She gets out a scale from under the stainless steel table we’re going to work on, and she weighs ingredients, while directing me to get things for her. After fetching her some ice water and the unsalted butter from the refrigerator, I stand right next to her, purposefully so close that my shoulder, elbow, and hip line right up next to her body.
She slowly turns her head to face me, and her lips look so delicious and needing to be kissed hard. She purses those lips and raises her eyebrows, looks back to the table to continue her work, and takes one step to the left. Away from me. To break our closeness. Dammit. She gives me a sidelong glance.
“No flirting, Ryker. Keep your hands and body to yourself,” she commands like a drill sergeant and hands me two giant, stainless steel mixing bowls. “Make yourself useful and wash these, please. Use a clean towel and make sure they’re dry before bringing them back.” I’m not happy to be on the other side of the kitchen, but I follow her orders.
I take the bowls back to her and, with nothing to do, I watch her for a while. She’s in her groove now, a master of her craft, and I admire her work ethic, willing to do what it takes to get what she wants. Well, I’m willing to do what it takes to get what I want. Her. My cock hardens, and my heart speeds up as I watch her make the dough with such focus and concentration. I roll my shoulders to relieve the horny tension tightening up my body.
She reaches her arm up to wipe her forehead, and it hits me again how mesmerized I am with this woman. She’s pushing a dough ball onto the counter to flatten it into a disc, and her curvy ass, clad in tight jeans, is sticking out as she pushes down on the dough. She’s making my cock even harder. I crack my neck.
Then, before I can help myself, a picture pops into my mind, with her jeans down around her ankles, and she’s bent over that stainless steel table, baking flour flying everywhere, as I fuck her from behind.
Shit. My cock is so hard I can’t walk.
I turn back to the sink and distract myself by washing dishes. I’m tempted to bend over and stick my head under the faucet to help.
She calls over her shoulder, “So, how was it working for your dad today?”
Glad to be on a topic that will shrink my third leg, I say, “It’s only been a couple of days, but it was good. I went to law school and passed the bar exam, so I can practice, but after I cashed in my Bitcoin, I took a year to do nothing, and I realized I didn’t have to do law if I didn’t want to. Well, I didn’t do nothing, I traveled and played, bought homes around the world, and other things.”
“You don’t like law?”
I pause to think about it. “I guess I like it, mostly. But I was relieved to have the freedom to do whatever, since Dad always expected me to work with him. And the minute I realized I didn’t have to, I took off and had fun.”
I walk back over and stand next to her again, the side of my body sidled up against her. Touching her feels good, even through clothing and aprons. I fucking love being near her. Hoping my talking will distract her from my standing so close, I continue, “But it’s been over a year, and I have to admit… I find myself bored, and frankly, lonely.” I turn to look at her, and when I finish talking, she looks over at me, and slowly steps to the left. Dammit.
“Then what?” she asks and starts wrapping the dough in Saran Wrap.
After a beat, I slyly step to the left, so I’m next to her again, trying not to push it too far, but she seems to tolerate my playfulness, maybe even enjoys it.
“When I came back to Michigan last week, my house felt bigger than I remembered. Empty. Then my dad started harassing me about not having any direction or purpose in my life.”
She steps away from me again and sees I’m about to follow. She holds up her hand and commands, “Stay!”
I listen to her this time. Then, she prompts me to continue. “And?”
“Well, it got me thinking, and he’s right. I thought I liked the solitude, though in my defense, I think I preferred being alone mostly because I never know anyone’s true intentions once they hear about my money. The year I took to play was fun, but it would get old if that’s all I did. You can only lie on a beach so long. At least, when you’re lying there alone.”
She looks at me, and I wiggle my eyebrows at her. She shakes her head and walks over to put the large, plastic-wrapped dough rounds into the refrigerator.
“Um, don’t we need those?” I ask, momentarily pausing my thoughts about my sad, lonely life.
She laughs. “Yes, but it needs to chill first, for about an hour.”
“Nice,” I say with a low laugh. I step toward her. “I have some ideas for what we can do in that time.”
“Don’t even think about it. I have to make the cherry filling.”
“So, you’re not saying no, you’re just saying not yet.”
“No, I’m ignoring you and working.” She mixes the cherries in a pot on the stove with other ingredients, and then she snaps, “I’m sure there are plenty of women lining up for you.”
I chuckle. I’m encouraged by her tone. She whips her head in my direction. I make a straight face.
She turns back to the stove, and I say, “Well, to be honest, there was a time when I didn’t think I’d ever get married. After what my mom did, I had a boulder-sized chip on my
