His Private Chef (by Amycee) novel Chapter 35

Chapter 35

“Nope. We’re heading to the private cabin first. We’ll jThe door clicked shut behind us.

He turned, his gaze

molten.

“Sit,” he said, his voice smooth but commanding.

I obeyed.

“Spread your legs.”

I did. Breathless. Burning. My panties were soaked, clinging to me. He knelt between my thighs like it was instinct, his hands slow as they dragged my underwear down my legs.

Then he paused. And stared.

The way he looked at me, at that part of me, nearly made me come again. There was hunger in his eyes. Worship.

When his mouth finally touched me, I whimpered.

Hot. Open. Addicted.

He licked and sucked like I belonged to him. Like tasting me wasn’t just a de e but his right. His tongue moved in maddening rhythm, building me up again, only to slow and then pull me further until I broke, loud this time, his name spilling from my lips in a trembling

moan.

He didn’t stop until I was begging.

Even then, he only pulled back to lick his lips, dark eyes locked with mine.

“Go to sleep now,” he whispered. “I’ll wake you before we land.”

He pulled me up beside him, tucked the soft blanket around me, and kissed my temple.

Thirty thousand feet in the air, and somehow, Liam Black managed to wreck my carefully guarded heart.

“Emily.”

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Chapter 34

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His voice was low. Gentle. Too gentle for someone who had ruined me just hours

ago.

I stirred beneath the soft weight of the blanket, blinking up into Liam’s face. His expression was calm, but there was something behind his eyes, a flicker of last night’s hunger, now buried beneath polished restraint.

“We’re about to land,” he said. “You should get back to your seat.”

Right. The jet. The others. Reality.

I sat up slowly, my body still humming from everything we’d done in this private room that had no business being so comfortable at thirty thousand feet. My dress had twisted around my thighs, my mouth was dry, and my heart had the audacity to skip at the sight of him. He was fully dressed, perfectly composed, like he hadn’t kissed me breathless and undone me with his mouth somewhere over the Atlantic.

Wordlessly, I rose and slipped past him into the softly lit corridor, making my way back to my seat like I wasn’t carrying the memory of him between my legs.

Sophia shot me a look as I approached. Sharp, teasing, and just curious enough to make me want to disappear.

“Sleep well?” she asked, sipping from a delicate white mug. Her smile was far too knowing.

“Fine,” I said, easing into the seat across from her.

Jay raised a brow. “Pretty sure we heard some turbulence that wasn’t on the flight path.”

I rolled my eyes and pretended to check my phone. “Must’ve been a glitch in the cabin pressure.”

Sophia laughed under her breath, but thankfully, didn’t push further.

”

Liam returned a few moments later, quiet and calm. He took his seat beside me with the elegance of someone who hadn’t just wrecked a woman in a private cabin and walked away like a saint. Not a single glance in my direction. The man could be stone when he wanted to be. And right now?

He was marble.

The captain’s voice crackled through the cabin speakers.

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15:40

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. We’ve begun our descent into St. Barts. Local time is 6:18 AM, skies are clear, and the temperature is a pleasant twenty–six degrees Celsius. Please ensure your seatbelts are fastened. We’ll be landing shortly.”

The jet tilted gently as we began our descent. Through the window, the island rose from the mist. Sapphire waves curling around white–sand beaches, green hills glowing in the early light. It was breathtaking.

St. Barts.

The approach was famously dramatic, and they weren’t exaggerating. The runway was short, the descent steep. I clutched the armrest as we glided just above a hillside, the sea and sun rushing up to greet us.

The wheels touched the tarmac with a soft bounce, the jet coasting onto a private strip tucked between cliffs and coconut palms.

We’d made it.

–

Stepping off the jet was like stepping into another world, one soaked in salt air and soft heat. Sunlight kissed my skin. A line of black SUVs waited nearby, polished and purring. Staff in crisp uniforms moved efficiently, handling luggage, greeting Liam by name.

Liam walked ahead, speaking quietly with one of the drivers, his sleeves rolled, his demeanor unreadable. I lingered back with Sophia and Jay.

“Ready to meet the rest of the Black dynasty?” Sophia asked, tossing her sunglasses on with a grin.

“Wait, they’re already here?”

“They flew in two days ago, parents, uncles, cousins. Pretty much the entire family. We’re the last to join.”

“They’re not meeting us here?”

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oin the others at the main estate this evening.”

I exhaled. A little breathing room. Thank God.

The drive from the airport was cinematic. Cliffside roads hugging the island, turquoise waters stretching into the horizon, villas tucked into the hills like secrets.

Then we arrived.

The Black family’s retreat wasn’t a house. It was a statement.

Carved into the cliffside, the estate blended sleek modernism with effortless island charm. Whitewashed stone, glass walls, lush palms, and a panoramic ocean view that looked like it had been painted for the gods.

A house manager greeted us at the entryway, bowing slightly.

“Welcome back, Mr. Black. Everything has been prepared as requested. Your rooms are ready. Breakfast will be served on the west terrace.”

Liam nodded. “Thank you.”

Inside, I tried not to gawk. The open–concept living space flowed seamlessly into the horizon. Breezes slipped through floor–length curtains. There were pool. A sunken fire pit. A spa tucked behind bamboo screens. And a kitchen that practically begged me to touch it.

A small envelope was handed to Sophia. Room assignments.

She grinned. “We’re rooming like royalty.”

Jay leaned in. “I better not be near the gym again. I’m not waking up to Liam doing push–ups at 6 AM.”

Sophia tossed him a card. “Garden suite. You’re safe.”

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“I’m above the pool,” she added. “Liam has the master. Obviously.”

Then her eyes found mine, glittering with something wicked.

“And Emily… gets the sunrise suite.”

“The what?”

“It’s got the best view. Next to the library. Closest to the kitchen. Liam picked it himself.”

My gaze snapped to him, but he didn’t look my way. Didn’t say a word.

Of course he didn’t.

We were just about to head toward our rooms when we heard/footsteps approaching.

A tall guy jogged up the driveway, shirt half–unbuttoned, black curls tousled from the breeze. He looked like he belonged in a magazine shoot: lean, sun–bronzed, confident to the point of cocky.

“Liam,” he said, pausing on the steps. “Didn’t think you’d actually show.”

Liam’s jaw tightened. “Kelvin.”

Kelvin smiled wider, ignoring the chill in Liam’s voice. His eyes flicked to me. Lingering. Assessing. His interest was immediate and unapologetic.

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