Page 17 of The Best is Yet to Cum

“It definitely wasn’t one-sided. Are you ready to eat actual food now?”

“Yeah, I think I worked up an appetite.”

8

Mona

When I invited Clinton over for breakfast, I didn’t know what to expect. Technically, I hadn’t ghosted him, but my lack of response to his messages may have made him feel otherwise. I lowkey didn’t expect him to agree to meet me so quickly, nor did I think he’d be happy to see me.

It was as if he was the missing piece to the puzzle I’d been trying to put together since he left my bed in New Orleans when I opened the door and saw his smiling face. I wasn’t expecting him to fling me over the back of the couch, devour my pussy, and fuck me like he did, but I wasn’t mad that he did.

Although I’d been committed to one man for several years, I’d had my share of sexual encounters prior to getting married. I’d been having sex for twenty years and had probably hadas many partners before I met Winston, and not one of them treated my body the way Clinton did.

“Have a seat, and I’ll make you a plate,” I told him.

While he sat at my kitchen table, I piled French toast, bacon, eggs, and breakfast potatoes onto his plate. After putting it in the microwave and setting the timer to forty-five seconds, I turned to face him and leaned against the counter.

“Did you remember French toast is my favorite, or is this a coincidence?”

“I remembered.”

“I guess I can test your claim of making the best French toast ever.”

“I guarantee you will agree.”

When the timer ended, I took his plate from the microwave, sauntered to the table, and placed it in front of him.

“Do you want water, milk, orange juice, or a mimosa?”

“I’ll take a mimosa, please.”

Before preparing his drink, I retrieved the syrup from the pantry and put it on the table. When I tried to walk away, he wrapped his arm around my waist, pulled me to his side, and bowed his head.

“Lord, thank You for this food, the woman who prepared it, and the glorious appetizer between her thighs she allowed me to dine on before this meal. Amen.”

“Oh my God! I’m not saying amen to that. You’re nasty for no damn reason.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining a few minutes ago.”

“Whatever.”

I pushed away from him and went to the fridge to get the champagne and orange juice. Before returning to the table with his drink, I made a plate for myself and put it in the microwave.

“Here you go.”

I put the glass on the table in front of him and waited for him to look up from his plate.

“What the hell did you put in this batter?” he questioned with his mouth full.

“That’s my little secret.” I winked before going to the microwave to get my food and glass of orange juice from the counter.

I sat across from him and began eating my food. When he picked up his glass, I noticed his eyes fell on mine.

“Just orange juice for you?”

I nodded, trying not to make a big deal out of it. “I had a few glasses before you arrived to calm my nerves.”

He leaned his head to the side with a questioning gaze. “Why were you nervous?”

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