Chapter 9 #2
“Sorry,” I mumble as he continues straightening his legs, raising me up.
“Okay, hold me here,” I tell him, one hand gripping the edge of the window frame as I pull my keys from my pocket with the other.
There’s a pocketknife on my keychain that I should be able to use to pry out the screen.
It takes a minute, but I drop it to land beside Tre.
“Hey, a little warning!” he gripes.
“Whatever. Hold me still,” I order, beginning to bounce the window in its frame.
These sliding windows have a locking mechanism that’s very similar to sliding glass doors, and typically if you bounce them enough, you can flip the lock out of place.
Sometimes it takes a minute or two, but it’s never not worked.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Unlocking the window!”
“By jumping on me?”
“Just shut up! I’ve almost got it.” A few seconds later, the lock snaps up, and I slide the window open. “Hah!” I place both hands on the frame and wriggle my way through, landing on the floor in a graceless roll that’s sure to leave some bruises.
Another handful of seconds later, Tre hoists himself through as well.
“What are you doing? You’re supposed to be keeping watch,” I tell him, and he shrugs.
“I’ll keep watch from in here.”
I roll my eyes but keep my mouth shut. I’ve got to find the blueprints, take pictures of them, and then we’ve got to put the screen back in place and get out of here before the security guard returns. Unfortunately, that means I don’t have time to argue with Tre, as much as I might want to.
I search the closest desk, checking the top, opening drawers, and inspecting each rolled document. There are papers everywhere, but after five minutes, I’ve found the blueprints rolled up and propped against the side of a nearby desk along with other building plans.
I’m in the process of weighing down the corners so I can take a picture when I hear… something. “What’s that noise?” I whisper.
“Shh,” Tre says, holding a finger to his lips and tilting his head. “Shit,” he breathes a second later as the glow of headlights illuminates the road leading to the job site.
“We should—” I start, but I have no idea what we should do. I haven’t gotten the pictures yet, and I don’t want to take the blueprints and make a run for it, because the entire point is that no one should ever know we were here.
Tre slides the window shut and lowers the blinds, pulling his ski mask off as he peers between the slats.
“What are you doing?” I hiss. “I thought you said they wouldn’t be here again until one? That’s half an hour away!”
“Fiona, shh. No one is supposed to be here until one. I don’t know why they’re early, but as long as we’re quiet, they’ll leave and never know we were here.”
I move to his side and join him, pulling my mask off too—it’s hot and there’s not much reason to keep it on now that the blinds are closed. I look out the window as the security truck comes to a stop about thirty feet in front of the trailer.
I want to ask what they’re doing, but clearly Tre doesn’t know any more than I do. I stand next to him, my shoulder almost brushing his as we watch through the slats. “What did you do with the screen?”
“I put it behind the trailer,” he murmurs.
“Okay.”
A minute goes by, then the truck shuts off and two people get out.
“Is that Eddie?” I ask as one of the figures moves toward the trailer.
Tre nods. “Yeah, he’s the one doing the overnight security checks on the weekends.”
“Who’s the other person?”
“I don’t know. It’s only supposed to be him.”
Eddie unfurls a blanket on the ground, and the other person—who I can tell is a woman, but not one I recognize—comes around the truck to the blanket, carrying a picnic basket.
“Are they… on a date? At a construction site?” I ask incredulously.
“Looks like it.”
I continue watching as the woman sets down the picnic basket and presses herself against Eddie, sliding her hands under his shirt.
They spend a few minutes feeling each other up, then she undoes the fly on his pants, pulling them down, and dropping to her knees in front of him, wrapping her mouth around his very erect penis.
“Well. Alright then,” I say, turning away from the window, avoiding Tre’s eyes.
I make a show of looking through the documents strewn about the trailer.
I’m sure there’s other stuff here that would be useful to know about, but I’m finding it difficult to focus on their contents as opposed to the throbbing between my thighs and my suddenly very hard, very sensitive nipples.
Tre softly clears his throat and takes a seat on the floor with his back against the wall.
I sneak an unobtrusive glance at him. He looks like he might be as hot and bothered as I am.
I could just… my traitorous brain starts, and I try to shut the thought down before it can go any further.
It’s just that it’s been months and… he’s not a bad-looking guy, my brain supplies. He probably wouldn’t say no.
I bite my lip and return my attention to Henley and Montank’s plans.
These ones are for the third site. The one they want to turn into a five hundred—I read it again to make sure I’ve got the number right, and I do—room resort site.
Jesus Christ. I put it in a pile with the blueprints.
I’ll take a picture of it, too. Eventually.
After Eddie and his friend conclude their activities and leave.
Whenever it’s actually safe to use the flash on my camera.
I check my watch. It’s been twenty minutes. I return to the window, where Tre is still sitting with his back to the wall, and peek out again.
“Are they still…?” Tre asks.
I nod. “Wow,” I whisper, tilting my head as she pulls a leg behind her neck. “Wow,” I repeat. “She is really flexible.” I stand at the window, documents forgotten until Tre sends a foot out and nudges my leg. “What?”
“You shouldn’t—”
“Oh.”
“What?”
“They brought whipped cream. He’s licking it off her face.”
Tre rises to stand next to me, and my body has a visceral reaction to how near he is. I want to jump his bones. I want to… my mind goes in a thousand directions, each dirtier than the last.
“You’re staring.”
I flinch. “What?”
“You’re staring. At me.”
“No. No, I’m not. I’m staring at the boner tenting your pants.” I tear my eyes away from him.
“Please,” Tre scoffs, but I swear I can see the blush creeping up his neck and cheeks. “Like you’re not just as turned on. You’ve been standing there, slack-jawed, watching them for the past five minutes.”
I shrug but make no move to turn away. They’ve got a bottle of Hershey’s Syrup now. He’s decorating her tits. How in the hell is Creepy Eddie’s sex life better than mine?
“You know, we could… If you wanted to,” Tre says, and I ignore him in favor of the show taking place outside the window.
She’s on top now, and chocolate sauce is running down her boobs in fat rivulets, dripping onto Eddie as she rides him.
I’m not sure I could look away if I wanted to, and I don’t want to.
But the clenching of my cunt in time to the beat of my heart is driving me insane.
Maybe that’s why I don’t pull away when Tre places his hand on the small of my back and trails his fingertips across the exposed skin between the hem of my shirt and the waistband of my pants.
But I’m the one who turns toward Tre. I’m the one who kisses him.
As soon as I do, he spins us toward the wall beside the window, pressing my back against it and his hips against mine.
His dick is pressing into me, and I grind my hips against him, a small moan escaping my lips at how good it feels.
And I know it would feel even better if I tore off our clothes, wrapped my fist around him, and slid him inside me.
Tre matches my intensity, pinning me in place. He groans when I move my hands under his shirt and run them over his abs. It’s like I’m on fire, despite simultaneously being wetter than a Slip ’N Slide. My heart is thundering in my chest.
I want to pull him to the floor of this trailer and ride him like—
Suddenly, I hear the words from seventeen years past: ‘I heard her mom…’ It’s like having a bucket of ice water thrown on me.
I shove Tre back at the same time I say, “No. I can’t do this with you.”
“What?” he asks, looking confused as I step around him and go back to the documents. “Fiona, what happened? What’s wrong?”
I ignore him as I resume digging through Henley and Montank’s plans.