by Liv Morris
Lying against her back now and releasing one of my hands from her hip, I use it to join her faltering grip on the window, holding us steady. Our slick, sweaty skin glides together and feels so damn right. “I love you, baby girl, always you, you and me.” I can’t help but tell her again and again; sometimes the love, passion and adoration I feel for this woman is too much to hold inside, unspoken.
“Yes,” she wails as I feel my orgasm approaching.
One thing I know for sure, because Laney told me very blatantly, is that it’s 30% physical and 70% mental for her. She loves it when I talk, not only dirty, but also tender words telling her how perfect she is or how much I love her; I gotta work for her to join me in coming. It’s never gonna happen just because I tell her it’s time; one directive simply doesn’t work, no matter what voice I use. Her G-spot remains somewhat elusive, challenging me as though it’s moving around in there to a different place every time, but we’ll get there, and I’m ecstatic about the practice it will take. For now, her clit is her hot spot, but it isn’t a hair trigger. I have to touch it just right, at the right time, for the right amount of time. That I have mastered. And honestly, it turns me on like nothing ever has or could to take the time and effort needed to please Laney. She’s no easy or fake lay— when she comes, I feel like a king.
“Tell me, Laney,” I suck on her back, “tell me you love me. Tell the fucking people in Georgia who you belong to,” I hiss, plowing into her with vigor, raw and needy, coming from somewhere deep inside me that needs to know I have her.
“I love you, Dane, love you,” she pants out, tensing around me, ready. I reach around to her clit and press down with just the right amount of pressure, swirling it two or three times, before pinching it gently. That starts her off, one deep, continuous moan escaping her as I feel the hot, extra moisture.
”Keep going baby, with me,” I switch from a pinch to rubbing again, knowing she’ll ride it out while I come if I don’t stop. The squeezing from inside her becomes one constant vice grip around my dick now and I let myself go with a guttural roar that comes from deep in my chest.
I stare at the ceiling as we lay in bed, counting the time between thunder and lightning in my head. She’s naked beside me, making that little puffing noise she does as she falls asleep. With one arm thrown across her middle, I know she’s still actually awake by the rhythm of her breathing. She has four rhythms: asleep, falling asleep, dreaming well and dreaming badly. Not that I stay awake sometimes just to look at her, watch her in peace, drinking in every flinch of her eyelids or twitch of her nose.
I wait patiently for either sleep to take us both completely or for my mind to decide what to do about my discontent. Our bodies are touching; I never allow, even in my deepest state of rest, that connection to be lost…but right now it feels like there are miles between us.
“How do you measure success?” I randomly blurt out quietly, perhaps part of me hoping she doesn’t hear me.
“Well, that depends,” she comes right back.
I knew she wasn’t sleeping. I knew she felt it too, that something in the air. So of course she was primed and ready to dive right in to the conversation once I dared to start it.
“I can’t speak for yours, or anyone else’s success as a whole, but I can tell you how I measure my own.” She turns her body and nestles in closer to me, curling her arm around my waist and snuggling into my neck.
“How?” I ask as I kiss the top of her head.
“If I know I left 200% of myself with it, I succeeded. Softball, school, an exam, a friendship, anything really. As long as when I walk away, I know I couldn’t have tried any harder, given any more of myself to it, and I truly believe what I did was right, then I was successful.” She lifts her head and looks up at me. “Why do you ask?”
“I feel out of sorts, and I’m not giving my all if I don’t have passion for it, right?”
Her body tenses in my arms, speaking to me without words.
“I’m talking about my job, angel. You,” I lift her chin higher and kiss her lips, “are more than my passion. You’re my existence.”
“Then what is it, babe?”
“I want to be young with you. I want to experience college and this whole stage of life with you. I’m too young to play CEO all day, right?”
“If you’re unhappy, then yes, you should change things. But what do you do with the company? And what would you do all day?”
I haven’t ironed out all the exact details yet, but I’m going to. I stroke her back, finding solace in the feel of her soft skin on mine. “I’ll appoint a CEO and be the silent owner or something. I don’t know exactly how it will work, but I’ll make it work. And I could go to school, with you.”
“To study business?” She giggles, tugging on my nipple with an impish grin.
I swat her ass playfully. “No, smartass, I was thinking something in music.”
She raises herself up, nudging me to lay flat on my stomach. I comply and she climbs on top of my back, straddling my waist and starting in on an intense shoulder massage.
“You’ll figure it out,” she declares confidently. “I know you will. And I will be right beside you.”
“Laney?”
“Hmm?”
“Thank you,” I sigh, her magic hands digging into the tight, stressed muscles in my shoulders and lulling me close to sleep.
“For?”
“For supporting me. For not telling me I’m being stupid or irresponsible. I was really worried you’d think that.”
“Babe, your life is yours to do with what you want, not what’s thrust upon you. I don’t think your father would want you unhappy. And it’s not like you’re letting the company go to pot. You’re coming up with a plan.” She leans down and places kisses where her fingers touched, wet, open- mouth kisses that soothe even the tensest of muscles. “I’m proud of you. Plus, it’s sexy when you take control.”
You don’t have to point a flashing sign at the innuendo for me. I roll beneath her now, looking up into the face I want to see every day for the rest of my life. Her little smirk pulling up one side of her rosebud lips tells me she’s pleased her inference hit its mark.
And so I take control, and take some more, until we both fall asleep happily exhausted.
Laney is curled up, warm, sleepy and sweet in my black sheets, her blonde hair spread out across the dark pillow. It’d be a shame to wake her.
Too bad. I haven’t been this excited about my day in a long time!
I pull back the sheet, revealing that round, delectable ass…and swat it, hard. “Get up, baby, I’ve got a bet to win!”
“That hurt,” she grumbles, reaching a hand back to rub the sting I just left. “Leave me alone! I’m sleeping.” She pulls my pillow over her head and yanks the sheet back up for cover. “Go find something to do, please. One hour, that’s all I need.”
One could play this game with Laney all day if they allowed it. She will beg for thirty minutes when I come back in an hour, then fifteen, then, next thing I know, it’s noon. Not happening. I’ve taken the rest of the week off work, putting Gary Medlock at the helm, and I’m ready to rock!
“Baby, please don’t force me to dump cold water on you. It’d pain me to have to do it, but if your sweet ass isn’t in the shower in five minutes, I can’t be blamed for my actions.”
One groggy, chocolate-colored eye emerges from under the pillow, narrowed evilly. “You wouldn’t dare,” she hisses in an adorable, sleepy, not at all intimidating voice.
She really needs to develop a taste for coffee. I could just pry open her mouth and pour it down her, saving us both a lot of time and misery in the mornings. I walk to the end of the bed and grab her ankles, attempting to drag her off, but she manages to get a good grip on the headboard, halting
my efforts.
In all fairness, I did kinda wear her out last night if I do say so myself, but I’m up, so she will be, too. It’s time to bring out the big guns. “Okay baby, you sleep.
I’ll just head on over to the duplex myself and get started on my room. Don’t worry, I won’t mess with yours, or peek, promise.”
And that’s the ballgame, folks!
Our coma victim has new life, springing out of bed, glaring at me the whole way as she stomps to the shower. I knew she wouldn’t be able to resist—the thought of me getting one up on her was too much for her to take.
Wait ‘til she goes down for breakfast.
Oh he plays dirty. First the threat of water, then forcible dragging me out of the bed, followed by clear hitting below with the belt with threats of cheating.
And now this. Damn, he’s good.
On the bar is a huge vase of light purple roses, almost exactly the color I’d chosen for my new bedroom, with a white card leaning up against it, “For You” written on the outside. Beside that is a line of cereal boxes, all my favorites. I walk over and first smell the flowers, letting my nose linger. A trembling hand reaches for the card and I open it; he didn’t have this done, he wrote it himself, the gesture impacting my heart.
Laney, the first time I ever met you, had the privilege of laying eyes upon your beauty, you were wearing a shirt the same color as these flowers…lavender.
I try to think back—ah yes, he’s right. The night of the Hall Crawl, I had on jeans, silver flip flops, and sure enough, a lavender t-shirt.
Wow. Just wow. I read further.
I would later learn that lavender is also the scent I’ve come to know as Laney. You always smell heavenly, filling my senses with all that is you. It’s very fitting—the shirt, your smell, these flowers—lavender roses have traditionally been known to convey enchantment and love at first sight. And you, my love, had me enchanted at first sight for certain. And love? Well, I knew at right then that if anyone could get me to love, it would be you… And you did, and I do.
I love you, baby. XOXO D
My God, this man—there’s no way he can be real.
I don’t consider myself a frilly, sappy kind of girl, but that…well, sign me up for Saps Anonymous, because I’m in! This gift is a wonderful reminder that while Dane is as alpha caveman as a woman like me can stand, he’s every bit as romantic and thoughtful.
He sneaks up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist. “Do you forgive me now, Miss Morning Glory?”
“Mmmm.” I lean back against him. “So sweet, babe. I love you too.”
“Well, get used to it. I’ll have more free time now for all the special touches.”
I turn in his arms, taking in his casual outfit. “Did you take off all day?”
“I took off all week. And I might do the same the week after that.
Depends on how long it takes me to win our bet.” He winks at me.
“Oh, dear, sweet, Mr. Kendrick. Just remember, even when you get your ass kicked, if you gave it your all, you were still successful.”
“Are you ready to go? I have things to do today and if you keep running that mouth, we’re heading right back up to bed.”
“I am soooo ready,” I purr, pressing my boobs into his chest and reaching down to cup him through his shorts, rubbing up and down. Just as he leans down to kiss me, thinking I’m offering up some morning delight, I back away and finish my sentence, “to whip your ass! See you in the car!”
I scamper off as he stands alone, adjusting himself.
Home Depot is perhaps the greatest store on Earth—I mean, except for the Disney Store, but that goes without saying. Dane and I are here in the Depot and have split up, our projects top secret. He’s like a kid at Christmas today, with an extra spring in his step I’ve never seen, and it’s so endearing. I’m praying things actually work out the way he’s hoping and he’s able to step back from the business and be…well, just be.
Everything he does is for someone else—their happiness, their bank account, their education. It’s about damn time he gets his own happy. Which is exactly why I confiscated his cell phone; no work calls today to spoil his bliss.
I must say, I’m more than a little surprised when it rings with “Jeff Walker” displaying on the screen. Why is my dad calling Dane?
“Daddy?” I answer curiously.
“Hey, Slugger, how are you?”
“Um…good. Did you know you called Dane’s phone, not mine?”
“I’m not senile yet, Sugar. Where is your man friend? I need to find out when he’s coming to pick up the skill saw. I loaned it to Scott a while back so I’ll have to go pick it up.”
What, what’s this? Skill saw you say? Enlisting my own father’s help against me?
“Daddy, this is mutiny! You can’t help him beat me, I’m your daughter! You tell him you lost that saw.”
“What are you babbling about? Help him beat you at what?”
I quickly explain the situation to my father, confident he’ll see my point and agree to nix the loaning of anything to my home makeover nemesis. If Dane wants a saw—why does Dane want a saw?—he can buy one, ‘cause my family tree is closed for business!
However, my father sees things differently, choosing instead to hone in on the fact that Dane bought me a place, off campus. “You’re moving in with a guy you’ve been dating for what, six months, and you’re just telling me? That’s not okay with me, Laney Jo.”
How is it possible I forgot to tell him? Perhaps the mortal fear of the wrath o’ Daddy caused a subconscious mental block.
“He’s not living there too, Daddy. It’s mine, he got it for me so I didn’t have to live in the dorm anymore. I can have a big bed and a fridge; I can cook real meals now! And Bennett lives right on the other side.”
“Why wouldn’t Bennett just live with you?”
Not at all Catholic, I knock out a speedy sign of the cross, asking for forgiveness for what I’m about to do. You know, throwing my friend under the bus to make myself look better. “Because, Daddy,” I say in full-on little girl voice, “she is living with her boyfriend on her side.”
I owe Bennett a really nice guilt gift.
“Oh, well then,” he grumbles, “in that case, I guess I’m happy for ya, kiddo. That was awful nice of him, and I’m glad to hear you can cook. You can probably do your laundry right there too, huh?”
“Yep, it’s got a laundry room. Guest room too! You can come and stay with me.”
Preferably before Sawyer moves in.
“Laney Walker, please come to Outdoor Living,” the PA crackles through the store. “Laney Walker to Outdoor Living, please.”
“Um, Daddy, I have to go now. I’m being overhead paged in Home Depot.”
“Shit, Slugger, you break something?”
“No, Daddy,” I laugh, “I’m sure it’s Dane having me paged.”
“All right then, go find him. And have him call me.”
“NO SAW, DADDY! I mean it!”
“Bye, honey,” he chuckles and hangs up.
I’m loving carefree Dane. The childlike smirk on his face when our eyes connect as I walk into the Outdoor Living section is the cutest thing I have ever seen.
“Comfy?” I giggle and ask my crazy man, who is sprawled out in one of the hot tubs on display. Not near or next to. In.
“I am,” he nods and winks at me, arms draped out behind him along the edges of the tub, “but I need you to get in here too, make sure it’s big enough.”
I turn at the sound of a cough behind me and see a guy, probably my age, barely containing his laughter at Dane’s performance. “Do people usually sit in them to test them out?” I ask him, hoping this is normal and we’re not actually the spectacle that I suspect.
“No, not usually,” he snorts, “but it’s okay if you want to join him.”
Far be it from me to take one ounce of Dane’s fun away from him. So naturally, I sling a leg over the side unabashedly and join him in an empty hot tub in the middle of Home Depot. Absolutely normal.
“Why are you thinking about a new hot tub? Something wrong with yours?”
“No,” he crooks a finger a me, beckoni
ng me to come closer. “I would like to humbly ask you to discuss with me the benefits of putting this on your back deck.”
“Oh, babe, good job,” I pat his leg patronizingly, “thank you for asking first, but no. You’ve given me enough already. I won’t take advantage of your generosity with non-essentials. I can survive without a hot tub.” I lean over and kiss his cheek. “But thank you anyway.”
“But what if I can’t survive without it? Some of our finest moments have been in a hot tub. I think we need one at each place.”
He’s now rubbing his nose up and down my neck, almost making me forget where we are. In public. Home Depot, of all places.
“While I appreciate the fact that you want to discuss this in the middle of the store, sitting in a display tub, can we please get out and talk about it later?”
“Prude.” He nips my neck.
“Exhibitionist.” I pinch his thigh. “Come on.” I climb out, looking around to see that, why, yes, we do have a small audience. Ah, fuck it. I take a bow. “By the way,” I tell him when he joins me, “my dad called you back.” I dart my eyes to his. “I know all about your skill saw treachery. Not only did I forbid him from helping you, but…well, have fun calling him back. I kinda sorta forgot to tell him until today you bought his only daughter a love shack.”
And with that, I sashay down the aisle, really letting my hips rock enticingly for the slack-jawed hottie standing frozen in place behind me.
I’m just loving all the chances I’m getting to do that to him lately.
Bless you, Nelly, for “Batter Up.” I literally can’t look away from her booty popping to the beat. And so talented she is, twerking while she paints the kitchen—amazing.
“Good God,” I mutter to myself, seriously considering attacking her. That’s it, reach way up high to get that spot. Yep, up on your tiptoes, now hold it…shit! Dropping your paintbrush is probably not the best way to not get caught spectating with your tongue hanging out.