The sunlight was already slipping through the white curtains when I woke, warm and soft on my bare skin. I felt Sue before I saw her — her leg resting over mine, the slow rhythm of her breath brushing against my collarbone. Her skin was still warm from sleep, her curves melting into me as though we’d never separated in the night.
Across the room, Mark sat in the old reading chair. Shirtless, mug in hand, he watched us with that steady gaze — calm, knowing. There was no jealousy there. Just quiet hunger. I met his eyes briefly, and something passed between us — silent, charged.
Sue stirred against me, a soft sigh escaping her lips. Her hand wandered, fingers trailing across my stomach, down lower. She smiled without opening her eyes. “You’re already hard.”
I laughed under my breath, brushing her hair back. “Hard to help it. You feel too damn good.”
She opened her eyes slowly and pulled me in. Our lips met, slow at first, but growing deeper with each kiss. I rolled her gently onto her back, the sheets falling away to reveal the curve of her breasts, her body glowing in the morning light.
She looked radiant — flushed and wanting.
I kissed down her neck, down her chest, savoring the soft gasps that escaped her lips. My hands moved instinctively over her, relearning every dip and line of her. Her thighs parted for me with ease, need simmering beneath her skin. And when I finally slid inside her, she exhaled my name like it was a prayer.
Our bodies moved in sync, slow and intense, each thrust measured and deep. I held her hips, watched her eyes flutter shut, her mouth opening in a moan that made my blood throb harder.
From the edge of my vision, I caught Mark shifting in the chair. He wasn’t just watching — he was breathing harder, his hand grazing over the front of his shorts, his body tense with restrained desire.
I met his gaze again, thrusting deeper into Sue. “You want to come closer?” I asked, voice rough.
He stood without a word, setting his mug aside and crossing the room. He knelt by the bed, leaning in to kiss Sue, brushing her hair back from her damp forehead. She moaned between us, her hands reaching out for both of us — Mark’s mouth at her neck while I stayed buried deep inside her, lost in the heat and rhythm of our connection.
I reached out and took Mark’s hand, grounding him in the moment. Our fingers locked as Sue trembled beneath us, her pleasure building fast and fierce. Mark’s lips found her breast as I rocked into her harder, deeper. Her cries were music — raw, real, consuming.
She came first, shuddering, gasping both our names like a hymn.
That tipped me over, too — hips jerking, muscles tight as I let go inside her with a groan, my forehead resting against hers.
Mark pressed a kiss to her temple, then to mine.
The three of us collapsed together, tangled in sweat and breath and sunlight, not saying a word for a long while.
I looked over at both of them — Sue glowing, Mark’s arm resting across my back — and felt the kind of peace you can’t plan for. Something deeper. Something rare.
Sunday mornings had never been just mornings since then.
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