Chereads / Mr CEO's Beloved Wife / Chapter 30 - 30. Kitten

Chapter 30 - 30. Kitten

Aruna dashed past Hendra, leading the way to the underground parking lot after they gave their parting goodbye and taking their leave. A sleek black car was waiting for them. Hendra caught up and opened the passenger door for his wife like a true gentleman that he was. He jogged to the other side of the car and got in himself.

She was about to fasten her seatbelt when suddenly Hendra moved her seat to lean backwards. There was that familiar expression he always displayed when he wanted something really bad.

"Hendra, what are you doing?!"

She was answered by his pervy laugh. She slapped his hands away as his deft fingers took off the second button of her shirt.

"If I'm not as handsome as your brother and father, do you think I'm cute like your sister's baby?" the blue eyed man's hot breath tickled her right ear, "Call me 'darling again."

Aruna didn't call him 'darling'. She was too busy trying to push him, and at the same time, pulling him in. She was rendered compliant when Hendra buried his face in her neck. Moreover when he was licking and biting on her ear like a naughty cat.

.

.

"Hen … stop it! I can't, please!" she was silenced yet again with his lips.

Pushing on his chest, she managed to slip out, "Let me take a breath," she tried to snap him out of his sudden drive and fix her rumpled shirt.

"Baby, wait," but he kept on, trying to catch her lips on another battle of will, "How will you do the deed in this cramped place? You can't even move freely."

"See, you want to do it again, don't you?" he smirked, smug and hopeful at the same time, "Get on my lap and we'll get the thing we want."

"We want? You meant, you want!"

"You haven't tried it, yet you keep protesting …" he sneered, "I'll never leave it down when you become addicted after this."

Brushing back his hair, Hendra prompted, "Move over," and they exchanged their seats. Precisely, Hendra was sitting with Aruna on his lap.

The rest was history.

***

Hendra didn't go anywhere after they got to his mansion. Strange, Aruna thought. Usually, he would bolt here and there, going somewhere, doing something. He was never staying in one place for a long time.

"You don't have work?" she asked her husband who sat on the couch, a notebook on his lap this time.

"Do I look like I'm watching porn, now?"

At his snide remark, Aruna was seriously regretting asking him in the first place. She paced back to the kitchen then. With an apron above her oversized t-shirt and hotpants, Aruna went to make a sponge cake tonight.

After all, she wanted to impress her husband.

So, armed with some confidence she got after helping her mother make one a long time ago, she ruled on the kitchen. The sacrifice, obviously, was Herry. He was sent by her to go back and forth to the supermarket and get her the ingredients needed.

A nice smell of hot cake coming directly from the oven wafted in the air. The sweet smell invited the targeted man to come to the kitchen. Aruna was giddy, expecting his shocked face.

Alas, shocked he was. Just, not in the correct way Aruna wanted.

Hendra's eyes were zeroed in on the messy kitchen. Then to her equally messy appearance. And lastly, he directed his gaze to the asymmetric sponge cake sitting on the counter top.

Following his gaze, Aruna grumbled at her uneven cake, "I don't know why it came out like this!"

Harry came to the kitchen again after his third shopping trip, bringing along a bag of the things his boss' wife forgot to list him. Placing the bag on the counter, he peered in, stunned at the lady's extraordinary masterpiece. As in too abstract in its shape.

After wiping her sour face away from a smear of drying dough on her cheek, Aruna took a pinch and brought it to her mouth, "At least it tastes okay."

Hendra sat on the kitchen chair then, his thumb and forefinger stole a little piece of the warm sponge cake, "It's good."

And Aruna's sour face brightened in an instant.

"We can fix it," he said, circling the counter to stand beside his wife. He snatched the knife she was about to use to coated the cake in butter, making her pout. He grinned, touching her scrunched up nose, "Let me."

Once Hendra finished covering the cake in butter, Aruna made a grabby hand motion, "Me! I want to decorate it!"

She made a flower with the colorful butter they already put inside a plastic cone. While Aruna was immersed in her critical mission to decorate the cake, Hendra played with the green butter cone. He followed suit, making a flower with the buttery cream. On her cheek.

"Hendra!" she squawked in protest.

"Don't worry, I'll wipe it for you," chuckling, he cleaned her cheek away from the green butter. With his lips and tongue, of course. And like the naughty immature kid like he was, Hendra repeated that course of action again until she finished with decorating the cake.

"Finally …" she sighed and straightened her back after bending over the cake. Admiring her own work, she frowned, "Now, it's too good to be cut."

Hendra took his phone, directing the camera to the sponge cake made by his wife. As well as saying his wife's flustered face after the many licks he gave her cheeks, "Give me your smile," he grinned behind his phone, making a recording to be seen later.

Receiving her sweet smile, Hendra pointed the camera to the cake again, "So, this is made by my wife … so pretty, isn't it? Well, behind this pretty cake, here's the carnage," and Hendra quickly directed his camera to the messy kitchen behind his wife. He burst into laughter.

"Do I have to clean all of this by myself?" Aruna placed the dirty kitchen wares she used on the sink. Wearing the washing gloves and turning back to her husband who was still holding his phone in the air, "Help …"

"Nope," he chuckled, shaking his head so hard his phone shifted in the air.

"You're so mean, Hendra," Aruna pouted to the camera.

"Try 'darling'," he suggested.

"Nope," she parroted his earlier response, "Perhaps I'll call you that again when we were in public. But, when we're home, I'll call you whatever I want."

Drumming her index finger on her chin, she listed off, "I'll call you Hen, or honey, hubby, sweety, kitten–"

"Huh? What was that? Kitten?" Hendra cut in.

Aruna hummed, nodding enthusiastically while cleaning the tray she used to lay on the dough, "Because you're always sniffing me like a kitten."

"Oh, I thought it's because I love biting you."

"Well, that too."

"I also love to drink milk like a kitten," he wiggled his eyebrows, grinning playfully.

"Ugh, you prevert!" Aruna cided, placing her hand on her hips threateningly.

"What? Honest! I love to drink milk. Low fat milk, warm chocolate milk, milk with caramel cream. You name it," offended, he tried to defend himself, "But, what I love the most … are the ones my wife's always carrying around."

"HENDRA, YOU PERVERT!"

Hendra laughed out loud, shielding himself from the repeated punch on his shoulder sent by her wife, "Hey, don't get mad at me … stop it, will you? Look, they're going to spill if you don't stop moving!"

"AAARRGHH!"

She continued, packing more power on her punches while her shameless husband was still wheezing in laughter, trying to shy away from her.

Crash!

The sound of a plate breaking on the floor.

It was cake. Aruna's selfmade pretty looking okay tasting sponge cake she barely made thirty minutes ago. Became an ugly, clearly inedible heap on the floor.

She cried out.

.

"This is your fault! You and your naughty, perverted mind!" Aruna yelled, livid with a permanent scowl on her folded face. She slapped his hand when he tried to placate her. Moving away from the husband who was trying to get her to forgive his accidental elbow to the cake.

"I don't want to do this anymore! You clean all of this yourself!" she barked, stomping away from the kitchen.

"Yes, I'll clean this," Hendra complied, already on it with Herry's help who dashed there the moment Aruna yelped madly.

.

.

"The kitchen is clean," Hendra stated to his wife who was sitting on the couch near his laptop, "Now, we have to clean the ones who pout their lips they practically beg for a wooden clothes clamp."

"You mean, me?!"

"No …" he drones out, closing their distance and picking his wife in his arms, carrying her to the bathroom, "I mean, me."

"I want to soak in warm water."

"Yes, My Lady."