The Woodworker

by Westlake, Samantha

  “Does this link work?” I asked, mousing over the purchase link.

  She nodded. “It does! You don’t have any orders yet, but that’s because I haven’t started running any sort of advertising campaign. That’s the next step, but I wanted to show you what I’ve been working on until now, first.”

  “This is… wow.” I pushed the laptop aside, looked at her and hoped she could see the respect I felt for her on my face. “Ellie, I-“

  “And I also wanted to talk to you about something else,” she went on, no longer sounding quite so confident. I paused, biting back the rest of my sentence.

  “What?”

  “Last night,” she said, the words coming faster and more rushed. “I know that we kissed-“

  I’d kissed her, but she could choose to remember it as a mutual thing. Good sign?

  “-and it was very nice,” she went on, in the understatement of the century. “But I think that it was probably a mistake, and it should just be a one time thing. I didn’t mean to suggest anything else by it.”

  Perfect. Somehow, she’d managed to say exactly what I’d decided on the night before with Niall! This was exactly what I’d wanted. “You know what? I totally feel the same way,” I said.

  She leaned forward, and strangely, some of the lines of concern on her face looked deeper. She looked as if she hadn’t been expecting me to be so agreeable. “Really?”

  “You were the one who pointed out how things could get messy if stuff happened between us,” I replied, trying to sneak a look down her shirt as she leaned forward. “And last night was great, but I was just kissing you to comfort you.”

  “Just comforting me,” she repeated. “Yes, that’s exactly what it is.”

  “And while I’d be happy to comfort you if you need it again,” I continued, “I don’t mean anything deeper by it.”

  “So you’re not attracted to me?”

  That sounded like a dangerous question. “You’re attractive, yes,” I hedged, “but it’s all physical. And when you look at me…?”

  “Same thing,” she answered, her eyes dropping down to look at me. I realized that I still wore my clothes from the night before, probably looked disheveled and unkempt. “You’re a very attractive man, but it would be a bad idea for anything to happen between us.”

  “Unless one of us needs comfort, or to release stress.”

  I could see her turning that over in her head. “It would be good to defuse some tension in a way that won’t cause long-term problems,” she admitted. “I’m not interested in a relationship.”

  “Me neither.” I wondered if she’d taste sweaty, having gone for a run this morning. I wondered if that would make her taste even better.

  Ah, hell with it. I leaned in, the laptop slipping to the foot of the bed as I pulled her towards me.

  She kissed me deeply. Yes, she was salty. I found it exotic, like a salted caramel. Her body slipped in closer, and my dick complained about the restrictiveness of my jeans.

  We broke apart at the lips, although her body remained glued to mine. “No romantic interest,” she repeated, the words halfway between a question and a declaration.

  “Just physical,” I said. “You could be any woman.”

  “And you could be any guy.” The covers still served as a barrier between our bodies. I tugged them down, and she slipped beneath them, next to me. “Just physical.”

  She kissed me again and a dam burst inside me, a barrier that had been holding back my lust and hunger. I growled through our connected lips, pulled my body up to roll atop her, pinning her beneath me.

  “Wait,” she panted out, as one of my hands slipped beneath the bottom of her tank top. “I haven’t showered yet. I’m all sweaty from running.”

  “I don’t care,” I growled back, getting the tank top up. Even as she protested, her hands had fallen to my waist, tugging at the button of my jeans. God, I was about to explode with carnal hunger.

  “But,” she got out, and then that was the last word spoken for a while.

  Chapter Twenty

  Eileen

  * * *

  Oh god, yes. This wasn’t what I’d expected when I came up to Rick’s bedroom this morning, intending just to show him the website I’d created, but I couldn’t bring myself to protest.

  In fact, my only protest was how tight the button on his damn jeans felt! He held himself up above me with one hand, his other hand slipping beneath my back, making my normally ornery sports bra’s clasp pop open at a touch. His lips were on mine, his tongue exploring where I welcomed it inside my mouth.

  After another couple seconds of my clumsy fumbling, he took pity on me and helped pop the button on his jeans. Immediately, the zipper undid itself and his pants bulged at the crotch as he pushed out. He was hard and erect, and I reached for him with a hunger I hadn’t realized burned so brightly inside me.

  He groaned as my fingers found a hard, pulsing rod among the fabric of his boxer briefs. He dropped down next to me on the bed, reaching down and tugging pants and boxers alike to his knees.

  This time, when I reached for him, I felt the heat of his skin, felt him grow and throb in my fingers. That touch sent a new wave of need through me. Yes, I still had that tiny voice in the back of my head warning me that this could be a bad idea, but it was already all but drowned out by hunger. I’d been in a dry spell for so long.

  Besides, like I’d told Rick, he could be any man. I didn’t need him specifically. I needed a cock, needed a muscular man to bring me a long overdue release of pleasure. It could be anyone, as long as he knew how to use his equipment.

  His pants off, Rick turned his attention back to me. He slipped one arm around my waist and hauled, and I gasped again as I found myself bodily lifted to straddle him. He was a steel rod between my thighs, and my bra hung loose beneath my half-off tank top.

  It was the work of a second for him to finish stripping me to nakedness above the waist. For an instant, I felt a twinge of self-consciousness about my body. I was in decent shape, but I’d never been especially gifted in regards to my bust. Surely, Rick wouldn’t be impressed with my small breasts-

  He didn’t pause. He sat up a little, the muscles of his abs flexing, and his mouth kissed my chest. His tongue pressed wetly against my bare skin, licking off dried sweat and salt as he circled around my nipple, brushing against it before pulling away. He toyed with both of my breast for a few seconds, shifting his mouth from one to another as his hands massaged and squeezed them, and then fastened his teeth lightly around my left nipple.

  Pleasure exploded inside my head, setting my spine afire and clearing the last vestiges of conscious thought from my head. I moaned, tossing my head back and reaching up to yank the hairband out so my hair could tumble freely down. I tangled my fingers in his short hair, pulling him in tightly as if I could smother him with my breasts. My other hand dropped down to find his cock between my thighs, stroke it from its broad base to its throbbing head.

  He attended to my chest for another minute, but then his hands slipped around to delve inside my leggings, grasping my ass. I had to shift off him slightly so that he could yank my leggings down; I feared he might tear them bodily off me if I didn’t remove them now!

  As soon as they were out of the way, his hand dove between my legs. He found my wetness, pressed in with two fingers, pushed in circles that moved slowly deeper into me. His mouth stayed on my breast, licking and pressing in a counterpoint that pounded in my head like the thumping of a taboo drum.

  I’d been so long since I’d last had a man touch me, I’d feared that I might be out of shape, unable to let myself fully relax. With Rick, however, the opposite proved to be true. In scarcely any time at all, I felt rising heat burning inside of me, growing towards an eruption.

  As I drew close, however, he slowed the movement of his fingers between my thighs, drew back his mouth. “Not yet,” he whispered, wearing the evilest grin I’d ever seen on him. “You need to wait until I let you.”


  “You- you-“ I didn’t have words. I hated him even as I wanted him more than anything.

  I slammed my hand against his chest, pushing him back down onto the bed. Once again, I climbed astride him, but this time there were no barriers between us. His fingers had drawn out enough wetness to soak my thighs, and I pressed down to coat him in my wetness, to feel him slide between my lips, not quite hitting my entrance.

  He moaned, this time, and I knew that he would agree to anything I asked of him in this moment. I luxuriated in that power for a second, but I needed him too, couldn’t bear the thought of waiting any longer.

  I leaned forward a little, adjusting the angle, and he pushed inside of me.

  “Oh god,” I cried out at the feeling of him. He was huge, so big! I didn’t know if he was surely the biggest I’d ever had, or if I’d just gone so long without anything but my own showerhead touching myself, but he nearly brought me to tears. I held myself still for a second, trying to adjust to him.

  He didn’t let me relax for long. His hips began to move beneath me, slowly but steadily, driving himself in and out of me. His hands reached around to grasp my ass, guiding me as he pushed deeper with each drive, filling and stretching and claiming me. I leaned forward, barely able to support myself, and he met my mouth with his.

  I didn’t last long, and he knew it. He took over the movement of our joined bodies as I lost control, kissed me deeply even as I moaned, gripped me as I shook and quivered. I lost myself in the pleasure of his body, the scent of him, cinnamon with a hint of sawdust, spilled over the edge as I orgasmed on his dick. His hand pressed down on my clit, rubbing and prolonging my pleasure until I felt about to scream, on the knife edge between bliss and pain.

  Finally, almost mercifully, he let me come back to my senses. He gave me relief for a minute, pausing, before he began to thrust beneath me again. This time, his tempo increased until the room echoed with the slapping of our bodies together, our own applause.

  I felt him hitting the point of no return, felt his body stiffen beneath me. Once again, pleasure rose up in my chest, flared simultaneously up to my brain and down to between my thighs. I screamed, and this time he moaned with me as we both hit orgasms and spasmed, lost control together as the rest of the world around us became nothing but unimportant background.

  It took a few minutes before I felt able to speak again. I laid there in bed next to him, half draped over this man’s powerful body, listening to the rapid thumping of his heart in counterpoint to my own. His hand still rested possessively on top of me, curled lightly around one of my buttocks, and I didn’t want to move for fear of dislodging it.

  “Well,” Rick finally spoke. I felt his chest moving beneath me, rising and falling as he pulled in air.

  “Well,” I echoed. Sprawled down on the pillow next to him, I could only see half his face.

  “That was…”

  Amazing? Wonderful? As far as I could remember, the best sex of my life? Rick might have other faults, such as when it came to his drive and motivation, but even I couldn’t deny that the man was a god in bed. He’d made me come twice in a matter of minutes, and even now I craved another round.

  “…good,” he finished.

  “Good?” I pulled myself up, aware of his eyes lingering on my chest instead of rising to my face. That just added to my irritation. “That’s the best you’ve got to say about it?”

  He frowned up at me, finally meeting my gaze. “What would you say, then?”

  Know what? If he wanted to be rude about things, that’s how I’d be to him, as well. “Adequate,” I countered.

  This time it was his turn to look taken aback. “Adequate?” he echoed. “Based on some of the noises that you were making, you haven’t experienced anything ‘adequate’ in a while, huh?”

  I glared back at him. “That’s none of your business,” I told him archly. “Besides, it’s probably good that we don’t think too highly of it. After all, we don’t want any sort of complication arising between us, right?”

  I had to keep reminding myself of that fact. Even though the release of endorphins from sex was amazing, it was just like working out, going for a long jog, or taking a shower – a pleasurable sensation that was fleeting, that shouldn’t cause any lasting changes in my thoughts. I definitely did not want to fall in love with this man, didn’t even want him deciding that we were in a relationship and treating me differently. Things had been going just fine before he dragged me down into his bed alongside him.

  “Right,” Rick said after a second. He pulled himself up in bed, sitting straighter. His eyes fell on the laptop, pushed nearly off the bed by our shared exertions. “So the two of us are…”

  “Roommates,” I finished. “Friends. Business partners.”

  “Got it.” He pulled himself up, turning to let strong, bare legs emerge from beneath the sheets. I watched as he stood up, dug his boxers out from where they’d vanished beneath the comforter of the bed, pulled them on to cover up his significantly reduced equipment.

  Starting to feel aware of my own nakedness, I started to reach for my leggings and bra – but paused when I felt how they were still slightly damp with sweat. Rick had already seen everything; might as well hold my head high as I went to take a shower.

  “Don’t forget about your coffee,” I said, gesturing to the mug that I’d brought up for him along with the laptop. “Although you might need to reheat it by now. It’s probably gone cold.”

  He pointedly ogled my ass as I stood. “You going to keep walking around my house naked like this? Because that’s a change that I can get behind.”

  “Don’t even try it. I’m just going to take a shower. I’m feeling even dirtier than after my run. Need to scrub myself clean.”

  The insult didn’t seem to bother him in the slightest. “Need some company in there? Someone to lather up those hard-to-reach places?”

  He slipped a hand towards me, and I nimbly dodged aside. “I’m perfectly capable of handling it myself, thank you.”

  “Just call out, and I’ll pop in to scratch that itch.” He really seemed to be enjoying this.

  Of course he was. The brute of a man had gotten me into his bed, had his way with me, and now got to keep on staring at me as if I was some porn star on display. Probably played to all his gross teenage fantasies.

  Forcing myself to not walk any quicker than usual, I left his bedroom, headed across the second-floor hallway to the bathroom. I fought the urge to lock the door; he’d hear the click, would know that I was weak. I turned on the water, cranked it up to as hot as it would go, stepped beneath the spray and closed my eyes.

  After a few minutes in the hot shower, my thoughts began to return to normal. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad thing. I’d really needed that release, and Rick made it abundantly clear that he didn’t want a relationship any more than I did. I’d gotten exactly what I needed.

  I turned my thoughts to his business. I was glad to see him appreciating the work that I’d put in, his reaction to the website I’d created for his products. The Woodworker, by Rick Morgan. It was simple, clean, elegant. This was the sort of thing that wouldn’t look out of place in a high-end boutique, could be featured in an art show with a blue ribbon attached.

  An art show… now, there was an idea. I made a mental note of that, filing it away for later. I needed to drum up publicity and acclaim if I wanted to increase his sales, and the prestige of an art show could be just the ticket.

  By the time I stepped out of the shower, sluicing extra water droplets off my body and wrapping up my hair in a towel, I’d already put the morning’s carnal events out of my mind. I needed to start the advertising push, get organic traffic and links flowing to the new website now that Rick had voiced his approval. I might still be waiting on my severance, my insurance check, but I knew how to manage a product launch and bring in sales. I’d been doing this at a high level for years.

  This would prove to Rick that I was his equal – or better. No more
mocking looks, no more “poor Eileen, no home and no job.” I’d show him.

  I strode out of the bathroom. I had a lot to do.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Rick

  * * *

  I stood in my workshop, looking down at the sanding block that I held in my hand, trying to remember what I’d been planning to do with it. I’d been down here for more than an hour, but I didn’t feel like I’d accomplished much.

  It was Thursday, four days after Eileen and I had sex. I still kept thinking about it, finding myself slipping back into horny reminiscence. One minute, I’d be standing at the stove, setting a timer; the next thing I knew, the timer would be beeping at me as I gazed off into space, one hand on my spatula and the other down in my pants, on my rock-hard “spatula.” I’d have to snap back to the present, remember what I’d been doing beforehand. I had a growing fear that at some point, I’d zone out while holding a live power tool.

  In the last few days, however, Eileen acted as if the event never happened. She’d gone back to burying herself in doing something about my business, spending most of her time either tapping away on her computer, yelling at people over the phone, or both things at once. She’d even moved her collections of papers out of my living room and across the hallway into my study.

  Not that it was mine any longer, I corrected my own thoughts. Eileen had definitely made it her own; she threw out most of my papers, replaced them with her own, and kept the door closed. I half expected her to deny me access when I tried the doorknob, to ask me if I had an appointment!

  The woman always surprised me with her ability to be simultaneously attractive and driving-me-up-the-wall annoying. Even as I kept finding myself staring at her and remembering how good she looked naked, she didn’t give me the slightest hint of even remembering our time together.

  There’d been no further romantic contact between us. No kisses, no brushing sensually against each other in the kitchen, and definitely no more sex. It felt like she’d purged me completely from her system.