In this location, I have a perfect view of her.
As she whisks, I stare at her. She’s so gorgeous; the more I watch, the more I want to forget dinner altogether and feast on her instead.
Maybe I should do that.
Who needs to eat anyway?
“Stop staring at me.”
“I really can’t.”
She shakes her head and moves to the stove.
In my brain, I mentally calculate how long before I can have her naked on the island.
Or maybe bent over in front of the island.
Five.
That’s how long it will take for the eggs to be done.
Thank fuck she isn’t making bacon too.
That shit would take too long.
“What are you looking at?” she says over her shoulder as she pours the eggs in the pan and starts cooking.
“Do you want me to be honest?” I ask.
“Always.”
“Your ass.”
I hear the spatula hitting the countertop, and she turns toward me, her mouth hanging open. “Wow.”
“What? You asked.”
“Well, I didn’t expect you to be that honest.”
“So I guess you don’t want me to tell you all the things I’m planning to do to your ass once the stove is off?”
“No.”
With the eggs now on a plate, I stand from where I’m perched and stalk toward her.
“Too bad.”
“What are you doing?” she says.
I signal to the plates. “Put those down.”
She stares at me blankly.
“Now,” I say again. This time more forceful.
The sound of the plates dropping is all I need to move in.
Before she can comprehend what I’m doing, I’m leaning down and placing my mouth on hers. She moans into the kiss, her hands looping around my neck. My hands, however, are working at ridding her of her pants instead.
I never break the kiss as I lower them, nor do our mouths separate as she steps out of them.
The next thing I know, I’m freeing myself from the confines of my pants, yet we still don’t pull away. The kiss becomes more frenzied, but then my mouth leaves hers. “What are you doing?” she asks.
“Condom.”
She shakes her head. “Don’t. I’m clean, and I’ve got the shot.”
“I’m clean too.”
“I know.” She smiles and pounces yet again, this time fusing my mouth to hers. Grabbing her from beneath her ass, I pick her up and place her on the counter, then I step in closer between her legs and align myself with her core.
With one quick thrust, I’m inside. Her mouth then and only then slips away from mine, and a groan of displeasure escapes her as I slowly pull back out. I like to tease her, so I do.
Slowly dragging myself in and out to torture her.
I stop my movements and hover but don’t breach, and she lifts her hips, pulling me deeper inside her. On a chuckle, I thrust again, and this time, I pump harder. Faster.
My movements speed up.
In. Out. In. Out.
Her breathing becomes frantic, and she pushes her hips forward as I thrust myself inside her. We keep this rhythm for a while as both of us chase our high. I’m so close, but I need her to fall over the edge first. Only then can I get my release.
Knowing she needs more, I circle my arm around her until it rests where our bodies meet, and then I press harder and firmer against her. I move my hand to meet my thrusts until she’s mewling and begging for more.
She’s close.
I’m closer.
I pick up the pace, and she meets my movements until we are moving in sync.
My hips rock up. My breathing accelerates. It matches the clip of my movements, of each thrust, until it builds and builds. Once the sensation in my body reaches a high, I thrust up one more time, bury my head in her neck, and when I feel her tighten around me, I know I can’t hold it back anymore. My speed increases, and when she falls over the edge, I do too.
Once spent, I collapse on top of her, panting and sweating.
“Do you think the eggs are cold?”
We both laugh.
* * *
It’s miserable out.
Cold.
Rainy.
Fuck, it might even be snowing.
But I don’t care. Nope. Not at all. Because instead of being at work, I’m at home. With Willow.
We’ve spent the day in my apartment. Since the weather sucks, we’ve ordered pizza, put sweats on, and are watching movies.
Now that our marathon of action movies has ended, I swear the silence around us is growing awkward.
It’s not that we have nothing to discuss. We have plenty, but we decided not to discuss the huge woolly mammoth in the room today, because let’s be honest, a crazy homicidal husband is more than an elephant.
The easiest solution to cure our boredom is to get her naked, but that would be too easy, and what fun is that. So instead, I stand, walk over to the side table, and then come back and place a set of cards down.