His to Taste (5 page)

I was only fooling myself if I thought that I’d be able to control my body’s innate reaction to him, especially now that I knew the heat and strength of his 6’2” masculine frame. God, he must think that I’m a total clumsy weirdo. I could feel my cheeks flushing as I kept rewinding that moment in my head.

What would have happened if I had just given into my instincts and initiated a kiss? Even if I had just barely inched my face towards his...damn. What was the point in even torturing myself with this anyway? If I had been stupid enough to do it, then I’d have most likely done something completely awkward and totally ruin the moment and then I’d have found myself without a job offer and back sifting through the employment ads again.

There was nothing else to do except to be a professional dutiful employee. I couldn’t be so selfish as to risk a good paycheck just to indulge in my sexual fantasies, regardless of how much I ached to do so.

I arrived at my new temporary home a few minutes earlier than we had arranged. I was grateful for the brief reprieve to compose myself before I had to face him again. If I could just remain detached and stay out of his way as much as possible, then I might be able to keep things objective. I was probably overreacting anyway; I’m sure his busy schedule wouldn’t allow him any time for someone so trivial as his cook. Feeling comforted by that realization, I gathered up my suitcase and purse and headed for the front door.

I wasn’t sure if he was an early riser so I knocked gently. After waiting for a couple of minutes, I finally turned the doorknob and found that it was unlocked. I tentatively slipped inside and found a note on the island in the kitchen.

Good morning, Lynn.

I apologize that I’m not up yet to greet you on your first day, but I had a late night of inspiration. Make yourself at home in any of the guest rooms upstairs to the right of the staircase. I’ll probably be up at around 10am. I’m in the mood for something sweet for breakfast so surprise me like you did yesterday.

-- Jake

Well, I suppose that was an anticlimactic start to my new job. Still, I could appreciate that he was giving me a chance to acclimate to his home in a leisurely fashion. It was definitely less nerve-wracking to be able to poke around without the pressure of him watching me.

I crept up the stairs as quietly as I could with my suitcase in tow. The cream carpet along the hallway was lushly thick and seemed to be pristine. I tentatively peeked into a few bedrooms and finally settled on the last room at the end of the hall by the bathroom. It was the smallest room and I felt comforted by the size and the simplistic warmth of the decor. I would have felt miserably out of place if I had picked one of the other larger bedrooms as they were ornately decorated. The last thing I wanted to do was to make assumptions about my station in his household, and his actual guests deserved more lavish settings.

The modest bedroom offered a neat twin size bed, a vanity, a small chest of drawers, and a moderately sized closet. I still had a couple of hours before I had to start preparing his breakfast so it was nice to take advantage of some spare time to put away my clothes and toiletries. I set my laptop on the nightstand next to the bed to charge while I would be working.

As I puttered about the room, I wondered where Mr. Cochran’s quarters were located. Would his bedroom be ornate or rustic? Did he sleep naked? Would he sleep on his firm belly or flat on his broad back? The more I fantasized about his sleeping habits, the more I started to feel that familiar warm ache deep in my pussy.

God, I was barely into my first day of work and I was already succumbing to my naughty thoughts. I was so tempted to pull up one of my erotic stories online, but I resolutely stamped down the impulse, and headed back downstairs to the kitchen to start my prep work for his breakfast.

After rummaging through his pantry and fridge again, I found some ripe bananas, a loaf of sweet eggy brioche, plenty of eggs, and a package of bacon. Once I started the coffee maker, I beat some eggs with milk, vanilla extract, cinnamon, and nutmeg. I tossed a couple handfuls of pecans to toast in a pan, and sliced up the brioche. As soon as the nuts were prepped, I caramelized some sugar in another pan, whisked in some cream and a pinch of salt, and threw in some sliced bananas and a couple dashes of dark rum. When the bananas were soft and nicely incorporated into the caramel rum sauce, I lightly scrambled some eggs with a bit of cream and plenty of salt and pepper. While the eggs were cooking, I finished the French toast on the griddle, and fried up some bacon strips.

I had just barely finished plating everything when Mr. Cochran sauntered into the kitchen and slipped easily into his customary seat.

“Good morning,” he said. His welcoming smile warmed up his handsome face and I felt my knees wobble. “What do we have here?” He took a swig of freshly squeezed orange juice as I sprinkled the toasted pecans on top of his French toast with a flourish.

His dark brown hair was still slightly tousled from sleep, and he hadn’t bothered to change out of his forest green plaid pajama pants and plain white t-shirt. I gulped silently when I saw the outline of his broad pecs under his shirt and the flex of his strong bicep as he lifted his glass from his lips.

“I made you French toast with a banana pecan caramel rum sauce, scrambled eggs, and bacon,” I said, quickly pouring him a mug of fresh coffee. “Is there anything else that I can prepare for you, sir?”
Besides my naked writhing body on a silver platter, that is.

He shook his head, took a forkful of eggs, and paused. “Have you eaten yet?” He watched me intently as I leaned forward to wipe down the back counters by the sink.

I dared a small, shy smile and said, “Not yet, Mr. Cochran. I was planning on eating after you finished your breakfast. Please don’t mind me as I tidy up the kitchen, but I can always take care of that later if it would be a bother to you, sir.”

He shook his head again and said, “The only thing that bothers me is the fact that you’re standing there starving while this delicious meal is getting cold. Dish yourself up a plate and come sit with me. You wouldn’t make me eat alone now, would you?”

Oh, lord, he wanted me to sit there and stare at his beautiful mouth and lightly furred muscular forearms and piercing blue eyes and...oh, damn. I stiffened my spine and said, “Thank you, sir, but I, um, don’t think that it would be appropriate for me to do so. Thank you all the same, though.”

A slight frown creased his forehead and he looked taken aback by my polite refusal. “Lynn,” he said. “Are you already disobeying a simple request on your first official day?” He leaned back against his chair and sternly crossed his muscular arms across his thick chest.

I blanched a little at his reaction and mumbled, “I...um...that wasn’t my intent, Mr. Cochran. I just thought that it might be best that we maintain our...um...professional boundaries.” I twisted the kitchen towel in my hands and avoided his gaze as best as I could.

“Have I demanded that you do something unseemly?”

“Er,” I managed to squeak. “No, Mr. Cochran.”

He continued to stare at me with that piercing blue gaze. “Do you agree that an employer may share an innocent meal with an employee?”

My palms became increasingly sweaty and I was grateful that I was still clutching at the towel. “Yes, Mr. Cochran.”.

He relaxed a bit at my admission, and uncrossed his arms. “Lynn,” he said. “My intent was to have us sit and chat so that we could begin our partnership on friendlier terms. If we’re going to be sharing living space, it would make sense that we have some basic knowledge of each other’s background so that we’ll both be comfortable. I don’t intend to utilize you as if you’re some kind of anonymous cooking robot to be hidden away as the hired help. Will you indulge me in this one request and see how we can move forward?”

I couldn’t necessarily argue when he put it in those terms, and I grudgingly nodded my compliance. After slowly hanging up the towel, I pulled out another plate from the cupboard and piled on a small portion of everything in case he might want seconds. I poured myself a cup of coffee, added a bit of cream and sugar, and joined him at the table. He pulled out my chair for me and smiled when I finally sat across from him.

“Now, was that so hard?” he teased. He finally started digging into his French toast and groaned appreciatively as he tasted the still warm caramel rum sauce.

I nibbled on a crispy bacon strip and reluctantly returned his grin. “I’m sorry for being difficult, Mr. Cochran,” I said. “I just didn’t want you to feel obligated to treat me as anything other than as your hired help. You’ve given me a wonderful opportunity as it is already, sir.” I took a sip of coffee and peeked up at him over my cup.

He carelessly waved off my gratitude. “Things will go a hell of a lot easier around here if we can stand to be in the same room with each other, you know. You’ll learn quickly that I’m a rather private person. I like to focus on my work and I have the luxury of being able to enjoy the peace from working at home.

“With that all said, I do appreciate having you here for some companionship as well. Your presence will help me refrain from regressing into a snarling recluse. Now tell me more about yourself as we enjoy the best breakfast I’ve had in years.”

I could feel my cheeks redden slightly at his praise and I felt the tension gradually leave my body. He busied himself with his rapidly disappearing food which gave me time to compose my thoughts.

“Well,” I began. “There’s not really too much to my story. I grew up relatively nearby in Goleta and was raised by my maternal grandparents. My folks passed away in a car accident when I was very little so I don’t remember them too well. I was lucky that my grandparents were wonderful. My grandpa passed away during my second year at Santa Barbara City College so it’s just been Grandma and me for the past few years.” I paused to take a couple bites of food.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” he said, his tone gentle and solemn. “I was an only child myself. My parents divorced when I was quite young so my mother raised me alone. Once my father remarried, he cut off all contact with us and I haven’t heard from him since. My mother only recently remarried and she moved to San Francisco with her new husband to be closer to his extended family.” He paused to take a sip of his coffee. “What was it like being raised by your grandparents?”

I quickly swallowed a mouthful of eggs and bacon, and said, “They were loving and warm, but strict and terribly old-fashioned. I mean, I understood where they were coming from, but it was torture for a young hormonal teenager.” My lips curved in a rueful smile as I played with my slice of French toast.

“I wasn’t allowed to date, much less even have a male friend over for a study date. If a boy called me on the phone, I had to have my conversation in front of one of them. Eventually, most of my male friends figured it wasn’t worth the hassle. Once I started college, they didn’t feel comfortable with the idea of living on a co-ed campus so they demanded that I commute from home.

“By then, I noticed that Grandpa’s health was deteriorating so I figured it was best for me to help Grandma with his care and with the household chores anyway. Actually, it’s because she didn’t want me to work late hours that it was difficult for me to find a job while I was still in school. My lack of on-the-job work experience has been my constant thorn in my side with seeking employment since I graduated.” I shrugged nonchalantly and said, “And, well, here I am now cooking for you.”

He assessed me quietly for a few moments and said, “Regardless of the circumstances, I’m glad that you ended up here. You’re young yet and you’ll have plenty of time to gain work experience. In the end, it all boils down to doing something that you love, but in the meantime, being gainfully employed to pay the bills is certainly helpful while you’re exploring your options, right?” He finished his last bites of food and sighed in contentment.

“Thank you for a wonderful meal and for indulging your tyrannical boss’ whims.” He stretched languidly, his tall solid frame flexing under his well worn lounge wear.

“As much as I’d love to continue this interrogation, I ought to get back to work. I’ll shoot you a text when I’d like to have my next meal. Feel free to get accustomed to the rest of the house, and you can use your spare time as you wish. I’ll be in my office if you have any questions.”

I gulped down my own coffee and quickly stood up at attention. “Yes, Mr. Cochran.” I began clearing our plates as he made his way through the doorway and down the hall towards his office.

I could hear the laughter in his raised voice as he said, “I’ll have you relaxed around me soon enough.”

Shaking my head in exasperation, I couldn’t help smiling at his playfulness. I loaded up the dishwasher and finished cleaning up the kitchen. After poking through the fridge, I made a mental note of some potential lunches I could offer him. Once I was satisfied that my workspace was spotless, I took his advice and started checking out my new home for the next thirty days.

The living room was spacious and boasted a huge entertainment center with a massive flat screen television and accompanying receivers, speakers, and video game consoles as per his gender. There was a large cushy ivory sofa and matching chairs and ottomans. The steel coffee table and side tables were sleek and shiny. Although the overall effect was cleanly modern and minimalistic, he still managed to make it look lived-in and warmly inviting. There were framed photographs of himself and his mother interspersed with expensive looking paintings.