I shivered as images of me spread out on the counter, taking him from different angles, plastered in my mind at his word.
I shook the thoughts off and giggled weakly, despite wanting him to do what he just said. “Aha, funny, but seriously, what are we making?”
“I thought a quick chicken hummus bowl would be nice, but I want nothing spicy on my tongue,” he informed me, and my legs clamped together to keep them steady. I knew the rest of the sentence. I had a dirty mind and knew he wouldn’t have anything spicy on his tongue because he planned on taking it somewhere else later.
This man had turned the game around and was doing the mind-f*****g this time. I couldn’t complain; I wanted this.
“Sounds like a treat, then.”
He smirked. “My treat would be you screaming and asking for more.”
I
