She hums again, reaching for the cooling rack. Her back is to me, ponytail swinging, fingers adjusting each cookie. I slide in behind her until there’s barely an inch of air between us, my body looming. I lean down slowly enough for my breath to skim her neck.
“So considerate,” I murmur.
She freezes for a second, then nods. Her hair brushes my chest when she shifts.
“Were you thinking about him when you bought the ingredients?” I ask.
She scoffs, trying to shove me away with an elbow, but I see the smile on her face.
I could stand here and just watch: watch her fuss over dough and chocolate chips and glass containers labeled in Sharpie. Let her do this for hours while I sit and take it in as though it’s the most entertaining thing in the world. It would be enough.
But there’s another part of me that wants to take. Wants to devour.
I lean in until my mouth hovers by her ear. I glance at the mess, then down at her legs, her ass, the ridiculous little pajama shorts she’s wearing.
“And you made a mess while I was gone,” I say, voice low.
“It’s a kitchen. That’s what happens when people cook.” Her voice is softer now, not matching her sass.
I press my hips into her, just enough for her to feel my hardening cock. My hands find her waist, fingers slipping under the hem of her shirt, palms hot against her skin.
“And what happens when they don’t clean up as they go?” I murmur.
“You gonna punish me for making cookies, Captain?”
I smile against her skin, already picturing it. “I just might,” I whisper, dragging my teeth along her jaw.
I grip her waist and turn her to face me. She’s got my blood running hot over a goddamn tray of cookies.
“Aren’t you gonna let me try one at least?”
Her eyes sparkle. Then she reaches behind and grabs the whipped cream can. “Say ah.” She gives it a little shake with a devil’s grin.
She sprays a dollop straight onto my lips, hitting the corner of my mouth. “Oops,” she says sweetly.
I smile slowly, licking a bit off with the tip of my tongue. “Sorry, I don’t know how that happened.” She innocently, biting back a laugh. “Let me help you.”
She steps forward and my body tenses, cock jumping. She’s never been this bold before. I don’t know how much wine she’s had, but judging by her glistening eyes, it’s just enough.
She leans in, sticks her tongue out, and props a hand on my chest as she rises on her tiptoes. I have a second to brace before her soft, slippery tongue brushes the edge of my mouth.
Fuck me.
Her lips barely graze mine chasing the whipped cream, and the second I feel them, I’m done for.
I grab the back of her neck and press my mouth to hers; the kiss tastes like cream and sugar. Her gasp disappears against my lips. I take the can from her,fingers sliding up into her ponytail until I reach the base of her skull, then give it one sharp tug.
“Dom,” she gasps, neck arching, mouth parted in shock.
I click the whipped cream and spray a slow, cold swirl across the slope of her throat.
Her whole body shudders. Cream slides down her skin, and I lower my head like an animal ready to drink from a pond. I lick a clean stripe from collarbone to jaw, earning a high-pitched moan. Music to my ears.
My free hand slips under her shirt and palms her breast, thumb circling her nipple as I suck the last of the cream from her neck.
“God,” she whimpers.
“You think I don’t know when you’re begging for it?”
