51. You Are My Favorite Flavor

“Cold, Max,” Gabriella moaned as her husband placed a scoop of ice cream over her left button. The woman's brows furrowed uncomfortably, as her hands clenched into fists.

"Be patient," the man said before placing the almost frozen container on the table. A second later, instead of cleaning the food that had begun to melt, Max brushed the right button with his tasting organ.

"Are you testing my patience? It's cold, Max," Gabriella said before biting her lip. Since her husband was an expert in provoking sighs, she had to be more careful in choosing the time to talk. Otherwise, the man's instincts would immediately burn.

"To be able to compare, I have to know the original flavor first," Max chirped, deliberately stalling for time.

"Then hurry up! You've tried the original long enough.” Gabriella's insistence succeeded in making her husband widen in disbelief.

"This is the first time you've asked me to rush devouring you, Mrs Evans."

The w