Page 80 of Sugar Coated Secrets

I look up. “Huh?”

“The cookies, are those for me?”

I bite my bottom lip. Placing both trays of cookies in the preheated oven. “Yes. Umm…”

I turn around, and he closes the distance between us, causing my words to die in my throat. I can’t think when he’s this close. My brain ceases to function.

“I asked my manager to do whatever it took and find you the best table, and I’m honored that you’re making my favorite the first night since it was delivered.”

“It is the best,” I breathe.

I’m telling the truth. It’s a top-of-the-line prep table, and it must’ve cost him at least six thousand dollars, maybe more.

“You didn’t have to, Ford.”

“I did.”

“Why?”

He smiles, wiping away the grain of sugar that must have landed on my nose. “Without a prep table, you can’t make my cookies.” He says this, licks the pad of his thumb, and closes his eyes briefly.Shit.“Dulce?”

I swallow hard. “Yeah.”

He looks first at the table, then at me. “Can I kiss you now?”

I draw in a breath. “Yes.”

He tilts his head slowly, and his lips fuse with mine. I moan. He groans, deepening the kiss. The smell of sugar and citrus wraps around us like a blanket. He turns me so that my back hits the edge of the table and pulls me against him. A moan escapes my throat, drowning in our kiss. I can feel his hard-on pushingagainst my belly through his jeans. His hands grip my thighs, lifting me onto the table. He pulls back, and our lips make a sucking sound when they break apart.

I want to tell him we can’t on the prep table, but as soon as he looks at the two buttons between my breasts on my pink uniform, his gaze slowly shifts between my legs, which are now spread wide. My dress's skirt is bunched up around my upper thighs. Just one movement. A centimeter, and he can see the triangle of my pink panties. I don’t want it to end. Whatever is going on between us.

“Are you sweet down there too, Dulce?”

“I don’t know,” I reply nervously. “Last night, you didn’t let me taste myself on your fingers.”

I can’t believe I said that. The words sound foreign on my tongue.

“You’ve never tasted yourself?”

I shake my head. I haven’t. I've played with myself at the thought of him.

The palms of his hands are hot on my thighs, sliding higher. His thumb presses against my clit. My legs open wider.

His eyes lift. “Let’s see… how you taste.” He pushes me back. My ass slides across the table as he dips his head. My hands are flat on the metal surface, holding myself up. His lips are between my legs. His eyes fixed on me.

His thumb pushes my wet panties to the side. His tongue swipes my slit. “Ford,” I gasp.

He’s pressed his face between my thighs, fucking me with his tongue. Goose bumps snake over my skin. My nerves tighten. Sweat drips between my breasts. I grind shamelessly on his face, wanting more. I grip the top of his short hair, pushing my pussy deeper into his face. I need to come.

I moan.

He groans.

“Oh…God. More,” I beg him.

His tongue dips and turns. His hands hold me steady on my hips. I ride his face hard, screaming when I come.

The timer on the oven dings. My heart jackhammers in my chest. He pulls out, licking my cum off his mouth.

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