Chapter 2: The Experiment
The bedroom was bathed in the soft, honeyed glow of a single desk lamp plugged into the wall beside Margot’s nightstand, its light pooling across their rumpled sheets in a warm, golden ellipse. The air smelled faintly of her perfume—something floral and dusky, like jasmine and leather, the kind of scent that clung to skin long after it was applied. Outside, the quiet of the Boston suburb wrapped around the house like a thick blanket, muffling the distant hum of a lawnmower and the occasional chirp of a cricket. Within these four walls, though, the silence wasn’t empty.
Derek couldn't believe what was happening. It had been years since his wife had initiated sex and his small cock was already aching in desire as she led him towards the bed.
He followed her willingly, even eagerly, as if pulled by an invisible thread.
Margot pushed him onto the mattress and climbed on top of him, her knees straddling his hips as she reached for his belt. She wasn't gentle this time. Her fingers worked fast, unbuttoning his pants with practiced ease, freeing his cock which was already half-hard in his boxers.
Derek moaned softly as Margot wrapped her fingers around his length, her touch firm and confident. She squeezed him lightly, testing his reaction, before leaning down to press her lips against his.
Their kiss deepened quickly, Margot’s tongue sliding between his lips with a confidence he rarely felt.
Derek groaned into her mouth, his hips lifting involuntarily as she stroked him, her fingers moving with slow, deliberate precision. He was already hard and the way she handled him made his breath catch. He had to struggle to hold back.
She pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, her own gaze dark and assessing. "You like that?" she murmured, her voice a velvet rasp against the silence.
Derek swallowed hard, his cheeks flushing. "Yeah," he admitted, his voice rough with something like shame. He hated how easily she could reduce him to this—helpless, hungry, *exposed*.
But the truth was, he loved it. Loved the way her fingers curled around him, the way her thumb brushed over the sensitive underside of his cock, the way her hips rolled against his even as she worked him.
Margot released him long enough to shimmy out of her robe, letting it pool at her waist before she pressed her bare chest against his. His hands found her waist instinctively, his palms mapping the dip of her spine, the flare of her hips. She was warm, soft in all the right places, and when she rocked against him, his cock twitched between them.
Derek groaned, his hips lifting off the mattress in answer.
Margot’s smile was slow and knowing as she pushed his shirt up past his ribs, her nails scraping lightly over his stomach—still soft from years at a desk, still pliant under her touch. She dipped her head to his nipple, her warm mouth closing around the sensitive peak, her teeth grazing just enough to make him whimper.
“God,” he breathed, his fingers tangling in her auburn hair. He felt drunk on her attention, on the way her thighs gripped his hips, on the weight of her body pressing him deeper into the mattress.
Derek looked up at his wife. Her full, lush breasts were right in front of his face and he ran his hands over her curvy hips and ass as she squirmed on top of him.
He groaned, his cock aching between them, already leaking with need. Margot guided his mouth to her nipple and he eagerly took it between his lips.
Derek sucked hard, swirling his tongue over the sensitive peak, feeling her shiver above him before he pulled back and blew a slow stream of hot breath across her wet skin. Margot gasped and her nails dug into his shoulders as she ground her dripping pussy against his abs.
“Fuck, you’re so wet already,” he murmured against her breast, his voice thick with awe and desire.
The words slipped out before he could stop them, but Margot only moaned, her hips rolling harder against him, her thighs slick with arousal.
“You like that?” she teased, her voice low and breathy as she rolled her hips again, pressing her dripping folds against his stomach. “You like knowing how bad I want this?”
Derek swallowed hard, his cock throbbing between them. “Yeah,” he admitted, his fingers tightening on her hips. “But I want to taste you first.”
Margot’s breath hitched at the words, her thighs trembling as she shifted back slightly, giving him room to slide down the bed.
She hovered over his face, her arousal glistening in the lamplight, thick and fragrant. Derek exhaled sharply through his nose, his hands gripping her thighs as if they were the only thing keeping him anchored to reality.
Derek stared at his wife's swollen pussy. He loved her thick bush of curly pubic hair, the way her thick lips lay open and exposed in front of him.
His mouth descended between her legs with a hunger that made Margot’s back arch off his chest. He ran his tongue slowly up from the bottom to the top, tasting her salty tang and running the flat of his tongue across her protruding clit.
He loved servicing her like this. It was the only way he knew to truly please her. His tongue was hot and eager, lapping at her with slow, deliberate strokes that made her whimper. He groaned against her, the vibration sending shivers through her core, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her thighs as he pulled her closer.
Margot’s fingers tangled in his sandy blonde hair, her nails scraping lightly against his scalp as she guided him, her hips rolling in slow, teasing circles against his mouth.
Derek’s tongue was relentless—swirling, flicking, pressing just where she needed it most. He moaned against her, the sound muffled but desperate, as if he were starving for her taste. His free hand slid up her body, gripping her ass, his fingertips pressing into the curve of her hip with a possessiveness that made her gasp.
“Fuck,” Margot breathed, her voice raw with pleasure as she ground herself against his face. She could feel his cock twitch between his legs, already hard again, desperate for release.
His tongue was relentless, drawing slow licks up the length of her pussy before circling her clit with slow, torturous precision. She arched her back, her nails digging into his shoulders as she rode his face. The wet sounds filled the room, a symphony of slick flesh and desperate moans.
Derek’s free hand slid up to cup her ass, his fingers kneading the soft curve with a hunger that made Margot gasp. Her thighs trembled around his ears as she chased her orgasm, her hips rolling in slow, grinding circles against his mouth.
“That’s it,” Margot gasped, her voice thick with need. “Just like that, baby.
Don’t stop—”
Derek groaned, the vibration sending fresh shivers through her core. His tongue worked her with relentless precision, his hands anchoring her hips as if she might fly apart at any moment. Margot’s head fell back, her auburn hair spilling over her shoulders like a waterfall of fire in the lamplight.
She rode his face harder, her thighs trembling, her breath coming in sharp little pants. “Oh God, Derek, I’m gonna—”
She didn’t finish. The words dissolved into a broken cry as pleasure crashed over her, her pussy clenching around nothing, her body trembling with the force of it.
She rode his mouth through the orgasm, her hips stuttering in sharp little jerks, her nails digging into his shoulders hard enough to leave crescent marks. His name spilled from her lips in a ragged moan, her back arching off the mattress as wave after wave of ecstasy tore through her.
Derek didn’t stop. He kept lapping at her, slow and thorough, drawing out every last shudder, every tremble. His hands gripped her thighs, holding her open, worshiping her through the aftershocks.
The taste of her was everywhere—salt and honey, musk and surrender.
Margot’s breath came in uneven gasps as the last tremors faded. She slid down his body, reached down and guided his throbbing cock into her hot wet center.
She positioned herself over him and slowly sank down, taking him fully in one fluid motion. Derek groaned, his hands gripping her hips as she began to ride him with slow, deep strokes.
As usual, Derek's small size did little to please her, but Margot had another agenda. She rolled her hips as she went up and down maximizing the friction for her husband. She wanted him to cum quickly.
She wanted him to collapse back against the sheets, sated and spent, while she remained unsatisfied. She wanted to see the look on his face when he realized she still hadn't cum yet.
"So good," Margot murmured, her voice thick with false enthusiasm as she rode him. She leaned forward, her hands pressing against his chest, her tits bouncing with each deep thrust. She could feel him hardening even more inside her, his cock twitching as he approached his orgasm.
Derek groaned beneath her, his hands gripping her hips tighter, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he chased his release.
Margot could see the tension coiling in his body, the way his breath hitched, the way his eyes squeezed shut in concentration. She matched his rhythm, rolling her hips with slow, deliberate precision not for her own pleasure, but to hasten his. The friction was minimal for her—his length was modest at best—but she could tell from his ragged breathing and the way his fingers dug into her skin that he was close.
It took less than two minutes before Derek’s body tensed beneath her, his back arching off the mattress as a choked moan tore from his throat. His release pulsed inside her, shallow and unsatisfying, but Margot kept her face carefully neutral, biting her lip to hide her disappointment.
She continued grinding against him, milking the last of his orgasm from him with slow, methodical circles of her hips, prolonging the contact until his body finally went limp beneath hers.
Derek exhaled shakily, his fingers loosening their grip on her waist as his cock softened inside her. His face was flushed, his chest rising and falling rapidly from exertion, his expression one of dazed satisfaction. Margot could feel the sticky warmth of his release leaking between them but made no move to pull away.
Instead, she leaned forward, her hands flattening against his chest as she bent slightly, bringing her mouth to his ear. "I need you to finish me off baby. With your mouth." Margot’s voice was a silken command, her breath hot against Derek’s ear as she whispered the words. She already felt his cock twitch inside her, his body responding to the heat of her demand before his mind could catch up. The lamp’s glow painted her skin in golden hues, her auburn hair spilling over his chest like a veil of fire. The scent of her—jasmine and musk and the faint salt of sweat—filled his nose, intoxicating him.
Derek swallowed hard, his chest still rising and falling in sharp, uneven breaths. His fingers flexed against her waist, uncertain.
“Margot—”
She silenced him with a slow, deliberate roll of her hips, her wetness dragging along his softened cock just enough to make his breath hitch. The movement was small, possessive, a reminder of who controlled the moment. “Please,” she murmured, her voice softer now, but no less commanding. “I need it.”
Derek hesitated for one heartbeat, two—long enough for Margot to feel the faintest tremor run through him, the way his body betrayed him even as his mind raced. But then he exhaled, his fingers sliding from her waist to the mattress, his palms pressing into the sheets as if bracing himself. A nod was all it took.
Margot slid back just enough to let him move, her thighs parting for him as he slipped from between her legs with a quiet, shuddering breath. The absence of his body against hers felt deliberate, a pause in the symphony of their coupling. Derek knelt between her thighs, his boyish face now softened by something raw and unguarded. His gaze traced the curve of her hip, the way her skin dimpled under his stare, the slick evidence of her arousal glistening in the lamplight.
Margot propped herself up on her elbows, watching him with an intensity that made Derek’s throat tighten.
She parted her thighs further, giving him an unobstructed view—her thighs glistening, her pussy swollen and pink from their sex. Derek could see his cum dripping out of her swollen pussy and down to her exposed asshole.
Derek swallowed hard, his fingers trembling as he reached for her. He parted her lips with two fingers, exposing the honeyed heat of her, the way she was still so wet from their earlier play. He leaned down, his breath hot against her skin before his tongue finally connected.
Margot gasped as his mouth found her again, his tongue flicking over her clit with hesitant precision.
The contrast was stark—his earlier fervor replaced now by something more uncertain, more *reverent*. He lapped at her like a man worshipping a shrine, his hands gripping her thighs so tightly his knuckles paled.
"Fuck," Margot breathed, her hips lifting involuntarily as he teased her swollen flesh. She could feel his cock twitch where it rested against the mattress beneath him—a small, unremarkable thing that nonetheless betrayed his arousal at being so close to her again.
Margot grabbed his head and guided it lower, pulling him into her sopping wet pussy. "Lap up your cum baby. It turns me on." Margot shifted her hips, pushing herself against his mouth with a confidence that caught Derek off guard. He moaned into her, the vibration sending fresh heat pooling between her thighs. His tongue, once hesitant, now moved with an urgency that surprised them both.
Derek's face was buried between Margot's thighs, his tongue working her with a fervor that bordered on desperation. He lapped at her folds, cleaning up the mess of his own orgasm, tasting himself mingling with her arousal. Each swipe of his tongue drew out another shudder from Margot, her breath coming in sharp little gasps.
Margot watched him, her fingers twisting in his sandy blonde hair as she pressed his face deeper into her.
The way he groaned against her flesh sent a fresh wave of heat rushing through her.
"That's it baby. Get it all. Every last drop." she purred, rocking her hips in slow circles against his mouth as he eagerly cleaned her. His tongue swirled around her clit with a desperation that made her thighs tremble.
Derek moaned again, his hands gripping her thighs so tightly his fingers ached. He couldn't believe this was happening. It was like his fantasies were coming true. Was she really enjoying this?
That thought also circled Margot’s mind like a moth trapped against glass as Derek’s tongue worked between her legs with a devotion that bordered on reverent worship.
She watched his boyish face—now flushed pink, his sandy blonde hair tousled where her fingers had tangled in it—bent between her thighs. The sight was absurdly intimate, the way his ears pinked, the way his shoulders hunched slightly as if trying to make himself smaller despite the way she was practically riding his face now.
“That’s it,” Margot murmured, her voice breathless. Now go lower. Get my ass clean too.” she moaned raising her hips further to give him access.
The words sounded dirty even to her own ears but Derek’s muffled groan against her flesh told her he was loving every last second of it. The shameful urge to be truly filthy with him—something she had never allowed herself before—washed over her in a hot, unexpected wave.
His tongue obeyed without hesitation, dragging a slow, wet line from her dripping pussy all the way to the puckered ring of her asshole, lapping it clean with shaky reverence. The sensation was shocking, forbidden, and Margot couldn’t suppress the broken gasp that tore from her throat. Her nails dug into his scalp, holding his mouth right where she wanted it as he circled her with careful, devoted strokes.
"Jesus, Derek..." she gasped, her hips lifting involuntarily. The nightstand lamp cast long, golden shadows across the ceiling, making the room feel like a private theater where nothing existed beyond the two of them.
Derek’s moan vibrated against her skin, his fingers dug into the soft flesh of her ass as he pulled her closer, as if starving for more. His reluctance had vanished, replaced by the same hunger Margot had sensed beneath his careful façade all these years. She could feel the bed rocking as he humped the mattress, betraying his arousal even as he worshipped her.
"You like that," Margot murmured, watching his flushed face as he cleaned her thoroughly.
The way his tongue worked her, dutiful and yet trembling with barely contained excitement, told her everything she needed to know. The longer he stayed between her legs, the more his own arousal seemed to grow. The mattress beneath him showed the evidence—his cock twitching, restless against the sheets.
Margot couldn’t resist teasing him further. "I think you're going to cum again," she observed, her voice low and amused. "Go ahead, jerk yourself off while you lick the cum out of my asshole."
Margot’s voice was a velvet rasp, her words dripping with dark amusement. The late hour wrapped itself around them like a familiar blanket, the only light coming from the desk lamp—now tilted in a way that cast long, satiny shadows across Derek’s flushed skin. The scent of sex hung heavy in the air, mingling with the faint musk of Margot’s perfume and the salty-sweetness of her arousal.
Derek hesitated, his fingers twitching at his sides. The request sent a jolt of heat straight to his groin, his cock already half-hard against the mattress. He swallowed hard, his gaze flicking up to meet Margot’s. She was watching him with an intensity that made his pulse stutter.
Throwing caution to the wind, Derek reached between his legs and grabbed his small cock, jerking it as he stuck his tongue as far up her ass as he could.
Margot’s taste—her musky sweetness—mingled with the forbidden thrill of what they were doing, and his cock throbbed in his grip. He could feel his balls tightening already, pleasure coiling deep in his gut. The sloppy sounds of his mouth working her clean, the wet slap of his fist against his own shaft, the way Margot’s thighs trembled around his ears—it was all too much.
Margot propped herself up on her elbows, her auburn hair framing her flushed face as she watched him. The sight of her husband—usually so reserved—jerking himself off while burying his face between her legs was obscenely hot, awakening something primal in her.
And when she felt his tongue press against her tightest entrance, she couldn’t suppress the guttural moan that tore from her throat.
“Christ—*Derek*,” she gasped, her fingers twisting in his hair so hard he yelped. The sting of pain mixed with pleasure sent another wave of heat flooding through her. She arched her back, forcing herself deeper onto his mouth, her thighs trembling as his tongue pushed inside her with hesitant, drunken strokes. The sensation of being *so* thoroughly cleaned, so thoroughly served, sent shivers down her spine.
Derek groaned, the vibration making her clit pulse and she found herself having another orgasm.
She could feel his tongue pressing deeper inside her as the waves washed over her, his own cock jerking violently in his hand as he matched her climax with one of his own.
Margot cried out, her back arching off the bed as another orgasm tore through her, her fingers clawing at his scalp.
As she came down from her orgasm, she looked down and saw Derek laying with his face between her thighs and a wet spot beneath him betraying his own orgasm.
Derek couldn't look his wife in the face. Now that his orgasm was over, the shame washed over him. He had cum so quickly again, this time with his face buried in his wife's asshole. He pulled back from between her thighs, his face flushed with humiliation and arousal. He looked down at the wet spot on the bed where he had climaxed, his small cock still twitching in his hand.
Margot studied him with an intensity that made Derek's throat tighten. She reached out, her fingers brushing against his cheek, and he flinched involuntarily.
"Hey," she murmured, her voice softening as she cupped his face. "Look at me."
Derek swallowed hard, but he couldn't meet her gaze. He felt exposed, vulnerable in a way he hadn't in years.
The damp spot on the sheets was proof of his humiliation, his small cock still twitching weakly against his thigh. He wanted to pull away, to bury himself in the covers, but Margot's hand stayed where it was, warm and steady against his cheek.
"Hey," she murmured again, her voice soothing.
Derek exhaled shakily, his fingers curling into the sheets. The shame burned hotter than the arousal, but beneath it lurked something else—something he hadn't felt in a long time. *Liberation.*
Margot waited, her thumb brushing lightly over his cheekbone. She didn't rush him, didn't push.
She simply waited, her gaze unwavering, her thumb tracing slow circles against his flushed skin. The room had quieted to the steady rhythm of their breathing—the soft hitch of Margot’s inhale, the uneven exhale of Derek’s shame.
Finally, Derek forced himself to look up. His sandy-blonde hair was damp at the temples, his boyish face flushed pink beneath the stubble he’d forgotten to shave this morning. His green eyes, usually warm but guarded, were wide and uncertain. Margot’s thumb paused on his cheek. She didn’t speak right away. She just let him sit in the silence, knowing silence often spoke louder than words.
The weight of what had just happened hung between them—not just the physical acts, but the unspoken shift in their dynamic. Margot had tasted something tonight. Something she hadn’t realized was missing. Not just pleasure, but *control*. And Derek? He’d tasted surrender. Again.
Margot finally broke the quiet, her voice soft but not tentative. “That was nice,” she said, her lips curling into a small, knowing smile. She let her hand linger on his cheek a moment longer before pulling away, her fingers trailing down to brush against his chest. “Nice enough that I think we should do this again.”
Derek flinched at the casualness of it, his brows knitting together. He expected judgment.
Disgust. *Condemnation*. Instead, Margot’s voice was light, almost amused, as if she were suggesting they order takeout.
Derek’s throat worked. “You—you really liked that?”
Margot’s smile deepened, slow and deliberate. She reached down, her fingers curling around his spent cock. It twitched weakly at her touch. “I liked it *a lot*,” she said, giving him a few slow pumps. His cheeks burned as her grip tightened, her thumb brushing over the sensitive underside.
The way she handled him—confident, possessive—and the quiet approval in her voice sent a jolt of heat through him.
“Yeah,” he admitted, voice rough. “I—I liked it too.”
A beat of silence pulsed between them. The air still carried the musk of sex, the dampness of their bodies cooling on the sheets. Margot’s fingers didn’t let go.
“Good,” she said simply. “Because I want to do it again. And again. And maybe… maybe other things.”
Derek’s breath hiccupped. He wanted to ask—*What other things?*—but the words lodged in his throat.
Instead, he blinked up at her, his boyish face transforming under the lamplight—confusion and longing twisting into something raw and wondering.*
Margot’s thumb traced slow circles on the sensitive skin beneath his cock, making his hips jerk involuntarily. The bed creaked softly beneath them, the only sound in the hush of the room. Outside, a distant car alarm wailed for three seconds before cutting off abruptly, startling the silence like a punctuation mark.
“Let's see explore and see where things lead Derek,” Margot murmured, her voice dropping into a tone that sent a shiver through him. “Now, why don't you go fix me breakfast. I'm famished.”
Margot’s mouth curved into a wicked smile as she reached for the sheet, pulling it up just enough to cover herself before sitting up. Her fingers trailed down Derek’s chest, over the soft swell of his belly, before finally wrapping around his wrist. She tugged him gently.
A flush still warmed Derek’s cheeks, but beneath it, something darker stirred. His gaze flicked toward the bedroom door, then back at Margot. For twelve years, he'd followed the scripts of routine—the same dinners, the same passive evenings, the same careful avoidance of anything that might unsettle their carefully balanced life. But this morning, the rules had changed. And he wasn’t sure if he was terrified or exhilarated. He swung his legs off the bed and stood, his small cock still glistening with his cum.
As he left the room, Margot leaned back in bed considering what had just happened. She had confirmed his fantasies were real. He enjoyed serving her, eating cum, being humiliated. It was enlightening. How far could she take this? Could she really have sex with other men? How would he respond?
Margot wondered, tracing the edge of the sheet with her fingertip.
She rolled onto her side, her curves pressing into the mattress, the cool fabric of the bed sheet contrasting with the heat still radiating from her skin. The lamp next to her nightstand cast a soft half-circle of light, just enough to see the faint smile playing on her lips. The room smelled of sweat and perfume and something else—something electric.
Derek’s footsteps faded down the hallway, slow and hesitant, like a man walking toward a future he couldn’t quite picture. Margot exhaled through her nose, a quiet laugh trembling in her throat.
The way Derek had followed her command—barefoot and trembling, his small cock still glistening—to fix breakfast was both absurd and intoxicating. She rolled onto her back, stretching her arms overhead with a slow arch of her spine, her fingers brushing the headboard. The dampness between her thighs reminded her of everything that had just happened—everything that might happen.
She swung her legs off the bed, her bare feet sinking into the plush rug beside her. The house was quiet except for the hum of the refrigerator downstairs and the occasional creak of the old Victorian wood beams settling. Margot padded to the bathroom, flicking on the light and catching her reflection in the mirror.
Her auburn hair was wild, her lips swollen, her green eyes bright with something she hadn't seen in years—excitement. She turned on the shower, letting the water heat while she brushed her teeth, the minty foam lingering on her tongue as she tasted Derek there too.
The bathroom filled with steam as she stepped under the scalding spray, letting the water pound against her shoulders. She closed her eyes and imagined the scene downstairs—Derek in the kitchen, scrambling eggs with trembling hands, his small cock still semi-hard from their bedroom activities.
An image of Jake suddenly filled her mind. Was it really possible to have sex with Jake and keep her husband? She imagined Jake looking at her with desire. Imagined a thick cock stretching her and filling her the way she hadn't felt in years.
She envisioned Jake's body slick with sweat, his hands gripping her hips as he pounded into her. The thought made her moan softly under the water, her fingers sliding down to tease her clit as she imagined it was Jake's mouth on her.
The image was so vivid she could almost feel the weight of another man's body on hers, the rough texture of his chest hair against her skin, the way his breath would hitch as he buried himself inside her.
Margot gasped as her fingers worked faster, her hips rocking against her own touch as she imagined Jake's thick cock sliding in and out of her dripping pussy.
She could practically feel his hands gripping her ass, pulling her closer as he thrust into her with deep, powerful strokes.
The water rained down on her, hot and relentless, as her fantasy spiraled out of control. She thought about the way Jake would look at her during meetings—those dark, hungry eyes that lingered just a second too long. She pictured his full lips parting as he groaned her name, his voice rough with desire.
Her free hand braced against the shower wall, fingers curling against the slick tiles as her breathing grew ragged. The steam rose around her, thickening the air until it felt like Jake's arms were wrapping around her from every direction.
Margot’s fingers moved faster, her wrist twisting in tight circles as she imagined his cock stretching her, filling her in ways Derek never had. The fantasy was vivid—Jake’s hands rough on her thighs, his hips slamming against hers, the wet slap of skin against skin echoing in her ears like a dirty soundtrack.
A quiet moan escaped her lips, lost beneath the drum of the shower. She arched her back, pressing her breasts against the cool tile as her fingers found the perfect rhythm, mimicking the imagined thrust of Jake’s hips. She could almost smell his cologne—warm amber and spice—mingling with the musk of sweat and sex that always clung to a man after exertion.
She exploded into another orgasm, her legs quaking as the water spilled over her.
Margot leaned heavily against the shower wall while the last tremors faded, her forehead pressing against the cool tile. The image of Jake's body pressing against hers lingered like a ghost.
Margot turned off the shower, wrapping herself in the thick white towel. She brushed her auburn hair, running the brush through the damp strands while staring at her reflection in the foggy mirror. She barely recognized herself. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright with something akin to hunger.
Stepping into her bedroom, she pulled on a silky emerald green robe that matched her eyes. She padded downstairs where she found Derek in the kitchen, his boyish face flushed as he scrambled eggs with more concentration than necessary.
The toaster popped, and the scent of coffee mingled with the faint perfume still clinging to her skin. He looked up when she entered, his gaze flicking to the robe draped open just enough to tease at the swell of her chest.
Derek cleared his throat, his fingers tightening around the spatula. "Scrambled or over easy?"
Margot leaned against the kitchen island, crossing one leg over the other. The robe slid open slightly, revealing the curve of her hip. "Surprise me." Her voice was light, playful, but her green eyes held a quiet intensity as she watched him.
Derek cleared his throat again, his boyish face flushing deeper. He finished her eggs and slid them onto a plate. Margot sat down and watched him as he rushed around finalizing her breakfast. He buttered her toast, poured her orange juice, and delivered her finished breakfast to her like she was a queen. The whole time, she noticed the faint outline of his small cock straining against the thin fabric of his pajama pants as he served her.
Margot bit her lip to keep from smiling.
"Thanks babe," she purred, deliberately letting the robe gap open wider as she reached for her fork. A slow smirk tugged at her lips as she watched his Adam’s apple bob when he swallowed hard. She could definitely get used to this.