First Base
17
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I wish every Saturday morning could be as delightful as this—brimming with laughter, playful banter, and the joint effort of breakfast prep with my Special human. Side by side, we tackle our shared task: he expertly chops peppers and onions, while I spread butter on the bread. His culinary skills don’t surprise me; I’ve long known about them since our days at Hopewell Uni.
We move around each other with practiced ease, our bodies occasionally brushing, sending tiny sparks of electricity through my skin. Simple tasks like cracking the egg take on a different meaning when his fingers brush against mine to help remove a stubborn piece of shell.
When he places another batch of buttered bread in the machine, the sizzling sound of bread as it crisps up in the toaster, accompanied by the rich aroma of butter makes my mouth water in anticipation .
“You know,” he starts while we wait for the bread to get properly toasted, “I’ve always dreamt of us cooking together, just like this. I’m glad you chose to surprise me.”
I smile arrogantly, choosing to make it hard for him. “Finally, he admits it.” Our eyes meet, and in that moment, it’s as if time slows down.
His gaze lingers a beat longer, and he smiles, shaking his head as though tossing an idea away. “You look so small in my shirt.”
Tucking my hands in the tummy pockets, I chest out. “You’re just jealous because it fits me better.”
As we set the table together, his fingers brush my wrist, a touch so fleeting yet potent that it leaves me breathless. It’s as if the air is charged with a different kind of energy, one that tugs at the edges of desire. Something is in this UK air, because I swear, I’ve never felt this way before.
We sit across from each other at his coffee table with breakfast spread before us. Turns out he had cucumber, avocado which he calls pear—I’m guessing it’s the Port Harcourt boy in him—that I could savage to make our meal look decent. As we eat and talk, I admire his mannerisms.
When we finish breakfast and clear the table, our eyes meet once more and there’s a knowing look in his gaze.
Ignore it.
Smile and ignore him.
I attempt to walk out of the kitchen to get my phone which I’m surprised I haven’t looked at since I woke up, but his hand holds mine and I turn to look at him.
“This is my best breakfast so far. I had a wonderful time,” he says, his voice soft yet filled with meaning.
Wearing a small smile, I nod, unable to tear my gaze away from his. “Me too.”
As usual, his touch makes my brain to short circuit and before I can second-guess myself, I take a deep breath, my heart racing in sync with my courage. “Spesh,” I begin, my voice steady despite the flutter of nerves in my stomach. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.” That’s if you consider my arrival in the UK till now as a lot. “And I’ve come to realize that... well, I’m ready, ready. ”
Smiling, he pulls me into a gentle embrace, his arms wrapping around me securely. “Like I said baby, there’s no rush. We’ll take our time and make sure you’re comfortable every step of the way.”
His gaze holds mine, a depth of understanding passing between us. And then, without hesitation, I lean in, closing the distance between us.
Our lips meet in a kiss that’s both gentle, charged, and electrifying. “Ah…” Sparks dance along my skin as his warmth permeates through the hoodie. I sigh, relishing the warm sensation and the softness of his lips on mine.
Lost in the moment, I feel a sweet surrender, allowing the chemistry between us to guide our movements. He nudges my tongue open, deepening the kiss, and I become aware of another sensation—his growing hardness pressing against my tummy.
Oh yes. You still can’t resist this!
The room echoes with the soft sounds of our kisses. Our hands gently travel across our bodies, mapping out every contour. His touch ignites a fire within me, sending waves of pleasure cascading through my body.
I run my hands across his back, discovering more about his lean physique than I’ve ever known, while his hands slip underneath the hoodie, brushing against my clad breasts before squeezing them.
A soft moan escapes my lips, echoing the desire coursing through me. “Oh Spesh…” I press into his palms, simultaneously savoring his lips, hungry for more.
He continues with a groan, moving us to the nearest wall. Spreading my legs, I welcome the gentle thrust of his hips, blindly moving my hands allover his back, inhaling when I can. Wanting more… needing more. The only barrier between us are his sweatpants and my panties.
“…there’s no rush. We’ll take our time…” His words echo in my head. No rush, baby. We’re taking our time; I chant triumphantly to myself, aching to feel his skin on mine.
His lips leave a trail of kisses down my neck, igniting a trail of shivers that cascade through my body. “Hmm…” I arch into his touch, reveling in the electricity that courses through every point of contact.
What? !
I open my eyes to find him staring into mine with a smirk. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.”
Then why did you break the kiss! Keeping my turbulent emotions in check, I manage a playful smirk, toying with his nipple peeking on the side of his singlet. “Oh, really? I couldn’t tell from your composed exterior, Mr. British Museum.”
He chuckles, his fingers tracing patterns on my arms. “Well, I’m still not rushing you because I’ve got a storm waiting to be unleashed.”
A tingly sensation from my leg up causes my thighs to shake as his insinuation hits. Biting my lips as my core twitches, I pull him by his singlet. “Whatever. I’m taking what I can get.”
The air between us crackles with an electric tension as our lips meet again. His hands explore my curves, leaving a trail of fire in their wake, while I muster the courage to reciprocate by venturing to places that were previously uncharted. I reach for the bulge between his legs, gliding my hands up and down.
Breaking the kiss once more, he whispers, “God. You’re even more breathtaking than I remembered.”
“Just so you know, flattery will get you everywhere.”
“Good to know.”
He bends his head for another round of kissing, caressing, and thrusting his erection into my eager hands. After a moment that feels both fleeting and endless, he pulls away, his breath slightly uneven. He meets my eyes, his gaze clouded with longing and restraint. “Baby,” he says, his voice husky, “we should probably take things slow and focus on our plans for today.”
I nod, my own breath slightly unsteady as I try to steady my racing heart. “You’re right. We’ll focus on your plans.”
He releases a slow, deliberate breath, the intensity in his eyes not fading. “So… we’re taking it easy,” he says, as though reminding himself, not me. “We’ve got the whole day ahead of us.” His hand gently cups my face, his thumb tracing the curve of my cheek. “Hmm?”
I smile as slight tremors of left-over desire pulses through me. “Yes, Mr. British Museum.”
He grins, stepping back to create a bit of distance. “First things first; go get ready for our outing. ”
With a playful twirl, I head toward the bedroom, savoring the sensation of his eyes on me.
Preparing for our outing, I can’t help the smile that keeps curving my lips while I shower. The kiss, the desire—it’s a promise of what’s to come. Stepping out of the bathroom, I carefully choose an outfit that strikes the perfect balance between casual and stylish, something that reflects the excitement bubbling within me—matching black and white striped long-sleeved crop tee and thigh split skirt with white stylish platform sneakers.
I stand before the mirror checking out my outfit when a text notification chimes from my phone, interrupting my thoughts. That’s true, still can’t believe I haven’t been phone crazy all morning.
Picking up my phone, a smile tugs at my lips as I read my messages:
New Message from Itohan:
Madam! ? ? What’s the scoop?
You’ve been awfully quiet. Where are you?
I quickly type out a response, my fingers dancing over the keys:
Me:
I’m in the UK this weekend, remember?
??
Almost instantly, her reply comes through:
New Message from Itohan:
Whoa! Time has flown so fast!
What are you doing with your phone?
Me:
Chatting with you, duh.
New Message from Itohan.
Mumu geh .
How was your trip? How is he?
Me:
Splufik!
New Message from Itohan:
Correct!
Make sure you forget your home training and go for it.
The wait is over, girl! ??
I chuckle at her refreshing and amusing straightforwardness. I love how she always manages to cut through the niceties and get straight to the point.
Me:
May you never change ??
With a final glance in the mirror, I grab my essentials and head out to the living room. “Mr. British Museum, won’t you get ready?”