Brooke took a shaky breath, trying to maintain control over her own mouth. It was a losing battle.“Tell me about them?” She whispered.
Anna’s eyes flashed dangerously back to Brooke’s lips.“It’s just the two of us in the building, just like this. You come around the half-wall while I’m cooking something. You spin me around and pin me to the counter.”
“Which counter?” Brooke asked, interrupting Anna’s story.
Anna looked over her shoulder for just long enough to point at one of the kitchen’s countertops. It was the center island. The one where all the final prep work happened. When her eyes turned back to Brooke, they were dark with desire. Brooke nodded, encouraging Anna to continue.
“Then, in my dreams, you usually rip my shirt open and fuck me right there in the center of the kitchen,” Anna said, her voice rough with the thought.
Holy shit, Brooke wanted that. She could feel her own desire coating her boxer briefs.“Do you want that now?” She asked, hoping to any and all gods that Anna would say yes.
“Yes,” Anna whispered, her gaze dropping back to Brooke’s mouth.“But we can’t.” She shook her head.“I couldn’t risk my restaurant’s integrity like that. Not on a food surface. That would be unforgivable.”
“Right, no. Of course.” Brooke blinked a few times, trying to focus.
“But up against something? Like not on a food safe surface? Maybe?” Anna turned to look for a viable option, her movements desperate.
“Like up against the refrigerator?” Brooke asked, leaning into the question so that her lips brushed the shell of Anna’s ear.
Anna shuddered at the contact.“Yes, exactly like that.” Anna reached back without turning and grabbed Brooke’s hand, tugging her across the kitchen until they were standing directly in front of the stainless steel refrigerator doors.
Their distorted reflections stared back at them. Anna stayed frozen in place, facing the refrigerator.
“We don’t have to, Darling,” Brooke said, a moment of clarity seeping through the intensity of their desire.
“Brooke, if you don’t fuck me up against this fridge, I might actually spontaneously combust.” Anna’s words were sharp and serious, but she didn’t turn.
Brooke wrapped her arms around Anna, holding her, savoring the moment. Her hands slid up Anna’s body, the aprons were getting ridiculous. She grabbed for the end again, but Anna stopped her.“Wait, I meant it, leave the aprons on,” Anna said, letting her head fall back against Brooke’s shoulder.
“Are you sure?” Brooke asked, a small goofy laugh breaking free. Of course Anna would want to leave the aprons on.
Anna nodded.“Yeah, it’s kind of hot. Now every time I wear my chef’s apron, I’ll think about how you fucked me once while I was wearing it.”
“Oh,” Brooke whispered. In all likelihood, she would never get used to the casual way in which Anna could express her desires. Brooke still got flustered and nervous to even ask for something to be harder or softer or faster or slower. And here Anna was, explicitly saying she wanted to be fucked while wearing her chef’s apron.
Brooke took a deep breath. She could do this. Hell, shewantedthis. Anna moved to turn around, but Brooke’s grip tightened on her waist. Brooke could do this. She could be bold. Anna made her want to be bold. And more importantly, Anna always liked it when Brooke took control.
She took a step forward, pressing herself more firmly against Anna’s ass. Just as she hoped, the contact made Anna reach forward to brace herself against the fridge. Brooke slid her hands up, giving up on the desire to get rid of the ridiculous apron and instead, playing into it. She squeezed Anna’s breast through all her layers.
Anna reached up to thread her fingers through Brooke’s hair, but Brooke quickly grabbed her wrists and pressed Anna’s hands back into the refrigerator doors.“Keep them here,” she murmured, her voice rough and low. Her lips dragged up Anna’s neck in a slow, delicious pattern.
The gasp Anna let out was better than any song ever written.“Fuck,” Anna whispered, her fingers flexing uselessly against the stainless steel.
Brooke’s fingertips trailed up Anna’s arms and back to her breasts. Admittedly, she would never get over how perfect they were. Anna still teased her every time she caught Brooke staring, but Brooke didn’t mind. She absolutely loved to feel the weight of them in her hands. To feel how hard Anna’s nipples could get against her tongue.
Anna’s hips rolled back, her ass pressing harder into Brooke’s front. Brooke moaned at the contact, her hands sliding lower, pulling Anna back into her even tighter, rolling her own hips forward to accompany the movement.
“Holy shit,” Anna breathed.“Touch me.”
Brooke didn’t need to be asked twice, she yanked the apron forward. She didn’t need to take the damn thing off, she just needed room to get to Anna’s button and zipper. She made quick work of them, thanking whatever fashion god decided to make pants stretchy.
One of her hands went south, dipping beneath Anna’s panties in one, smooth slide. Her other hand ducked under Anna’s shirt, settling on her abs, keeping her held firmly in place. It was a grounding hold, which was particularly necessary as her fingers felt the warm pool of desire between Anna’s thighs.
“Fuck, Brooke,” Anna moaned, her breath fogging the stainless steel.
Enraptured, Brooke watched as her already distorted reflection blurred completely before the fog dissipated. With every heavy breath, the fog reappeared. Brooke was living for it. Her fingers dipped lower, coating themselves in Anna’s slick wet heat. She traced slow, firm circles around Anna’s clit, knowing that motion to be her girlfriend’s favorite.
“I’m not going to last long if you keep that up,” Anna moaned, resting her cheek against the fridge door.
