The sound of the radio contrasted with the sound of the pancakes on the griddle, putting both a happy smile on my face and a rhythm in my step. I hummed along to the tune of one of my favorite songs from the 1950s. The decade was a classic, and I could only dream of living in it. Gently sliding the spatula underneath the pancake, I moved it over onto a plate to cool with the other ones that I had cooked. I caught myself swaying my hips to the music, not noticing the tall figure of my husband standing in the kitchen doorway. I was busying myself in making breakfast, and was startled when he cleared his throat, alerting me of his presence.
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"Well this is a nice surprise." He purred, walking up behind me and splaying his fingers across the tops of my thighs. "Usually I'm the one up early making you pancakes."
"Yes, well, I suppose it was my turn." I smiled, leaning in to lick a droplet of batter from my finger, but Damon got ahold of my wrist before I could do so.
He put my fingers into his mouth, swirling his tongue around them and moaning from the taste of my skin mixed with the pancake batter. I bit my bottom lip, catching his line of sight. Damon released my wrist before leaning down to place a passionate kiss on my lips.
"Mhmm... good morning, princess."
"Good morning to you too." I giggled, flashing him a smile before returning to my duties at the stove.
"You do not know how hard it is for me to see you stand here in your bathrobe and your cute little ass sticking out from underneath the edge."
"I bet I can guess." I grinned, finishing off the pancake batter and placing the last pancake on the griddle. "Very hard."
"Extremely hard." He growled, nipping at my earlobe. "All I wanna do it rip that bathrobe off and eat you for breakfast."
"I doubt I'd taste as good as these pancakes." I chuckled, grabbing one from the stack and starting to munch on it. "They're pretty yummy."
"You clearly haven't tasted yourself."
"And I don't plan to."
"You're missing out." He smirked, taking the remaining piece of pancake that I had in my hand and popping it into his mouth.
"Hey!" I pouted. "That was mine."
"What's mine is yours. What's yours is mine. That's kind of the oath we made when we married, sweetheart."
"You know how grumpy I get when you steal my food, Mr. Salvatore."
"And you know how I couldn't care less, Mrs. Salvatore." Damon grinned, pushing me against the counter.
"Rude." I muttered under my breath. "That pancake did nothing to you, which is why you shouldn't have stolen it from me."
"Oh it did everything to me." He replied dramatically. "It distracted your lips from doing something more important than eating, like maybe ... kissing me.."
