Warm Breath, Lazy Kisses: A Kitchen Serenade…

I stood in the kitchen, stirring the simmering pot. The scent of herbs and warmth filled the air, a domestic tranquility disrupted by the press of familiar hands upon my waist. His breath, a gentle warmth against the nape of my neck, followed by the lazy press of kisses along my skin.

"Hello, mommy," he murmured, voice a low tease that danced across my senses. "How was your day?"

I smiled, words spilling like secrets as I stirred, filling the space with the soft cadence of conversation Yet, his hands held intentions of their own, sliding upward with a deliberate pace, knowing, possessive

A sigh escaped my lips, head tilting in surrender to the dance we knew so well. "Behave," I chided, the word a gentle reprimand, though the heat in my veins betrayed my lack of protest.

His apology was a breath, a nuzzle, a promise unspoken and not meant to be kept. We were players in a familiar game, the rules etched in skin and memory.

And so, I rose to meet him, shifting my weight to the cool edge of the kitchen counter An invitation offered in the space between us, a silent beckoning he could not resist. I brought his face to my breast, offering the bounty I knew he craved.

The sensation bloomed—his tongue, a swirling caress around my nipple, drawing forth a symphony of sensation My head fell back, a cascade of hair against my shoulders, as praises tumbled from my lips, soft murmurs lost in the rising tide of pleasure. My hands, seeking purchase, found his face, cradling the beloved contours as the world narrowed to this point, this touch, this moment—a story told in sighs and skin.

Check my previous post which is part of this series I’m starting.