Books, Writing

Steamy Saturday — Cream & Caramel

WARNING! A Five-Chili Steamy Scene Lurks Below!
If you aren’t ready for your phone to catch on fire, click away.

Enjoy a hot moment between Jenny and Scott as they get their whipped cream and caramel everywhere.

🌶️ MF

“Hm,” he mused while tipping it back and forth under the overhead light. “I think it’s clogged.” 

Great. So I was doomed to an entire week with no whipped cream. Not the worst punishment handed down, sure, but I was already operating on a slippery slope. One more setback and it was straight to pushing rocks up hills for me.

“Don’t worry,” Scott said, his hazel eyes burning across me. That infectious smile claimed him as he said, “I can fix it.” Placing the can on the counter, he yanked a long nail from his pocket. 

I sat up higher. “Do you keep a lot of long objects in your pants?”

“Only one other,” he said so smoothly my heart skipped a beat. “Now, let’s see…” Scott, the handyman who chopped down trees, lined up the nail with the spout on the whipped cream. Which was right about when my brain pieced together what he was about to do.


Too late. He rammed the nail down, piercing not only into the spigot but the can itself. The nail erupted from the end like a boulder out of a volcano and so too burst a massive spray of white sticky foam. It shot from the top flying everywhere. Globs attached to my hair, my chest. I lashed my hands out, trying to protect myself.

Laughing and crying out in shock, I glanced away from the cream fountain to watch Scott grab the can. Oh, he was going to toss it in the sink, or in the trash, or…

That devil turned it so the burst spigot aimed right at me. Scream/giggling, I flailed as whipped cream stuck to my cheeks and forehead. More of the sticky goo attacked my palms, the cream quickly melting from my skin and sliding down to my wrists. I tried to lash out to grab it away, but Scott danced back.

“Two can play at that!” I shouted and grabbed the caramel bottle on the counter. Leaving myself open, I wadded both my hands around the bottle, aimed it, and squeezed. Rich caramel arced through the air to splatter in his golden hair.

Scott gasped while dashing back. Still, he held the whipped cream can up, making certain the last of it dripped out onto me. I gave the bottle another squeeze, the caramel striking his cheek until a long line dripped down to his pecs. Hurling the empty whipped cream can to the sink, Scott yanked off his shirt before the sugar struck it.

Every neuron in my brain focused on that single drop of caramel caressing down his body. It didn’t stop at his fine, rusty chest hair. No, it kept going, swerving with the pockets of abs—which he had by the nine pack—and finally coming to a halt at his waistband. Which I couldn’t stop staring at.

We both looked up into each other’s eyes, our chests heaving. He’s half-naked and drizzled with caramel. I’m coated in whipped cream.

Scott’s hand grabbed my waist, I the nape of his neck. At once, we mashed the cream and caramel together, our lips plunging into the sticky sweet abyss. Holy shit, Scott kissed like he was facing twenty years at sea. The sugary touch burned hot as his tongue wet across my lips. He lapped a dollop of cream from the side of my mouth, then dove in, spreading the melting richness between us.

God, he tasted even better than he smelled. Under the cream waited a nutty musk crisper than a bonfire that sent my hips rolling forward. “Fuck,” he gasped into my mouth. His hands rose beside my face, both palms cupping my cheeks as he stared deep into my eyes.

“I’ve missed this,” he declared, pulling me to him for a hard kiss. Using his nose, he knocked my chin up, and hot lips nibbled along my throat. As he swerved his tongue over the creamy mess, a moan rumbled deep in his gut. 

“You smell like,” he sputtered, his hips thrusting forward. A gasp escaped as the full length of his cock brushed against my belly. It pinged through me, my lips salivating for a lick, my fingers aching to wrap around it. 

“You taste like…” Scott moaned before rolling his tongue across my clavicle. Back up my neck, he dug his chin into my shoulder while caressing the tip of his nose in the hollow behind my ear. “I need you,” he breathed.


What happened to that vacation away from men? From dating, and relationships, and sex? 

A hot man covered in sticky sugar pleading for me happened.

“I want you,” I declared, running my nails across his thin waist and up over his back. Scott gasped at the touch then he made me squirm with ache. Placing two fingers at the top of my sternum, he swept the pair down through my cleavage. All the while, his eyes bored into mine. Told me how he wanted nothing but me. How he was bursting at the seams to fuck me.

The tip of his finger poked into my belly button, which he curled in a circle while licking his lips. God, I couldn’t take anymore. I grabbed my sweater, yanking it clear over my head and sending the sticky mess flying for the stove. 

“You are…perfect,” Scott declared. He grabbed me about the hips and hefted me up onto the bar counter. Our lips found each other while he broke the lock on my bra with the same ease he kindled a fire. 

Stepping a half-inch back, he shivered and drew a hand through his hair while memorizing my shirtless self. Slowly, he drew the flat of his thumb from the top of my lip down. Tugging the bottom one out, he said, “Tell me you’re wicked. Tell me you’re cruel.”

His thumb picked up a missed dollop of whipped cream while his eyes bored his plea into me. Leaning over, his forehead brushing against mine, he demanded, “Tell me you’ll break my heart.”

It sounded like he wanted me to do it, to declare myself the destroyer of men. But I couldn’t. I could never do that to anyone. “I’m sorry,” I said gulping from the burst of pain washing through my heart. “I can’t.”

Scott moaned, his tongue lapping over my lips, heat bulging between us. I scooted closer, my hands rustling through his hair, when that dollop of whipped cream landed on my nipple. The surprising chill caused me to yelp in surprise, but a hot mouth quickly enveloped around it.

One hand cupped under my right breast while his lips pressed tighter to my sticky nipple. Sucking along it, he licked harder, the pressure ramping straight to my inner core. A moan sundered through my body, my hips grinding against the counter to savor in the heat. 

“You taste of…” Scott stepped closer, his lips puckering against my stomach. My ass glided back along the counter shoving our coffee mess away as he rose higher above me. Thumbs cupping my belly, he worried his fingers around my waist. Kneading the skin back and forth while his eyes burned up at me, I felt a tickle rising at the pressure. 

A laugh rolled off my tongue, my thighs flexing together, until he drew his hands down my hips and to my leggings. The worrying palms caressed my thighs, soothing up from the knee then back down. Still he wouldn’t tell me what I tasted like, those lips perched as if the word lingered on his tongue.

God, I wanted to suck it off of him.

Strong hands clamped to my thighs and with no effort pushed them apart. I reveled in the cool autumn air brushing against my nearly exposed cunt. “Mmm,” Scott moaned. Wrapping my hair around his fist, he tugged my head back. His brandy eyes surveyed me and watched with vigor as he drew a single finger straight through the center of my being.

Heat erupted from him swirling my arousal all across my pleading lower lips. The ache pulsed through me, pleaded with me to feel him on me. Skin to skin. Rip my pants free and grind my way on him.


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