Surprise Billionaire by Maggie Twain

Author:Maggie Twain [Twain, Maggie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-05-27T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six

Thor

She is indeed as sweet and innocent as I’d imagined, a girl who I’m sure has never been touched, never been pinned to a bed beneath the weight of a man, been entered and ravished vigorously until his seed spills inside of her.

I want her first time to be special, magical, perfect, which means she must first come to love me, and I will do everything in my power to ensure that she does. Which is why I now ask her, “what is it you like to do?”

She giggles and I can tell she’s thinking of some happy childhood memory. “I’ve always been happiest when I’m cooking.”

“Ah,” the pieces are beginning to fall into place, “but you work as a waitress. Why not in the kitchen?”

She squeezes my hand and I can immediately feel my cock straining against my pants. Truth is it’s pretty fucking painful. “Um, well,” she begins in the shy way I’m coming to expect, “there were no vacancies, only waitress positions, and Carrington’s was about the only place willing to hire an eighteen-year-old without qualifications.”

“So why not get your qualifications?”

She then tells me about her family situation, about her pops dying and leaving the family with a tonne of debt. She had to abandon her plans to go to culinary school in order to take the first job that came her way, just so she could help out her family, which by the way includes triplet sisters. The admiration I hold for my Angel grows by the minute. She doesn’t know it yet, but all her prayers will be answered.

“So, you like to cook? It just so happens I know a place.”

I want to show Angel that I’m not merely a man trying to set the world right, as Sissy puts it, but that I have a fun streak too. We return to Carrington’s where the dim lights, as well as the rain smashing against the windows, provides an electrifying ambiance.

I still haven’t even seen my new kitchen and when we do enter, the breath escapes me. I open out my arms, “what will it be?”

She rises on her toes and clasps her hands beneath her chin in the most adorable way imaginable. “Working here, I’ve had to cart around so many shrimp salads and they all look amazing. We just have to give it a try.”

“Shrimp salad it is but first,” I slowly, gently, and very deliberately begin loosening her blouse, one button at a time, “if we’re doing this, then we’re doing it properly.”

She’s under my control as I work, doesn’t move, and as I approach the final top button, I feel her sweet breath on my hand.

I gently remove the garment, left arm, then right, and let out an almost silent hum in appreciation for how she looks in the white shirt beneath. I place the blouse over the back of a stool and grab two aprons from the hook before placing the strap of one around her neck. I feel the

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