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My Hot Chef Pleases Me 2.

last update publish date: 2026-02-10 21:52:14

Tanesha’s POV.

Callendon’s huge figure swept into the room, his eyes dark and calculating as ever.

My body trembled viciously as he walked in with his favorite gun in hand.

I was still sitting on the kitchen island and Cain’s crotch did nothing to hide that he'd been hard just a few sey ago.

Callendon's brows twitched as his gaze alternated between Cain and I.

“You were in here, and you didn't bother to answer?” He asked, his tone laced with irritation.

I quickly shook my head, forcing a tight smile across my burning cheeks, “Oh–Um, I didn't hear you. I was quite focused on the garnishing of your dish. You know, you hate to see your dish out of place.”

Thankfully, Cain had been garnishing the dishes before I came. If not, Callendon would have clocked me.

Callendon hummed, a low, drawled sound. His face was void of any emotions, but I could tell that he was observing.

I could see it in the way his brows twitched and relaxed, the way his eyes glanced through every corner of the room as if an enemy would burst through the cabinet.

He slowly fixed his gun in his holster, driving a thumb over his dry lips and then glanced at me.

“I don't think I like the air in here,” He stated, those words making me swallow hard.

Of course, he wouldn't like it. After all, the room was stuffy and smelled of sex and sweat.

‘Oh God, please don't let him find out what was going on in here,’ I silently prayed as goosebumps erupted all over my skin.

Just then, Callendon waved a hand towards the dish Cain seemed to be busy garnishing. Cain was just about to pour in the thick syrup when Callendon stopped him.

“Make me something else. I don't want that,” Callendon ordered, darting his narrowed eyes at me.

The hairs at the nape of my neck rose, the feel of anxiety punching my lungs making it difficult to breathe.

Why was he looking at me like that? Christ, did he know? Did he reject it because of the smell?

“Sure, I'll cook it myself,” I quickly muttered a response.

He barely responded to me, his body swaying out of the kitchen with loud steps.

The moment he was out of sight, I inhaled deeply. The air in the kitchen felt lighter, and Cain stopped garnishing. Cain turned to me, his eyes sparkling with an emotion that made my chest tighten.

“Are you feeling bad?” I asked, my voice etched with concern.

He pressed his lips into a thin, determined line, “Yes madam. I think this is wrong. This is so–”

I pressed a finger on his lips before he could finish, my head shaking in the negative.

“Don't say those words. You have no idea how much guilt I live with daily. I want to stop, honestly,” I sigh, withdrawing my finger from his lips.

My eyes lingered on his face, noticing his perfect features, especially those ocean blue eyes.

“But the way you touch me makes it so hard to resist,” I move closer, “I want you so bad that I wouldn't mind you inside me every day.”

Cain's brows twitched with surprise, and I noticed his Adam’s apple bob up and down. Standing so close to him was starting to make my body grow warm. My breathing slowed, and the fanning of Cain's breath over me made my cheeks tingle.

At this moment, there were just two options–give in to my feelings or ignore it. As my body simmered with heat, my gaze shifted from his eyes to his soft, small lips.

The urge to kiss him ate at me, and I saw it in his eyes as well. I saw him warring with himself on whether or not to pounce on me.

The moment Cain leaned forward, I lowered my head, turning my entire body around.

“I should start cooking something else for him,” I quickly muttered.

“Sure Madame,” Cain's voice came from behind.

The next few minutes were filled with silence, as I searched for the ingredients for Callendon's next dish. There was no dish in mind, so I leaned into the hope that the sight of the ingredients would give me an idea.

As I brought out the can of sweet corn from the top cabinet, I felt something hover around me.

Wait, not something. Someone.

“Madame, don't you need some help?” Cain whispered in my ears, the crease of my ass welcoming his curved bulge.

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