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25: "Depends on how quiet you can be."

I skipped down the stairs to see the vision that was Drake Anderson, shirtless and cooking. The smell was delicious, and my stomach rumbled in appreciation.

"Mmm that smells delicious."

He turned to look at me, before nodding slowly.

"You look delicious."

I smiled as I took a seat at the kitchen island, gazing around the room in confusion.

"Where is everyone?"

"Well, I kinda told Axel we were going home early..." he arched his brow as he placed a plate of homemade pancakes in front of me. He then reached into a cupboard, frowning as he shuffled through the contents before pulling out maple syrup. "So maybe he spread the word and people didn't want to interrupt. Or hear it."

He grinned as he watched me drizzle the syrup on the pancakes, licking a stray drizzle from my finger as he groaned.

"Mmm, we need to go back upstairs when you are finished."

"I didn't even know you could cook, shit this is so good," I moaned, inhaling the food as he watched proudly.

"When I was younger I was obsessed with pancakes. I only liked them the way my grandma made them, so she taught me. There you have it. The Anderson recipe."

"In England we can make them, but no one bothers unless its pancake day. But people tend to buy them from the shop and stick them in the toaster."

"In the toaster? That's fucking sacrilege."

"Hmm. But they do taste good."

He studied me then, before walking behind me and slipping his arms around my waist.

"I love you," he murmured into my ear, as I finished my last forkful of pancake. I turned to him as I tugged him inbetween my legs, his mouth meeting mine as I began to pull away.

"Sticky mouth," I explained as he pushed the plate back, lifting me onto the counter easily. He was one of the only guys that had been able to do this- I wasn't at all light, put it that way. "Without wanting to sound like a proper girl here, I have say I love it when you lift me up."

"Good. Because I like throwing you around."

"I feel like I'm going to be your sex slave when you say that."

"Its entirely your fault, you made me wait for ages."

We began to kiss then, his hand slipping under my shirt as he brushed my nipples with his fingers. He pulled me against him as he chuckled at my sharp intake of breath.

"Now this would be a good position..."

"We can't. What if someone comes in?" I gasped as he kissed me lightly on the throat, his fingers travelling south as I groaned.

"Then they will walk back out."

"We don't have a condom," I smirked triumphantly, as he sighed with annoyance, pushing his hand through his hair.

"We do. You'll just have to stay in that exact position for like, half a minute."

I leaned back, crossing my legs as he growled with frustration, his member hard and visible through his joggers.

"Thirty, twenty nine..." I teased as he jogged up the stairs, my eyes drinking in his solid form. His back muscles rippled as he moved, making me bite my lip so hard I yelped.

After last night, I wondered how I had gone so long without him, and how I would ever be able to cope if this didn't work out. I tried to push the thought away, as I heard the front door open.

"Wow, good morning," I heard Brodie chirp, as I sat upright, making sure I was covered as best as I could be considering. His gaze travelled down my bare legs as I shifted uncomfortably, hopping down from the side.

"Is this how you normally have breakfast, Miss Marshall?"

I was relieved to see Drake walk back down the stairs, sighing in annoyance when he spotted Brodie.

"No, we weren't expecting anyone to walk in just yet," I admitted, picking the empty breakfast plate from the side. "Where did you spend the night?"

Drake pulled me into his arms as he positioned himself on a stool, murmuring into my ear that he was sorry it had taken so long.

"Wait, have you two finally made it a thing?" Brodie asked, groaning as he fell onto the sofa. He was still wearing his clothes from the night before, and I could see ketchup on his shirt.

"A thing. Yeah, she's agreed to be my wife."

"Wife?!" Brodie yelled, as I swatted Drake on the arm.

"He wishes."

"Fucking hell I wondered if you'd hit your head woman, us fuck boys don't marry. Even hot British girls-"

"Watch your mouth," ordered Drake sharply, as I bit back a smile. "Her name is Victoria. Not the hot British girl. Even though you really are." he added, winking at me.

"Do you have any sisters? Friends? Cousins?" Brodie asked with interest, as I pretended to think about it.

"Yeah, Aaron Taylor."

"Wait, what? Aaron Taylor is your cousin?" he spluttered, as he began to laugh. "Shit! Dray, have you told her-"

"Yes. Shut up, dickhead."

"Alicia?" I guessed, as Drake nodded. "She's got an gorgeous husband, and you ought to see their kids-"

"Kids? Fucking hell. He didn't waste any time knocking her up," declared Brodie as he stood up. "Cole Brewster. Yeah, he was our schools best quarterback, until little Drake here smashed his record. Along with his girl. Ha,ha."

Drake glared at Brodie as he walked by, whilst I turned to face him.

"It's your past, baby. I don't care about it. It's what you do now that concerns me."

"Well, I finally found the condoms, we used quite a few last night so...if you want we could just head on back upstairs?"

"I really wanted to do it on the counter," I sighed as he smirked at me wickedly.

"Depends how quiet you can be."

Oh holy mother of God. Was he suggesting-

He lifted me up on the counter, my heart pounding in my chest as he winked at me, pulling the foil packet from his pocket as he roughly parted my legs.

"Come here, baby."

I wriggled down towards him, wrapping my legs around his waist as he kissed me slowly.

"Now be real quiet. If anyone comes in, you'll be fine. This shirt covers your ass."

"Dray..." I whimpered as he slipped the condom on.


Authors Note

Ooooooooh it's getting hot in here...so take off all your clothes! (Well don't, it's just a song.)

These two are in the beautiful honeymoon phase and can't get enough of each other. So the next chapter is filth, if you don't fancy that, skip it and head on to the rest of the story.

Or not.

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