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"Here, taste," I say, handing him one.

I hear the golden crunch as he takes a bite and his eyes close. “Damn, that’s good.”

"See?" I point the spatula at him. "I’m a genius."

"So I can see."

He takes another bite.

“Now, apologize to your wife and tell me how good I am.”

"Eeh…"

"Say the words."

"Busy eating," he says around a mouthful of cheese toastie.

"Say it's the best cheese toastie you've ever had."

He swallows. "I will say it is ... adequate."

"You are the worst husband ever."

"And yet." He gestures between us with the rest of the toastie. "Here we are."

Yes, here we are.

Still sitting on the counter, he sets down his empty plate and wraps his ankles around the back of my knees to pull me to him. His knees close against my hips to hold me in place.

He looks down at me, eyes bright with all the carnal things he wants to do next.

I lean in to kiss him, the kiss light at first. But the kiss deepens, and his tongue moves against mine as the heat roars into a burning flame.

His legs tighten around me, and my hand drifts up his thigh and finds the hard outline of him.

I glance down.

Oh.

His sweatpants are tented between his legs, and the sight of it sends a jolt of heat through my stomach so fast that my fingers dig into his thigh.

He follows my gaze, then looks back at me.

"You did that," he says, his voice husky.

He slides off the counter.

His bare feet hit the marble, and he stands in front of me all bare-chested and hard.

A reckless hunger takes hold of me, and I drop to my knees.

Looking up at him, I hold his gaze as I pull his sweatpants down.

His cock springs free and hits thick and hard against his abs.

I wrap my hand around the base, and his head drops back as a groan rolls out of his chest at the first contact of skin on skin.

I lean in and lick the tip, flattening my tongue across the broad tip and slowly dragging it down his shaft before taking him into my mouth.