Only One Chance (Only One 2)
I see him before he sees me, and I take a second to watch him in front of the stove, cooking something that smells delicious and has my mouth watering. I mean, it could also be the sight of him in basketball shorts that are riding low on one side. His back is perfect, his thick ass is perfect, his thighs are perfect, and his cock … well, his cock should be molded and sold in sex stores.
“Good morning,” I say softly. He looks over his shoulder at me, and his smirk turns into a full-blown smile.
“Good morning, gorgeous,” he says and turns back around to the pot, turning off the stove. “You got up just in time.”
“In time for what?” I ask, walking to him. He bends his head when I get beside him, kissing my neck.
“I made you an omelet,” he says. “I figured you needed protein.” He winks at me, and I look him up and down. His battle scars are barely visible. He has a bite mark beside his nipple, and he also has one beside his hip that I gave to him while I was riding his face and then fell forward right before I came. “Do you want to eat outside?” he asks, turning to plate one omelet and then opening the oven to take out a bigger plate that has to be his.
“We can eat on the couch outside your bedroom,” I tell him, and he nods his head. “What can I carry?”
“There is a tray in that cabinet.” He points at the cabinet in the corner. “You can make coffee and bring some juice and a couple of water bottles.” I nod and walk over, bending to grab the tray, and I hear his groan behind me. “If you keep shoving your ass in my face, we are not going to be eating anything.”
I laugh now. “I’m not shoving anything in your face.” I put the tray on the counter and grab two cups, milk, cream, water, juice, and the pot of coffee. He places the two plates on the tray and picks it up by the handles, carrying it to his bedroom. I follow him and laugh when I get into the room right before he opens the door to let some fresh air in. “It smells like sex.” He shakes his head. “And latex.”
He walks out and puts the tray on the small table in front of the couch. I sit down and look up at him. “Milk or half and half?”
“Milk,” he says, and I make him a cup of coffee and then make my own, taking a sip and moaning.
He sits next to me and puts my plate down in front of me. “I hope you like meat and veggies,” he says, and I nod my head, grabbing the plate and sitting back on the couch, curling my legs to the side. I put my plate back down and walk back into the bedroom, grabbing one of the throw blankets at the foot of the bed. He’s just looking at me when I get back and put the cover over my legs and then take my plate. “You ready?”
“Were you waiting for me?” I ask, shocked as he nods his head. I can’t with this man. He is so much more than I thought he was. Besides being fucking funny, he is so considerate. “Eat,” I tell him, and he smirks, cutting a piece of his own omelet, and I taste mine. “This is so good.”
“Thank you,” he says. “I made them both the same, just mine is bigger since I need more strength.”
I throw my head back and laugh. “I fucked you as many times as you fucked me.” I look up and start to count the number of times we had sex. “Okay, maybe you got a couple more rounds than I did, but …”
He laughs, looking over at me. “I like seeing you in my clothes.”
I look down as I chew my third bite. “It was the only thing I could find,” I tell him. “By the way, who hangs T-shirts?” I ask, and I don’t wait for him to answer me. “Psychopaths, that’s who.”
His laughter fills the whole yard, and I can’t stop looking at him. He finishes his plate and leans back on the couch. I put my plate down on the table when I’ve had enough, leaving just a little piece. Grabbing my coffee, I lean back as he tosses the blanket off my legs and grabs one of them to lay across his legs. “Did you sleep well?” he asks, his hand slowly rubbing my leg up and down.
“I did.” I put my elbow on the back of the couch and rest my head on my hand. “I mean, when you let me sleep.”