I wake up to the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, roses and chocolate, to the sight of my handsome husband bashfully holding heaven on a tray.
Placing it down gently, he leans in for a kiss.
“Morning breath,” I warn him.
“Don’t care,” he whispers, as his mouth softly meets mine, lingering, his tongue sweeping across my lips seeking entrance.
I open for him, tasting coffee mingled with traces of whisky.
Nature calls, and I eventually make it to the toilet.
Undressed, I examine my reflection.
The blue and violet bruises on my arms will be easy to cover up. How do I conceal the impression of his fingers on my cheek.
“I’m waiting babe…” he calls out.
In response to Bikurgurl’s 100 Word Wednesday: Week 40 challenge based on a photo by Brooke Lark.
If only. If only chocolate pancakes and fresh strawberries could end all the horrors in the world. When does she run?
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Usually only when it reaches a point where no concealer or chocolate can help…
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