"If you want it that bad, come help," Maria snapped.

"Rather watch you. Did I ever tell you how sexy you look cooking my dinner? Cause if I haven’t I sure should have."

"Yes Michael, you have told me plenty of times that you like it when I cook. But I think it’s just so you don’t have to make your own dinner." Maria continued to stir the pasta, making sure it didn’t stick to the pan. Michael didn’t think she was so sexy when she burnt his food.

"And you fall for it every time." She could feel Michael’s smirk without looking. She could always tell what he was feeling. He sent of these vibes, this energy. Each emotion had a different one.

"Oh stop gloating," she sighed. He was such a smart-ass. Always right in his mind. "I like to cook for you."

"Sure, whatever. I’m hungry come one. I’ve got something special planned for dessert."

"You, special, plan, dessert. Did I just hear correctly."

Michael laughed, "Yeah, but only if you’re a good little girl." Maria liked the sound of that. She loved when Michael rewarded her. Ok, she sounded like a dog waiting for treats, but when the treats were as good as Michael’s, who wouldn’t wait.

"When am I not good?" she replied innocently. She looked in his direction.

"Do you need me to count?" he said sarcastically. She sneered at him. Michael picked himself off the couch and strode over to the stove. "Cause I will you know," he said tickling her. The timer went off as Maria burst into a fit of giggles.

"Michael, Michael, stop," she pleaded. "Please."

"What do you say?"

"Michael, don’t you want your dinner?"

"Nope," he said, tickling her harder, making sure to hit all the spots he knew she hated the most. Maria fell to the floor, trying to fend off Michael’s attacks. "What do you say?" he asked again, kneeling next to her on the floor.

"Please, Michael Guerin, sir," she attempted to say through her laughs. "I promise to…be…good." Maria was gasping for breath as Michael pulled his hands away. Michael had been resorting to this method of torture lately. She didn’t completely understand why. He knew she hated it, well she pretended to. Secretly she found it fun, but it was different. Usually he tied her up or something, not that she minded that either.

"Now that’s a good girl," he said standing up. "Now finish dinner."

Maria did as she was told. She drained the noodles, smothered them in sauce and split it all into two bowls. Michael was already sitting in his chair at the table when he was done. Maria placed his bowl in front of him then set hers down on the other side. They ate in silence, as they always did. The only sounds were that of chewing, and the loud slurping noises Michael made with his spaghetti.

When Michael was finished Maria cleared his plate and her own like a good little cook. It was so fifties. She knew, but it was so Michael. If he couldn’t control her, if he thought he’d lost control for one moment, he spazzed. If she didn’t follow his orders he thought she didn’t love him anymore. So she followed them.

"Time for dessert," Michael said. Maria eyed him, not sure what to expect. "Go to my room and take your clothes off, all of them."

"Michael, we have this for dessert every night," Maria whined. She thought he said it was special. Yeah, their sex was pretty special, always different, always like the first time, but…

"Maria, do you want dessert or not?" he growled, stopping her thoughts.

"Sorry," she said.

"Now go," he said. "March." Maria turned around and marched to the bedroom. She could feel his eyes on her the whole way. When she got into the bedroom she stripped of her clothing and sat on the bed. It was kind of awkward just waiting for him. She started stroking herself. Michael liked to watch her play with herself. She could hear him moving around in the kitchen. What the hell did he have in mind? It was bothering her.

Michael walked into the room. He stopped in the doorway and looked at her, his eyes boring holes in her skin. "Baby feeling horny?" he teased. She smiled at him. "Let me help." Michael walked over and put his hand over hers, playing with her curls. He dove one finger into her, sending sparks through her body. She moaned and thrust her hips forward, pulling her own hand away to grip his hair.

"You like that, don’t you?" he whispered. She knew he liked to make her happy. It made him feel important. Maria purred. She liked to make him happy too. He rubbed at her clit a little, then pulled his hand away. "You’re such a distraction. I almost forgot about dessert." His eyes glimmered.

"Stand," he commanded. She stood. Michael picked her up and flung her over his shoulder. She pounded on his back.

"Put me down," she squealed.

"Never, you’re mine." Maria slapped his ass. "Hey."

"You know you like it." Michael dropped Maria’s naked bottom on the kitchen table. "Michael we have to eat here. I’m not eating off something…"

"Oh shut up," he said, exasperated. Maria looked around her. There was ice cream, chocolate syrup, whipped cream, sprinkles, and all the other good sundae stuff lined up on the table.

"Ice cream sundaes?" she questioned.

"You bet."

"Where’re the bowls?"

"Right here."

"Where? I don’t see any bowls." Maria looked around confused. Michael had a patronizing smile on his face.

"Nothing gets by you does it?" Michael taunted.

"Well how are we gonna eat if we don’t have bowls?"

"’We’ are not gonna eat." Michael reached to the chair below him and came up with four long cords of rope. He smirked at her. "Lie down, baby." Maria complied, stretching out on their table. If she were ever expected to eat off this table again she would barf. But she didn’t have long to think about this.

Michael grabbed one of her delicate wrists and tied it to one leg of the table. He tugged on it to make sure it was nice and tight. Then he tied the other wrist.

Her legs were dangling off the table, the end only reaching to where her knee bent. Michael squatted on the floor and secured both ankles to the table. He stood up to admire his handiwork. "Beautiful," he breathed, as if she was a masterpiece.

"Michael I feel like I’m at the gynecologist’s office."

"What? You’re never going back to that creep again. You hear me?" Maria laughed at his overprotectiveness. "You think that’s funny?" Maria just laughed harder.

"Nevermind," he muttered. "I’m hungry." Michael reached for the tub of ice cream.

"Michael I still don’t see how you are going to eat that without a bowl."

"Don’t speak. I’ve never seen a talking bowl in my life." Maria’s eyes flashed recognition. She liked this dessert. He always did think up the best games to play. "Now lie still." Michael took the lid off the ice cream and dipped his finger into it. He put it in his mouth and sucked. Maria watched as his mouth worked, remembering the many times he had used his talented mouth to send her into a state of pure ecstasy. That mouth could evoke screams that would wake the dead. That mouth fascinated the hell out of her. "Mmmmm," he moaned. Maria squirmed against her ties.

Michael picked up the scoop off the table. He scooped out some of the ice cream, it was pistachio, his favorite. Michael placed the cold ball on Maria’s belly and watched as she shivered with the touch of it. "Cold, baby?" She nodded. Michael scooped out more and added that to the mound on her stomach. Then he placed the scoop on her hot core. He pushed aside her lips and pressed the cold metal into her clit. She shivered, but it was more from the pleasure than the cold.

He put the scoop down. "Time for some toppings," he declared. Michael grabbed the bottle of chocolate syrup and drizzled it on the ice cream. Then he dripped it all around her body, up one side of her torso, around one breast, spiraling it in until it made a perfect circle around her nipple. He copied the design on the other side and placed the bottle back on the table. Then he dotted her from head to foot in whip cream, creating little patterns on her arms and legs and everything in between.

Michael stood back. His eyes met hers. "You like?" Maria nodded, remembering what had happened the last time that she had talked out of turn. He smiled. "Good, I like to see you happy, baby. I love you, you know that, don’t you?" Maria answered him with her eyes.

The ice cream was melting fast from the heat in her body and it was starting to drip down her side. Michael flicked out his tongue and caught the little river of melted pistachio moments before it hit the table. He licked it up, following the trail up to her stomach. He lapped at the ice cream. It took him a while but finally the whole thing of ice cream was gone.

Michael licked Maria’s stomach sending bolts of pleasure through her. "Maria and ice cream, we may have to have this for dessert more often," he said next to her skin. His breath tickled and she squirmed a little.

Michael walked to the end of the table and licked the first dab of whipped cream off her leg. Maria watched him. He looked good, perfect, touching her, kissing her. It was so right. And the feeling he gave her, it was indescribable. He moved to the other leg and rid her it of the cream. He grazed his mouth over her middle. Maria thrust her hips, wanting more, but he pulled away. She groaned.

"Later, baby. I promise." He smiled, a sincere smile. Michael climbed up onto the table placing one knee on either side of her waist. The table was barely big enough, but he tried his best. He placed his hands below her arms and continued to rid her body of the whip cream.

When every last inch was gone, he went back for the chocolate. His method was torture. She loved the feeling of his tongue on her skin, but it was so light and so prolonged. She wanted to kiss him, touch him(that was impossible though), she wanted him to stop the slow methodical eating. The truth was she wanted to fuck him, hard. She was aroused, totally, and he was just prolonging what was inevitable.

"Michael," she finally cried out. Michael had almost reached her breast with his mouth. He looked up from what he was doing long enough to ask,

"Did you say something?"

"Michael, stop."

"You’re not pleased? What am I gonna do? Well I’ll tell you what, you let me finish my dessert, that should be punishment enough for talking, and then we’ll do what you want." Maria wanted to reply, but she had already made it worse.

Michael continued eating his chocolate syrup. But she skipped her breast and moved to the other side. When he had cleaned both sides he looked at her. "You want me to finish cleaning you up?" he asked resting his tongue at the base of her right breast. Maria nodded.

Michael circled her breast with his tongue. He circled her nipple a few times until it was hard and then took it into his mouth. Maria arched as far as her ropes would let her. He suckled her in his mouth, feeding off her. His hands snaked between her legs, parting her lower lips. He pressed his palm against her curls and used his middle finger to massage her clit. Maria couldn’t hold it any longer. She screamed his name. He let her.

Maria’s breath grew heavy, "Michael, Michael."

"What honey? Tell me what you want."

"FUCK ME, Michael, please. I need you."

"Whatever you wish, my princess." Maria gasped as he pulled himself off the table. "Well I have to take my clothes off," he said matter of factly.

"Hurry." Now she was ready to feel him inside her, and she didn’t hide it. She picked up her head to watch him undress. She watched him concentrate as he tried to undo the buttons of his shirt. Then she watched his muscles as he unzipped his jeans and rid himself of their constraint. He was hard, for her.

"Come here, baby," she called to him, her voice raspy with desire. Michael took no time in climbing back onto the table. He positioned himself over her.

"Hard, Michael," she tried to say, but her voice was beyond her as Michael pounded his hips into her. He rode her expertly, their rhythm perfect. "Make me cum," she whispered against his mouth that was now covering hers. His tongue explored her mouth as he pounded into her harder, faster. They came together, as one. Shudders exploded throughout Maria’s body as her orgasm ran its course.

Michael collapsed on top of her, no where else for him to go. He kissed her neck. "Shower time, babe."

"Sounds good," Maria whispered into his hair. Michael tried to regain enough strength to pull himself off the table. He stood up and steadied himself with the table. He fumbled with Maria’s ties, but finally she was free. Maria sat up, a huge grin on her face.