Master of Lust

Chapter - 236

Rick reluctantly came down first, taking a seat at the breakfast table. He glanced around, noticing the spread of pancakes, bacon, eggs, and toast. It was a hearty breakfast, and despite his frustration, his stomach grumbled.

He plastered on a casual smile, trying to mask his earlier frustration and excitement. His father was already seated at the table, sipping his coffee and looking up as Rick entered.

"Morning, Dad," Rick greeted, trying to sound nonchalant as he took a seat.

"Morning, Rick," Rick's father replied, eyeing his son curiously. "Where have you been? I was looking for you earlier."

Rick quickly concocted an excuse, hoping it sounded believable. "Oh, I just went out for a walk. Needed some fresh air, you know."

Rick's father raised an eyebrow but didn't press further. "A walk, huh? Well, I am glad you are getting some exercise."

Before Rick could respond, Jemimah entered the kitchen, looking a bit flustered but managing a warm smile. She took a deep breath before entering the kitchen, trying to compose herself. She greeted them both and slid into a seat beside Rick.

She sneaked a quick glance at him, and their eyes met for a brief, electrifying moment before she turned her attention to the food on the table.

"Good morning, Jemimah," Rick's father greeted her warmly. "I hope you slept well."

"Morning, Mr Smith," Jemimah replied with a polite smile. "Yes... It was one of the best sleeps I have had. And thank you for this amazing breakfast."

"And..." Jemimah exclaimed, her eyes widening at the spread of pancakes, bacon, eggs, and fresh fruit. "You really didn't have to go through all this trouble. I could have made breakfast for everyone."

Rick's father waved her comment away with a smile. "Nonsense, it was no trouble at all. I enjoy cooking breakfast. Plus, it's nice to have a good meal with company. After you both have been working really hard."

Rick shoveled a forkful of eggs into his mouth, trying to avoid eye contact with his father. He hoped his dad wouldn't ask too many questions, but that hope was quickly dashed.

Jemimah said, trying to change the subject. "You really didn't have to go to so much trouble. I could have made breakfast for us."

Rick's father smiled, appreciating her kindness. "It is alright, Jemimah. I wanted to do it for you," he said, then hesitated for a moment before adding, "And I had to do it for Rick. It has been too long since we have had a nice, decent meal together."

Rick's father picked up a glass of orange juice and poured it for Jemimah, placing it in front of her with a smile. "Here you go, Jemimah. Enjoy."

Jemimah smiled back, feeling a bit more at ease. "Thank you, Mr Smith. This is really nice of you."

Rick's father's expression softened as he looked at Jemimah. He reached for the pitcher of orange juice and poured a glass, placing it in front of her with a gentle smile. "It is alright, Jemimah. I wanted to do this for you. You deserve a nice breakfast after all the hard work you have been doing around here."

Rick felt a bit annoyed and irritated at his father's words. He knew his relationship with his dad had been strained, and moments like these were rare. He glanced at Jemimah, who was smiling warmly at his father.

"Thanks, Dad," Rick said, his tone more sincere this time. "I appreciate it."

Jemimah took a sip of her juice and looked at Rick's father with gratitude. "This really means a lot to me, Mr Smith. You have been so kind to me, and I can't thank you enough."

Rick's father waved off her thanks with a modest smile. "You don't need to thank me, Jemimah. You are like family now. And family looks out for each other."

While the two of them talked to each other, Rick picked up the jug on the table and he was about to pour himself some orange juice when his father gently stopped him.

"Hold on, Rick. I made you your favorite watermelon juice. Just a moment," Rick's father said with a warm smile. He stood up from the breakfast table and walked into the kitchen, leaving Rick and Jemimah alone.

Rick wanted to stop his father, but his father had already left.

Rick followed his father with his gaze until he disappeared into the kitchen, but his hand found its way and slipped onto Jemimah's thigh, from beneath the table. Jemimah was wearing a black tank top and jean shorts, and the feel of her bare skin against his fingers was irresistible.

Jemimah's eyes widened as she felt Rick's fingers lightly tracing patterns, rubbing on her thigh. Her body tensed, and she quickly grabbed his hand, her eyes locking onto his with a mixture of shock and a silent plea. She shook her head slightly, trying to convey the urgency and the risk of what he was doing. With her eyes, she pleaded him to stop.

Rick, however, only smirked, his eyes gleaming with mischief. He continued to tease her, his hand slipping further up her thigh towards her intimate area. Jemimah bit her lip, trying to stifle a moan as she felt her arousal grow.

Her breathing became ragged, and she took deep, shaky breaths, her eyes half-closing in a mix of frustration and pleasure.

Rick looked at Jemimah, his eyes glinting with mischief and desire. He leaned in a little closer, lowering his voice to a whisper. "What is the matter, Jemimah? Can't handle a little teasing?"

Jemimah's heart pounded in her chest. She glanced nervously toward the kitchen, her breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps. "Rick," she hissed under her breath, trying to sound stern but failing as a shiver ran through her. "Stop it, your dad could come back any second."

Ignoring her protests, Rick's fingers continued their slow, deliberate journey up her thigh. He reveled in the way her body responded, feeling the tremors of her muscles and the heat of her skin.

His fingertips brushed the edge of her shorts, dangerously close to her moist, already sensitive pussy. Jemimah bit her lip to stifle a gasp, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment as a wave of arousal mixed with anxiety washed over her.

"Rick, please," she whispered urgently, her voice trembling. She tried to push his hand away, but her strength seemed to ebb with each touch. Her body betrayed her, responding to his teasing even as her mind screamed for caution.

In the kitchen, Rick's father was carefully pouring the watermelon juice into a glass jug. As he glanced back towards the dining area, he noticed something odd about Rick and Jemimah. They were sitting closer than usual, and there was a tension in the air that he couldn't quite place. His brow furrowed, suspicion flickering in his eyes.

He watched as Rick leaned in, his hand hidden under the table. Jemimah's face was flushed, her eyes half-closed, and she seemed to be breathing heavily.

Rick's father's grip on the jug tightened, the glass shaking slightly in his hand. He saw Rick's smirk and Jemimah's desperate attempts to maintain her composure, and understanding slowly dawned on him.

As Rick's father turned back to the counter, his movements were stiff and deliberate. A few drops of juice spilled from the jug onto the counter, but he paid them no mind. His thoughts were consumed by what he had just witnessed, and a mixture of emotions churned within him—anger, disappointment, and a deep sense of protectiveness towards Jemimah.
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Back at the table, Rick's hand had slipped even further up Jemimah's shorts, his fingers now tantalizingly close to her most intimate area. Jemimah's body was on fire, her mind a whirl of conflicting emotions. She needed him to stop, but part of her didn't want him to.

"Rick," she breathed, her voice barely audible. "Please, we can't..."

Rick finally relented, sensing the depth of her distress. He withdrew his hand, giving her thigh a final, gentle squeeze before sitting back in his chair. "Alright, alright," he whispered, a hint of frustration in his voice. "We will finish this later."

Jemimah exhaled shakily, relief and residual arousal coursing through her. She shot Rick a grateful but stern look, then turned her attention back to her plate, trying to steady her breathing and calm her racing heart.

Meanwhile, Rick's father returned to the table with the jug of watermelon juice, his face carefully neutral. He poured a glass for Rick, setting it down in front of him with a forced smile. "Here you go, son. Your favorite."

"Thanks, Dad," Rick said, his voice a bit too casual as he took the glass.

Rick's father sat down, his eyes flicking between Rick and Jemimah. "So, Jemimah," he began, his tone deliberately light, "are you enjoying your breakfast?"

Jemimah nodded quickly, swallowing a bite of pancake. "Yes, Mr Smith. It is wonderful, thank you."

"I am glad," he replied, his gaze lingering on her for a moment before turning back to Rick. "Rick why are you not drinking the juice?" Rick's father said, eyeing the juice in front of Rick.

"I made it specially for you."

"Huh..." Rick who was lost in his thoughts suddenly snapped out and looked at his father. His eyes serious. He looked at his father for a while before nodding at his father.

"I will have it now. Thanks, DAD!"

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