CHAPTER EIGHTEEN SAWYER #3
Sawyer: Alive, but barely. I’ve been doing renovations all week and my back just about gave out. I’m currently soaking in a bathtub and my penis is skimming the water, that’s how small the tub is.
Roarick: Why do I find that way too comical? I legit snorted just thinking about the skimming penis.
Sawyer: Your support moves me.
Roarick: Hey, I checked to see if you were alive, didn’t I?
Sawyer: I suppose.
Roarick: So ... how is life? How is *says in annoying little brother tone* Fallon?
Sawyer: Specifying the tone is not necessary, I always think you’re the annoying younger brother.
Roarick: You’re avoiding the question.
Sawyer: Just adding suspense.
Roarick: Answer the damn question.
Sawyer: Why so impatient?
Roarick: I’m getting bored with this conversation.
Sawyer: I know you’re not and if I don’t tell you, you’re going to stay up all night wondering.
Roarick: From your evasiveness and the absolute glee I can feel in your text messages, I’m going to assume something happened between you two. Just tell me she broke up with the boyfriend first.
Sawyer: She did. They broke up amicably and I’m going to take her out on a date this week. I really fucking like her, and I think she really likes me. She’s said it more than once.
Roarick: Do I smell love in the air?
Sawyer: Not love, but a relationship, yeah.
Roarick: So, does this mean you will be staying in Canoodle longer than expected?
Sawyer: Yeah, and not just because of her, but because I like it here. It’s calm. I’ve found peace here. Purpose. And the people are real.
Roarick: Are you thinking about making Canoodle your new home?
Sawyer: Haven’t gotten that far yet, all I know is that I’ll be staying longer.
Roarick: And what about the movie pitch?
I smile to myself and text him back.
Sawyer: I’m pretty sure I have an idea.
Once I got out of the bathtub—more like rolled out over the side, because my back is still aching—I dried off and put on a pair of shorts before hobbling into bed.
Thank God for a new mattress. I don’t think I would be able to survive on Sully’s lumpy pile of springs anymore. How that man can stand it in his old age I have no idea. His back must be pure steel, completely impervious to the thorny entrapment he calls a mattress.
I open my word-search app, and I’m interrupted again, this time by a knock at the door.
I glance at the door and curse myself for locking it, or else I’d be able to shout “Come in.”
Groaning quietly, I push off the bed and walk as gently as I can, trying not to create a spasm in my back. I flip the lock, and I open the door to find Fallon standing on the other side wearing her pajamas, her wet hair in its two customary braids.
“I told you I’d come check on you.”
I smooth my hand on the door jamb and try to act like I’m not in pain. “I thought you were going to text me to check in.”
“Oh, sorry. Should I have texted?”
I push the door open and step aside. “No, this is much better.” She walks in, and I shut the door behind her. “Sully all tucked in?”
“Yes.” She holds up her phone. “I’ll be notified if he tries to leave.”
As I walk over to my bed and take a seat—slowly—I ask, “Does he get up a lot?”
“Depends. Alzheimer’s can be so cruel, because if he’s startled awake, his brain doesn’t quite grasp the concept of time, so it will be two in the morning, and he’ll try to get ready for the day. Those are the roughest nights because he truly is confused.”
“I can’t imagine.” I wince as I shift on the bed.
“Is your back still really sore?”
“Yeah. I think all the work, combined with Sully’s mattress, has destroyed my muscles. I took some ibuprofen, so it should get better soon.”
She moves toward me. “Lie down on your stomach.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m going to help relieve some of the tension in your back.”
“Oh, that’s not necessary.”
“I didn’t ask you—I’m telling you. On your stomach, Sawyer.”
Too tired to put up a fight, I roll onto my stomach and stretch out over the bed.
“Where’s your lotion?”
“In the bathroom. I noticed you put it on my nightstand.” I laugh.
“Well, you know... didn’t know if that was where you used it.”
“It’s not,” I say, chuckling into the pillow.
“Good to know.” She goes to the bathroom and returns with lotion in hand before climbing on the bed and straddling my legs.
“It’s your lower back?” Her fingers drag across my skin, and, immediately, I’m hyperaware that the beautiful girl I’m crushing on is not only straddling me, but also touching my bare skin. Goose bumps erupt across my body.
“You know, this might not be a good idea.”
“It will be fine—you need this,” she says.
I’ll need a lot more when she starts touching me.
“Yeah, but it’s late, and I don’t want to inconvenience you.”
“You’re not,” she says as her slick hands knead into my lower back.
Fuck... that’s... that feels so good.
“Oh, you’re so tense right here.” She rubs the muscle along my spine. “Can I pull your shorts down a little farther? I’ll keep it decent, won’t expose anything.”
Not sure I can make the same promise.
“Uh, yeah.”
She shimmies the waistband of my shorts down, and then her thumbs dig into me, pushing up to my midback, then repeating the movement. Pleasure and pain collide, and I grip the comforter beneath me as a low groan falls past my lips.
“Does that hurt?” she asks, stopping.
“No,” I say, swallowing hard. “It feels really good.”
“Oh, wonderful.” She goes back to repeating the motion, a thumb on either side of my spine, dragging up and attempting to loosen the tension at the base—which she very well might be doing, though she’s also driving the tension up in another region.
But I’m too addicted to her touch to stop her.
“I was wondering, do you think you’ll stay here much longer?” she asks, rubbing all the way up to my shoulder blades and then starting back at the base again.
“I’m planning on staying for a while—is that okay?” I half groan into the sheets. “I can find a different place if you want to rent the cabin out to someone else.”
“No,” she says quickly. “No, I was just, you know, wondering. Since reservations are opening tomorrow, I wasn’t sure if I should account for you to stay longer.”
“Is that your roundabout way of finding out if I have any intention of leaving?”
“Maybe,” she answers coyly.
“Nah, I’m good where I am. I kind of have a crush that I want to see through.”
“A crush, huh? Tell me about her.”
Her fingers dig circles into my lower back, and I swear, from just one circle, I grow hard, my cock pressing against the mattress with practically no room to spare.
“She, uh... she’s really good at massages.”
“An admirable quality.”
“And she’s resilient. Hardworking. Has a beautiful heart.
Can be cranky at times, which gives her a sassy side, and I have to admit, I like it.
She also tends to put on a tough exterior, a shield of armor she wears every day.
Even though she can easily stand on her own, there are days when she needs someone to stand next to her, and I want to be that person for her. ”
Her hands slow down, and I glance over my shoulder to make sure everything is okay.
“Did I cross a line?” I ask, suddenly worried.
She shakes her head. “Not even a little. I’m just stunned.” Her hands work my back again.
“Stunned about what?” I ask as her fingers approach the waistband of my shorts.
Jesus Christ.
I can’t remember the last time I had a woman touch me.
It’s been a while, over a year I believe.
.. yeah, that seems right. So having Fallon run her delicious fingers up and down my back has me harder than stone.
And when she gets closer to my waistband, absolutely pathetic, but then again, I’m not sure any man in my position would be able to contain himself.
“Stunned that you already know me so well.”
“It doesn’t take much to read a person.” Her fingers dig into the curve of my lower back and down to my ass. I grip onto the comforter harder and my pelvis shifts, letting my cock gain little relief. “Jesus,” I breathe out heavily.
“That feel good?” she asks, repeating the process.
“Yeah, really good.”
She moves from her thumbs to her palms and digs them in even harder. My eyes roll in the back of my head, a loud moan pouring out of me.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” I say, chuckling.
“Don’t be. It’s... sexy.”
Hell. I wonder what she’d think if I flipped over.
“Thanks, but I’d rather not moan in front of you like this. I prefer other... options.”
Her palms move to the sides of my waist and then to my glutes—over my shorts—and I feel my hips grind into the mattress, my cock seeking more relief.
“Motherfucker,” I whisper.
She doesn’t say much after that but continues to drag her hands all over my back, digging in her thumbs, her knuckles, her palms. Her movements become melodic, and even though she’s made me incredibly hard, I also start to relax, to the point that I feel my eyes drift shut—I can’t stop them even if I wanted to.
I’m not sure how long I stay like that, drifting in and out of consciousness as she massages me, but the next thing I know she’s pressing a kiss to my back as she climbs off me.
“I’m sorry,” I mutter into my pillow.
“Don’t be. You needed to relax, and I really enjoyed listening to you.”
“Listening to me?” I ask sleepily, eyes still closed.
“Yes, it was really sexy, hearing your moans.” She presses another kiss to my shoulder, and her hand slides down my back to the waistband of my shorts, tugging them up just an inch.
“I want to care about how humiliating my moans might have sounded, but I don’t think I can even bring myself to worry about it.”
“Don’t.” Her fingers graze over my back. “Do you feel slightly better?”
“I do.” I open my eyes to find her standing above me, cheeks flushed. I reach my hand out, and as she takes it, I pull her in closer and press my lips to her knuckles. “Thank you.”
She squats in front of me and sifts her fingers through my hair. “You’re welcome. Get some sleep, okay?”
“Are we on for tomorrow?”
“We can worry about our date when your back is feeling better.”
“I don’t want to put it off. I’ll be better tomorrow. Tell me I can take you out.”
Her hand travels over my cheek, and she leans forward as she presses a kiss to my forehead.
Her lips feel like soft petals caressing my skin, and I’m so tempted to pull her back to me and taste her mouth, like I’ve wanted to for a long time now.
But I don’t want our first kiss to be like this—me catatonic on the bed.
“You know I want nothing more than to go on a date with you,” she says, her breath tickling my ear.
“Then it’s official. Tomorrow, you and me.”
“Please don’t hurt your back doing anything special.”
“Let me worry about the date and my back, okay?”
She nods and straightens back up. “Okay.”
I give her knuckles one more kiss. “Thank you again for the massage. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She smiles. “See you tomorrow, Sawyer.”