Recollections

Smut IX

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I barge into the door, my shoulder sore from the constant nudging of a muzzle. That stallion has no idea of personal space. I shake my head at the thought, feeling my ponytail loose and hanging low. I pull it out with the hand that isn't holding a halter. My hair falls down the length of my back as I drop the halter onto a stand by the door.

"Baby?" I hear his voice echo across the entry room. I struggle to get my boots off quickly, my mind eager and wild. Chores always come first, but hell if it wasn't the longest chore-laden morning ever today. I woke up craving him, but four in the morning until seven in the morning, I'm finally walking back through my front door.

My nose is greeted with a strong breakfast aroma; fresh eggs, sizzling bacon, and the heavenly smell of pancakes. Despite my other appetite, my stomach grumbles, making me highly aware that my body is also craving sugar and protein.

"Breakfast is ready just now," He announces. I smile and hurry around the corner to the right, opening into our kitchen and dining room. I take a deep inhale in, humming my reaction. His eyes fall on me as he turns around, his lips pulling up in a smile. "Rough morning?"

"Yes," I reply in dismissal. I have no desire to talk about that stud horse of ours.

"Well, have some breakfast to cheer you up," He offers, following me to the table, pulling out my chair and letting me sit as he sets the plate down in front of me. I opt to grab the cup of coffee I left on the table this morning.

I bite my tongue as we sit, my mind repeating my unsaid taunt, "I want you for breakfast." I press my lips together so I don't giggle at the thought of it. I drop one hand to my thigh, leaning forward to put pressure against my leg, keeping my mind distracted as I eat breakfast and talk to my husband.

Once I finish the food, I get up and put the plate in the sink, downing the final bit of my now-very-cold coffee. I put the mug beside the sink and reach up for the wash cloth hanging from the cabinet. I rub against the edge of the sink, making me bite my lip. Suddenly my mind lights up like a Christmas tree, image after image racing in me. The smallest pressure and my mind is running wild.

"Baby?"

"Hm?" I hum, swirling around to meet his eye contact. "What?"

"Did you hear anything I just said? Or asked?"

"Uh," I hesitate. I try to tell him yes, but I can't bring myself to say it. I decide to be honest and tell him no, but nothing I want to say is said. I just close my mouth and shake my head instead. My left hand grips the edge of the counter, my heart racing from my thoughts, my right hand holding tightly to the wash rag like my life depends on it.

My eyes find his for only a moment, something in me begging for him to see how I crave him. I force my eyes to glance around; absolutely anywhere that isn't catching his own gaze. That gaze is more like a stare at this point, questioning and curious.

I swallow harshly, trying to pull myself together. Then his eyebrow quirks up. Now I know there is no going back. His eyes look me up and down, but I notice his eyes train onto one thing. Whether it's my hips, my hand gripping the counter, or my entire pelvic area, I couldn't say. I keep my mouth shut as his eyes glance back up to mine.

"Baby," He says simply.

"Hm?"

"Is there something you're wanting to tell me?"

"No," I blurt. His eyes squint at me. He stands up and stalks over to me. I shuffle my feet together, willing myself to sit still. His pupils grow wide, the black taking up most of his eye color. I grip the counter harder, really keeping myself pressed against the counter and cupboards.