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I reach into the pocket of the trousers I had on a minute ago and slip on a condom. She watches me intently as she lays on her back, her beautiful hands splayed, still playing with herself. And that’s when I wonder if she had this planned all along, if somehow she knew exactly how all of this would end up.
I take a deep breath and guide myself, practically shivering with excitement, into her hot, slick folds. She feels amazing. ‘You’re so wet,’ I moan loudly. ‘I knew you would be.’
‘It’s you. You make me that way,’ she says as she arches her hips upwards, seeking more of my cock and pulling me deeper and deeper within her.
Our bodies move rhythmically, the two of us thrusting together, over and over. Our bodies in perfect harmony, perfectly matched.
My breaths become more and more erratic, and she watches me intently. I can’t help but think how the tables have turned and it’s now her turn to watch me as I lose control. I plunge deeply one last time. ‘I can’t hold back any longer. Fuck, you’re so tight.’ I groan long and hard as I feel my body detonate inside of her, like a man who’s wanted this for so fucking long. She clenches her insides and I come the hardest I ever have in my life.
We lay still for a brief moment, our bodies held together like magnets and I kiss her so deeply and with so much emotion raging inside of me still. ‘That was fucking amazing, Leyna.’ We both lay there, entwined in each other’s embrace, completely sated and I ask, ‘Does this mean I don’t have to call you Cinnamon anymore?’
She grins lazily. ‘Jack, you can call me whatever the fuck you like.’
Chapter 25
Jack
The next morning, Iwake up before Leyna. I lay there beside her and watch the soft rise and fall of her chest. At some point in the night, we made our way to my bedroom and continued to make love until the early hours of Sunday morning. I have no idea what time it is but it must be close to noon.
I quietly slip out of bed, throw on some clothes, and head down to the kitchen. I’m starving.
I get to work making a brunch item I’ve had at a restaurant before. Something that’s too complicated to make for one person so I’ve never bothered. And the truth is, I’ve fantasised about this too, about making her food the next morning. Who does that?
It takes some time to assemble, but I suspect Leyna won’t be down any time soon. Sausage, beans, butternut squash hash, cherry tomatoes, and a poached egg on top. Everything goes into two tiny cast iron skillets and gets warmed in the oven.
I’m sipping on coffee when I see her wander down. She’s obviously rummaged through my closet and has found an oversized shirt and a pair of boxers. She looks incredible. Her long, wavy, chestnut brown hair is tousled and her lips look overly red, like she’s been kissing someone who was a little too rough. The shirt is buttoned but I can see the curve of her breast from where the shirt gapes open. My mind immediately thinks of everything we did last night and I have to fight hard to not show my blatant attraction.
‘Sleep alright?’ I ask.
‘Like a log. What time is it? And what is that delicious smell?’
‘It’s about one o’clock and that is our brunch. Though I suppose it’s more like lunch now. Would you like something to drink? Tea? Coffee? The kettle’s just boiled.’
‘Oh yes, I’d love a cup of tea. With milk please.’
I take the two miniature cast iron skillets out of the oven and place them on woven place mats so they don’t burn the table.
