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Ryan squirmed, only succeeding in rocking his perfect little ass over my erection. “What about it?” he asked after clearing his throat.

“I didn’t want you to stop. The feeling of your lips on my chest, my stomach…”

I cupped my hand around his cock, hand burning but at the same time, the stifled groan rattling Ryan’s chest was enough for me to ignore it. The weight of his rigid flesh in my hand was better than I could ever imagine.

I wanted more.

I wanted our clothes gone.

I wanted to feel his skin on mine.

I gave an experimental squeeze, and Ryan shuffled in place.

“Do you want me to stop?” I asked.

“Hell no. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to do it.”

Rocking my hips forward, I tightened my grip on him. “Do you feel that?”

Ryan nodded against my shoulder. “Oh, I feel it. Those jeans are so thin you might as well be naked.”

“That means I want to do this. I really want to do this. I’m tired of fighting against it.”

The pain in my hand was nothing more than an afterthought as I massaged Ryan’s cock. Slowly, his hips began to thrust into my palm. His self-control was astonishing, with only the slight tremble of his hand giving him away as he scooped balls of cookie dough onto the baking sheet.

“You feel so good,” I admitted.

“S-s-so do you,” he stuttered, referencing the slight squeeze I gave him with my hand. His cock throbbed in response. “A little too good.”

Out of the corner of my eye I saw the instructor move.

“Maybe I should stop then.”

My hand retreated, and Ryan whimpered at the loss of the friction. Bracing himself on the counter, he took a few deep breaths, and I knew exactly what was happening: He was riding the edge as much as I was. Unable to adjust ourselves, we had no choice but to back away from it.

“Oh, what happened here?” The instructor looked at me, gesturing to my bandages.

“Just a work injury. I’m fine but I probably shouldn’t get it dirty.”

Her focus switched from me to the tray of cookies that Ryan was focusing intently on, determined not to let anyone catch onto his aroused state. I smiled, chest swelling with pride that I was the one to bring that color to his flawless skin.

“Well, it looks like you and your partner make a good team,” she said. “You could be a professional with those skills.”

With that, she walked away, and I teased at Ryan’s beltline. Only this time, he shot a hand down to stop me. “I am way too noisy to come with an audience. I’m glad you’re comfortable, but behave.”

With a promise to explore that particular threat, I kept my hand on his waist—but I did continue to whisper naughty images in his ear and pressing into his back at every chance.

“Will you stop wiggling you fucking tease?” Ryan hissed, desperate to adjust his hard-on and make himself more comfortable but with his hands covered in flour, it would have been anything but discreet.

“I’m sorry, I can’t stay still. Standing here with your ass pressed up against my⁠—”

All three oven timers dinged simultaneously, and Ryan pulled the tray from the oven. After scrubbing his hands with a towel, he threw it on the counter, frustrated—it hadn’t cleaned his hands like he wanted.

I wasn’t making it back to the hotel without getting my hands on him. “Bathroom. Now,” I demanded.

“You do not have to tell me twice.”

Ryan hauled me away, accidentally on purpose leaving the tray of cookies exactly where they were. The men’s room door slammed open and we rushed through washing our hands before Ryan threw me into a stall.