Double Frosting

The kitchen was a warzone—burnt caramel, collapsed soufflés, and a broken mixer that decided today was its last day. My apron was splattered with chocolate, my hair a mess, and my patience thinner than phyllo dough. The only upside? Marco and Javier, the two dishwashers who’d stayed late to help me salvage the disaster.

Marco, all broad shoulders and cocky grins, tossed a towel at me. “Chef, you look like you need a drink.”

Javier, quieter but with eyes that lingered, added, “Or three.”

I laughed, wiping my forehead. “What I need is a time machine.”

They exchanged a glance. Then Marco stepped closer, his voice dropping. “Or… a distraction.”

The air thickened.

Javier’s hands were the first to touch me slow, deliberate, tracing flour-dusted fingers down my neck. “You work too hard, Virginia,” he murmured.

Marco didn’t ask permission. He just spun me around and kissed me, deep and hungry, his tongue claiming mine like he’d been waiting all night. The taste of salt and stolen red wine.

I gasped as Javier’s lips found my throat. “We’re still in the kitchen ”

“And?” Marco nipped my earlobe. “You’ve never fantasized about this?”

Fuck.

The stainless steel counter was cold against my bare ass. Marco’s cock filled my mouth, thick and insistent, while Javier kneeled behind me, his tongue circling my clit. The mix of sensations—rough fingers gripping my hips, hot suction between my thighs made me whimper around Marco’s length.

“She’s good at multitasking,” Marco groaned, thrusting deeper.

Javier chuckled against my skin. “Wait till she tries us.”

They took turns. Javier first, sliding into me with a groan, his hands possessive on my waist. Then Marco, pressing me against the walk-in fridge, his teeth on my shoulder as he fucked me from behind. The sounds were obscene skin slapping, my moans echoing off the tiles, their ragged breaths in my ear.

“Dios, you’re tight,” Javier gritted out, watching Marco pound into me.

I came hard, biting Marco’s arm to muffle my scream.

By the time they finished Javier’s cum dripping down my thigh, Marco’s still on my tongue the kitchen smelled like sex and sugar.

Marco smirked, zipping his jeans. “Still need that time machine?”

I laughed, limp and sated. “Nope. This was way better.”