The Never List

by DL White

  "I appreciate that you offered but helping you with the list isn't about the contract."

  My brows shot up. "It's not? What's it about then?"

  "Really, Esme?" He laughed a little, then gave me a long stare. "The list is about you, Esme. About spending time with you one on one. Finding out what's important to you. How you think. What makes you tick. What holds your attention. What brings you fear. Contract concessions tied into it is… honestly, to make the tedium fun."

  He pushed out a short puff of air and shook his head. "We can't even really mention this deal to anyone."

  "I haven't said anything."

  "Me either. I need this to fly through."

  "It will. Because we're making it happen. Right?"

  Trey didn't answer. Well, he didn't answer in words. He leaned over to kiss me, his lips lingering on mine for a second longer than usual.

  "I really, really like you, Esme. I shouldn't, because you're mean. I guess I like that in a woman."

  "I am not mean, Mr. Pettigrew. I am assertive. I have to be. People will walk all over you if you let them. I got tired of people seeing a frumpy girl and thinking they can treat her any old kind of way. Use and abuse her and make her think she should accept that because she's lucky that anyone paid attention to her."

  Trey set up and pulled back, angling his head so that the light from overhead illuminated my face. "Wait, abuse? Who do I have to fight? Did somebody hurt you?"

  "No... no." I pulled him back to me. He was warm, and the late evening chill gave me goosebumps. "A turn of phrase, I guess. A lifetime of immature men that don't want much but a wet hole and somebody to make him a sandwich."

  "You make good sandwiches?"

  "Really, Trey?"

  "On a serious tip, I'm glad you were assertive and served up your worth because now you're here with me. And I have a chance to be your man. Right?"

  "Yeah," I admitted, nearly under my breath. He heard it, though. "I like you too, Trey. I shouldn't because you called me mean like you didn't try to take that chair from my table."

  "I am never going to live that down. You'd been sitting there by yourself for an hour. How was I supposed to know you had a date?"

  "Hell if I know. But I was pissed."

  "Did you ever hear from that dude?"

  "The investigating officer said that he got bailed out. I closed my dating account that night, and we never exchanged phone numbers. Something about being cold cocked after being stood up was enough for me."

  "It was rough to watch," he said quietly. "Everybody saw it. And they… sat there. Watching. I was mid-sentence when I noticed what was happening. Jumped up and ran out there."

  "And knocked him right out."

  He chuckled. "Those games of racquetball come in handy. I had a good swing."

  "Racquetball should have been my extreme sport."

  "It can happen. I'll add it to your list."

  I tapped his arm, then gave him a reassuring squeeze. "I had a good time tonight."

  "A good time, Esme? Like we went to a movie?" He sucked his teeth, slowly shaking his head. "Out here acting like horny teenagers."

  My giggle came out as more of a snort. "I need to add dry hump a guy up against his car in view of a busy street to my list. It can, for sure, replace a sailboat ride."

  "Nah. We can do it all. You tell me what you gotta do. I'll make it happen."

  I tipped my head up, brushing my lips against his cheek. He turned his head so that I got his lips. I kissed those too. Then I shifted so that I sat on his lap, straddling him. His hands automatically flew to my ass and molded to my shape.

  "Hey, girl," he mumbled, his lips brushing against mine.

  "Hey." I rested my arms across his shoulders and scooted close so that my breasts pressed into his chest. "Did you have a good time tonight?"

  "I had a real good time. I hope I'm not done having a real good time."

  "No, I mean... did you have a good time?"

  Silence from Trey. And then, "You want to know if I came?"

  "Yes. Did you?"

  "Esme—" Trey's mouth dropped open, but no other sounds came out. I took that to mean that he didn't.

  "Do you want to?"

  "I mean…always. Do I want you to make me come?" He chuckled, the sound coming from deep in his throat. "In so many ways. In due time, I hope. I'm not asking for that from you tonight."

  "It's only fair, Trey. I got mine."

  "I got mine, too," he protested. "You feel good to me. Anyway, I get to touch you, I'm winning. I'm straight. Really."

  "Ok, what if…"

  I drew my bottom lip into my mouth, catching it with my teeth before releasing it again, while I held his gaze.

  Bold, Esme. Make it happen. Get what you want.

  "When we danced together the other night, you were hard. I cannot stop thinking about it. I've been imagining and dreaming and, honestly, getting off on those thoughts and dreams, and after tonight, I want to see you. I want to touch you. I want to taste you."

  "And you want to do that right now? Out here."

  "These trees make good cover, unlike busy Cobb Parkway. What, you need perfect lighting and presentation to show me your dick?"

  "Nah, I'll whip it out—"

  "So do that."

  "You want this because you came and I didn't. I'm not keeping score, Esme."

  "I want this because you got a big ol' dick, and I want to see it."

  That made him laugh. "Is this a thing on your list?"

  "No!" I laughed with him, then cupped his face and kissed his lips. "I'll tell you when it's a thing on my list. I'll drop it if the answer is no."

  "It's not no. It's never going to be no. You don't have to, though."

  "I know. But I want to. So… yes?"

  Trey sighed, trying hard to sound like getting head was going to be a chore. He stretched an arm to the edge of the trunk, behind the seat he leaned against and flipped a lever. He did the same behind the other, then pushed both seats back, so they laid flat.

  I took the hint, dismounted from his lap, and moved further inside. He reached for the door latch and pulled the rear hatch closed. The dome light turned off, dunking us in nearly pitch black darkness. Trey reached up to press buttons and turn the low interior lights on, then stretched out next to me.

  "I want to see you, but I can turn it off, if—"

  "It's fine," I murmured.

  In moments, I was enveloped in his scent as he pulled me closer to him. His lips brushed across mine softly, gently a few times. He worked his way across my jaw to my ears, nibbling the lobe for a few moments before leaving a trail down my neck and across the exposed skin of my chest.

  "Esme," Trey whispered, while he tucked a hand under the hem of my shirt. He palmed a breast, his thumb resting on the tip of a raised nipple. My breath quickened with the anticipation that at any moment, he would rub his thumb across the hardened nub.

  "Mmmmm?"

  "Am I supposed to be able to see your bra? Like through your shirt, because I've been trying not to stare all night. "

  I giggled. "Yes. It's part of the outfit. I thought I was being sexy."

  "Oh, you are. You very much are."

  His thumb whispered over the fabric of the thin bra, bringing a wave of electric pleasure that made me writhe and squeal even while he kissed me, swirling his tongue around mine before pulling back with a deep, lusty groan. Trey moved his hand to my waist and pulled me up against him. His erection was present and accounted for.

  "Feel this? Feel me?" He tilted his pelvis so that I felt him, all of him. "This is what happens when I'm having dinner in one of Atlanta's finer restaurants, staring at you because I wish I could take that bra off and put your nipples in my mouth."

  "You should have said something." I sat up, grabbed the hem of my blouse, and pulled it over my head. "I would have whipped them out for you."

  When I pulled my hands behind me to unclasp the bra, Trey went to work unbuckling his belt, then
undoing the button and zipper on his jeans. He stopped there, leaving them open to expose a dark pair of briefs because the moment the clasp was released, my breasts dropped.

  He reached over to cup a breast in the palm of his warm hand. He only had to tip forward to swirl his tongue around an areola before closing his mouth around one, then the other nipple. I hadn't felt the rasp of a tongue across my skin in so long that I'd forgotten the pleasurable sensation, but it rushed back to me, and I didn't want him to stop.

  "Damn," he said, following up with a groan.

  "Is that a good damn?"

  "That is the best damn. You taste like brown sugar. You feel good in my mouth."

  His pants were open, so I went for it, sliding a finger under the band of his briefs, then daring to go further until I felt him, thick and smooth. And warm. So warm. Trey made it easier for me, easing his briefs down so I could pull his dick out.

  I estimated about eight inches of manhood jutting from his body, angled up toward me. I danced my fingers along the length, then ran the tip of my index finger across the head, smearing the creamy evidence of his arousal around the tip. He responded with a deep-throated moan and bucked his hips.

  "Damn," I mumbled, making my best Trey Pettigrew impression.

  "That better be a good damn."

  I smiled up at him, adjusted so I was level with him, and took him into my mouth until I could take no more, then pulled off, then took him again.

  "Oh my… fuck yeah…"

  Trey pushed his jeans and briefs down so he could kick them off. I moved to sit between his legs, encouraged by the nonstop sounds coming from him. I pulled almost all the way off, then took all of him again and again. Slower, then faster, using a hand to squeeze him at the base, then swirling my tongue across the sensitive head.

  I rolled my eyes up to meet his before taking him again.

  "Fuck." His voice sounded tight, taut. Full of emotion, but he was holding back. "This feels so good. You...your mouth is amazing. Is it good for you, baby? You like that?"

  I moaned, still full of him, still moving my mouth and my hands on him, building a rhythm to take him higher. He hissed, rolling his hips in sync with me for a few moments before he sat up, cupped my chin, and pushed me back.

  Trey took his dick into his own hand, pumping with a roughness that I was too ladylike to perform, but I took mental notes in case I ever got the chance to duplicate the technique.

  “Ahhhh!” He cocked his head back, the sound of him filling the interior of the SUV.

  A warm spurt hit my chest and splashed up to my chin.

  "Oh!" I yelped.

  He tipped his head up at my sudden sounds, then his eyes widened. "Oh… shit! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to—”

  "No! It’s ok! I'm... I'm in the line of fire. I should have... realized...." I started laughing, taking in my view of Trey with his dick in his hands, still seeping from the tip, and my bare chest covered in ejaculate.

  "This… is funny?"

  "This is hilarious!" I shrieked, laughing harder.

  Trey chuckled along, but eyed me, probably in case I was laughing maniacally and not genuinely amused.

  "I might not be able to hang out with you anymore. Three new things in one night is a lot. Do you have any napkins?"

  "Yeah. Hang on."

  Trey sat up, reaching to press the button to open the glove box, where a curiously large assortment of napkins, ketchup packets, and silverware in plastic wrap was stuffed inside the compartment.

  At my wide-eyed stare at his stash, he shrugged. "I used to work in the field, on job sites. Those guys eat a lot of fast food and food truck fare. I always save the extras. Never know when you'll come on a girl's face and need a handful."

  I grabbed a few napkins and swiped the already cold wetness from my chin. He helped, dabbing at my chest before I took the napkins and finished the job.

  "You mad at me?"

  "No." I laughed, shaking my head. "I'm having so much fun with you."

  "Es, I just came on you."

  "You did." I bent forward to kiss him while pressing the soiled napkins into his hand. "So now we're even, and I'm happy."

  He sat up, then crawled to the rear of the truck and popped the hatch open again. He reached for his boxers and pants and climbed out.

  "I need to get right. Give me a minute."

  When Trey came back, he was pulling his t-shirt down over the band of his jeans. I'd put my bra and blouse back on and had moved back to the front seat. Trey reset the back seats and closed the hatch again, then got into the driver's seat.

  "How you doin'?" He asked, leaning across the console.

  "I am real good." I met him halfway for a kiss, then leaned back. I laid an arm across his shoulder, then asked earnestly, "How are you, Trey?"

  "If you're real good, I'm real good."

  He reached for the gear shift, backing away from the house, then made a wide turn to head down the road we'd taken when we came to the house.

  "It's been an eventful evening Ms. Whitaker, but I'm taking your exhibitionist ass home before you get me arrested."

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Trey

  * * *

  Sixteen ounces of spiced vanilla flavored coffee from Brew Bar gave everything I needed. I'd arrived at the office early, while the building was still dark, and settled in at my desk without being bothered by anyone on the way in. I sipped, nodding appreciatively at both the report waiting on my desk and the hot, creamy brew that had quickly made me a fan.

  Esme and I had fallen into a habit of switching off days picking up coffee and muffins from Brew Bar when we met at Miller Design. I was fine with plain French roast or vanilla and didn't like to get fancy. Esme loved whatever sweet swirl of flavors they tossed together that sounded good. Chocolate raspberry almond was her current crush.

  Unfortunately, I'd had to cut my mornings at Miller to a few times a week. Esme and I were making great strides on negotiations, and Miller seemed particularly agreeable as of late. Pettigrew was working against Atlanta's upcoming cold and rainy season. At this time of year, the race was on to make progress on outside work so that crews could spend time inside when the weather wasn't agreeable.

  A loud tap tap sounded at the closed door. "It's open," I called, raising my head to greet Vincent, who blew into my office, holding a copy of the same report that I'd been staring at for an hour. "Look who learned how to knock."

  "The progress report is out," he said, ignoring my joke and dropping it onto my desk.

  "I'm reading it now," I told him, showing him my copy. "Maybe getting to the office before noon would be a good habit to get into."

  "It's only 9 o'clock, young blood. When you clock out at, what? Five, six o'clock, I'm still here. I put in my hours." Vincent took a seat and assumed his usual position, ankle resting on a knee, a hand restlessly tapping. "Tell me about the report, since you have a head start. Do you think the fourth quarter projections are accurate?"

  I flipped back through the pages, referencing my notes on the projects that Pettigrew had slated for the last quarter of the year. "We have three builds in final phases, so those are automatic wins. Four in progress, a few of which just broke ground, but it looks like the crews are moving on time. We'll need to ride the project leads to keep them on schedule, or we'll end up with overtime, especially if we're supposed to run wire by December. We've got a couple that are behind schedule, but…"

  I sipped more coffee, giving the pages one last brush before closing the report and relaxing in my chair. "Nothing to worry about yet."

  "You know Saul would—"

  "Yeah, I know. Pops would shit a brick at this report. But then I'd come behind him and reassure him. Seeing where the crews are, we're in good shape. Let's evaluate the situation in two weeks, though. A lot can change in that time."

  "What the hell are you drinking?" Asked Vincent, his mouth screwed into a scowl. "It smells like those candles my wife burns all the time."

  "Cof
fee," I answered. "Spiced vanilla from a shop that's not far from me."

  "Trey…" Vincent shook his head. "I have never known you to drink coffee."

  "Well, I do," I responded with a laugh. "I didn't drink it at the office."

  "And... now you do."

  "Yeah." I hadn't even noticed that I'd started drinking coffee at the office every day, and not only at Miller Design. I smiled to myself at a small but meaningful change since I'd met Esme. I tipped the cup up to Vincent in a mock toast. "Now I do, I guess."

  "Whatever. Another piece of news, besides your recent foray into coffee, is that the bid grapevine is rumbling again. We're looking at two, three weeks at the most."

  I sat up, suddenly very alert and trying to swallow my heart, which had leaped into my throat. "Vincent, why didn't you say that when you walked in here?" I set down my coffee and reached for my cell phone. I had to call Miller.

  And Esme.

  He chuckled. "Honestly, I like watching you scramble. I hope you've made it over the hump to Miller's good side. How's his administrator that hates you?"

  I mumbled, scrolling through my phone. "Making excellent progress, actually. And she doesn't hate me."

  Not anymore, anyway.

  Esme and I were getting along very, very well, though we had taken a small step back from hanging out. We hadn't been out since the night I took her to my half-built house, and we did things that we could probably get arrested for. I'd seen her at the office, and we spent at least an hour a night on the phone talking or watching the same movie. With the contract hanging over both of us, Esme wanted to concentrate on her job. We wanted that contract out of the way as soon as possible, using the anticipation of being able to move forward together as a reward to work harder.

  It was working. I couldn't wait to be alone in a room with Esme naked as the day she was born, a bottle of wine, and nothing but time.

  "We would be further along if Miller didn't want to argue every line and add an addendum to include his terms. I'm calling a meeting. We need to move quickly. It still has to go through the lawyers."