Page 68 of Coach
“Got him wasted on catnip first,” Saint admitted. “He was laying on his back, eyes huge. Reminded me of the first time I saw someone on shrooms.”
“Explains why he hasn’t come over to greet anyone,” I said, glancing over to find him out cold on his tree stand.
“Where’s Detroit?” Raff asked, bleary-eyed.
“Not coming this morning,” Saint said. “He called earlier.”
“He’s not coming?” Raff asked. “We’ll starve.”
A snort escaped me at that. “The diner will open soon.”
“I can make breakfast,” Saint offered.
“You?” Raff asked, dubious.
“Not claiming to be as good as Detroit, but, yeah, I can cook. Or, I could. Been a few years. Hard to fuck up eggs though.”
With that, Saint got to work.
By the time the first pot of coffee was gone and the next was brewed, Saint had a dozen egg and cheese sandwiches ready for the taking, along with a giant pile of bacon and orange slices.
“Wouldn’t be a Saint breakfast without the damn oranges,” Syn said when he appeared.
“Had to keep your ass from getting fucking scurvy,” Saint said, passing his brother a plate.
“Mind if I take two up?” I asked.
“Tell Este good morning for us,” Saint said, passing me the plates, then a separate one with some bacon on it. “For Trix,” he said as I put the plates and cups of coffee onto a tray.
I didn’t even need Trix’s leash. With the promise of bacon, she trotted along beside me, completely ignoring everyone else as we went.
“Oh, hey,” Este said, pressing a pair of my sleep pants to her chest like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
“I was hoping I’d catch you before you got up,” I said. “Wanted to pull off the whole breakfast in bed thing.”
“I did a mad dash across the hall to the bathroom. And stole the only extra toothbrush in the drawer. I was about to steal pants to come see where my dog disappeared to.”
“She went pee, figured out what chickens smelled like, and had some hamburger. Though she is whimpering at the promise of some bacon too. Hungry?”
“Starving,” she said, dropping the pants and making her way back to the bed. “I’ve never been brought breakfast in bed.”
“I’ve never brought anyone breakfast in bed. Though I have to confess that I didn’t actually cook it. Saint stepped up this morning. You need to eat your orange slices. He is very concerned about scurvy.”
“Well, yes, I have been traveling on a pirate ship for the past few years,” she said, reaching for an orange slice. “Thanks for letting me sleep in.”
“Seemed like you needed it. You slept like the dead. Almost put a mirror under your nose.”
“I don’t usually. I’m typically really restless. Maybe it was your calming energy,” she said, shrugging.
My calming energy.
The full-body orgasms.
One or the other.
Even just the memory of her sighs and moans and shaking had my cock starting to stiffen.
My gaze slid down to her hands as she reached for a cup of coffee, remembering her nails raking down my arms, my back. I could still feel the sting of them on my skin each time I moved.
