Chapter 7 #2
“It’s on the charger in the kitchen,” he called as he came out of a side room that looked like it was maybe the laundry room.
I refused to acknowledge the house that I was standing in. Cabin. Mansion.
I wasn’t sure.
“Where?” I asked, scanning the miles and miles of marble countertops.
“There,” he said, jerking his head to the corner where the world’s largest and most complicated-looking coffee pot sat.
Next to it, thankfully, was my phone.
“You gonna put some clothes on?” he asked as he eyed my towel.
I shook my head and reached for my phone.
“How’s that towel feel?” he asked. “Audrey bought…”
He didn’t get to finish.
I was shirking off the towel before he could finish.
It hit the floor of the kitchen as I dialed my sister’s number and placed the phone to my ear.
Silence from behind me.
The phone rang and rang and rang.
Her voicemail picked up and I started ranting.
“You let me go home with someone that’s dating Audrey!
Do you know how badly that’s going to ruin my life?
She’s been trying to get me fired for years from the high school because I’m ‘a bad influence.’ Do you know what this is going to do to my reputation?
I’m never going to hear the end of this if she finds out! ”
My sister’s voicemail beeped, indicating I’d run out of time.
I called her back and continued the rant. “She has clothes here! And she bought him towels! Oh, my god. This is the worst possible scenario I could’ve ever thought up! Why aren’t you answering?”
The beep sounded again, and I called back for a third time.
“I’m standing naked in the hottest man alive’s cabin. And you’re not answering,” I snarled. “I hope you know that you’re making a freakin’ mistake. Boone is a mistake. Get your mouth off of his cock and answer my phone calls!”
The beep sounded again, and I screamed, tossing my phone onto the counter.
That’s when I became aware of the utter quiet in the room behind me.
“You maybe want to wear this?”
I looked over to see him shrugging out of his white long-sleeved tee.
I watched as the miles and miles of healthy tanned skin became exposed as he did that sexy “back of the collar” pull to get the shirt off.
He tugged his hands free of the sleeves one at a time before he handed it to me.
“Uh, thanks, I’m good,” I said as I walked past him into the laundry room.
Or, more accurately, a butler’s pantry that then led to a laundry room.
Freakin’ rich people…
I walked to the washer that was running and pressed pause on the machine.
Just as I lifted the lid to peer inside, a firm hand met my overheated skin.
“Leave it,” he ordered.
I shivered at his words.
Or maybe the way that his hands felt against my bare skin.
I wasn’t examining my feelings too closely in that moment.
“Why?” I asked, voice a bit high-pitched.
“Because your clothes had puke on them,” he said. “Not yours, though. Some drunk asshole’s from the bar.”
I closed the lid of the washer with a harsh snap.
Yeah, other people’s puke and me didn’t get along.
Not even me and my own puke.
“Should’ve led with that, I guess,” he said as he leaned forward to press start on the machine.
The machine started to whirl and jolted to a start.
It was an old machine. One of those ones that had the agitator inside and started with a vicious thunk and snarl.
I jolted backward slightly at the machine’s noise, which in turn put me in contact with parts of the man’s body behind me.
I held my breath as he all but went immobile.
The man’s lower half pressed in even closer, and I could feel things I definitely shouldn’t be feeling.
“You’re…” I didn’t finish.
“Kind of hard not to be when you’re naked,” he admitted, sounding unrepentant.
Neither one of us moved.
Not even the cold metal of the washer against naked skin had my instincts firing.
A different part of the cycle started, and it was like a flip of a lever in both of our brains.
One second he was mostly keeping it PG-13, and the next he was reaching between us to lower the front of his sweatpants.
My breath hitched, and I went up onto my tippy toes as I leaned farther over the washer, pressing my breasts against the unyielding metal to give him better access.
I felt the thick head of his cock notch at my entrance, and then he was pushing inside, filling me with a slow, delicious glide.
I moaned as he filled me with each delicious inch of his cock.
“Shit,” he hissed when he bottomed out inside of me.
I reached forward and grasped each side of the washer, my toes now barely touching the tile floor underneath my feet.
Taking the invitation for what it was, he started to power inside of me. Each delicious thrust of his cock felt like lightning bolts singing through my veins.
The metal against my thighs and hips offered Weaver the perfect resistance to fuck me so hard that I saw stars.
His hands went to my hips and squeezed.
“Fuck, yes,” he growled, bending forward so that he could press his forehead to my mid-back. “So tight.”
I dropped my head against a knob and the machine underneath me whirred to a stop.
Neither one of us noticed or cared as he continued to fuck me.
Slow, unforgiving strokes of his cock filled me so deep that I felt like I could feel him in my throat.
“Goddamn.” He moved his hand on my hip to my ass and squeezed. The move caused my backside to spread, and I was sure to give him a very clear view of my asshole.
I didn’t know why I found that so enticing.
But I did.
Paired with the “having sex with a practical stranger” thing and I was literally living my fantasies.
“I hope you’re…”
I came before he could finish his sentence.
No warning.
No build up.
One moment I was taking his cock as he powered inside of me, the next I was exploding and screaming like a porn star.
It was all very fantastical.
One, I never came from penetration.
Two, sex was kind of a one-star thing for me. I never felt like I got it good.
Sure, that was likely the men that I chose, but still.
I felt Weaver’s teeth clamp down on my shoulder, not breaking skin or anything, but definitely leaving behind a mark.
His hips bucked twice as his arms wrapped around my torso. Then he was turning his head and growling curses into my ear.
“Fuck yes, Eddy,” he growled. “I’m filling you up with my cum.”
Yes, yes, he was.
Mostly because we were playing with fire and doing things we’d learned at a young age not to do.
I felt the hot splashes of his cum fill my insides. Paired with the way he grunted loudly in my ear had me on the verge of another orgasm.
The movement of his hips jerked once, jolting my hips into the edge of the washer, and it must’ve been at the perfect right angle because no sooner had I come down from the first orgasm was I going up with the second.
He bit the fleshy part of my ear and sucked, and my hips jerked, pushing back against him as I tried to ride the orgasm out.
He pumped his hips a couple more times, and that was all I needed to peak.
“Holy. Shit.”