Kitchen Love

The cookies lay on the counter saturated by fire. He stood with one hand on the hip, disgusted by the sight. I leaned into the doorway watching him as he tried to scrape away the pain. Worried that he would give into tears of frustration, I decided to help. Slowly walking into the kitchen in nothing but a black silk robe, I stood behind him. Hugging him slightly, I moved to his right side then grabbed a mixing bowl from the cabinet. He looked towards me with a raised brow as I combined all the ingredients. Chocolate chips began to melt as I stirred gently.

Soon I attracted the fire starter and he began to lick the chocolate on my finger. Cookies still awaiting their destination, I knew there would be a late entry. Picking me up, he placed me on the warm stove while kissing softly. Fingers in my cookie jar, he created a wet tense moment that caused me to wrap my legs around his waist. Soft lips kissing into mine let me know the truth.

“Baby, I burn them on purpose because you always make them better than me.” He said while kissing down my neck.

“I know.”

Photo by Lisa Fotios on Pexels.com

Photo by Lisa Fotios on Pexels.com