His cheesiness brings a faint giggle out of me. “What do you call it when we fuck hard?”
“Well, I’m in love with you even when I’m fucking you hard, so it still applies.” Still amused, I give his solid chest a kiss and wriggle closer.
Without even realizing it, I drift into slumber, his dick still in me, covering him like a human blanket as his familiar hands cup my ass. I vaguely hear his “I love you, freckles,” but I’m unsure if the answer I mumble is understandable.
He probably got the idea, though.
The smell of food is what wakes me up. I slept like a log, not even sensing when Lex switched us around and pulled the duvet from under me to cover us with it.
Opening an eye as I lie on my stomach, I see movement. Even though I quickly close it again, Lex must have detected I’m awake because he says, “There she is…”
He definitely doesn’t sound like someone who drank too much, but still, I ask, “How’s your head?”
“You tell me.”
I smile, loving his tongue for the wit as much as for the cunnilingus. “It’s fucking fantastic.”
“Damn right, it is. Come on, freckles. I made pancakes.”
Okay, this I have to see. Poorly holding back a yawn, I roll onto my back and force myself to sit up. The covers fall to my lap, but I don’t care. Lex has seen my boobs far too often for me to do something about it.
There’s a tray on the empty side of the bed, and I look with keen interest at everything he prepared. Greek yogurt, apples, pancakes… All my favorites. It’s clear he made the latter himself, and I find their irregular shapes adorable. They’re also a little too flat, but it only adds to the weight of his efforts. “Ugh, this is so perfect. I’m starving.”
“Yeah, I know. There’s been all sorts of noises coming out of your stomach since I woke up.”
I chuckle, failing at not being embarrassed by something so natural. “Well, it’s not my fault if someone tricked me into having a slexathon yesterday.”
“Slexathon…I didn’t know there were variants. Is slexting another one?”
“If you keep using the word slex, I’ll report to Karen and for bullying.”
“I didn’t know you were a snitch.”
“Watch your tongue, Coleman, or I’ll put it to good use.”
I pick up a pancake, roll it, and bring it to my mouth. Though the messed up shapes are acceptable, the salty taste that spreads through my mouth as I chew on it isn’t. But he looks so goddamn adorable, waiting for my approval, that all I can do is nod with a smile. I’m not crushing his feelings when he tried so hard.
“I know you like them fluffy, so I added more baking powder. It didn’t really work, though,” he explains, looking at the pancakes with animosity.
“I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way. I’ll give you a lesson in fluffy pancakes next time I make some.”
Bringing his failed experiment to my mouth, I take another bite, deciding this is a small price to pay for him to feel validated. Which he deserves to be. I look around the room as I chew, seeking a distraction from the taste. The scan reminds me of something that’s been on my mind since I read it in the Iris binder.
“I was wondering… I saw you mentioned a security system in the binder. And cameras. How many of those are in the apartment, and where?”
An uncontrollable smile stretches his lips as he realizes why I’m asking. “There are cameras everywhere, even in the bedroom.” He turns around and points at a small, discreet circle in a corner. “See? But they only record if Iris detects an intruder.”
“So, we never made an accidental sex tape?”
“No. But she listens at all times, though, to be able to answer commands.”
“That’s… a little embarrassing.”
“She isn’t real. She doesn’t care.”
I shoot him a displeased frown. “Talk better about my girl Iris. She’s very real.”
“She isn’t an actual human, is what I meant.”
