← Back
I found the kettle, two mismatched mugs and a jar of instant, and carried them through to her bedroom at half nine like a man carrying the crown jewels.
Priya was tangled in the duvet, hair everywhere, one bare shoulder out. She opened one eye.
“You made coffee.”
“I made coffee. You’ve got a very good kettle.”
She laughed, sat up and let the duvet fall to her waist, completely unbothered, and took the mug. “Get in, talker. It’s freezing.”
I got in. The coffee lasted about four sips.
Then she was kissing me, her mouth hot and bitter, pushing my boxers down, and I was finally, properly touching her. Her full tits, the swallow tattoo, her smooth olive thighs opening for my hand. She was already wet. She pulled a condom out of the bedside drawer and rolled it onto me herself.
“Last night was the warm-up,” she whispered.
She climbed on top and sank down slowly, eyes closed, a long shuddering breath. Morning light through cheap curtains. No sequins, no menus, no buzzer. She rode me slow and deep, then pulled me over on top of her, wrapped her legs round me and dragged me in harder. She came with her head thrown back, loud enough to make the cat leave the room. I came with her, buried deep, kissing her neck.
We lay there sweaty, the coffee going cold on the side.
“Seven years I’ve been waiting for a man to bring me coffee,” Priya said.
“I’ll bring it tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” she said, smiling into my chest. “You will.”
Ending 20 of 25: Morning Coffee. Go back and try a different choice for the full happy ending.