Page 274 of Boots, Bucket Lists & Bad Ideas
“We?” The whisk rattles when she tosses it in the pottery bowl. “I haven’t baked a cake since I was a kid.”
“You’ve got the best teacher in town.” I set the measuring cup beside her, pressing up against her front. “And if you’re a good girl,”—I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear—“I’ll let you lick my spoon.”
She licks her lips, and the small action twitches my cock.
Fuck, calm down, boy.
How many orgasms in a day is a record, because today’s going to push my limits.
“I guess I could be a really good girl, but only if I get the whole spoon, and not just a taste.” She rises to her tiptoes and licks my mouth.
“You’re going to be the death of me, you know that, right?”
She smiles. “Little ol’ ‘me?”
“Hell, yeah, little ol’ you. You don’t even realize what you’re doing to me.”
Her fingers clutch the collar of my robe, burning the skin beneath. “And what exactly am I doing?”
I inhale sharply. “You’re making it damn near impossible to focus on anything other than you.”
Her fingers trace the edge of the robe. “You know, you could make it easier on yourself if you just stopped resisting.” Her whisper drips with suggestion.
“We’re not getting distracted. Cake first, you second.”
“Promises.” She rolls her eyes.
“Fucking right.” I kiss her hard and step away. “Now, find us a wooden spoon.”
Her eyes widen in delight as she clamps her hands together, practically bouncing on her toes. “To spank me with?”
She’s fucking serious.
Is it always going to be like this with her?
I fucking hope so.
“That depends on how well you behave.”
Her eyes light up Ike a Christmas tree. “I can be very naughty.”
“Fuck, Jade.” I scrub my hands over my face. “We’re not going to make it through this recipe if you keep looking at me like that, and saying shit like that has me hard.”
Her gaze drifts past my chest, lingering where the fabric of my robe tents, and the raw hunger in her eyes nearly shreds the last of my control.
“We’re baking,” I growl.
She pouts.
It’s adorable.
But nothing is going to distract me from this damn cake.
She digs a wooden spoon out of the drawer, then turns to me. The shoulder of her robe slides down, showing off her freckled shoulder.
“Where do you want me?” She slaps the bottom of the spoon on her other palm.
Bloody fucking hell.
