Chapter 218: Hidden Birthday Girls

Naomi threw her head back when he reached down and pulled her nipple into his mouth as he moved. Her feet strained against the ottoman as her body tightened, her mouth falling open when the first wave of her orgasm began to hit. She clutched Dorian tighter against her chest, her fingers digging into him.

"Don’t stop," she begged breathlessly. "Please... don’t stop."

The shivers running through her became so intense that the tiny hairs along her arms lifted. She could barely control the sounds leaving her anymore, her string of moans turning into broken music, one note tumbling helplessly into the next while she held onto him and let the pleasure take over.

By the time the orgasm finally began to ebb, Naomi was breathless, flushed and still trembling.

Dorian pulled away to change their position.

Soon, they were both on their knees, Naomi bent forward against the ottoman as he found her again. This time, there was nothing slow about the rhythm he set. He picked up the pace, leaning back slightly as the force of each movement pushed sounds from Naomi’s mouth faster than she could keep track of them.

Naomi’s fingers curled against the upholstery while Dorian’s breathing grew heavier behind her. The intensity built quickly until he finally came with a powerful, loud grunt, the sensation leaving him so dizzy that he had to lower himself onto the carpet beside the ottoman afterward. She eventually shifted until she was lying properly across the ottoman, still trying to catch her breath. She turned her head and looked down at Dorian stretched out beside her on the carpet, his chest rising and falling heavily.

Her fingers reached down and brushed slowly across his chest. "Promise me forever..." she said softly.

Dorian looked up at her. "And always..."

*****

Sunday came with brutality. There was simply no kinder way to describe it.

They had spent the weekend so committed to taking time away from real life that neither of them had properly considered the small problem of real life waiting patiently for them to come back.

Naomi had a major catering job waiting for her.

Maxwell Hawthorne’s daughter’s twelfth birthday party.

A fully paid event. And an opportunity Chef Bennett absolutely could not afford to mishandle when the business was finally beginning to grow.

By Sunday, the romantic Vegas bubble had burst so violently that Naomi probably could have heard it pop.

But Dorian was not one to sit back and watch while his wife struggled.

Naomi had already done most of the shopping for the Hawthorne birthday party before Vegas, which turned out to be the only remotely responsible decision she had made that weekend.

Saturday night had been brutal. Instead of recovering from the flight, she spent most of the night preparing food, portioning ingredients and making sure everything was ready for the following day. By the time she finally stopped, she felt as though Vegas had happened three weeks ago instead of less than twenty-four hours earlier.

The scale of the party was nowhere near Ginny’s wedding, of course.

Thank God.

Naomi wasn’t sure she had another wedding-sized catering job in her body that week. She had hired extra staff for the day, which made things easier.

Dorian had also made the executive decision that she was absolutely not driving. He drove her to the Hawthorne house himself, following behind the hired catering truck while Naomi sat in the passenger seat trying very hard not to yawn every thirty seconds.

By the time they reached the Hawthorne property, Naomi was already going over everything she needed to do in her head.

Dorian parked, then turned toward her. "You call me when you’re done. As soon as you’re done."

"Yes, Dorian." Naomi unfastened her seat belt. "I’ll call you."

Dorian leaned over and kissed her.

Naomi pulled away first with a smile. "If you keep that up, I’m going to be late."

"You’re already here."

"You know what I mean." She shook her head, opened the door and climbed out.

Dorian watched until she made it inside before pulling away.

The Hawthorne house was already in full party mode. Decorations were up, tables had been arranged and staff were moving through the property getting everything ready. Naomi’s own team was already unloading and setting up, so she immediately slipped into work mode.

Within minutes, she was checking serving stations, confirming where the food would go and making sure the kitchen space they had been given would actually work.

That was when she noticed something was wrong. At first, it was just the atmosphere. The house looked ready for a celebration, but nobody seemed particularly celebratory.

Maxwell Hawthorne was moving with a phone in his hand, checking it repeatedly. His wife looked even worse, visibly anxious and speaking quietly to different members of staff.

Naomi tried not to stare.

Family problems were none of her business.

Her job was food.

Still, it became difficult not to notice when people started calling the birthday girl’s name. Eventually, Naomi learned what had happened.

The birthday girl had disappeared. Not missing exactly. But she had vanished because she didn’t want the party.

What twelve-year-old girl didn’t like parties?

Naomi kept her thoughts to herself and concentrated on the setup.

Whatever was happening with the girl, Maxwell and his wife would handle it.

She had enough to do.

The food needed to be arranged, the serving area had to look right and her staff needed direction. If the birthday girl decided to reappear, Naomi wanted everything ready.

She moved between the kitchen and the setup area for a while until she realised she had left something in the catering truck. Naomi sighed and headed toward the garage. Her body was already reminding her exactly how little sleep she had gotten, and she made a mental note that the next romantic weekend Dorian suggested needed to come with at least three recovery days attached.

She walked into the garage where the hired truck was parked and pulled open the back doors.

A quick movement caught her eye. Something had darted behind one of the large bins.

Her hand remained on the truck door as she stared into the shadowed space. Naomi stepped fully into the truck, already fairly certain she knew who had caused the movement. She didn’t call attention to it.

Instead, she pretended she had seen nothing at all and started rifling through one of the bins until she found the spoons she had come for in the first place.

Ethan had taught her enough about skittish kids to know that cornering one usually made everything worse.

"So I’m guessing you don’t like parties, huh?" Naomi asked casually, still not looking in the girl’s direction.