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“You…really?” she managed to get out, though she was nearly panting now. Grath could tell how turned on she was getting. She was wiggling and squirming all over the hard ridge of his cock and the scent of her feminine desire was strong in his nose, making him even hotter for her.
“Oh yeah, little girl—really,” he growled softly in her ear. “And after I teased that sweet little clit until you came for me—came all over my face—I’d slip my tongue deep inside your honey well to taste your sweet juices. I’d make you come and come for me—all night long—until you couldn’t fucking take it anymore!”
“Oh, Grath!” she exclaimed, nearly panting now. “You…you really shouldn’t talk like that to me! You shouldn’t tell me all these things!”
“Why not? I know you like them—know you like it when I talk dirty to you, baby,” he murmured. “I know it makes your pussy wet.”
“How could you possibly knowthat?”she demanded, half turning her head to look at him.
“Why because—you’re sweet scent has gotten so much stronger,” Grath told her. “It’s all I can smell—I’m fucking surprised none of the other people in here can smell it, even over all the scents of the different cookies baking.”
“Cookies baking! Oh, no!” Madeline gasped and suddenly jumped off his lap.
“What? What is it?” Grath rose to his feet, frowning. His cock was aching and it made a very noticeable lump in his trousers.
“The cookies!” she exclaimed. “We’ve been talking too long—it’s past time to put the cookies in the oven!”
“Fuck!” Grath growled. “Well hurry up—do we still have enough time for them to bake?”
“Maybe if we hurry—you’ll have to help me roll them into balls,” Madeline told him as she dug the metal bowl of chilled dough out of the freezer unit.
“I’m on it, baby—I can help you make the balls,” Grath promised. “Come on—let’s go!”
They rushed back across the room to table nine and Mattie tore off a piece of parchment paper to line one of the broad, flat metal sheets. She pulled out a metal scoop and began portioning out the dough as Grath rolled it into round balls and placed each one a little distance apart on the sheet.
In less time than he would have thought was possible, the balls were done and Madeline was running across to the cooking unit that had been designated as theirs. But when she got there, she stopped short and Grath heard her groan.
“What? What is it, baby?” he asked anxiously, coming to see. “What’s the problem?”
“The problem is thatsomebodyturned off our oven.” Madeline gestured to the cooking unit, a look of despair on her face. “It’s stone cold and there’s no time to preheat it again!”
TWENTY
MATTIE
Mattie couldn’t believe it—her oven was stone cold and there was no way she could get it warm in time to bake her snowballs properly!
“IknowI preheated it! I remember feeling it start to heat up!” she exclaimed in frustration.
Right and then you went and left it unattended,whispered a little voice in her head.You were so worried about someone sabotaging the dough, you didn’t eventhinkof the oven!
Someone—right. There was no question that it had been Amanda. Mattie shot her a look and saw that her high school bully was just now pulling a tray full of sugar cookies out of her own oven and putting another tray in. No doubt she would have plenty of time for her cookies to cool so she could ice and decorate them. And doubtless she would be secretly gloating about her little act of sabotage the whole time.
To Mattie, the situation looked hopeless. There was just no way to preheat the oven, bake the cookies, and get them all rolled in powdered sugar in time for the judging. If only she’d been paying more attention to the other side of the room instead of guarding the dough!
This is what you get for talking dirty to Grath and letting him talk dirty to you when you know damn well this is all an act,she lectured herself. But for a moment, she’d actually believed that he wanted to do all those sexy things to her. No other man had ever talked to her that way—it had been intoxicating and she’d been getting so hot…while her oven was getting cold.
“Crap!” She sighed in frustration. “Well, I’m afraid this time we’re really done for. There’s just no time to preheat the oven and get these done before the judging!”
“I wouldn’t be too sure about that, little girl,” Grath rumbled and Mattie saw he had a thoughtful look on his face. “You just need heat applied to the raw dough to cook it—right?” he asked her.
“Well…yes.” Mattie began to get an inkling of where he was going. “But…can you do that? Can you producethatmuch heat?”
“I can produce all the heat you want—I just can’t flame up,” he told her. “Let me know how hot to make it and I can get there.”
“Oh, um…it has to be three hundred and seventy-five degrees Fahrenheit. Hang on…”
TWENTY-ONE
