Reassembling the night - Sex Stories

Reassembling the night

... "-ego?" "Yeah, that's him. Started after Saffie when Zara escaped. He's a player." Imogen giggled at Ryan's mock hurt face. "Uh Becks, he's here." "No fucking way." "Way." "At your place?" "His." "Jee-zus girl. You don't half pick 'em. Was he any good?" "Careful. Don't want his head to swell any more." "Oh, he's… there ." Ryan called out, "Hi Becky." Imogen held the phone out between them, its speaker vibrating, "Ummm, hi. Hope you're gonna take good care of her." "So do I." Imogen shoved him again. "Becks?" "Yeah." "Can you fill in any more blanks?" "Nothing I've not already told you. I'll ask around and text what I find." "Thanks." "We still on for retail therapy later?" "Defo." "OK. See you there. Don't do anything I wouldn't do." "I always do everything you wouldn't do. Square." "Slut." Imogen gave a throaty laugh, hair playing over her shoulders. "See ya." She cut the connection and dropped the phone. "So, Mr. Player. You sharking after my mates?" "I plead amnesia." "Convenient. Guess I'm the consolation prize after all the little fish got away." Was that a dig at her size? "It's not like that." "How do you know?" "Becky has me wrong," he lied. "Becky's rarely wrong. If she says you're a player, you're a player." "Anything I can do to clear my name? Prove I'm a… whatever the hell the opposite of a player is." She eyed him. Face, chest, biceps, face, in that order. "Make me breakfast in bed and we'll see." "Cereal? Toast? Eggs?" "How about eggs on toast. Scrambled." ...

... "Coffee?" "Abso-fucking-lutely." "Milk and sugar?" "Yes, and two." "Done." Ryan slid off the bed and padded across the room with a slightly accentuated swagger, knowing without looking that she'd be watching his arse leave. He hadn't realised he was ravenous until he set about breakfast, whisking a double batch of eggs and milk, salt, pepper and a dash of Cayenne for a little kick. While the eggs were firming in the pan he stuck the toast on and filled the cafetière. The strong aroma wafted past his nostrils and he salivated. In his world there were two things he never bought: part-worn tyres and cheap coffee. As he was waiting for the coffee to develop, he poked his head into the bedroom and asked if she wanted some fruit. "I've got bananas, pears, apples and Peruvian nipple fruit." "Peruvian whatnow?" "No idea, just made it up in your honour." "A pear's fine, thanks." The toast popped up and he buttered it thickly. She looked like that kind of girl. Plunging the coffee made him think of Imogen's butt again and the array of nasty things he'd love to do to it. Or perhaps had already done to it. Come on memory . He shook his head and carried the tray in, waiting for her to prop a pillow behind herself and shuffle into a sitting posture. Her tits swung invitingly and it wasn't until she cleared her throat that he realised he was staring. Imogen seemed amused. "You like puppies?" "As much as you like mixed grill." He passed the tray over and went back to fetch his, climbing into bed ...