The Boss Deal

The door closes slowly, bell jingling as I watch him pass the window and disappear. “Well, that sucks. What are we going to do now?”

The sounds of doors and clanking pans ring in my ear. Looking to my side, Misty is gone, and I’m alone in the front. I didn’t even hear her leave.

Pushing the kitchen door lightly, I poke my head inside. She’s already put a few pans on the steel table and is putting together the giant mixer.

“What are you doing?” I ask as I lean against the door frame and cross my arms over my chest.

“I’m making a cake, what does it look like?” She glances up at me briefly and gives me a snarky smile.

I love that smile. I love all her smiles.

Walking to the table, I lean down on the top, resting on my forearms. “You bake?”

She pops the metal whisk into the slot, and pulls her hair back into her signature, high, messy bun. “I’ve dabbled.”

“Dabbled enough to create the cake of that boy’s dreams?”

“Shut up and watch,” she says with a giggle. “How do you think I found marketing?”

“I figured your high school counselor or something.”

“Not even close.” Misty starts to pull out ingredients from the pantry, and lines them up next to the mixer. Flour, vanilla, salt, eggs, sugar, baking powder. She’s tapping each one and speaking in a whisper to herself.

“Can you take out the piping bags and couplers for me?”

“The what?” Cocking a single brow, her head snaps up to stare at me.

“You do bake, right?” she asks.

“Um, nope.”

“If you don’t bake, then why the hell did you buy a bakery?”

“I know a good thing when I see it.” Thinning my lips, she glances at me and I wink.

“You’re bad, you know that?”

“I do, and I won’t apologize for it either,” I say, walking to her side, and running my finger up her arm.

Misty swats my hand away and laughs. “Not now, I’m baking.”

Taking a step back, I grab one of the measuring cups and hold it up. “Then give me something to do. Because if you don’t, I’m just going to drive you crazy. My hands need to be doing something, and all they want to do is touch you.”

“Fine, I need you to pour two cups of flour into the mixer.”

“Two cups, got it.” Driving the cup into the flour, I pull out an overflowing scoop.

“Not like that,” she says, taking a quick step to my side. “Level it before you pour it in.” Taking a knife, she glides it across the top of the flour so it’s flush with the lip. “Now pour it in, but go slow, you don’t want clumps.”

We spend the next half hour, mixing three batches of vanilla cake mix, and she dyes two of them different shades of blue. Misty greases the pans she took out with coconut oil. The way her hands slip over the curves, up the walls and across the bottom. . . I don’t know, there’s something about it that makes me so fucking hard.

Her hand moves fluidly, massaging the oil into the metal. Her fingers are wet, slippery, and my cock thickens the longer she rubs the pan.

“You know, if you keep stroking the pan like that, I might just need you to stroke me next.”

Misty looks up, veering her stare as she pours the batter into the pans. She doesn’t say a word, simply turning to the oven and putting the cakes inside. Spinning around to face me, she grabs the coconut oil off the table.

“You know I heard coconut oil is actually great as a lubricant.” Taking a spoonful out, she plops it in her hand, and starts to rub it against her palm with her thumb. Her eyes hood, lashes fanning her lids like canopies as her lips pull up to the side.

My entire body shutters as she reaches my side, her thumb swirling in circles through the liquid pool in her palm.

“Is that right?” I ask.

Her grin widens as she licks her lips. “So I heard.” Using her free hand, she undoes my button and zipper, and reaches into my pants. Wrapping my cock, she pulls it free. “Oh, you’re hard already.”

“You turn me on.” My eyes close as she holds my cock in her hand.

“Good, I like turning you on.” Smearing the warm oil on my dick, she begins to stroke up and down. The oil is silky smooth, and feels so fucking good as she rubs it all over my cock.

Her hand begins to tighten, gripping firmly as she moves up and down; slow, precise, and so very perfect. Closing my eyes, my head falls back as she works my length. My heart picks up, my pulse kicking as she continues with tightly coiled fingers around my cock.

I can feel the orgasm building, but I don’t want to come all over her hand. I want to come inside her, I want to feel her wet pussy, and watch her body shake as she comes all over my cock.