Bargaining Over Breakfast

Bargaining Over Breakfast

Read about the author Elly Jones

I have been dodging Sophia’s calls for weeks now, texting her vague excuses for my absence, and avoiding her many date ideas. At first, it wasn’t that much of a challenge. I happily ignored the niggling resentment in the back of my mind and threw myself into enjoying the return of Mr. Divine.

He had taken a little time off work to focus on the kids and me. It has all been rather blissful. Still, the more I heard from Sophia, and the more I skirted around telling her what Mr. Divine and I had agreed on, the more I missed her. I missed her energy, that lightening bolt feeling that she brought out in me and all her shameless flirting. She was addictive and I was craving her.

I started to casually bring her up in conversation again. Mentioning a message here or there, telling him about her silly jokes; trying to include him, reminding him that there was nothing we couldn’t share.

We had been chatting about her one morning over coffee and croissants. He had been much more receptive of the subject as of late, and I knew what I wanted; I wanted her back. In some capacity, I wanted her back in my life. I ruffled his thick hair as I carried another cup of coffee over to the table, bending down to kiss him and feeling the rough stubble of his unshaven face against my soft skin.

Settling back down into my seat, I cleared my throat and threw the idea out there as casually as I could; “what about inviting her for dinner, then?”

He looked at me over his coffee mug, one eyebrow cocked in that devilish way I love. He was hesitant, but not all together horrified by the idea. I proposed a very low-key dinner. I’d cook for us here; we’d ask my parents to have the children for the evening, and we would just talk. I wanted him to feel like he was part of whatever it was Sophia and I were doing, or wanted to do, and to remind him that this was once something we both encouraged. We talked intentions, boundaries, what had already happened and what I perhaps wanted to happen. It felt completely natural to speak so openly with him about my desires, but there was something about discussing our compromises that felt somewhat business like. Still, he was calm, fair and completely lovely; as always.

I got up from my seat and draped myself over his lap, feeling his thighs tense beneath me as I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him deeply. He sighed as our lips parted and pushed my bed hair back behind my ears; “if this is what you want, then I’d like to see it happen”.

He kissed me hard, and his hands moved from my neck and worked their way down, opening my robe and roaming my body. Little goosebumps began to appear across my skin and a shiver ran down my spine, I couldn’t tell if it was the morning chill or the feeling of his tongue now making its way across my collarbone and down to my breasts. It was breakfast time, but I knew what I was really hungry for.

His tongue circled my nipples, and I threw my head back as I shifted in his lap, feeling him get hard beneath me. He lifted us both from his seat and placed me on the side of the kitchen table, spreading my legs as I untied his dressing gown, releasing his hard cock as he kissed me. I took him in my hands and massaged him, stroking back and forth and watching him look down at me with total desire. He spread my legs further and let out a deep moan as he felt how wet I was for him. His fingers worked against my clitoris and I squirmed on the table-top, moaning softly into his mouth, our foreheads pressed against each other.

His hands were my favourite part of him. He played me like a piano, stroking my keys and hitting all the right notes; he was masterful. The way he used his thumb to stroke my swollen clitoris had me quaking on the table, his fingers inside me coaxing out a deeper orgasm. It ripped through me and I clung on to the table as he watched me jolt with pleasure.

He gripped my hips and pulled me closer, slipping inside me as I let out a gasp. He held me close as he thrust inside me again, and again. I wrapped my legs around his waist and clung on to his buttocks. He moved inside me as my mind conjured all of its usual delights. Thoughts of him, thoughts of us and the way he makes me feel. Thoughts of Sophia flicker into my mind. Her hand in mine, the smell of her hair, the taste of her lips. My teeth sunk into Mr. Divines shoulder and I felt him finish inside me. He took my face in his hands and kissed me again. I don’t know how long we stayed there, still wrapped up in each other, but I know our coffee was stone-cold and spilled.

Later that day, I messaged Sophia and invited her over for dinner for the following weekend. She was, of course, delighted to accept the invite and that rush of excitement ran through me. It felt like I hadn’t seen her in forever, kissing her felt like a lifetime ago, and the idea of both her and Mr. Divine in the same room together was both exciting and somewhat terrifying.

I spent the next week fidgeting and fretting about dinner. What should I cook? What should I wear? Would it be awkward? Does she still fancy me? Question after question ran through my mind, and I scolded myself for acting like a fifteen-year-old preparing for her first date. Mr. Divine found it all rather amusing, smirking at me as I flicked through recipe books and muttered to myself while going through my wardrobe. He lovingly mocked me in a way that made me feel so much better about the entire situation, he seemed to be a lot more relaxed about it all, he even asked what kind of wine she liked and whether he should book her a taxi or not.

After what felt like the longest week of my life, the kids were at my parents, there was a shoulder of lamb roasting in the oven, and I was having a minor breakdown in front of my wardrobe. I had worked myself into a frenzy and convinced myself that I looked terrible in everything I owned. I could feel the tears coming, and I tried to take a couple of deep breaths. Then I felt his arms wrap around my waist and that familiar warmth of his body against mine. He rested his chin on top of my head and gently rocked me from side to side.

“Wear the green dress, the silk one. It looks beautiful on you. She’ll love it”

I sighed and leant back against him, so grateful for him and his calming presence, his loving words. He was my husband, and he was all I needed. Everything else was a bonus. I thanked him, and he kissed the top of my head, then left me to change. I slipped into the green dress, it does look great on me, and threw on some small heels. A swipe of lipstick and a few squirts of perfume, and I was ready. I looked myself over in the mirror and took a deep breath.

The doorbell rang, and I heard Mr. Divine’s footsteps make their way to a waiting Sophia. Ready or not; here we go.