Feeding His Purest Obsession: The Billionaires' Little Cook

The rain was hitting hard against the big glass windows of the penthouse office, but the only sound inside the room was the loud rhythm of skin hitting skin.

Kylian Moreno didn't give a shit about the storm outside. His hands were fisted tight in the hair of a beautiful girl he didn't even know the name of, pulling her head back so he could see her face. She was flushed, sweating, and gripping the edge of his massive mahogany board room desk just to stay upright.

He kept driving into her from behind, his dick buried deep in her soaking pussy roughly.

"Kylian, wait... you're too fast," she whimpered, her fingernails scratching the wood as she tried not to slip.

He didn't slow down at all. He loved having this kind of control over someone. An hour ago she was acting high and mighty at some fancy charity gala downstairs, and all it took was one look from him to make her leave her friends and follow him up to his apartment.

To him, women were incredibly easy to figure out. They were everywhere, acting like they wanted romance and dates, but the second they got a look at his money and felt his touch, they just wanted to be in his bed. He knew exactly how to give them what they wanted so they'd stop thinking.

Kylian let out a growl and pulled his dick out completely.

The sudden cold made her gasp and cry out, trying to turn around to look at him. But he leaned his heavy chest right against her back, pinning her flat onto the desk. He slid a hand down between her thighs, his long fingers finding her slick, swollen clit and rubbing it hard roughly that her hips started to shake.

"You want it, don't you?" he muttered right against her neck, biting down on her skin just enough to hurt.

"Yes! Please, Kylian!" she screamed out, her legs trembling under him.

She couldn't stop him even if she wanted to. The friction from his fingers was too much, and within seconds her internal walls clamped down tight. She arched her back up against his hand, screaming loud into the empty apartment as a massive orgasm tore right through her.

Kylian pulled his wet fingers out, smearing the wetness right across her collarbone, watching her eyes roll back in pure exhaustion.

"Good girl," he whispered.

For him, this was how you dealt with anyone. People think you need to use force or threats to get your way, but that's stupid. If you just figure out what someone hungers for; whether it's money in a business deal or pure pleasure in a bedroom, and you give it to them, they will do whatever you want. Give them what they crave and they belong to you.

He grabbed her by the waist and lifted her up, setting her right on the edge of the big desk so her legs wrapped around his hips.

"Finish it," he told her softly.

The girl didn't even hesitate. Her thighs were still shaking from coming so hard, but she reached down right away, grabbing his thick dick and guiding it back inside her, desperate to please him all over again.

~~•~~

"You really don't have to go to the city, Evangeline. It's not easy out there with the English folks," Claire said, her voice shaking a little as she messed with a log in the fireplace.

The older people at church always talked about the wicked things that went on out there in the modern world. The sin was everywhere, and Claire figured staying right here in the community was the only way to live right.

It felt like Evangeline really wanted to leave. Claire spent weeks trying to talk her out of it, but the girl just wouldn't listen. Evangeline always had a stubborn personality since they were kids, so arguing was pointless.

Sometimes Claire wished that barn accident never happened. Evangeline's family used to do just fine until her father fell off the high roof during harvest. His legs were crushed, and they had to rush him to the big hospital.

The medical bills completely wiped out every single dollar the family saved. Then, because they used all their money on the doctors, they couldn't pay the bank for the land.

Now the English bank was threatening to take the whole farm away if they didn't get thirty thousand dollars.

"I know you're worried about me, Claire, but I'll be fine," Evangeline said, folding a plain white apron and putting it away. "I have to save the farm. My dad can't work the fields, and mom can't do it by herself. We don't have any other choices left. My parents cried about it, but they gave me their blessing. Just trust me."

Her voice was calm and quiet. Evangeline always got quiet when things went wrong, and it usually made Claire stop arguing and just nod.

"Alright Eva," Claire muttered, but a tear still ran down her face. "I'm just gonna miss you. We do everything together. What if something bad happens out there? What if the city changes you and you don't want to come back to the church?"

Claire's voice broke at the end. Evangeline looked at her best friend and felt a pang of guilt. They grew up sharing the same school bench and talking about the future. Leaving Lancaster was tearing her apart, but she couldn't just sit here and watch some bank auction off her father's land and throw her family out on the road.

"Look at me, Claire," Evangeline said, grabbing her hands. "I got a live-in job. The family pays more in a month than I can make here in a year. I'm going to clean their house, save every dollar, and send it straight back home to pay off the debt. The second the debt is gone, I'm coming back. I'll get baptized, and we'll go right back to how things were."

She opened her arms, and Claire leaned in, crying right into her shoulder. Evangeline held her tight, feeling the rough fabric of Claire's plain dress against her skin.

"I'll come back, Claire. I promise. The city family already accepted me, and the ticket is on the dresser. It's going to be okay," she whispered into the quiet room.

Claire nodded against her shoulder and wiped her eyes with her sleeve.

Once Evangeline made up her mind, she never backs down. Even the church ministers gave their approval because the family was desperate, so nothing was stopping her now.

"Thank you for staying with me tonight," Evangeline whispered, looking at the dying red coals in the fireplace. "Let's just sit here together. No more talking about tomorrow."

"Okay," Claire said, squeezing her hand tight. They sat side by side on the wooden bench, watching the fire slowly burn out while the last few hours of Evangeline's old life slipped away.

The boardroom was dead silent, but the tension was thick enough to choke someone.

Kylian Moreno dug his thumb hard into the side of his ribs, right where his stomach was twisting into a sharp, familiar knot. He reached into his vest pocket, pulled out a small silver tin, and snapped it open.

He took a dry piece of raw ginger root and chewed it slowly, not even wincing at the burning taste. It was the only thing that kept the ulcers from flaring up.

Four of his top executives were staring down at their folders, sweating through their shirts while they waited for him to speak.

"The merger details are sloppy," Kylian said. His voice wasn't loud. It was just a flat, low rumble. "Fix it by midnight, or I'll find a new team that actually knows how to read data."

Nobody argued. They practically tripped over their own feet trying to get out of his office before he looked up again.

Once the room cleared, Kylian pulled out his phone. A text from his secretary was waiting. The culinary firm had messed up the schedule again, and the replacement cook hadn't even shown up at his penthouse.

His jaw tightened, the ginger root burning the back of his throat. He was sick of restaurant food that tasted like grease and chemical preservatives. He paid too much money to wait around for a meal.

He pulled up the firm's manager's contact and typed out a text.

If the cook isn't at my office for the interview in twenty minutes, consider your contract canceled.

He shoved the phone back into his pocket and turned back to his laptop.

~~•~~

Evangeline walked out of the train station, her right arm aching from holding the wooden suitcase. The second her boots hit the concrete, the smell of exhaust and rust hit her nose, making her cough.

The buildings were unnecessarily tall, blocking out the sky entirely so the street felt like a gray tunnel. People kept rushing past her, hitting her shoulders without looking, their faces turned down toward the little glowing rectangles they held. To her, they looked like blind ghosts walking around a maze.

She kept her head down, her white bonnet pinned tight against her braids, and just focused on the paper in her hand. The directions from her community elders were written out plainly, and she wasn't going to let the traffic noise confuse her.

It took her fifteen minutes to find the employment firm. When she pushed the doors open, the woman at the counter just stared at her plain blue dress and apron, her mouth slightly open.

Before the girl could even speak, the manager, Petra, came running out of a back office. Her face was white and she was gripping a pen like a weapon.

"Are you Evangeline?" Petra gasped out, grabbing her by the sleeve. "Thank God. Look, you have to get to the Moreno Tower right now. He just texted from his office. He's furious, and he wants to do the interview at his office instead of the penthouse. If you're late, he's going to fire all of us."

Petra tried to push her back toward the doors, but Evangeline planted her boots and pulled her arm out of the woman's grip.

"Slow down," Evangeline said, her voice dropping into a quiet tone. "I just got off a very long train ride. Pushing me out the door won't make the distance shorter. Just tell me where this tower is."

Petra blinked, looking stunned that the girl wasn't panicking. She quickly pointed out the window toward the corner.

"It's three blocks down. The massive black glass building with the gold logo. You can't miss it. Just go to the top floor and tell security you're the new chef. Hurry, please!"

Evangeline gave a small nod, adjusting her grip on the heavy suitcase. "Thank you. I will walk there now."

She left the manager staring through the glass and headed down the sidewalk. She didn't care how much money this Mr. Moreno had. He was just a man who needed food, and she had a debt to pay back home.

When she reached the Moreno Tower, it looked like a giant wall of mirrors. She walked straight through the automatic doors, her boots making a loud clicking sound on the clean floor.

The security guard looked at her outfit twice, but the second she gave her name, he swiped a plastic card and pointed to an elevator in the back.

"Floor fifty," he said quickly. "He's waiting."

Evangeline walked into the metal box. The sudden upward pull made her stomach drop, but she just closed her eyes until the doors slid open again.

The reception area was huge, and sitting on a leather couch was a woman with bright red hair, wearing a red dress that was far too tight and short. The woman looked up, sneering when she saw the bonnet.

"Did the agency send you to clean the toilets?" the red-haired girl laughed, crossing her legs. "Because if you're here for Kylian, you're definitely in the wrong place, honey."

Evangeline didn't move. She just looked at her with a flat, steady gaze. "I am here for the cooking position. And my name is Evangeline, not honey."

Before the woman could snap back, another door swung open.

Kylian stepped out into the hallway, a thin file folders in his hand. He was tall, his dark suit fitting him perfectly, but his mouth was set in a harsh line. He looked like a man who hadn't slept a full night in years.

His eyes swept the room, ignoring the red-haired girl entirely. His gaze locked right onto Evangeline standing by the elevator. He stopped in his tracks, his eyes narrowing as he took in the plain blue fabric, the apron, and the white bonnet.

Evangeline held his gaze, refusing to look down at the floor.

"You're the cook?" Kylian asked, his voice low as he walked toward her.

"I am," Evangeline said.

Kylian stopped just two feet away, looking down at her in disbelief.

Five minutes before Kylian opened his office door, Vanessa had been leaning so far across his mahogany desk that her cleavage was practically spilling onto his financial reports.

"You look tense, Kylian," she had murmured, her voice dropping into a low, sultry purr. Vanessa was a socialite Kylian kept around to past time, and she knew exactly how to bypass his assistants.

She reached out, her long red nails trailing slowly down his tailored lapel. "A man like you shouldn't let a few nervous executives ruin his day. Why don't you let me help you forget about the merger?"

Kylian hadn't moved. He just leaned back in his leather chair with a cynical smirk, watching her slide herself onto the edge of his desk. He was a man with strong physical needs, and Vanessa was an intoxicating distraction when his mind was burning from work. He had reached out, his large hand wrapping around the bare skin of her thigh, his fingers digging in low enough to make her gasp.

"You always know exactly when to show up, don't you?" he muttered, his voice dropping into a hoarse growl.

"I know what you like," she whispered, inching closer.

But right as she braced herself to pull him closer, a sharp chime cut through the room. Kylian's personal phone buzzed with a security alert from his desk assistant: The cook has arrived on Floor 50.

The dark look vanished from his face instantly, replaced by a more serious one. He pulled his hand back from her leg and snapped his files shut.

"Time's up," Kylian said flatly, standing up to adjust his vest. "The cook is here."

"Kylian!" Vanessa cried out, her face flushing with pure frustration. "You're seriously stopping for a servant?"

"Get out of my office, Vanessa," he said, his voice dropping low. "Go wait in the reception lounge until I'm done, or leave entirely. I don't care which."

Furious, Vanessa had grabbed her designer purse, marched out of his private office, and slammed the heavy door behind her, flinging herself onto the leather reception couch to boil in her own anger.

Kylian stepped out of his office, thin file folders in hand, his mouth set in a harsh line. His eyes swept right past Vanessa on the couch, ignoring her completely, and locked onto Evangeline standing by the elevator. He stopped in his tracks, his eyes narrowing as he took in the plain blue fabric, the apron, and the white bonnet.

"You're the cook?" Kylian asked, his voice low as he took a step closer to her.

"I am," Evangeline said, her voice remaining soft but completely level.

Up close, the difference in the room was jarring. Vanessa was watching them from the couch, smelling of expensive French perfume and showing off every inch of her legs in that tight red dress. But as Kylian's sharp eyes raked down Evangeline's front, he realized something that made his throat go completely dry.

The blue linen dress was loose and plain, meant to hide her from the world, but it couldn't hide everything. The thick fabric strained against the full curve of her breasts, stretching tight over a narrow waist before flaring out over a wide, rounded set of hips and a big ass that the apron couldn't completely conceal.

She had the kind of natural, breathtaking shape that city women spent thousands of dollars trying to buy at surgical clinics, all buried under cheap, modest cloth.

Her face was entirely pure, untouched by makeup, but that hidden body was built to make a man sin.

Vanessa stood up from the couch, her face twisting in rage as she threw him an annoyed look. "Is this a joke? Kylian, tell me you aren't actually considering hiring a pilgrim to cook your meals. Look at her!"

Kylian didn't look back at Vanessa. "Leave," he said, his voice dropping into a flat, dangerous tone.

"But Kylian, we were just-"

"Leave, Vanessa. Before I have security drag you out."

Vanessa's mouth snapped shut. She clutched her purse tight, her silver heels clicking furiously against the marble as she stormed past Evangeline, intentionally shoving her shoulder against the girl's arm as the elevator doors slid open.

Evangeline barely moved from where she stood. She just adjusted her grip on her wooden suitcase, her steady gaze remaining fixed on Kylian's face.

Kylian reached into his pocket, took out another dry piece of raw ginger root from his silver tin, and chewed it slowly to stop the hot acid from bubbling up in his chest. "The firm told me they were sending a professional. They didn't mention they were pulling someone out of a history museum. Do you even know what a stove is, girl?"

"I do, Mr. Moreno," Evangeline said, her voice dropping into that calm tone that didn't show a single hint of fear. "The firm already briefed me on your condition in my offer letter. "They told me you have an ulcer and fast food makes you sick. You do not need a fancy chef right now. You need something to ease the pain."

Kylian's jaw tightened. Nobody talked to him about his weaknesses so bluntly. He was about to tell her to get her suitcase and get out, but another sharp, burning cramp hit his stomach, making his posture stiffen.

Evangeline saw the twitch in his jaw. Without asking for his permission, she reached into the small cloth pocket tied to the side of her apron. She didn't open her suitcase; she just pulled out a tiny, tightly sealed glass jar filled with dried green leaves.

"Your kitchen lounge has hot water right?" she asked, pointing toward the wide frosted glass doors behind his desk.

"It does," Kylian said coldly.

"Good. Then let me use the kettle," Evangeline said, walking right past him, expecting him to direct her to the kitchen.

Kylian stood in the middle of the room, completely stunned. Nobody walked past him. He turned around and ushered her into the private lounge.

Evangeline was already moving through the stainless steel space. She found a clean ceramic mug in his cupboard, filled a small electric kettle with water, and pressed the switch. She didn't look confused by the modern appliance; she just watched the light turn on and waited.

She opened the small glass jar, the strong scent of thyme and dried peppermint instantly drifting into the room.

"What exactly is that?" he asked, leaning his large frame against the marble island, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Wild thyme and peppermint," she said, tossing a precise pinch of the dried leaves into the bottom of the mug. "My community grows it in the valley. The firm told me your doctors give you pills, but they don't help much. This coats the lining of your stomach before the acid can bite through it."

When the kettle went off, she poured the steaming water directly over the leaves. She let it steep for exactly two minutes, her hands resting quietly on the counter.

She slid the hot mug across the marble counter toward him. "Drink it while the steam is still rising. Do not gulp it."

Kylian looked down at the pale amber liquid, then up at her face. His stomach gave another angry twist, as if demanding he put out the fire. He picked up the mug, taking a small, cautious sip.

The heat hit his tongue first, followed by a cool, clean aftertaste that seemed to coat his throat instantly. He swallowed, waiting for his stomach to reject it.

It didn't come.

Instead, a strange, heavy warmth spread through his chest, dulling the sharp edges of the ulcer cramp within seconds. He took another sip, larger this time. By the time the mug was half empty, the tight knot in his ribs had completely loosened up for the first time in weeks.

Kylian set the mug down, his dark eyes locking onto her face. The corporate anger was gone, replaced by an intense curiosity. She was a complete anomaly in his world, but she had just fixed in ten minutes what three expensive city doctors couldn't touch.

And looking at the heavy curve of her breasts beneath that plain dress, he knew having her around his penthouse was going to be a very dangerous game.

"The firm said your salary goes back to your family farm," Kylian said, leaning closer across the counter.

"It does," Evangeline replied.

"Good. Then you're going to earn every cent of it," he muttered, his voice dropping into that dark, commanding tone. "My driver will take you and your suitcase to the penthouse right now. You will get the kitchen ready, and you will cook my dinner before I get home. Do we have a deal, Evangeline?"

Evangeline looked at his hand stretched out over the marble counter. It was large, clean, and powerful. She took a breath, thinking of her family's debt and the thirty thousand dollars.

She reached out and placed her small, calloused hand into his.

"We have a deal, Mr. Moreno."