This was the first time that she—that they—had purposely arranged to see each other. He sat on her couch, while she moved around frantically in the kitchen. A combination of desire and anxiety that he was there fueled her movement.
She paused for a second to breathe, as she plated food. She had sliced the chicken even though she was afraid for a moment to use a knife because she was so wired. But she did successfully cut the chicken, and garnished it with lemon and garlic.
Harry walked into the kitchen, and looked down at her. They still did not talk a lot. He was like a stranger in ways, but he knew her basest desires and the raw her better than anyone. It was what brought them together, but tore them apart at the same time.
“What?” she questioned, searching his eyes and studying him like an animal about to pounce.
“This is all really lovely, seeing you so domesticated.” He chided.
Sabrina stuck out her tongue at him, and he touched it before she put it back in her mouth.
“Yeah, I am a traditional girl in some ways.”
He nodded, looking appreciatively at her curves, in the retro dress that she wore with an apron.
They looked at each other for a long time, each of them she was sure feeling angst because they knew what they wanted to do. They could not wait until dinner, they would not pass go and collect $200…
There was the cacophony of the plates clashing like cymbals, as they moved them to the side. Fragrant chicken wafted up to them, but it was not desired more than their bodies joined together was.
Not desired more than the perfect fullness of Harry filling her up, in the grooves of her body where she instinctively knew him first and now knew him almost better than she knew herself.
The prongs of a fork pricked her, but combined with the fullness of Harry inside her body it was a pleasure that made her want to burst.
And she did…
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white wine via wikipedia