The emotion in her voice and the shine in her eyes touches me, and I can’t help but smile back. She’s so beautiful right now. “Vanilla cake with chocolate icing, huh? It’s not red velvet, but I guess it’s all right.”
Cassie laughs and pushes at my shoulder. “Heathen. Red velvet? I’d rather have pistachio than red velvet.”
I laugh, faking a retch before grinning. “The swing sounds awesome, though. Is that why you told Oliver that in your sales pitch? You want it to have a swing for another little girl?”
Cassie flinches a little, but it’s a thought that’s been running through my head for the past few days. A little girl, say one with hair just like Cassie’s, with the same feisty attitude. I could see having a kid like that. Cassie finally nods too, sighing. “Mama always said it was a good family house, and I want it to have the family it always deserved.”
My stomach clenches at the sorrow in her voice, and I quickly change the subject a little to bring her thoughts back to a lighter track. “Why was it the best summer ever? Did you not swing after that?”
Cassie sounds slightly distracted, probably lost in her memories, and her answer is both off-handed and surprisingly honest. “Oh, Ed bought the tire and the rope for Mama. So when he left, he took them with him.”
“What?” I ask, half choking on the bite of sausage I’d started on. “Took the tire and rope with him? That’s some pretty cold shit right there.”
She shrugs. “Mama was a bit of a spitfire. I take after her. After Dad and her broke up, she decided she was gonna live life on her terms, no compromise. So she’d have a man for a while, then he’d be gone. A little later, she’d have another one. She never wanted to bend an inch, while at the same time, she always needed a man in her life. Trust me, it was frustrating, and I don’t want to end up like that. There were some good ones, though, like Ed. He really was nice to me, despite his taking that tire when he left. And yeah, some were not so nice. It was never anything bad, just a bit of a revolving door of relationships that had me confused sometimes. Mama always said, ‘Chin up. Fish are gonna swim away because swimming is their nature. That’s why there’s so many fish in the sea.’ Took me a while to understand it.”
“Wow . . . that’s uh . . . deep and insightful, I guess. Did she ever fall in love?” I ask while secretly thinking Cassie’s mom probably had the most self-defeating point of view in the entire world, my own included.
Cassie sighs, nodding sorrowfully. “With every one of them. She was heartbroken every time one of them left, too. But she was always there for me, taught me how to be independent. She wasn’t perfect, but she showed me that love is worth having while you do, and to stay grateful for it every day.”
“Where’s she now? Do you talk to her? I’ve never heard you mention her before.”
I nearly slap my forehead when Cassie stops, and I can see the glistening of tears in her eyes. She holds them back, but when she speaks again, her voice is a papery whisper. “No, she’s gone now. After leaving here, we settled in the big city, and things were going okay. Mama had a new job. I seemed to have transitioned pretty well from a tomboy to a city girl, and then I moved out when I went to college. My senior year, she went on a road trip with her boyfriend, Steven. They were hit head-on in a freak accident and neither made it. It was rough because she was all I had in the world. Dad and I are on polite terms, but not very close. But I remembered what she told me and kept my chin up and the sun at my back, kept on keeping on. It’s my motto.”
I swallow, regretting the thoughts I had about Cassie’s mom just a few minutes ago. God, I’m an idiot. “Wow, Cass. That’s rough. I’m so sorry. Your mom sounds like she was quite the woman.”
Cassie nods, then smiles, bringing the seriousness of the conversation to a close. “Yep, so that’s the house I grew up in. Me and Mama against the world. She always said it was the perfect little family house, and now I want to make sure it’s ready for its next family. Swing and all.”
As we finish our pancakes, talk returns to the renovations and what still needs to be done to get it ready for market. But in my mind, I keep thinking that I know a guy who owns a tire shop in town. I bet I could get a big pickup truck tire that would be perfect.
I’m surprised when Cassie leans over as I’m washing up in the kitchen. “You’ve still got a little syrup right there.”
I start to wipe at my chin with my thumb, but her hand comes up, pulling mine away as she steps closer. “No, let me.”
She leans forward, a mischievous spark in her eyes as she delicately licks the sweet stickiness off and purposely lets her tongue roll over my lips. The feeling of her tongue on my lips is electric, and I can’t help reaching up to grab her ponytail again. It’s so damn convenient and sexy.
“Mmm, keep that up and maybe I’ll have another place for you to lick some syrup off me.”
Cassie giggles as she moves her hands down to the waistband of my shorts, pulling my quickly hardening cock out. “You don’t need syrup for that. In fact, I think I might owe you one from earlier.”
I put a finger under her chin, lifting her eyes to mine. “Cassie, you don’t ever ‘owe me one’. I feel damn lucky to get to lick your sweet little pussy and watch you come for me. This isn’t tit-for-tat. We just take care of each other.”
Cassie pumps my cock slowly, grinning. “I like the sound of that, but I admit I got kind of distracted at tits and tats . . . shirt off so I can see those tats.”
I grin back. “Does that mean you’re taking your shirt off so I can see those tits?”
“Duh!” Cassie laughs, and she sweeps her tank and sports bra over her head as I pull my t-shirt off. My gaze focuses on her breasts, reaching out to cup them in my hands and slipping a thumb across her pebbled nipples. Cassie moans but moves away, getting down on her knees and taking my now fully erect cock into her mouth just a little.
She licks and sucks the tip, swirling her tongue around the head before finally slowly lowering, taking my shaft deep into her mouth inch by inch. When her nose is nestled deep near the base, she lets out a satisfied hum, and I have to squeeze the base below her lips to keep from coming right then. As she bobs up and down, I lean back against the countertop, pushing her ponytail aside to watch her take me into her hot mouth over and over.
Seeing her looking up at me with those naughty, twinkling eyes, I can’t hold back anymore. “Fuck, Cassie, that’s a damn pretty sight. You’re about to make me blow already.” She hums again and I can’t wait anymore. I need to be inside her. I pull my hips back slightly, and she looks up at me. “Cass, get up here. I need to be inside you.”
“Well, we all have needs,” Cassie teases, pushing her shorts down. “Now, what about the condom?”
“I paid for the pancakes, so I’m fully stocked and carrying,” I joke, pulling out my wallet. “But if you keep looking so sexy and pantyless when we go running, I’m going to start keeping one in my sock.”
“Lucky me,” Cassie says, looking around. She pulls me over to her small kitchen table, lying back on it and spreading her legs. She’s glowing, the lips of her pussy already spread. Cassie reaches down and rubs, shivering as she does. “You’d better hurry up and get that condom on, or else I’ll just have to take care of what you started myself.”
It’s hard to focus on getting the condom wrapper open and down my shaft as I watch Cassie rub her pussy, slipping two fingers inside and moaning, teasing me as she slides them in and out. Finally, after what seems like an eternity but can’t be more than twenty seconds, I step forward, pulling her closer to me, her butt helped by a placemat that gives almost no friction as I slide into her, Cassie’s fingers pulling out just in time. We both gasp, and my eyes are pulled to hers. “You’re right,” I growl, filling her all the way in one long stroke. “Who needs syrup?”
“I can’t last long,” Cassie admits, her pussy squeezing me tightly. “I’m so worked up, sorry.”
“Trust me, no more than I am,” I reply, knowing that I�
�m raging inside too. I start thrusting, pulling back and stroking hard in and out of her, our eyes never leaving each other as my cock throbs and pulses deep inside her. Cassie’s fingers dig into my forearms as I speed up, my balls slapping against her ass we’re fucking so hard.
The seconds seem to become minutes, and in those seconds I feel something, like a bridge is being built between us. Cassie’s taking everything I have and loving it, while at the same time, she’s giving everything she has to me. There’s no misunderstanding, none of the frustration or miscommunication of earlier, just the look in her eyes as sweat breaks out on our bodies again, my cock pumping in and out of her, and the hammering pace of our sex.
I’m sure we don’t last even two minutes, but it doesn’t matter. When Cassie’s fingernails dig in, I understand and reach down, rubbing her clit with my thumb. She gasps and her pussy squeezes my cock even tighter. “Caleb!”
“Me too,” I gasp, my cock swelling before I come, Cassie’s cries of her own orgasm pushing me even higher. Still, our eyes never leave each other’s and I can almost feel what she’s feeling, the heat and the explosion from deep inside different but just as intense and as needed as mine. When the moment passes, I stay inside her, reaching forward to stroke her hair. “Wow.”
“And who says a quickie has to be bad?” Cassie chuckles after a moment. “That was . . . goddamn!”
I laugh, not wanting to pull out of her but knowing I need to dispose of the condom. “Come on, let’s get washed up,” I say regretfully. “Then you can get some laundry done while I’m at the house, and maybe, if you’re really helpful, I’ll even bring you some dessert tonight.”
“Oh?” Cassie asks. “What’s for dessert?”
“A thick, creamy banana.”
Cassie laughs and smacks my naked ass. “Deal. And you might have a sweet muffin you can munch on too.”
Chapter 20
Cassie
After our confessional pancake brunch on Saturday morning, the crazy wooded adventure, and the mind-blowing sex, I was mentally and physically exhausted. Still a little embarrassed about my jealous fit and how emotional I felt after our couch session, I readily agreed when Caleb said he should probably head out. Taking a few hours to do all of my laundry helped, although I was disappointed when Caleb called later. One of his customers had an emergency issue, so he had to spend all Saturday evening and most of the day Sunday trying to repair a hole in the side of Mrs. Davis’s house. Caleb even sent me a picture, although I have no idea just how the damn hole got there. But by the time he was done clearing out the damaged portions, repairing the wall supports, and then putting in the new drywall and exterior paneling, it was already near sundown on Sunday. He wanted to meet me at the house to keep on working afterward, but I knew he needed his rest and told him to hit the sack.
I was excited when he texted me last night, telling me that he made a good amount of progress on the projects Oliver has him doing, and he could be at 614 Douglas on Tuesday, so I’m heading over tonight. In his text, he begged me not to grab pizza, so instead, I’ve got some homemade chicken sandwiches, fruit, and a bottle of wine. I took the time to change clothes, so I’m back in jeans, but I also freshened my makeup and made sure my ponytail looks good. Actually, the idea of wearing a ponytail around Caleb has not left my mind. The way he pulled it and talked dirty to me has left me wanting more. Maybe that’s why I brought the wine, and for damn sure, it’s why I’m wearing some sexy, nearly see-through panties under my jeans.
Walking up to the door, I kick at it since my hands are too full to knock. Nothing, so I kick again, a little hard to do in my tennis shoes. Huffing in frustration, I set the food down on the porch to dig out my keys.
I know Caleb is here. His truck is in the drive. The handsome idiot probably has his music on loud again. As I get the door open, I move the food to the floor in the entryway, closing and locking the door behind me. Music . . . loud rock music from the back of the house. I figured.
Abandoning the food, I walk further into the house, following the music and the . . . singing? Stopping in the doorway, quiet as a mouse, I spy on Caleb. He’s screwing drywall to the studs, and holy shit. Every time he presses the drill bit into the screw, his bicep flexes, his shirt sleeve up just far enough to let me fully appreciate the power in his arms. His corded forearms work and his biceps pulse, but the best part of the scene before me is not his muscles. The best part is the show he’s putting on as he sings, nodding his head a little and even wiggling his hips as he stomps around. Damn, he’s in the groove.
“Livin’ it up as I’m goin’ dowwwwwnnnn!” he sings, throwing his head back. He does a little slow turn and jerks when he sees me staring. He grabs at his chest, nearly hitting himself in the chin with his drill, and turns beet red. “Shit, Cassie. How long have you been standing there, gawking like a perv?”
“Oh, just long enough to enjoy the show. Who knew you could sing so . . . well? And such intellectual lyrics, too!”
Caleb’s face turns an even deeper red, but he laughs. “Hey, I know I can’t sing for shit, but it’s a damn good song.”
“I’m not hatin’, but it’s old man rock. That song hasn’t been heard outside a strip club in decades.”
“First, you say old man rock like it’s a bad thing. Second . . . how would you know what music they play in a strip club? Got something to share with the class, Miss White?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I tease back, leaning against the door frame and stretching out all that my five foot one allows me to and sticking out my boobs until they’re just nearly a respectable bump in front of me. “I’ve got some moves. Just because I never took my clothes off while I dance doesn’t mean I can’t shake it like a hundred-dollar stripper.”
Laughing, I walk as sexily as I can toward him, pointing at his chest to stop him still. When I get close, I flip my hair around and sway my hips back and forth to the beat as Aerosmith gives way to Pour Some Sugar On Me, and I’m reminded that for Caleb, music decades are nothing more than suggestions. Caleb grabs my hand and twirls me around, starting a grinding partner dance. I’m surprised that he’s actually a pretty good dancer, moving gracefully to the rhythm and turning us around but never losing contact with me as we grind. The feeling of his hips pressed against my ass is amazing, and my blood starts to pump harder in my veins as I feel a long, thick, and delicious bulge press against me.
“Is that what I think it is?” I tease, pressing back against him. Caleb responds by bringing a hand up and teasing the side of my left breast, breathing hard in my ear.
“You know exactly what it is,” he says, rubbing a thumb against the soft flesh of my breast and sending more tingles through my body. “Now, were you a good girl or my naughty girl today?”
I gulp, loving the sound of his voice. His naughty girl . . . goddamn. “I guess you’ll have to check out my panties to see,” I reply, desperate to keep from tumbling out of control. “But first . . . dance!”
We keep going, teasing and toying with each other until the song crescendos to a finish with a throbbing hook and Caleb lip-syncs as he dips me in a final move.
He steps away while I’m left breathless and wanting to rip his damn t-shirt off—I’m so turned on—acting like he’s accepting applause from an invisible audience. “Thank you, thank you. See you next year!” as he bows, then disappears through the doorway. I hear him yell back. “Elvis has left the building!”
I take a moment to inhale and let it out in a big laugh before I follow him back out to the living room for dinner. We settle down on two five-gallon paint buckets to eat our sandwiches and fruit from the brown paper bags I wrapped them in and drink our wine from plastic cups. It might be my favorite meal ever, to hell with the high-class restaurants. Give me this honest to goodness food, some good music, and most of all, a hot and sweaty man like Caleb. “That was hilarious. Who knew you could dance like that to ‘80s hair metal bands? I think I need to introduce you to some music from this decad
e though.”
Caleb has a look of horror on his face and starts clutching at his chest in mock agony. “I’m doing just fine, woman. My musical taste happens to be amazing. You’ll just have to learn to appreciate the genius of Def Leppard.”
I wrinkle my nose, shaking my head. “We do like some of the same music, but yeah, I’m going with no thank you on that one. What’s next, Guns N’ Roses?”
“I was thinking Twisted Sister,” Caleb says before breaking out in laughter. “No, just kidding on that one. Seriously, though, you know I’m not only a rocker. I guess I’ve always just associated do-it-yourself work like this with old rock. And when I’m smacking a hole in a wall or pulling up tile, that’s heavy metal, Drowning Pool or Slipknot. When I’m at the gym, it’s hip-hop.”
We finish dinner, talking about music from all decades and genres. We find some common ground in the great Johnny Cash. Apparently, both our folks listened to The Man in Black, and it took root in our psyches, reminding us of happier times. That, and we both got the shit scared out of us watching the remake of Dawn of the Dead when we were younger and Johnny was the opening credit music there.
“Hey, I’ve got one last thing I’d like to finish today if you don’t mind helping some? I need to tape and prep that back bedroom I just drywalled. If I get it done tonight, it’ll be ready for paint before the weekend.”
I drain the last of my wine, licking my lips in appreciation and nodding. It feels good to help out. “I’ve never done it, but I can help if you’ll show me what to do.” Five minutes later, I find myself with a roll of tape in hand, tearing off sections and holding them up as Caleb uses a putty knife to apply some kind of joint compound to the drywall seams around the room. Honestly, he probably could’ve done it faster without my help, but it’s fun to do it together. I even get to sneak a couple of pieces on Caleb’s back, forming the beginning of a smiley face. “We make a good team, you know that?”
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