Page 50 of Whisking It All

DiceDiceBaby: And now you have your own kitchen.

She glanced around the kitchen. Not quite.

In just two days, Sugar Grapes would re-open. Ethan had insisted that she not delay the opening until his return, but she couldn’t help the odd sense of disappointment that he wouldn’t be there on opening day. Stupid, that. It’s not like he’d been there for most of the important moments in her life—why should the opening of her first bakery be any different? Besides, it was just a pop-up, and she knew he’d have been there if he could be.

Still, it would have been nice to feel like someone who cared about her was cheering her on.

WhiskyBusiness: I wish you could see it.

DiceDiceBaby: Send me a picture.

Tessa smiled to herself. Kyla would be gone for at least a half hour…

She pulled off her shirt and took a high angle photo of herself, just the edge of her jaw visible at the top of the photo. The rest of the image was dominated by the curve of her neck and breasts, thinly covered with electric blue lace, the dusky points of her nipples straining against the fabric. Before she could think better of it, she sent the photo and waited anxiously as the three dots appeared and disappeared at the bottom of the message thread.

DiceDiceBaby: Holy shit, princess. Warn a guy before you send a picture like that.

DiceDiceBaby: You’ve got me in the office with a hard on when I’m supposed to be doing payroll.

WhiskyBusiness: Prove it.

A moment later, an image appeared on her screen of a man sitting in a chair, his face cut off, chef coat unbuttoned and undershirt pulled up to reveal the firm, tan skin of his stomach and a dark line of hair below his bellybutton. At the bottom of the shot, his forearm, thickly corded with muscle, lay across his thigh and his large hand gripped the outline of his impressive erection through his jeans.

Holy shit.

She sucked in a breath and pressed her thighs together, a tingling sensation growing at her core.

WhiskyBusiness: Damn. All for me?

DiceDiceBaby: All for you.

DiceDiceBaby: I wish you were here.

WhiskyBusiness: Yeah? What would you do if I were?

DiceDiceBaby: Get you out of that bra to start.

DiceDiceBaby: I’d want to taste those pretty tits.

As she typed, her hand drifted over her chest. She dragged her nails over her nipple, circling as the flesh puckered beneath her touch.

WhiskyBusiness: I bet your mouth would feel amazing.

DiceDiceBaby: Where else do you want my mouth?

She hesitated for a fraction of a second. Fuck it.

WhiskyBusiness: On my pussy.

DiceDiceBaby: Touch yourself, princess. Use your fingers and pretend it’s my tongue.

She switched to voice-to-text so she could use her right hand to follow his instructions. Flicking open the button of her jeans, she slid her hand inside, skating her fingers through the damp curls, not at all surprised to find her clit already stiff beneath her touch.

DiceDiceBaby: Are you doing it?

WhiskyBusiness: Yes.

DiceDiceBaby: Good girl.

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