When I woke up, she was exactly where I hoped she’d be.
Lying next to me, her forehead pressed against my chest. The morning light from between open curtains made her hair look like gold.
For once I didn’t want to argue with her, or compete. I just wanted to be.
“Morning.” I whispered it as her eyes opened, wondering how pissed off she’d be about what we’d done and that she’d stayed.
“Morning. Is your kitchen as big a mess as this?”
I laughed, but rather than feeling pissed off at her insult, I felt something different. “No, it’s tidy. If I’d been expecting company in here last night, Imight’vetidied up.” I stroked her side, lingering next to her boob. I had no idea if she'd be up for anything more or whether she’d make her excuses and leave – I liked to think I’d be fine either way. As a kid in care, I got used to people leaving. Social workers, carers, foster siblings – they all left at times. Some stayed, but they were there for a pay packet or because they had nowhere else to go.
“Do you have any food in, or do rock stars survive off the innards of superfans?”
I laughed again. “That’s probably the most disgusting thing I’ve ever heard this early in the day.” I remembered that Sophie ran a business and wasn’t just planning to spend the day writing lyrics. “If you aren’t in a rush I can cook you breakfast.”
She sat up, the sheets we’d pulled over ourselves ruching at her waist leaving her topless.
Now everything was more than awake.
I liked tits. I was pretty much a normal man who’d had a shitty childhood and discovered a bit of talent for singing which was useful, as there wasn’t much else I would’ve been able to do. Like most blokes, boobs were a weakness, and Sophie’s were my definition of perfect. Round and firm, more than a handful, with nipples that were easily aroused. I didn’t hide my appreciation.
Sophie laughed, not bothering to hide them. “You’re just brazen.”
“You’ve got perfect tits. Can I take a photo?”
“No.” She shook her head, still laughing. “But you can lend me something to cover up so I can watch you cook. You might need instructions.”
I took my chances and moved a finger over one of her nipples, watching it harden. “I can cook. One of the things they taught foster kids was how to look after themselves. At sixteen you were usually out living on your own or in supported accommodation, so there was no one to cook for you anymore. I can’t do anything fancy like your friend Simone, but I can survive on more than beans on toast.”
She hadn’t pushed my hands away, and judging by how her nipples had hardened, she was liking it.
“You really are obsessed with them, aren’t you?”
I nodded, rolled onto my back which freed up both hands. I cupped her tits, encouraging her to move onto me, straddling me. She groaned as I pinched both nipples at the same time, squeezing a little harder which I’d discovered she liked.
“We shouldn’t…”
“We already have so this won’t change anything.”
“True.”
I moved my hands to her back and guided her down so I could take a nipple in my mouth, kissing and then sucking gently, a contract to what my fingers had done. Then I switched to the other, my eyes half open, my cock fully hard.
“I hate to give you a compliment,” her words were almost slurred. “But you’re good at that.”
“Compliment taken.” I came up for air. “You have the best pair of tits I’ve ever seen.”
“And I bet you’ve seen a lot.”
“None like yours.” I moved her hips off me and somehow swung us around so we faced the mirror. Sophie was on all fours, her ass high, her tits visible in the mirror. I moved behind her, giving her arse a quick slap before rubbing it towards her glistening slit. She was wet and ready, my finger slipping from her centre to her clit, giving it a quick squeeze. Her head dropped.
“Look up. Watch what we’re about to do. I want you to see how fucking beautiful you are when you come on my cock.”
“Liam…”
My name on her lips seemed to be a prayer.
I ran my cock over her seam, lingering near her centre. She clutched the sheets and looked up.
