About that coffee . . .

You laugh and say, “Of course, love.” She flushes with pleasure. “For my sake as well as yours,” you add with a grin, causing her flush to deepen. You kiss her thoroughly; she strokes your hair and your back as your tongue plays with hers.

When you break off the kiss, you say, “For the moment, I bought you something else.” You reach up, grab the coffee, and give it to her, saying, “It’s a little colder than it was supposed to be.”

Amber laughs and says, “I’ll take the trade.” She takes a long swallow. “It’s still warm enough.” She leans against you and takes another drink while you lightly caress her breast with your hand. She sets the cup down and wriggles her panties over her hips, then slides them off her legs and uses them to wipe up most of the mess. “This is getting a little uncomfortable. Why don’t we move where we can cuddle properly?”

You agree; you stand up and help her up. Once you have her to her feet, you grab a dishrag, wet it a little, and use it to mop up the rest of your combined puddle. You pick up your pants and boxers, Amber shows you where to toss the rag and her panties, and the two of you head upstairs to her bedroom. For simplicity’s sake, you both strip off the rest of your clothes and climb into bed. You sit up against the headboard; she leans against you and you hold her as she finishes her drink. You tell her about your inadvertent eavesdropping at the coffee shop, and she looks at you in disbelief.

“Him?!” she snorts. “Never in a million years. What on earth would make him think he’d have a chance with me? Just because he’s fucking my mother—she’ll bone anything with a Y chromosome if you catch her in the right mood.”

“That’s not fair,” you say. “She’s not that promiscuous, at least since I’ve known her—even if she was two-timing me—and she’s a heck of a lot pickier than that.”

“Okay,” Amber concedes, with an unwilling grin. “Still, if you’re a good sexual specimen in good financial health, she’ll give you a chance, and if you know how to fuck, she’ll keep you.”

“You do wonders for my ego,” you murmur.

Amber gives you a tilted grin and says, “I’ll be happy to do wonders for your ego later, sexy man.” She kisses you hard, takes the last swallow of her coffee, sets the empty cup on her nightstand, and slides down in bed. She draws you down with her and snuggles up against you, spooned. “The point is,” she continues, “even if you grant that my mother has standards, I have different ones. He’s good-looking, I guess, though not my type; but he’s not my type of man. Ugh. Have you heard him—well, of course you have, you just told me.”

“I’ve heard him more than once before. I’ve done a little business with him, and I’ve encountered him casually over the years. I’ve never liked him.”

“I always knew you were a man of good taste and good judgment.” She wiggles her ass against you and says, “Especially in women.”

You kiss her on the neck and reply, “Well, I don’t think my judgment in women was all that good there for a while, but it’s definitely improving.”

She turns her head to kiss you back and responds, “You always know the right thing to say. And even at that, I’ll still grant your good taste in women.” She rubs her ass against you and coos in pleasure to feel how long and hard you’ve gotten. “Up for another round?” she asks in a sultry voice.