Just a little more...
“Smells good in here,” she said, as she dropped her arms.
Fuck.
So close.
“Sit down. I’ll make you a plate,” I said.
Yawning, she ran her fingers through her tousled hair and held her face in her hands. She looked adorable, peeking out at me between her fingers with those green eyes of hers. She flopped down into a chair at the kitchen table, her breasts swinging against her body. I clenched my teeth and willed my cock to stay at bay as I fixed her a plate.
“Food and coffee,” I said.
“Cream and sugar?” she asked.
“Yep. Anton’s got plenty of it.”
“I know. He and I took our coffee in much the same way.”
“Then allow me.”
I dumped enough sugar in it to throw a rat into a comatose state before filling the rest of the mug with creamer. I handed her a spoon to stir everything with, then I watched as she brought it to her mouth and curled those plump, juicy lips around the edge of the mug. She hummed her delight as her eyes fluttered closed, and my cock automatically jumped.
Quickly, I made my way back to the stove to cover the thickness of my growing groin.
“So, I want to apologize,” I said.
“For what?” Michelle asked.
“I was a bitter asshole last night and I sort of took it out on you.”
“Everyone has their moments,” she said.
“I mean, I hate this town. But that doesn’t mean everyone else has to as well. I’m glad you’re able to find some sort of good in this rotten place.”
I filled up my plate before slathering my pancakes in syrup.
“It’s fine,” she said. “I don’t know the town well enough to determine its ripeness just yet. My experience comes from being here maybe four or five months.”
I chuckled as I poured myself a cup of black coffee. I took everything over to the kitchen table and sat down across from her. Putting my napkin in my lap, I picked up my fork, then watched as Michelle practically inhaled her fucking food. She moaned and hummed. Chugged her coffee and licked her lips when a droplet of syrup fell on her skin. Holy shit. She had no issues expressing her pleasure at the food I’d cooked for her.
And it did my cock no favors.
“Wow, this is really good. Sorry,” Michelle said.
“Don’t be. Moans of pleasure are the best compliment a chef can get,” I said with a grin.
Her cheeks flushed that beautiful pink and my cock hardened against the zipper of my jeans. Fuck. I had to find a way for this to stop.
It was going to get in the way of me trying to be nice.
“You’re a better cook than Anton,” she said. “He always burned the bacon.”
“Yeah, and he called it ‘extra crispy’. But I called it tinder for the fireplace.”
“And he was terrible at lasagna,” she said. “Oh my gosh. Did he ever make you that lasagna of his?”
“Yep. One time, and I refused to eat it,” I said.