by Amber Burns
Vanna’s face is flushed, her eyes wide and glued to my cock.
Tongue darting out, she lashes it over her presumably dry lips. It’s the perfect starter to a fantasy of having her wrap those lips around my head. I jerk up, thrusting my hips into my hand.
I’m so fucking close…
A knock freezes me.
“Hey, Vanna?” Violet’s hesitance pierces the closed door. “Is Amos in there with you?”
Vanna is quick to assuage her sister’s worries.
“We’ll be down soon.” Vanna struggles with the ‘we’. That and the locked door are a pretty clear give-away of our activities.
Violet’s retreating steps are her only reply, her heels clacking down the stairs at a fast pace. Probably rushing to share the juicy gossip with Wes, and doesn’t that swell my chest a little bit more than I should, especially in front of Vanna’s obvious discomfort.
Vanna’s complexion is pale save for the splotches of color over their usual place on her cheeks creeping down to her throat.
It’s enough to sober my thoughts from my hard-on. I stand slowly, carefully to ignore my bobbing erection. Any slight brush and I might forget Vanna and finish myself.
Not likely though.
My blood is cooling quickly watching her lightly bang her head on the door.
“Vanna, stop it.”
“No.” She sighs. “I can’t believe… They’re never going to let me live this down.” Another head bang, still light, but it’s worrying me. Frankly anything Vanna does that could hurt her seizes my heart.
“I’ll dress if you stop doing that.” I barely have the words out when Vanna yelps and takes several steps back from the door. She clutches her head and blinks, facing me slowly to reply to my cry and approaching steps.
“I’m fine,” she meets me a quarter of the way.
“Let me see?”
I check for the beginnings of bruising. It might be too early, but I make a note to grab some ice from the kitchen when we head downstairs. As an aside, Vanna with a big lump on her forehead would still be sexy, yet what kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t care for my girl?
I leave her to grab my boxers off the floor, slipping them on and tucking my dick in. I have to adjust to find a comfortable enough position before dragging my jeans on and plucking my shirt off the floor. “You’re doing all this because I didn’t dress?”
Vanna frowns. “No. You should have been dressed by now anyways.”
I catch her staring at my abs. Even though she nearly bruised herself freaking out over getting caught by her siblings, it’s too hard to resist, not when she’s feeding me this stuff.
Toying with the bottom of the shirt again, I raise it up, hand smoothing over the years of hard work from high school rugby and soccer teams, to my college gym job, straight into the Marines, and now a full-time certified fitness trainer catering to mostly horny female clientele at a luxury gym-cum-spa.
“It’s hot in here, right? Crazy stuffy now with the window closed.” I tug higher, dragging my shirt to expose my pecs, my aerial tats... “I should probably go without.”
“N-No. We can’t.” Her lips are thinning, hands folding over her chest, and it should be spelling the opposite of what I’m sensing.
Vanna, you want me.
I’m waiting for her to make the next move. Teasing her is fun, but if she decides to ignore her brother and sister and fuck me for another hour I’d give in to her.
Hell, I’d probably agree to anything once my cock is buried in her.
Want to buy my soul, Vanna?
She’s moving towards me and that’s new.
I guess she already drove herself to the edge, and I just gave her a push right to me.
“Vanna – ”
Her face splits into a widening smile, a giggle freeing from those plump, pink lips. She pauses a bit away from my reach, gaze dipping to my bare chest. I lowered my hand and the shirt, but there’s a preview of my six-pack on display. “Put your shirt on, I can’t think.”
I’m far from angry at her command as it doesn’t come out as one, more like she’s acknowledging I have the power to tempt her as much as she does me.
And it’s only better that she closes the gap and wraps her arms around me, moving up on the balls of her heels to really get a grasp over my shoulders. My hands touch her back, concern stabbing my libido in the face as I’m falling over myself to ask, “What’s up?”
A little less than a week of knowing her and I’m more than sure it’s uncharacteristic of her to be so…randomly affectionate. That’s why I expect her to point to a corner and reveal the presence of a rat in the room, but I stare down at her pretty smile and go all gloopy in the head.
And as if she wants to seriously blow my top, Vanna locks our lips. The kiss quick but sexily wet.
“I totally deserved that stunner of a kiss, right?”
She laughs at my zombie-impersonation.
“Yes. Yes, you certainly did. Want to know why?”
“Are you trying to hold out on me, Vanna?” I grasp her sides, tickling her enough to startle her. Stealing another kiss, I whisper, “Tell me.”
She shudders, stammering through the start of a response. “You gave me an idea for a private showing for a special client.”
“Me?” I bat my eyelashes and she laughs. “My strip tease amazed you that much,” I cut off to kiss her because it’s too much to have her near and not crave more. “Mhm, Vanna,” I’m mumbling against her mouth, peppering kisses between every other word, “let me...amaze you...some more...then.”
“No,” she’s stammering again. “Let me finish what I’m saying.”
I relent, my lips pulsing to touch her almost as soon as I move away to give her my, kinda, full attention.
“This special client wouldn’t be the curiously mercurial Mrs. Kingston, would it?”
“You know?” her brows shoot up and I smile my affirmation. I’m sure she’s going to ask ‘how’, but she reconsiders, turning the conversation back to the idea I’ve unknowingly provoked in her as a muse.
“Isn’t it perfect?”
“Amazing. Mrs. Kingston will wet her granny panties.”
Vanna gives me a funny look and I throw one hand up. “Sorry, no cussing, I know.”
Eyes shining, she nods hard enough to unsettle a bunch of dark curls over her faces. Brushing them away, she practically springs out from my embrace easy enough with my slack arms.
She’s got the door unlocked before I ask, “Where are you going?”
“I have to tell Wes and Vi.”
I wouldn’t be able to stop her even if I could. Vanna’s out the door, spiriting down the stairs long before I figure I’m decent enough to see her siblings.
Contrary to what I expected, Wes and Violet are far from being huddled in a corner, hushing themselves on our approach.
Having traded places, Violet is perched behind the desk, fiddling with her phone and I figure Wes is in the back room if his loud mutterings are any clue. Violet is opening her mouth, curiosity – and is that embarrassment? – dimming her typical peppy self.
Our eyes meet. Violet looks back to Vanna much too quickly for my suspicions.
Yep, she’s embarrassed.
I wouldn’t think it.
Wes and Violet are way too…well, like me to care about formalities. I guess interrupting her older sister while she gets fucked soundly is too much for the youngest Sterling daughter.
“I have to grab Wes for this,” Vanna doesn’t let Violet speak, she pauses at the open doorway separating the front from the back dressing room, and general kitchen and break room area, searching for her brother. Wes’ grumbling ‘yes’ follows him not too long after.
“What, what, what?” he divides his glare to all three of us. “This better not be the part where we break bad news to Wes.”
“No bad news. Actually the opposite,” Vanna’s looking and sounding more like Violet. I have to look at the other girl to make sure
I’ve got the right sister in front of me.
To think I started it all with my joke, and not-so-joke strip show. I feel the grin tugging my lips. Wes catches my eye and his dark brows storm down over his stare.
Not that he can control the giddiness lifting my heart, watching Vanna explain her idea to handle Mrs. Kingston to her siblings. Initially unresponsive, then Violet nods.
“I think it could work. So long as I don’t make the call and take her RSVP.”
“I can do that.” Wes supplies. “I hate myself for real right now, but I can do it. I’ll call Mrs. Kingston.”
Violet and Wes’ stares clash.
All Vanna and I can do is sit and watch, with the caveat that I’m betting on whether they’re going to break out into another fight and repeat the awkward afternoon.
Violet breaks away first, attention turning to answer her vibrating phone. “Okay then. I’ll be in the back, keeping as far away from her, but on hand to help with the display.” Standing and gesturing to the vibrating phone, she says, “I have to take this call though. Ken’s calling. Excuse me.”
“Who’s Ken?” I wait to ask until Violet steps to the back, phone at her ear, huge smile on her face.
“Kenji. Her Japanese boyfriend,” Wes rounds the desk, figuring now that the back is occupied, he might as well make himself comfortable.
“They met in Tokyo while she went to school,” Vanna fills in. “The significant time difference makes it hard for them to talk normally.”
I can’t imagine being that far from Vanna; more than half a day parting us. Worse now that I just found her. My heart sinks at the thought of leaving her. My Vanna.
Right then I make a vow never to let that happen.
It’s enough for me to come up at her back, my arm securing around her waist, drawing her side to my chest. Vanna turns around from Wes mid-response to whatever they were talking about, bringing me to hug her fully.
We’re staring at each other; my silent plea stirring in my gut, turning over the dinner I skipped, my mouth drying over and over again, and my arms tensing in their embrace of her.
I hear Wes say, “I guess I’ll just make a late coffee run since there’s no room in my own damn store.” I also narrowly catch his warning over the shopkeeper’s bell jingling, “No sex on my flooring.”
I’m still thinking about being away from Vanna; I know I won’t do the leaving – but I have no control if she decides I’m not for her and wants to cut me loose.
I hate it when I have so much to say, and can’t find the means to form the smallest word.
She tiptoes and touches my lips, the kiss deepening gradually, my mouth breaking away to secure my teeth over her lower lip and tug, absorbing the sensual vibrations coming from her mouth and shaking her limbs.
It’s enough for me to whisper, “Can we continue this?”
I want to see the dawn with her. Fuck her to the early red-glow and wake up to my name cried from her.
I whisper that, too, and Vanna’s arms go soft about my neck, fingers slacking in their caresses of the back of my head.
As long as she’s with me, she’s with me – I didn’t know if that meant we’d be celebrating our silver anniversary someday, but it tricks my heart and mind into a calm the way kind I hadn’t experienced since living through five tours, surviving on enemy ground and watching others crack under the war mentality.
Vanna’s next kiss is feather-soft, a brush yet an opening to a promise and a hope for a horny Marine who might put his foot in his mouth more times than anyone he knows, and who’s loyal as hell to her.
“Yes.”
It’s all I need to hear from her.
8
“Look what the sleet and thunder dragged in.”
Wes has his eyes on the computer screen, scrolling with one hand, a mug in the other. My nostrils flare and my stomach grumbles at the smell of eggs and coffee.
The coffee I covered and I bought an extra muffin only because Vanna wanted our breakfast to go.
But eggs – a man needs his protein sometimes and calories are looking good after Vanna and I fucked six ways from Sunday.
Reality: It’s only two mornings from our first time.
Also officially a week since I found her in Sterling Outfits’ display window.
Vanna’s hand is in mine. We’ve been like that since we left her apartment where we might as well have been holed up for two days, not always screwing; we took breaks for food – which I saw as sustenance for more sex – I even surprised her with dinner out last night. We made up for the extra time spent outside fucking and talking, and fucking some more into the early hours.
Shocker, Vanna covers another yawn, her steps sluggish beside me. I pull her through the store’s entrance, playing a balancing act with our tray of espressos and muffins.
I’m soaking wet from the few seconds stepping out from Vanna’s umbrella. I gather her closer, making sure she remains under the umbrella until we clear the door.
“How did it go?” Vanna completely ignores Wes’ comment. I’m surprised she took off the last couple days to spend it by my side, although she compensated by musing aloud on the private fitting for the siblings’ most prestigious client, Mrs. Kingston.
I found kissing her worked to ease the tension. At least half the reason we had sex so many times; blame Wes and Violet for opening Sterling Outfits and Mrs. Kingston for being a pain-in-the-saggy-ass customer.
To be fair I have no clue, nor care, as to what Mrs. Kingston looks like.
My dick salutes her though, and everything that helped bring Vanna and I together.
“Swell. And you’d know all about it Vanna if you hadn’t, um,” Wes breaks out to feign a coughing attack, his returning grin even wider. “We survived if that’s what you want to know. No bulldozers on their way to clear the space for some pop-up store.”
“You mean another pop-up store?”
“So funny.” Wes rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. A clear indication that last evening’s appointment with Mrs. Kingston and hers went swimmingly and acting as blocker for Wes’ usual bitchy morning mood.
I know he’s an improvement today as he offers me a complimentary plate of eggs with my muffin, no snippy remarks on the side. We eat in Wes’ seat behind the desk with Vanna balancing on my knee, one hand always stroking some part of her, reminding myself she’s real, Sterling Outfit’s real and I’m living a hella of an American dream.
“I have to go to work, remember?”
I do remember. I don’t want to, but I do.
After living at hers for two nights, I understand why her one-bedroom apartment is costing her two jobs; one of the newer structures in a residential area, Vanna’s neighbors are all of the younger, working set, who desire things like the amenities the in-building gym, pool and spa, and of living closer to the city’s entertainment centers.
“Come by the store, later.” A grinning Wes returns from the back, Violet’s laughter ringing after him. Following their fight, Violet and Wes are mending fences pretty quick.
Again, another indication the private showing for Mrs. Kingston went smoothly.
“I will,” Vanna replies. “I always do.”
“And now you have more of a reason.” Wes covers his mouth and jabs a finger at me. He makes no effort to hide the explicit gesture, and I wouldn’t correct him anyways.
He’s right. Vanna has me now. I almost preen. Almost.
Ego aside, I’m still reluctant to let her go. Walking her to the door, I hold her back by the waist and drink in her features, memorizing every part from her upturned nose to her pink mouth to her soft chin and her brown eyes.
I convinced her to leave her hair down. Vanna didn’t completely agree, spouting off something about it getting in her way, but we met halfway and it remains in a loose, wavy ponytail down her back.
She lingers long enough to give Wes the up-to-date shop’s accounts binder, call a ‘hello’ to Violet in the back, and give me a chaste kiss on the li
ps. I hook my thumbs in the front of my jeans, watching Vanna’s ass, waiting to bounce back after her departure – it’s getting harder to have her leave me, even for something perfectly normal like a second job.
“So? Where were you last night?” Behind his desk once more, Wes perches his chin over the steeple of his hands. He’s bordering on snarky now.
Violet saves me from her brother’s morning interrogation. She took her breakfast in the back, in work mode, barely noticing the three of us until now it seems.