I Hate, I Bake, and I Don’t Date! by Alina Jacobs

40

Beck

Tess wasn’t in the living room at all that night.

I had waited up for her, pacing around after the girls had gone to bed. I wished I hadn’t. Not sleeping was a bad idea because we had the dinner with Ethel the next evening. She had moved it to Thursday because she was going to Switzerland with her friends Friday. Maybe she legitimately had a trip planned, but it felt like she was just yanking my chain.

Ethel hadn’t provided me with concrete information on a real probationary timeline. How long did we have to keep attending these dinners before I could adopt my sisters and make sure they would never be taken away, and Ethel wouldn’t fight us on it?

“Are you going to dress up? It’s Early-American themed!”

“I already did at the tea party,” I said as I stepped around her in the kitchen, letting my hand slide along her waist then hips as I walked past.

Tess was making eggs and toast. Now that the girls were not going to school and were instead working on their company—which I still thought was the most adorable thing ever—they were a lot less anxious and sullen in the morning. They would eat the large breakfast Tess made.

I had started getting up to help her—okay, mainly like ninety percent of it was just to kiss her and spend time with her, but the other part was that my father would have never ever helped prepare food, and I was determined not to be like him.

I grabbed Tess in the kitchen and kissed her.

She melted against me, letting me kiss her how I wanted, then said, “I have to get the bacon.” It was strange; it was as if we were basically a whole family unit, yet I hadn’t even slept with her. Not that she didn’t want me.

She did. I knew it.

It was like she was teetering on the edge.

I pulled her back to me for one last kiss then flipped over the bacon sizzling on the stove. Then I pushed her against the counter. I would never get tired of feeling her curves against me.

She hadn’t dressed for work yet and was wearing a T-shirt and short shorts.

“Too bad you’re wearing a bra,” I mused, reaching up under her shirt to unclasp it. “You know I like seeing your tits in the morning.”

“Then you shouldn’t have yelled at me that one time.”

“Every once in a while,” I said, my thumb caressing her nipple, “I make a very serious mistake.”

She gasped. “The food.”

I ignored it and pushed the collar of the stretchy shirt down, exposing one of her tits. I took the nipple in my mouth, rolling it around on my tongue.

I needed her to want me.

Shit, I would skip work if it meant I could spend all day fucking her.

Her nipple grew hard in my mouth. I nipped it slightly and snuck one hand into her shorts.

Her panties were wet.

I just needed to get her hot and wet, and she wasn’t going to think about anything except fucking me.

Her pussy was hot and swollen when I slid my fingers along the slit. I stroked her harder, and her head tipped back with a moan. I claimed her mouth, teasing her tongue with mine as I rubbed her hard, rolling two fingers over her clit.

I need to put my dick there.

Tess’s hips bucked against my hand.

Beeeep! Beep! Beep!

The smoke alarm went off.

My sisters came running down the hall, and Tess hastily jumped away from me while I grabbed the pan of bacon off the stove.

Tess’s face was red as the girls flapped tea towels under the smoke alarm.

“It’s just a little crispy,” I said, sliding the bacon onto a plate.

“I really shouldn’t let you come into the kitchen while I’m trying to cook,” Tess complained.

“But I’d love having you come in the kitchen.”

The entire dayI was thinking about how to get Tess alone.

I cursed the fact that my office was all glass. It had seemed like a good idea at the time when we had it designed, but what I wouldn’t give for one of those Mad Men–style offices where you could shut the door and have afternoon sex to your heart’s content.

I could just fuck her in the storage closet. However, as much as I wanted her, I wanted to be able to take my time with her.

She was fidgety at her desk. Her friend was gone, and I used the opportunity to see her. I walked out to her desk, leaned over, and whispered, “Are you thinking about my fingers on your clit?”

She shifted in her seat. “No,” she whispered back. “Your tongue.”

Now I was the one who was fidgety.

I was about to tell Tess I needed to see her in my office just so I could make her come, but a calendar invite popped up on Tess’s computer.

“Guess you’ll just have to use your imagination,” she said. “I have to go make a pudding.”

“Is that some sort of euphemism?”

“No, it’s for Ethel’s dinner tonight. It’s Early-American themed.” She stood up and ran her fingers along my tie to my jaw. “You really should dress up. I have a whole outfit planned.”

I frowned.

“Don’t be so sad,” she said, grabbing her bag. “Don’t forget, in early America, they didn’t have underwear. Women wore loose pants with a slit under their dresses for easy access!”