Honey Lemon's (not that) soft morning: 320+ images in download-link

The kitchen was already filled with sunlight when I padded in — barefoot, sleepy-eyed, wearing nothing but my little tank top and those cotton shorts you love.

I still felt warm from sleep. My thighs ached softly. My body was humming with that post-dream energy… the kind that doesn’t fade easily.

I started the coffee, humming to myself, hips swaying as I cracked eggs into a bowl, the sizzle of the pan already rising. I felt your presence before I even heard you — the weight of your gaze lingering on my legs, my hips, the thin fabric hugging every curve.

“You’re staring,” I teased, not looking back. “I haven’t even made toast yet.”

You didn’t answer right away. I felt you instead — arms wrapping around my waist, chest pressing against my back, lips brushing just behind my ear. A soft shiver ran through me.

“Couldn’t help it,” you murmured.

Your hands slid beneath my shirt, cupping my breasts — warm, full, no bra. I arched into your touch, my breath catching in my throat. I forgot all about the eggs.

“You’re not really here for breakfast, are you?” I whispered, grinding my hips back into you.

You didn’t need to say a word.

Your hands moved lower, tugging at the waistband of my shorts, slipping between my legs with practiced ease. I gasped, gripping the edge of the counter, already soaked for you. I didn’t even try to hide it.

When you pushed my shorts down, I stepped out of them without hesitation.

You bent me over the counter, slow and firm, my chest pressing into the cool surface as I spread my legs for you. I heard your zipper, felt the way your hands grabbed my hips, and then — just heat.

You pushed inside me slowly, deeply, filling me until my breath hitched and my knees trembled.

“God,” I moaned. “Just like that…”

You didn’t rush. You owned me.

The kitchen filled with the sound of skin, moans, breath — the scent of coffee mixing with sweat and pleasure. My hands scrambled for something to hold onto. My body rocked against yours, desperate, wild, loving the way you took me like I was breakfast.

Every thrust pushed me closer. I was already losing control, whining your name, arching back, mouth open and needy.

And when I came, it was hard — toes curling, voice breaking, whole body shaking beneath your grip.

You held me there, panting, both of us shining in the morning light, the smell of forgotten eggs in the air.

I looked over my shoulder and smirked.

“Okay… now I’m hungry.”

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