"Is that the best you’ve got, Nate? Knead that dough like you knead my ass," Mirea taunted, her tone laced with challenge as she leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching him with a sly smirk.
Nate's hands paused, his grip on the dough tightening slightly as he shot her a sharp, playful look. "Careful, baby," he drawled, his voice dripping with heat. "Your ass is softer—and a hell of a lot more responsive than this."
"Oh, good to know," Mirea scoffed, arching a brow as a wicked smile curved her lips. "But too bad—you won’t be getting anywhere near this ass for a month." Her tone was sharp, a mix of taunt and finality, as she turned away, arms folded in defiance.
Nate’s face fell into an exaggerated pout, though there was genuine remorse in his eyes.
"Come on, baby," he said, his voice softening. "I didn’t mean to lash out at you. I’ve just been so stressed with work—you know, running a company isn’t exactly a walk in the park."
His words carried a rare vulnerability as he tried to bridge the gap, hoping she’d see how sorry he truly was.
"And do you think my work is any easier?" Mirea shot back, her frustration bubbling to the surface.
"I’m running one of the top brands in the world, Nate. I’m a fashion designer too, with endless deadlines and demands. Yet, I still manage to make time for you."
Her voice was firm, her eyes blazing with a mix of hurt and anger as she stood her ground, refusing to let him dismiss her efforts.
"I know, I know," Nate said, his voice calm but laced with frustration as he furrowed his brows. "I’m sorry, baby. I’m not trying to downplay how hard you work. It’s just... the circumstances were out of my control." His tone softened, pleading for her to understand.
Mirea let out a sharp breath, shaking her head. "You know what? Forget it," she replied curtly.
"Just finish kneading the dough, and let me know when you’re done." She turned to leave the kitchen, her steps brisk, but Nate wasn’t about to let her go that easily.
He reached out, grabbing her wrist to stop her. She spun around, her glare sharp. "Great, Nate. Now I’ve got sticky dough on my wrist," she snapped, exasperated.
But Nate only grinned, his eyes darkening with playful intent. "Why so feisty, baby?" he murmured, his voice low and teasing.
"You’re never this angry when it’s something else sticky... and not just on your hands but all over that gorgeous body of yours." His smirk deepened as he leaned in, daring her to stay mad at him.
"Ugh, and this is exactly why it’s so damn hard to stay mad at you," Mirea groaned, throwing her hands up in defeat, her frustration melting into reluctant amusement as she glared at him half-heartedly.
"Then don’t," Nate said smoothly, stepping closer, his tone soft but laced with a hint of playful challenge. "Don’t stay mad at me, baby. We both know you can’t keep it up—and let’s be honest, neither can I."
Before she could fire back, he leaned in and pressed a lingering kiss to her cheek, his lips brushing against her skin with just enough tenderness to make her heart falter.
"See? I’m already working on making it better," he murmured with a sly grin, his eyes sparkling with charm.
"You’re impossible," Mirea said with a soft chuckle, finally giving in as her annoyance dissolved into amusement. She shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips despite herself.
"And that’s exactly what I was aiming for," Nate replied, his grin widening as he watched her defenses crumble. "That gorgeous smile of yours—it drives me absolutely crazy."
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SCORCH (21+)
Romansa"Lower your voice, or I'll make sure you're moaning so much that only my cum will be spilling from your mouth, not words." He leaned in, his voice a dangerous whisper. She smirked, her eyes locking with his, full of challenge. "Is that all? I though...
