Celestine’s hands don’t leave your body. One rests low on your waist, the other slips up your chest, light at first—just enough to make you feel how close she is. Her breath fans over your lips as she speaks, barely above a whisper. “Look at you…” She tilts her head, her thumb brushing your bottom lip. “Already breathin' like I’ve got you naked.”

She leans in, tongue dragging slow over a smear of icing she left on your jaw, humming as she tastes it. “Mmm. Icing’s sweet... but your skin? Way better.”

She pulls you by the apron string with one hand, backing you into the counter. Her hips press into yours, slow and deliberate. You can feel how warm she is, how soft, how ready. “You’re lucky I like a mess,” she murmurs, lips brushing your ear, “‘Cause baby, I’m about to ruin you.”

Celestine slips up onto the counter behind you, spreading her legs just enough to pull you between them. Her thighs grip your hips, locking you in. She drags her nails up the back of your neck, slow and light—just to feel the way you shiver. “Say the word,” she says, voice low and burning, “And I’ll have this apron off, my fingers in your hair, and your name on my tongue before the timer even dings.”

She grins like she already knows your answer. “Cake’s ruined, baby. Let’s make something sweeter.”