"Jennifer," he breathed in her ear. "Jennifer?"
"God," she said. "Do something." She pushed his shorts down and reached around for his cock. As he entered her, she quivered and pressed against every part of him. "Oh! It's been forever," she said. "Oh!" She wanted him on her. She wanted him to come, to fill her up, to take his due. Oliver became a lord riding his finest horse, his property, his right.
"God," she said an hour later when he woke up again. "Rupert never made love to me like that."
"Yumm," Oliver said. He was in a pleasant haze. "I think . . ."
She waited. "Yes?"
"I think we should have breakfast."
"Definitely."
"I don't have anything—how about Becky's?"
Oliver was first in the bathroom. He was looking out over the street, waiting for Jennifer, when Verdi bumped his ankle. "There you are! Where have you been? Under the couch?" Verdi ran expectantly into the kitchen. "You shall have a mighty breakfast."
Verdi gobbled his food and stood by the door. Oliver let him out. The clouds were low and dark; a three day rain was settling in. Verdi slunk around the corner of the house, and Oliver went back upstairs.