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I watch him prepare my eggs in silence, the only sound in the room coming from ESPN on the television and his spatula against the pan. “You’re quiet,” he says as he slides the eggs onto a plate for me. I pull a grape from the bowl in front of me and pop it into my mouth.
“I’m hungover,” I correct him.
“Ah. I was wondering if you were going to finish that bottle.”
“Mama didn’t raise a quitter.” I chuckle and he smiles.
“How is your mom?”
“Not your biggest fan.”
His face falls slightly. “Understandable. Did you tell them what’s going on?”
“Yep.”
“They know I’m here?”
“Nope,” I answer quickly.
“Noted,” he says before he takes his place next to me and reaches for the remote, muting the television.
“Oh, you don’t have to stop on my account.”
“I was just killing time until you woke up.” He picks up a piece of bacon and bites into it. I feel his gaze on the side of my face, but I don’t meet his eyes. I just focus on cutting the pancakes in front of me.
“Yes?” I finally ask, after what feels like an eternity of his eyes studying me.
“About what you said last night…” he starts. “Was I… flaunting her in your face?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I rarely saw her, actually. You were pretty…good at staying on your side of town.” I can’t read his reaction. He’s slightly tense but also seems relieved at my answer.
I take a bite of my pancakes and I can’t avoid the moan that escapes my lips. “Fuck, I forgot how well you can cook.”
He beams under my praise, despite our prior conversation, and I’m grateful for the change in topic. “All those classes we took.”
“You were always better at it than me.” I chuckle, remembering how I was usually goofing off in the class and imbibing far too much wine to be absorbing any information.
“You were a good assistant.” He smiles and I roll my eyes.
“Thank you for cooking.” I nibble on a piece of bacon and eye him nervously. He cocks his head to the side and shakes his head.
“You thank me like I’ve ever not wanted to take care of you.” He puts his hand up when I go to respond. “Yes, maybe not recently, but I have no recollection of that. All I know is…this.” He points at all the food and feelings of warmth flood my bones. I don’t respond, not knowing what to say when he speaks again. “So, what else have you been up to?” I look at him before looking around the room, wondering what I should say when he clarifies. “Maybe not in the last six months to avoid giving me a heart attack,” he jokes.
“I haven’t been…I mean…David was the only…” I snap my lips shut. “I don’t owe you an explanation.”
His eyes darken and I can tell he’s gritting his teeth by how sharp his jaw looks. “No, but I’d prefer not to hear about whatever the fuck you’ve been doing with that asshole.” He leans forward and he smells like syrup and coffee and Bennett and it sparks a nostalgia I can’t ignore.
Me and Bennett fucking on this bar getting syrup…everywhere.
I hop on the island and watch as my sinfully delicious husband makes us breakfast. My eyes rove over his naked chest and my eyes slither down his body to where his sweats hang low on his hips. We’d already had sex this morning after spending the majority of the night making love and even still it wasn’t enough. I want more.
I would always want more with Bennett.
I bite my lip, my eyes still planted on where I know his cock is hidden.
“You’re biting your lip and staring at my dick. I’m taking that as an invitation.” I look up as Bennett makes his way towards me and stands between my legs. “Do you want my fat cock in your pretty little mouth?” He slides his hand up my body to cup my jaw, peppering kisses down the side of my face and I whimper when he squeezes harder. I love this island because his height allows him to grind his cock against my sex when I sit on top. It also allows us to have some of our hottest sex.
He presses his cock into my pussy, which is only covered by a tiny scrap of lace. He pulls away, and I instantly miss his lips on me. “I want to try something first.”
