Sweet Thing

Hey there, sweet thing, I just got home and was planning on whipping up a little dessert for the both of us. The ingredients are laid out on the table, and I’m wearing only a tiny tank top and panties. Suddenly I picture you walking into the kitchen, and we both know that no recipe stands a chance against the heat brewing between us. I hop onto the table—its cool surface against my skin—and the aromas of chocolate, vanilla, and my own rising desire mingle in the air. Your hand slides around my waist, lifting my top just enough that I flash you a teasing grin. The moment our eyes meet, it’s clear that tonight’s dessert is going to be all about you and me.