Disinherited trust fund baby becomes an escort specializing in helping older women live their wildest romantic fantasies. (MATURE)
CHASTAIN DEVILLIER, 20, is the loose cannon in a wealthy family descended from two very long and very aristocratic B...
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Fading in from a deep, sated sleep, I heard glasses tinkling against each other...smelled coffee...bacon...something sweet...something spicy...
Yass, queen. Breakfast in bed from my boo...
I managed a woozy but welcoming smile and eased up to rest against the pillows as Chas set a big bed tray over my lap and gave me a nice, "Hey, baby" kiss on the top of the head.
"I must've been a very good girl."
"Quite the opposite, actually. Very naughty indeed..."
I loved the sassy little smile he gave me as he slid in next to me and eased a hand down my inner thigh just a wee bit below the danger zone to emphasize that point. Cause I had been naughty. Would be again if he kept teasing me like that. Which I hoped he would...
But he fed me a little piece of this flatbread made out of nothing but some flour and some yogurt--instant naan, he called it. Took him about five minutes to make that dough. Few minutes later, you had a stack of fresh bread to die for.
He'd also made scrambled eggs and nopalitos--prickly pear pads he'd bought fresh, cleaned and boiled and put by earlier--to roll up in that naan. And he'd made some kind of tomatillo and green chile sauce for me to pour over it. Sprinkled some home made queso fresco on top, too.
I took a huge bite and just let the juice run all down my chin because I knew he'd lean over and lick me.
And when he did, I got him around the neck and hugged him up. "You spoil the hell out of me, son."
"I do try. And as this week's been particularly difficult, I thought I'd try even harder. Did you see that little bowl there?"
I glanced...and let out a big squeal. He'd made me "blancmange." Or lots of little ones in cute one-serving cups, His way of keeping me from making a pig of myself.
See, as a Masterpiece Theater geek—remember that's what turned me on that first day we met--I was thrilled the first time he mentioned it while reminiscing about childhood Christmases. I'd seen it in some of those Downton Abbey-ish dramas and always wanted to know what the hell it was made of.
Turns out it's this really simple melt-in-your-mouth concoction made of almond or regular milk, cornstarch and sugar. You can thicken it with gelatin, too, but then it's rubbery.
It's sometimes called "shape" because they used to pour it into these big, elaborate molds back in the day. He made it that way the first time. Looked like a little white castle sitting there glistening like porcelain. And I ate the whole thing. Kept sneaking back...sneaking back...
