We were eating breakfast an hour later, after we’d showered together, after we’d used the last rubber—in the shower. I f****d him that time. If only for variety. Turns out, it really is the spice of life. Like paprika, only better.
He cooked. Cereal. Coffee. It’s cooking if there are two ingredients. Least that’s what Mom always says. Which is why we mostly eat cereal, toast and jam, coffee with cream.
“How long have you worked at the bar?” I asked as I stared into those mesmerizing eyes of crystal-clear blue. The cam wasn’t on. After all, where would I put it, what with us still being naked?
“A few years.”
I nodded. I sipped my coffee. “I’d never been there before last week. Nice place. It has a homey feel to it.”
“That’s Auntie Bellum’s doing. She tries to make it warm and inviting.
