Chapter 22
TWENTY-TWO
WAYLON
“I should have checked the weather, sorry,” I say to Bianca, looking out the window. It’s pouring out, thunder rolling in the distance. “We’ll have to try camping another weekend.”
“It’s cool,” Bianca says. “To be honest, I just got a shipment of a bunch of my favorite snacks that I can’t find around here so I was going to lay around all day and watch TV.”
“That sounds really nice. And I’ll probably end up doing that too.” I lean down to pet Duke when he leans against me.
I rarely ever get days when I can just sit around and do nothing, especially when the weather is perfect for just that. I’m still working on not feeling guilty about it, a remnant of my years and years of constantly doing stuff.
“Would you want to hang out together?” she asks after a little pause. “I was thinking I’d rewatch Breaking Bad or something.”
My heart flips up into my chest. I’ve wanted to hang out with her one-on-one for longer than I want to admit, but I haven’t had the chance to bring that up organically. At least when I go help with the house, I have a reason to talk with her. Inviting her to just hang out felt like I was crossing some imaginary line.
“Yeah, that sounds great.” I try to keep my voice neutral, but I probably sound excited. “What time were you thinking?”
“Maybe in half an hour? Can we do it at your place? Your TV is probably bigger.”
I take a glance around my place. It’s clean enough, but thirty minutes will make it ‘clean enough for a guest” clean.
“Sure, yeah.” I grab a t-shirt I threw onto the couch after coming in from a run with Duke yesterday. “See you in a bit.”
I end the call and start throwing shit into the spare bedroom. My robot vacuum can’t do the whole living room in one go, so there’ll just have to be dog hair everywhere. Not that I can ever be completely free of all animal hair. By the time Bianca arrives, my house looks cleaner than it has in ages.
I wish I didn’t care so damn much. That isn’t part of the plan.
“Hey,” she says. She’s in a crop top, zip-up hoodie, and soft-looking leggings. Just the tiny bit of exposed skin across her stomach makes me want to touch her.
“Hey, come in,” I step back and pull her in from the rain. “Hope you didn’t get too wet.”
“Nope, we’re good.” She moves her arm to reveal Sadie in her bag. “And the snacks are good too.”
She follows me to the living room, where she places Sadie down on the armchair next to Duke. The two dogs cuddle up, with Sadie curling up against Duke’s belly.
“So what are these snacks?” I ask, blatantly taking in the view of Bianca from behind.
“You might think they’re gross,” she says, putting her bag on the coffee table and sitting down. “There’s a lot of fake cheese in here.”
“I’ll try them if you’re down to share.” I sit down next to her, my thigh against hers. “I have some food but it’s all boring stuff. We can trade.”
“I have this popcorn with vegan cheese, these faux-cheese kale chips, some dark chocolate covered pretzels, dark chocolate covered fruit…” She puts the snacks out on the table. “Then some basic stuff like potato chips.”
“Faux-cheese kale chips?” I grab the bag and take a look, frowning. “But why?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why would anyone voluntarily create that and why would anyone want to eat it?” I ask.
“They’re not bad!” She takes them back and tears open the bag. The scent inside makes me wrinkle my nose. “Okay, they’re an acquired taste.”
I reach into the bag and take one, examining it before popping it into my mouth. It tastes like toes. Just toes, distilled into their most potent form.
“That’s…a flavor.” I choke it down and cough. Bianca laughs, smacking my back.
“Then there are more for me.” She grins.
“You and all two of your taste buds can have them.” I hop up. “You want a drink? A seltzer or something?”
“Sure, please.”
I go into the kitchen to grab us some drinks, glancing over at Bianca. Seeing her curled up on the couch, the dogs relaxing together like they do this all the time, settles something inside me. Like she’s supposed to be here all the time, already comfortable in my space.
By the time I return with some additional snacks, Bianca is settled even further into the couch, her legs curled up under herself. She’s eating the popcorn, which thankfully doesn’t smell like a gym bag.
“You’re ready to rewatch Breaking Bad?” she asks, reaching for her popcorn.
“Yeah, if you are.” I put our drinks and snacks on the table. Something there has caught Duke’s attention, and he sniffs the air. “None of this is for you, Duke.”
Duke grumbles and rests his head right on top of Sadie’s. I pull up Breaking Bad and hit play on the first episode on the first season. I’ve seen it at least four times, so my mind starts to wander, mostly to Bianca’s warmth next to me. I put my arm across the back of the couch and take a peek at her.
There’s no way I’ll be able to make it through this day without touching her at least once. The longer the episode goes on, the closer Bianca gets. Soon she’s curled up against me, her head against my shoulder. I’m not sure how she manages to smell so good all the time, but it’s driving me nuts.
I swallow. This shouldn’t be as big of a deal as it feels. We’re hooking up — I’m giving her sex lessons, for fuck’s sake. But any cuddling is usually incidental, just our bodies finding each other’s warmth if we fall asleep after we have sex. This feels like something I’d do with a girlfriend.
Or a thing I’d want to do because Catherine never wanted to just sit around and do nothing at any point. Nothing but the rain falling outside, our bodies warm next to each other, both of us being okay with a little silence.
I snag one of the dark chocolate covered pretzels, and lean back against the couch again. Bianca settles back into her position. I close my eyes and take a subtle breath out of my nose. I need to disconnect this from cuddling, girlfriend-ish shit.
“Bianca,” I say.
“Hm?” She looks up at me, then at my lips.
I take the remote and pause the show before taking her lips in a kiss. She melts into me right away, letting me press her onto her back. I hold her close, deepening the kiss, making it harsher. I want her, yeah, but I’m not going to let tenderness be a part of this.
I help her tug her hoodie off and toss it to the side, then work on her snug top. She’s not wearing a bra, and her perky tits bounce free. They’re perfect, just like the rest of her — the size, the shape, the feeling of her nipples in my mouth.
I kiss my way down her neck before sucking one of her nipples into my mouth a little harder than I usually do. She sucks in a breath, her body arching toward me. I slow down, waiting for more of her cues, but she just presses against me, wanting more.
I worship her breasts until she’s whimpering, her nails harsh against my scalp. My cock is so hard that it hurts, and I need release.
“Come here,” I say, hopping off her and tugging her leggings down just below her ass so she can’t part her legs. I shove my shorts down, my cock springing free.
She squeals when I press her knees back to her chest. Her pussy is already slick, peeping from between her bound legs. My cock twitches at the thought of her I’m moments from just plunging inside of her before I stop.
“Shit, condom,” I say. How did I almost forget? Trying to block out feelings doesn’t mean I need to block out sense.
“I have an IUD,” she says, breathless. She loops an arm around the back of her knees. “And everything came back negative when I got tested. I mean, if you want to.”
I’ve gone bare in the past with my ex, but that was different. I always pulled out anyway because she didn’t like to deal with cum after. I wasn’t going to be an asshole and ask if I could come inside her just once because the idea was so hot.
“I’ve been tested too, and everything was good,” I say, swallowing. “You’re fine with me…?”
If I even say the words, I’ll bring myself moments from losing it.
“I want you to cum inside me,” she says. “Please.”
“ Fuck, ” I mutter. She doesn’t have to tell me twice. And she doesn’t have to say please.
I push inside her tight, wet heat, sucking in a breath. The positioning of her legs makes it an even more snug fit, so snug that I have to pause for a second. Once I get control again, I fuck her hard and slow, grabbing her hips to get leverage. Her head falls back and she moans with every stroke.
I brace my hand on the back of the couch so I can look down at her. I still can’t believe she’s even real — so painfully beautiful, especially like this. Her bottom lip between her teeth, long, elegant neck exposed. The hot rush of affection at seeing her like this, in contrast to when we first started hooking up, slams into me like a truck.
I close my eyes, trying to shove the emotions out of this, but it barely helps.
I pull out and flip her onto her stomach, lifting her hips just enough to slide in. I press her down so she’s flat on her stomach, her favorite position. And one of mine, too. I love feeling her smaller body underneath me, and the way she tightens up just right.
“Waylon,” she whines, kicking against the couch when I slam into her.
“You can kick all you want. You’re not moving from this spot,” I say into her ear, my hand around the back of her neck firmly enough for her to feel it, but not enough to hurt her. “But you don’t want to move, do you? You want every hard stroke.”
She buries her face into the cushion and nods with a whimper. Her pussy is clenching around me so tightly that I think she might come, but I want to guarantee it.
I pull out and yank her hips back, burying my face into her pussy. She cries out, pushing back. Her taste is so good that I have to grip my cock to keep myself under control. I don’t stop until she shudders from head to toe, coming with a muffled cry.
I’m back inside her before her orgasm fully subsides, making her so much tighter than she was. I’m a goner, instantly, and lose myself inside her. It’s so intense that I lose every sense except for touch for a moment. I’ve never come so hard in my entire life.
Once my ears stop ringing, I slowly pull out. Seeing my cum drip out along her glistening wetness makes me groan. My cock throbs even though I just came.
I get my senses back and roll off the bed to get her a damp washcloth. But she ends up following me. I give her privacy to clean up, then she opens the door again. I catch my reflection in the mirror next to hers.
I look both sated and wound up, scratch marks on my shoulders, and she’s glowing, completely relaxed. Completely comfortable standing there naked, like we do this every day. Not trying to look a certain way or put on an act. Like a couple would.
“Your neck,” I murmur, brushing the mark I left when I held her down by the back of the neck. It’ll probably fade in a few hours. “I’m sorry — I didn’t know I was holding you that hard.”
“I liked it. And I would have told you otherwise if I didn’t,” she says, looking at the spot in the mirror. “I liked how rough you were in general.”
“Yeah?” I tuck some of her curls over her shoulder.
“Yeah. It was different.” She glances at the spot again, running her fingers over it. “And I don’t mind the mark.”
The mark makes me feel like she’s mine, even though she isn’t and she won’t be. Thinking I could keep her as a friend and not more was a fucking joke. Why did I let it go this far when I know better than to fall for anyone?
I let out a breath and push those thoughts into the back of my head. Maybe I can enjoy this for today and think about how to solve it later.