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I was pretty sure if this woman offered me fucking toxic sludge in a glass, I would take it, drink it, and thank her for it. Maybe with my mouth. On what I could only assume was the sweetest pussy known to mankind if it belonged to this woman who was all sunshine and rainbows.
“Yes,” I agreed, nodding.
“Milk? Plant-based or otherwise?”
“No, thanks.”
“Sweetener? Of literally any variety as well.”
“I’m good,” I told her.
“A man who knows what he likes,” she said. “Let me know if you have any questions about the menu,” she added before walking away.
Did I maybe turn slightly to check out that round ass of hers as she went? Yeah, I did.
What can I say?
It had been a while.
And, fuck, if she was so enthusiastic about milk and sugar, I could only imagine how fun she’d be in bed.
Maybe, after I was done, I would ask for her number, take her out, then take her home. Spend some hours getting lost in the smell and feel and sounds of her.
Shaking my head at myself, and at the way my cock was actually twitching at just the idea of fucking this random woman, I forced my attention to the menu.
It was… a lot.
A whole lot.
There was the typical breakfast fare. Eggs, pancakes, waffles with all sorts of topping choices. Too many, honestly. Strawberries, blueberries, raspberries, cherries, pomegranate, even mandarins.
But there was also other stuff.
Acai bowls.
Smoothies.
Strata.
Bagels and lox.
Red flannel hash.
Biscuits and gravy.
“Is your head feeling a little swimmy?” Savannah asked, coming back with an earthenware mug full of steaming coffee.
“Strata? Red flannel hash?” I asked, shaking my head a little.
“That’s my mom. She’s always been a big traveler. All over the US. Sometimes with me in a little baby backpack. She loves food. All different kinds. She said if she was ever going to open a restaurant, she was going to bring all of her favorite meals to the menu. So, yes, Strata. And Red flannel hash. They’re all good, but we definitely have all the familiar favorites too,” she said, leaning over my shoulder a bit to run her finger over the menu, indicating all the normal breakfast shit you expected at a brunch establishment.
If I turned my head even a bit, my face would be in her neck. Her breast was already touching my arm.
I couldn’t fucking think straight.
It was like she was clouding all my senses at once.
What the fuck was wrong with me?
