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I look at the coconut flour, ginger, cinnamon, salt, and baking soda. Then there’s this weird jar of something that doesn’t have a label.
“What’s this?” I ask, picking it up, studying how thick it is.
“That’s the secret ingredient.” He takes it from my hand and sets it down on the counter. “Don’t drop it.”
“Can we make these now?” I ask, more intrigued than anything. But also, I love those cookies.
“Are you done for the day?” he asks as he grabs some butter and eggs from the fridge.
“I am now,” I say, washing my hands after Levi. “Teach me your ways.”
Levi grabs a mixing bowl and spoon and hands it to me. “Ready?”
I enthusiastically nod, then he picks up the coconut flour and pours it in the bowl.
“You’re not measuring anything?” I look at him like he’s lost his mind.
“Why would I?” He snickers, adding more baking soda, cinnamon, and salt.
I scoff. “Because I’m supposed to be learning!”
He shakes his head and wraps his hand around my waist, pulling me into him. “You learn by doing, naughty girl.”
“You’re evil,” I say as he slides his tongue into my mouth.
When we break apart, he grabs another bowl.
“Mix the powders,” he directs, turning on the oven. “You know what the real secret of these cookies are? The reason Finn can never get them right?”
I meet his eyes.
“It’s because he’s trying to imitate something that comes straight from the heart. The recipe lives up here.” He points at his head. “And here.” Then his heart.
“You can’t replicate that,” I whisper.
“No,” Levi confirms as he whips butter and cracks eggs.
Once we’ve mixed the dry and wet ingredients, we roll the dough in our hands, then we place them a few inches apart on the tray. Levi puts them in the oven and sets a timer for eight minutes.
“You know what that means?”
I shake my head.
“I have eight minutes to make you come,” he tells me, scooping me up into his arms and carrying me to the living room. Dasher barely lifts his head from where he’s lying in front of the fire.
Levi sets me down on the couch and slides my pajama bottoms and panties down. He spreads my legs, diving headfirst between my thighs, and I writhe against him. He licks, sucks, and finger fucks me into oblivion as I tug on his hair.
“Shit,” I whisper-hiss, as he curves his finger, hitting my G-spot. As my eyes slam shut, the orgasm builds. I moan out his name as he flicks his tongue against my clit, and soon, I’m spilling over. He laps up my arousal, then slides his mouth down my thighs, kissing them too. Before he stands, the timer on the oven dings.
“Cookies are done,” he says, smirking.
I catch my breath, then meet him in the kitchen. When he pulls the tray out, he slams it against the oven, and I jump.
“Why’d you do that?”
“Makes the middle of the dough fall flat and makes all the cracks happen on top.”
I look at them with amazement. “When can we eat them?”
