knows how
to make me melt inside. Figures he likes “variety”. Even if he wasn’t
talking about his choice of sexual partners, she thought she had a good
picture. No matter how she felt, Drew wasn’t a guy to get attached to. To do
some research with, sure. And a fun time, definitely. She was curious about one
thing.
    “What’s with the place mats?”
    He smiled. “Oh. Sometimes my nephew comes over. I bought
them back when he was four and I did a lot of babysitting for my sister. I
found out that I liked looking at them at breakfast better than ordinary ones,
so I bought a few more and threw out the rest. I’ve got planets, Spanish words,
all sorts.”
    “How old is he now?”
    “Fifteen. He still comes over, but it’s not exactly
babysitting. We usually end up playing board games or just chatting.”
    She took another bite of tuna and closed her eyes, letting
herself concentrate on the taste. “This is fantastic. You’re spoiling me.”
    “I love to see someone enjoy their food. Too often people
either plow through their dinner as if it was a thankless but necessary chore,
or they are too busy starving themselves to get thin to enjoy anything at all.”
    “Well, um, I could stand to lose a few pounds.”
    “You’re perfect the way you are.”
    “You’re a sweetie. It’s nice of you to say so.”
    He shook his head. “I’m sure some men care about nothing
more than a thin waist. But I think you’ll find most of us like the curvy parts
of a woman. Breast men and ass men outnumber waist men by a good margin.”
    “And which are you?”
    He leaned forward, dropping his voice until it was almost a
whisper. “I want it all, Kyra. Your breasts, your pussy, your ass, your legs,
your lips, your eyes, your submission. I like my sex the way I like my food—I
want to savor every last morsel.”
    She blushed and then melted as she looked into his eyes.
“I-I came over here to repay the gift you gave me, really.” She had been about
to add and ask a few questions but stopped when she realized she didn’t
know what the questions were.
    “What about the gifts you gave me, Kyra? Trust, for
instance, when you let me clip your wrists to the cross in the club? You don’t
owe me anything. But if you want to give, then you’ll have to surrender once
again.”
    “And you’ll come this time?”
    “And I’ll decide this time who comes when and where and how
many times.”
    How many times. God he’s full of himself. But I bet he
can deliver. If he’s half as good in bed as he is cooking…
    She took a scoop of her couscous, turning her eyes from him
to the food. She might as well give up on evening the score, anyway. She didn’t
much like to cook—that was indeed a sometimes necessary task to be rushed
through, as far as she was concerned—but she could if she needed to. She
doubted he’d be impressed. Nothing she made was as good as the meal he’d
whipped up in a few minutes.
    He didn’t rush her. They ate in silence for several long
minutes until both their plates were empty. She didn’t feel stuffed—the
portions hadn’t been huge—but her taste buds were more than satisfied.
    She