Spoonful of Temptation

Victoria thinks she has the kitchen to herself, spoon halfway to her lips when her eyes land on the big metal scoop still sitting on the counter. The house is quiet. No roommates, no interruptions. She glances around once, twice, then grabs it with a smirk. Cold, curved, and bigger than her fingers. Why not? She’s got the handle slicked and working a slow rhythm when footsteps echo down the hall. Victoria yelps, yanks her panties back up, and slams the scoop into the sink just as Donny wanders in rubbing his eyes. She mumbles something about thinking he was gone all day. He shrugs, grabs a bowl, then reaches for the same scoop she just used. Donny freezes mid-scoop. The metal’s warm, slippery in a way that has nothing to do with cream. Victoria’s face goes bright red. She confesses with a guilty laugh—what else was she supposed to do with the house empty? He stares, eyes wide, then cracks a grin that says he’s more turned on than surprised. So instead of a lecture he steps closer, fingers already sliding along her thigh. The scoop hits the floor. Clothes follow. The ice cream can melt for all she cares; what’s happening next is hot enough to burn the spoon.