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"I think it’s time you stop thinking." He lowers his weight onto me, and the thick column between his legs nestles against my pussy.
"Oh." I swallow.
"Indeed." He leans down and kisses my nose.
"I wish you wouldn’t do that."
"Do what?"
"Go all tender and sweet."
"You don’t want me to be tender?" His eyebrows draw down.
"I’d rather you fuck me hard."
He tilts his head. "So you don’t have time to formulate your arguments on why we shouldn’t be together? So you can put the blame of your agreeing to be fucked by me on me?"
When he says that, it feels so wrong. Like I’m putting the onus of our being together like this on him, and somehow, it’s not fair to him. But neither is the fact that I’m pulled so strongly toward him, and after how we fucked, I know it’s not going to be easy to forget about him. Maybe impossible. So, I don’t deny what he says. But I don’t agree to it, either.
The seconds stretch, then he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. "You know what I think we should do?"
"What?"
"Have breakfast."
* * *
He places the breakfast tray on the bed between us. He insisted I stay in bed and snooze while he cooked breakfast. I protested half-heartedly, but when he’d reminded me that it was a one night stand, which was valid only as long as I didn’t leave the bed, I agreed. Also, I love sleeping in, and I never allow myself to do so. All those years of my parents waking me up, along with my twin brother Cade, to study in the mornings because it was the best time to practice our math before we went to school, instilled a sense of discipline in me I’ve never been able to shake off. Trapped in this room and this bed, with the storm raging outside, it feels like I’ve found a liminal space that doesn’t belong to my normal life. A space and time where no rules apply. Besides, getting thoroughly fucked last night relaxed me to the extent that when I cuddled into his pillow and drew in his scent, it instantly made me close my eyes and drift off. I awoke when he placed the breakfast tray in the center of the bed.
Now, I sit up, tuck the sheets under my arms, and eye the monstrosity of a breakfast. On the tray is a plate piled with two eggs over easy, bacon, baked beans, sausages, hash browns, and toast. There’s butter in a bowl on the side, a glass of orange juice and a cup of coffee.
"That’s a lot for one person," I murmur.
"It’s for both of us."
He slides onto the bed. At some point, he pulled on a pair of gray sweats. But that glorious chest is shirtless. A-n-d I’ll never get used to seeing that ripped torso, those eight pack abs, that trim waist with the trail of hair that arrows down to that very distinctive part of him. The one that I had my fingers around not very long ago. The one I had taken down my throat, and felt thicken and fill my mouth—and earned me that compliment from him.
"Men are suckers for blow jobs, huh?"
"You mean, you don’t like it when I go down on you?" He smirks.
My belly clenches. What is it about this man talking dirty that touches something primal inside me? Still, I manage to meet his gaze without blushing, "Feel free to eat me out anytime.” I reach for a piece of toast, but he gets there first.
"Let me." He butters the toast, holds it out, and I crunch down on it. Then he feeds me some of the baked beans, followed by hash browns, and finally, the crunchy bacon.
"Mmm.” I lick my lips. “You can cook, apparently."
"Surprised that the entitled, poshhole can get his hands dirty?"
This time, I can’t stop myself from blushing. "Poshhole, I like that." I reach for my cup of coffee, and once more, he gets there first.
"Now, now, no cheating, Fire." He raises the cup of coffee to my lips. I sip from it, and his eyes flare. He brings the cup to his mouth and sips from the same spot I did. When did the action of drinking from a cup become so pornographic? He places the cup down, then feeds me more of the hash browns. "You like your potatoes, eh?"
"What’s not to like? It’s my fave vegetable. I can have it in any form. Fries and crisps are my downfall."
He feeds me more of the hash browns, and the shredded potato pieces melt in my mouth. I’ve had hash browns before, and let me tell you, that’s gourmet level cooking right there.
"Did you study cooking?"
