“Don’t get used to it,” she teases as she turns back to the counter, giving me her back.
Too late.
I set the mug down, step behind her, and wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her back against my chest. She leans into me without hesitation, and I press my lips to the side of her neck, breathing her in.
“You have no idea what this does to me,” I murmur against her skin. “Waking up to you making coffee in my kitchen. Wearing my shirt, looking like you belong here.” My hand slides under the hem of the T-shirt, fingers tracing up her bare thigh, and she shivers but doesn’t stop me. “I’ve dreamed about this,” I confess, voice low. “Doing normal mornings, just you and me.”
She tilts her head back against my shoulder as my fingers find her pussy. She’s already wet, and I groan softly as I slide two fingers inside her slowly, curling them gently.
“Kairo …” she breathes, hips rolling back against my hand.
“Shh,” I whisper, kissing her neck. “Just let me feel you while you finish your coffee.”
I finger her slowly, lazily, while she tries to drink from her mug. Her hand trembles slightly, and every time I curl my fingers just right, she lets out a soft, breathy moan.
“You’re so fucking perfect like this,” I murmur against her ear, thumb circling her clit. “My wife, in my kitchen, wet for me while you make me coffee. This is what I’ve wanted for years.”
She whimpers, thighs shaking, and I keep the pace slow and deep, savoring every flutter of her pussy around my fingers.
“Drink your coffee, baby,” I say, nipping her earlobe. “Don’t spill.”
She tries, she really does, but when I press harder on her clit and curl my fingers against that spot, she gasps, the mug shaking in her hand.
I smile against her neck.I fucking love this.“Come for me like this,” I whisper. “While you’re standing in our kitchen, making your husband a coffee, like a good little wife.”
She comes with a soft, broken moan, pussy clenching around my fingers, thighs trembling. I hold her through it, kissing her neck, murmuring how perfect she is, how much I love this version of us. When she finally stops shaking, I pull my fingers out and look at them glistening from her.
She turns around to face me, and I drag my finger along her lip. “Taste what a good little wife you are for me.” Summer opens her mouth and sucks them clean, eyes half-lidded.
I groan at the sight.
“Good girl,” I praise softly. “Now finish your coffee, we’ve got a whole day ahead of us.”
She looks up at me with flushed cheeks and soft eyes, and for the first time, I see what looks a lot like love staring back at me.
And I know I’m never letting this go.
We eat breakfast on the terrace, she sits with her legs tucked beneath her, reading passages aloud from the book she took from the library, between bites of fruit. I don't hear the words, but I watch her mouth, the way her lips shape each syllable. The ink is still faintly visible on her inner wrist from yesterday, she hasn't scrubbed it off.Mine.Written on her skin.
"What do you want to do today?" I ask.
She looks up. "Something normal."
"Define normal."
"Cooking dinner together, maybe watching a show with me." She holds my gaze. "You said you wanted that, no agendas, remember."
Fuck, I did.
Last night, something fundamentally changed between us, and I didn’t even realize. She's learning me the way I learned her, and that thought makes my cock twitch and my chest tight at the same time.
“What do you want to do?” she asks.
“I want my cock inside of you all day.”
This makes her giggle again. “I guess that is normal for us.” But the look she gives me says she isn’t opposed to the idea.
“Oh, I’ll fuck you eventually, but today I just … I just want to be inside of you. I want to feel you around me while we hang out. While we read, eat, talk. I want to stay buried inside my wife all day.”
