Cora chuckles as she swipes her fingers across my abs on her way out of bed. She sashays to the kitchen to check on the meatloaf she decided to make for dinner tonight.
“You wanted to fuck my tits, so your wish was granted.”
Yeah . . . it was. But I wasn’t expecting to be pushed to my back, legs spread, vibrator up my ass, with her tits squeezing my cock like a vise.
“Please . . .” I catch my breath. “Tell me I’m the only man you’ve done that with.”
“God, no one else would ever even consider letting me do that to them.”
I prop myself up on my elbows, my cock still throbbing as I watch her move around the kitchen, her silk robe tightly cinched around her waist, showing off her curves.
“Then how the hell did you know what to do?”
She glances at me. “Can’t a girl have an imagination? I just went for it, and as long as you didn’t say ‘ow, that hurts,’ I was going all the way.”
I laugh out loud. “Well, glad I could be your guinea pig.” I stand from the bed, letting my shaky legs find stability first before I pull on a pair of shorts and make my way toward the kitchen. “Want me to set the table?”
“That would be useful,” she says with a smirk.
Together, we move around the kitchen harmoniously, as if we’ve been doing it for years. She preps the food, and I set our drinks and cutlery on the table. I add some napkins and the bread and butter plate Cora prepared, which I think is terribly cute.
“Smells amazing,” I say, pressing my hand to her back and leaning over her shoulder.
“I’ve been watching some cooking shows and they made it seem easy.”
“Was it easy?”
“Easier than purposefully making horrible food. I just hope it tastes good. Rachael Ray better not steer me wrong.”
“She seems pretty honest. I’m sure she won’t steer you wrong when it comes to meatloaf.” I press a kiss to her cheek and help her fill our plates with meatloaf, steamed broccoli—which Cora sprinkles some Hidden Valley ranch seasoning on—and mashed potatoes that she already warned me were lumpy. She didn’t have the patience to make them smooth.
I told her I couldn’t care less.
Together, we sit at our small dinner table and dive in. I’m the first to have a mouthful of the meatloaf, and even though it looks good and smells great, I am still slightly scarred from all the bad food she served me, so I hold my breath. But when the delicious flavors melt across my tongue, I’m delightfully shocked.
“It’s good.”
“Really?” she asks, taking a mouthful for herself. Her eyes widen and she covers her mouth while she says, “Oh my God, it is good.”
I chuckle. “Really good, Cora.”
Pride consumes her. “Wow, I did this. I made this taste like something people would eat at a restaurant.”
“You did. You did quite well, Cora.”
“Thank you.” She smiles and shimmies her shoulders as she dives in for more. “I’m so pleased with myself. I really haven’t been much of a cook, and given that it’s just been me for a bit now, I’ve had no reason to really attempt it. But I enjoyed making this.”
“Did you?” I ask.
She nods. “And the bread—that’s homemade too. I watched a tutorial and thought, why not try it?”
“Homemade bread too?” I pick up a piece and take a bite. And once again, it’s really fucking good. “Damn, Cora, there’s no way I’m leaving you now, not with these remarkable skills in the kitchen.”
“Look at me excelling at something new.” Her smile is bright, wide, and so goddamn attractive. Seeing the pride on her face is phenomenal. In some senses, I’m sad, because it’s as if her expectation is to fail, thanks to so many negative voices in her life. But I’m gratified too, as it also seems that each time she’s knocked down, she gets back up and keeps trying. That’s worth being proud of.
“You’re amazing.”
“Thank you.” She prepares some more meatloaf and asks, “How was your day?”
The moment I stepped inside our flat, Cora ripped my clothes off and went right to work. I didn’t have a second to greet her, let alone talk about our days, but this feels real, talking about it over dinner.
“It was good,” I answer. “Keiko actually asked me to have lunch today.”
“Don’t you have lunch with her every day?” Cora asks.
“Not every day. Sometimes I eat by myself. I think I’ve had lunch with Gunner and Romeo once, but they have an allegiance to your brother, so I don’t bother.”