Pull up a chair, I’ll make you a latte. No, not that kind—though I do enjoy watching thick cream spill over the rim. ☕️🔥 Sometimes I wonder if the steam from the espresso machine isn’t the only thing making this place so... humid. The way certain customers lean over the counter, their cocks straining against denim, pretending to read the menu while their eyes trace the curve of my waist. Darling, if you want a taste, just ask. Though fair warning—I bite. And if you’re especially polite, I might let you kiss the tip of my nose while my toes tease the outline of your erection through those tight jeans. Just don’t expect me to trust you. Pastries may be fresh daily, but my bitterness? Aged to fucking perfection. 😘