Chapter 3: Breakfast Interrupted
The morning light felt accusatory. It poured through the kitchen window, too bright, too cheerful, illuminating every crumb on the counter, every nervous tremor in Lottie’s hands as she placed two mugs on the butcher block. The scent of baking scones, usually a comfort, sat heavily in the air, mixing with the acidic fear in her throat. She could still feel the ghost of Ava’s mouth between her legs, a phantom pulse that made her thighs clench whenever she remembered. Which was constantly.
She heard the soft pad of bare feet on tile. She didn’t turn.
Ava moved into her periphery, a vision of casual dishevelment in tiny sleep shorts and a thin tank top. Her hair was a glorious, tangled mane. She smelled of sleep and sex and Lottie’s own sheets.
“Morning,” Ava said, her voice a low, gravelly thing that vibrated straight to Lottie’s core.
Lottie kept her eyes on the coffee machine, willing it to brew faster. “Good morning.” The words were stiff, formal. She busied herself with a bowl of fruit, her knife slicing through a strawberry with sharp, precise clicks.
Ava leaned against the counter next to her, so close the heat from her body was a palpable force. Lottie could see the faint purple mark on her neck, just above the tank top strap. A love bite. Her love bite. A wave of nausea, hot and swift, rolled through her. What had she done?
“You’re avoiding looking at me,” Ava observed, not a question.
“I’m making breakfast,” Lottie whispered, her knuckles white around the knife handle.
“Lottie.” Ava’s hand came down on the counter, stopping just inches from Lottie’s own. “Look at me.”
She couldn’t. If she looked, she would see the triumph in those dark eyes. She would see the proof of her own catastrophic failure. She focused on the red pulp of the strawberry, the tiny seeds.
Then Ava was moving, a predator with infinite patience. She didn’t turn Lottie around. She simply stepped in behind her, her front aligning perfectly with Lottie’s back. Lottie froze, the knife clattering into the bowl. Ava’s hands settled on Lottie’s hips, her touch firm, possessive.
“Don’t,” Lottie breathed, but it was a pathetic sound, devoid of conviction.
Ava pressed closer, eliminating the last millimeter of space. She buried her face in Lottie’s hair, inhaling deeply. “I don't want anything from you Lottie." she whispered in her ear. "Except to take and give a little pleasure every now and then. "her voice was tender, caring. "I don't want to ruin your marriage, your life. But I have wanted you, to touch you, kiss you and yes, fuck you, for a long time. I can smell last night on you,” she murmured, her lips brushing the shell of Lottie’s ear. “In your hair. On your skin. You reek of me, Lottie. Of us.”
A shudder, violent and unbidden, racked Lottie’s body. Ava’s hands slid forward, over the soft cotton of Lottie’s robe, finding the tie and pulling it loose with a single, practiced tug. The robe fell open. Underneath, Lottie wore only a simple silk chemise. Ava’s right hand slid inside, palming her breast, her thumb finding the nipple and pinching it.
Lottie gasped, her head falling back against Ava’s shoulder. “Ava, Jess is upstairs…”
“She’s asleep,” Ava whispered, her other hand leaving Lottie’s hip to slide down, over the curve of her belly, under the hem of the chemise. “She sleeps like the dead. You know that.” Her fingers brushed through the soft blonde curls. “You’re already wet. Thinking about it made you wet, didn’t it?”
“No,” Lottie moaned, but it was a lie. She was soaked. Her body was a traitor, singing a hymn of anticipation her mind was screaming to silence.
Ava’s middle finger plunged inside her without ceremony. Lottie’s knees buckled; only Ava’s arm around her waist held her upright. “Don't lie please,” Ava breathed, her voice thick with arousal. She worked her finger in and out, the sound obscenely wet in the quiet kitchen. With her other hand, she twisted Lottie’s nipple, a sharp counterpoint to the deep, penetrating rhythm. “You loved it. Your pussy is telling me the truth right now. It’s sucking on my finger.”
The filthy language, so at odds with the sun-drenched domesticity of the kitchen, ignited something dark and hungry in Lottie. Tears of shame and intense pleasure blurred her vision. She bit down on her own knuckle to keep from crying out.
“None of that, please don't cry,” Ava commanded. Her finger ghosting Lottie's mouth.
Lottie’s eyes widened in horror, but her tongue, betrayer of betrayers, flicked out. The taste was musky, salty, uniquely her own. Ava’s gaze locked onto hers, a black fire. “Good girl,” she purred. She withdrew her fingers from Lottie’s mouth and returned them to her breast, pinching and rolling the taut peak.
Her fucking finger never stopped. It curled, scissored, pressed relentlessly against that deep, perfect spot. Lottie was panting now, her hips moving in tiny, involuntary circles, fucking herself on Ava’s hand. The orgasm was building, a terrifying avalanche in her gut. She tried to fight it, to think of Robert, of Jess, of anything but the skillful fingers destroying her.
“You’re going to come,” Ava stated, her voice a whisper against Lottie’s neck. Her own breathing was ragged; Lottie could feel the hard press of Ava’s arousal against the small of her back. “You’re going to come on my hand right here in your perfect kitchen, and you’re going to do it quietly. Don't wake Jess.”
The words were the final detonator. Lottie’s world imploded into white-hot sensation. A silent, seismic scream locked in her throat as the climax ripped through her, convulsing her around Ava’s driving fingers. Her vision spotted, her legs turned to water. She shuddered violently, a vessel emptied by force, as wave after wave of brutal pleasure electrocuted her nerves. Ava held her through it, her hand a relentless anchor, milking every last pulse until Lottie was a limp, trembling weight against her.
Slowly, Ava withdrew her fingers. She brought them to her own mouth, sucking them clean, her eyes never leaving Lottie’s stunned, tear-streaked face. “See?” she said softly, a wicked smile playing on her lips. “That's $200 you owe me now.” she smiled "$100 each orgasm."
The shrill ring of the landline phone shattered the moment like a gunshot.
Lottie jolted, scrambling to pull her robe closed, fumbling with the tie. The sound was an ice bath. Reality, with all its mundane consequences, came crashing back in. Ava, infuriatingly calm, just leaned back against the counter, watching her panic.
“Aren’t you going to get that?” Ava asked, nodding toward the phone on the wall.
It rang again, insistent. It was Robert. It was always Robert at this time on a Saturday, checking in.
Lottie wiped her face with her sleeve, took a shuddering breath, and lifted the receiver. “Hello?” Her voice was shaky, breathless.
“Lottie? You sound out of breath. Everything alright?” Robert’s voice, tinny and distant, was a rope thrown into the drowning pool of her guilt.
“Fine! I’m fine. Just… running up the stairs. Forgot the phone.” She turned her back to Ava, as if that could block out her presence. “How… how is Chicago?”
Ava didn’t move. She picked up a discarded strawberry stem, twirling it between her fingers, her gaze a physical heat on Lottie’s back.
The conversation was a pantomime of normalcy. Yes, Jess was fine. Yes, the house was fine. No, she wasn’t lonely. She answered in monosyllables, her mind screaming the truth: I just came on your step-daughter’s best friend’s fingers in our kitchen. I liked it more than I’ve ever liked anything with you.
When she finally hung up, her body was trembling with a fresh, cold terror.
She turned. Ava was still there, a statue of sensual contentment. “He’s coming home Thursday,” Lottie said, the words hollow.
Ava’s smile didn’t falter. It sharpened. “Four days,” she said, as if calculating a battle plan. She pushed off the counter and walked to Lottie, stopping just before her. She reached out and gently tucked a strand of blonde hair behind Lottie’s ear, her touch impossibly tender after the roughness. “Then we’d better make the most of them.”
Upstairs, a door opened. Footsteps, heavy with sleep, thudded toward the bathroom. Jess.
The spell broke. Lottie took a full step back, putting the butcher block island between them like a shield. She busied herself with the ruined strawberries, her heart hammering against her ribs.
Ava just watched her, that knowing smile still in place. She poured herself a glass of orange juice, leaning against the sink as if she owned the space, her body languid and satisfied. “So,” she said, her voice carrying easily across the room, casual as anything. “What’s the plan for today, Lottie? Looks like it’s going to be another scorcher.”
Lottie couldn’t speak. She could only stare at the sunbeam cutting across the floor, illuminating the space where she had just fallen apart. It felt like a crime scene. And Ava, sipping her juice, was the criminal who had already decided she’d be coming back for more.
"I have been in love with you for at least 5 years" Ava admitted moments before Jess finally joined them.
The words hung in the citrus-scented air, a seismic confession that instantly fossilized Lottie where she stood. Five years. Since she was sixteen. Lottie’s mind reeled, trying to graft this terrifying permanence onto the girl she’d driven to soccer practice, the teenager she’d comforted after breakups. The bathroom door down the hall slammed shut, the pipes groaning as the shower started.
“Don’t,” Lottie whispered, the sound ripped from a place of raw panic. She couldn’t hold that truth and look at Jess’s sleepy face. Not now. Maybe not ever.
Ava simply watched her, an archaeologist observing a carefully unearthed artifact. She picked up a scone, broke it in half. “It’s just a fact, Lottie. Like the sky being blue. Doesn’t have to change anything unless you want it to.” She took a bite, chewing slowly. The casual act was a bizarre counterpoint to the emotional crater she’d just detonated.
Jess shuffled into the kitchen ten minutes later, her hair damp, wearing oversized sweats. “God, I’m starving. You two are up early.” She went straight for the coffee pot, yawning. “What’s the vibe for today? Pool? It’s already, like, a thousand degrees.”
“Pool,” Ava said, her eyes still on Lottie. “Definitely. I need to work on my tan lines.”
Lottie busied herself with washing the knife from earlier, scrubbing at a non-existent spot. She could feel the phantom slickness between her legs, a taunting reminder. Her skin still hummed where Ava had touched her. “I have… I have the grocery order coming. And the landscapers are supposed to call.”
“So come out after,” Jess said, pouring a heaping amount of sugar into her mug. “Dad’s not here to micromanage the lawn. Let the weeds live a little.”
Lottie's mind was a mess a panic, what if Robert finds out or Jess, oh god. But she somehow managed the mundane tasks. Eventually Lottie couldn't avoid it any longer and she went outside to sit and relax. When she saw Ava on her back, eyes closed apparently asleep she almost fainted, with horror and lust..yes it was definitely lust too. The reality hit her like a brick. Jess went inside to cool off and moments later Ava sat up "Lottie , I really don't want to hurt you" she said sweetly "I've just loved you for so long I needed to touch you to feel you and see if you felt it too"
"But I did not want to, you ignore me and MADE me" Lottie spat the words , shame and anger and guilt making her harsher than she knew she should be. 'and now I'm a cheater and what about Jess?" The tears flowed and Ava saw the pain and she melted. "Forgive me Mrs Smith.." she used the more formal "I lost control, twice" her voice trembling, on the verge of tears... "It will not happen again and I will not tell a soul" Ava stood up :"I'm so sorry" and she went inside , dressed, made excuses to Jess and determined not to come to the house again. She would meet Jess anywhere else but not here. She had caused too much pain to the woman she loved ..and she was gone.
Days passed into weeks and Ava made excuses for a few days until she stopped asking.. they met at the mall, cinema , anywhere but their house. Jess secretly thought that her dad had been perving on Ava but never mentioned it.
Lottie's relief soon turned to a type of grief. When Robert was moving inside her she felt repulsed and only thought of the beautiful Latina.