Page 33 of Win a Date with a Baker

“So I am.” I chuckle. “But I meant like this.”

I slide a hand between us, touching the apex of her thighs through her leggings.

She gasps, and it’s the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard. “Yes,” she practically pants. “In fact, I might cry if you stop.”

Unable to resist the sweet sounds she’s making, or the need to see if she tastes as good as the maple she just made, I tug her pants down her hips and lower myself between her thighs.

Her breath hitches as I nuzzle her through her panties. “I knew it.” I press my lips to her, already feeling her wet through the fabric. “Delicious.”

With one tug, I pull her panties away and plant my mouth on her. She gasps and I groan as I devour her, sucking and tugging at the sensitive nub between her thighs. Taking my queues from her cries.

I want more.

I want to send her over the edge.

I want to make her see every color.

But before I get my chance, she slides her fingers into my hair and tugs me up.

“Please,” she whispers, pulling my mouth to her.

I slide my fingers back to her clit to stroke. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ve got you.”

“No,” she shakes her head, and presses her lips to the racing pulse at my neck. “I want you. Inside of me.”

My fingers still, and I bury my face in the curve of her neck. “Are you sure?”

She answers by flipping open the fly of my jeans.

With a groan, I reach into my back pocket for the condom I keep tucked in my wallet. She takes it from me with greedy fingers and rips open the foil. Sliding it on over me, pumping my shaft—and making me see stars—as she does.

And when, at last, she guides my cock to the heat of her entrance, it’s all I can do not to lose my head.

I thrust in. Her fingers dig into my back. I nip at her neck. The last coherent thought I have, is that this is sweeter than any recipe I’ve made before.

She rests her forehead against mine and lets out a contented sigh.

“I think,” she says, “this might be my favorite baking lesson.”

I laugh. “We haven’t actually baked anything.”

“I’ll say we did.” She smiles wider. “And I’ll say it was fucking amazing.”

We lay on the counter another minute, holding each other while our hearts slow.

“If I’m going to keep taking lessons...” She gestures toward the flour-dusted workbench with a grin. “...you’re definitely going to have to teach me how to properly clean a professional kitchen.”

I laugh.

“Oh, trust me.” I reach for a clean towel and hand it to her. “The cleanup lesson is considerably less romantic.”

We both pull ourselves together, helping each other slide cloths back into face. As she reaches for it, her phone vibrates on the counter.

She glances at the screen. “Huh.”

“What?”

She unlocks it and gasps.