Healing the Wounds
“Eggs, check. Milk, check. Bread, check. Vanilla extract and cinnamon for flavor, check. Butter and syrup, check.
Finding a wide, shallow bowl for dredging the bread took a couple tries. She wasn’t entirely familiar with Henry’s kitchen—their kitchen—yet, not as a chef instead of a guest, but she wouldn’t hesitate to make herself at home.
Besides, Henry was occupied.
She smirked as she cracked the eggs one-handed and tossed the shells. She’d gotten her morning treat in bed, sweet kis...ses from Jay and his fingers on her clit as Henry took her from behind while she lay on her side. Their climax had been quiet, gentle, but no less fulfilling for that. She’d bowed out of the postcoital shower quickly to give her boys time to themselves, promising to put breakfast on the table if they promised to work up an appetite.
She whipped the eggs and added the milk, vanilla, and cinnamon while the griddle warmed.MoreLess
Finding a wide, shallow bowl for dredging the bread took a couple tries. She wasn’t entirely familiar with Henry’s kitchen—their kitchen—yet, not as a chef instead of a guest, but she wouldn’t hesitate to make herself at home.
Besides, Henry was occupied.
She smirked as she cracked the eggs one-handed and tossed the shells. She’d gotten her morning treat in bed, sweet kis...ses from Jay and his fingers on her clit as Henry took her from behind while she lay on her side. Their climax had been quiet, gentle, but no less fulfilling for that. She’d bowed out of the postcoital shower quickly to give her boys time to themselves, promising to put breakfast on the table if they promised to work up an appetite.
She whipped the eggs and added the milk, vanilla, and cinnamon while the griddle warmed.MoreLess
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