Page 53 of M.M. Scrooge
I laugh. It’s true. “That he does. His mom’s recipe. Never gets old.”
Peg finishes her workout, pops in and out of the shower, waves good-bye with a singsonged “Merry Christmas,” and heads out the door of Elite Level Personal Training.
I flip the little sign from Open to Closed and jog to the back room to grab my things. Having my own studio is a lot of work, but a dream come true is worth the extra effort. No boss, no leaderboard, no one to compete with. Just me, an intern Daniel set me up with from the kinesiology department, and my own business.
Finally.
I might not be rich, but money is no longer the goal. Daniel and I are comfortable, happy, and settled in careers we enjoy.
The drive to our house is short and passes through a cute downtown full of old industrial mills turned into coffee shops, antique stores, artsy apartments, and our favorite lobster shack.
Last spring, just before the wedding, Daniel and I moved in together in a three-bed, two-bath, two-story Cape Cod-style home. It’s got white siding, gray shutters, and a green door with a welcome mat that reads “Hold on we’re probably naked.” The house sits on a half acre of mostly dead grass we’re proud to call our own.
Tonight is Daniel’s late night at the university, but when I pull up, his car is already in our driveway. Happy flutters swirl inside me. I was going to order a pizza, but since Daniel’s home, we can cook something together. Unless he wants pizza.
Who am I kidding? We’re probably ordering pizza.
Chuckling, I bound up the two little stairs to the front porch. Inside, the tantalizing aroma of fresh baking, something vanilla and sugary, wafts toward me. Whatever it is, I want to put that directly into my mouth.
But the sight I’m greeted with is a million times more alluring than the decadent smell.
The love of my life stands half-naked where the kitchen spills into the living room, licking his lips, holding a spatula covered in a thick, white batter, and looking delighted to see me.
I drop my gym bag. It lands with a thud.
He’s wearing deep purple lingerie that leaves very little to the imagination. A dainty bralette with cutouts for his nipples accents his slender chest. Thigh-high lace stockings are held in place by the skimpiest garter belt I’ve ever seen. His cock and balls are barely contained in a matching purple thong, and when he spins for my viewing pleasure, he jiggles those naked perky cheeks, a thin strip of purple vanishing between them.
Daniel finishes his elegant turn to face me. “I made blond brownies for you. You know, the vanilla kind you like? Wanna lick the spoon?” He holds the spatula out.
I’m speechless. That spoon isn’t the only thing I want to lick. I pick my jaw up off the floor. “You are so hot right now.”
He grins. “Actually, I’m a little chilly. Should have turned the heat up for this particular surprise.”
I rush to him. “I’ll keep you warm.” He yipes as I tackle him in a bear hug and lift him straight off his feet. His naked back feels amazing under my hands.
“Careful, the batter’s going to drip.”
“Fucking let it.” I bury my face in his throat and suck a love mark on his neck. He squirms, still laughing, like he can’t decide whether to press in for more or cry uncle to escape.
“Tickles,” he murmurs, wrapping his free arm over my shoulder. “You’re all stubbly. I like it.”
I smack one last loud kiss to his throat and set him down. He offers the spatula again, and this time I take it. “You baked for me?”
“Mm-hmm. Did a few other things as well, but that’s a surprise for later.”
Fuck, I love this man. Whatever he’s done, I know I’m in for a treat. He’s endlessly creative.
“Not that I’m not thrilled to find you home early, but before I’m hopelessly diverted, is everything okay at work?”
“Mm, fine. Students are off for Christmas break.” He winks. “No class tonight.”
“Perfect.” That thought aside, I can focus on what’s really important, which are those nipples, uncovered as if for my own private peep show and framed in all their pretty pink glory by purple silk.
I coat one with batter from the spatula, then the other, and admire my work. Daniel’s cheeks flush. Even after two years together, he still blushes so easily.
“You look really good in purple, by the way.”
“I thought you might like it.” He arches his back, preening for me, poking his chest out with its sugary cream decorations.
