Meg was grateful it was Sunday, because she hadn't slept well. Mitch, on the other hand, was still sound asleep when, around 6am, she gave up on any more rest and got up. Still wearing just a t-shirt and panties, she went to the kitchen and started mixing together pancake batter.
Mitch came out into the kitchen when she had cooked more than half the pancakes on a small pan on her stove. A stack of pancakes steamed on a large plate.
"Good morning," he said.
"Good morning. I made breakfast."
"Oh. I don't usually eat breakfast. But I'd take a coffee."
Flustered, she turned on her coffee maker and got a mug from the cabinet. He was wearing only his boxers, and he was partway stiff underneath. He sat at one of the chairs at her table.
Meg flipped another batch of pancakes onto the plate and poured more batter on the skillet as the coffee dripped into his mug.
"Cream and sugar?" she asked when his coffee finished.
"I'll take cream," he said, and she fetched it from the fridge.
He watched her flip pancakes, taking small sips of the still-hot coffee.
When she finished cooking, she said, "Are you sure you won't eat?"
"No, I'm not usually hungry until noon. But I'm up for other stuff when you've finished eating."
Meg got out tinfoil and tented it over the plate of pancakes. "These will stay warm enough. I can wait to eat."
Mitch took one last sip of coffee and then got up and walked to the bedroom. She followed him in. She lay on the bed and he climbed on top of her.
He kissed her full on the lips, and she wished she had taken the time to brush her teeth, but he didn't seem to care. His tongue slid over hers, and his hands groped at her t-shirt. He stopped kissing her long enough to pull it over her head and then his lips were on hers again as one of his hands grabbed her breast.
She knotted her fingers in his hair, holding him close against her. She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him in tighter.
He pulled away and pulled off her panties.
"Wet again," he murmured. "You're really easy, aren't you?"
"I like you better when you don't talk," she said. He smirked at her and slid two fingers inside of her.
"Don't worry, I know exactly what you like," he told her as he started moving his fingers in and out.
She wanted to slap him for his arrogance, but she forgave it this time like she had forgiven it so many times before, because what he did was giving her so much pleasure.
He finally pulled out of her and stepped out of his underwear. Meg got on the floor on her knees and took Mitch in her mouth. He moaned then, and he seemed almost vulnerable as Meg flicked her tongue over his member. In this moment, he didn't know what was coming, and he let her take control of his pleasure.
Meg paid attention to what made him tense, made him take in a sharp breath, and she melded her mouth to his needs.
When she finished, she handed him a condom and he expertly slid it on. He turned her around and, both of them still standing, Meg bent over the bed, he slid in behind her.
"Damn, for an easy chick, you're tight," he murmured as he slid in and out, easing her walls open.
Meg wanted to argue that she wasn't easy, but she couldn't. She thought of how easily she invited him here, and wondered if maybe he had a point.
He picked up his pace until he fell into a steady rhythm. She was reminded that he was a drummer in high school, completely responsible for tempo.
He reached one hand around and pinched her nipple and she squeaked.
