by Krista Wolf
I felt one foot being lifted, then the other. Tate discarded my underwear over his shoulder, and in that brief glimpse I could see the crotch of my adorable satin thong was already dark with wetness.
For the second time in the day, nothing was said. No words were exchanged. My thighs parted and his head dropped and my eyes closed in sweet anticipation of the inevitable.
Then I felt his gorgeous mouth close over my dripping hot sex, and everything else seemed so impossibly far away.
Fuuuuuck.
It was like being immersed in a warm pool of liquid ecstasy. Like breathing in the sweetest breath of pure oxygen, and then sighing out my soul.
Tate’s lips grazed me gently, as his tongue went to work. He devoured me slowly, lazily at first. Dragging the flat of his beautiful tongue up and down through my honey-coated entrance, while his strong hands remained impossibly warm against the insides of my quivering thighs.
“Mmmmmm…”
I moaned out loud, letting him know how good he felt. Cutting the still silence of the room with soft whimpers and cries, as his tongue grew bolder, moved faster, and probed deeper inside me.
My hands found mountains of his thick, dark hair. It felt soft and luxurious as I sifted through it, tightening my fingers every time he jabbed his tongue deep or flicked it dangerously close to my clit.
This is unbelievable!
This man, this incredible man — this perfect stranger I barely knew — he was on his knees now, eating me. Devouring me. Plunging his tongue and now even his fingers in and out of me, as I cooed softly and writhed beneath him.
Slowly the heat began to rise from that special place in my core. It enveloped me and I welcomed it. Brought me ever closer to that beautiful cliff, where the contractions would begin and my eyes would roll back and I’d be unable to stop squeezing his hair between my two outstretched fists.
“Oh my God…”
I gasped the words as he added a second finger. His tongue flicked faster, his lips pinned tightly against me as my mind began running the home stretch. I let go of everything else. The pressure, the guilt, the strangeness of the whole day… it was all washed away in a huge, euphoric wave as my orgasm crashed over me causing me to cry out and scream at the same time.
“YESSSS!”
I held him prisoner between my thighs at the penultimate moment, terrified he might stop or let go. But I needn't have worried. The last thing I saw before screwing my eyes shut was the determination in Tate’s face as he brought me off. His gorgeous green eyes flashed like jewels in the dim midnight light, and then I was bucking my hips off the couch. Screwing myself into his hot young mouth as I exploded all over him, while letting the sweet flood of endorphins drown my brain in their pure, undistilled nirvana.
I don’t know how many seconds or minutes passed before I came back down again. I only knew I’d been vanquished. My body was limp, my mind still reeling with the happiness of my first non-self-induced climax in God only knew how long.
When my eyes fluttered open I saw Tate withdraw his fingers… then sexily lick them clean. He eagerly lapped up every last drop of my arousal, then kissed the insides of my thighs before pushing them gently closed again.
“I’ll be back tomorrow,” he said as he stood up. “Make dinner again. That was nice.”
My mind reeled with sudden confusion. I wanted to stop him, to protest, to say anything at all! But he was already at the doorway. Already pulling his keys out, and saying goodbye.
“Steak would be good,” he said, as if talking to himself. “Maybe some fries, too.”
Ten
SERENA
“They’re sending the fish back at table seven,” Michael told me, jerking his head. “Just so you know.”
I thanked the busboy for his warning, then swept left with my tray held high. I had way too many drinks on it. We were way too busy.
“Miss?” The voice was high-pitched and annoyed. But not as much as it was annoying. “MISS?”
“Yes?” I said sweetly.
“This fish is raw,” the woman in the baseball cap said. The pony tail protruding out the back and over the snap-strap shook with indignance. “Really raw, as in dangerous to eat!”
I unloaded my drinks first, at the table behind her. That pissed her off even more. By the time I got back to where she was picking apart her meal with her fork, her expression was downright scornful.
“Look at this,” she said. “This fish is white all over!”
“Well it’s a white fish,” I replied calmly. “It’s halibut.”
The woman scoffed at me, snorting a derisive laugh. “Are you saying I’m wrong?” she demanded. “All you have to do is open your eyes. Anyone can tell, this fish isn’t cooked.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure!”
“Because it looks like you ate three-quarters of it.”
Under normal circumstances I’d be all smiles and apologies. Replacements and refunds. But today… well, today I was tired. Tired and drained.
But damn, if I wasn’t still in a fantastic mood.
“Well I’m very sorry,” I apologized quickly. “Would it be okay if I took it off the bill for you?”
Her mouth had already been open, ready to admonish me. Instead she closed it and nodded.
“Very good then.”
I walked away, secure in the knowledge I probably saved at least part of my tip. Table seven’s appetizers would be ready soon. Table nine still needed their drink order. My feet hurt and my back was killing me and I really needed to catch up on my sleep.
None of that mattered, though. All thanks to Tate.
I sighed as I disappeared into the kitchen, thinking about the events of the past few nights. Tate had come by every evening, to work on the car. I made him dinner, we made small talk, and we downed a few beers together.
Then, right around midnight…
Jesus Christ, Serena.
Right around midnight he’d emerge from the garage to push me back into the same section of couch. Our eyes would lock, and without a word he’d go down on me, expertly, until I’d come. Three straight nights it happened, and each climax was more life-changing than the last. We never talked about it, before or afterward. Each night he left me breathless and dripping, and each morning I’d wake up and wash his jumpsuit and hang it near the garage door for when he came back again.
It was strange. Crazy. Downright bizarre.
But it was also the hottest thing in the whole fucking world.
There were times when I wanted to bring it up, of course. To see what was going on in his head. And yet I was terrified of screwing our little routine up, of breaking the spell. So I stayed happily silent, and as each day went by we grew more and more comfortable with our arrangement. I dressed more provocatively, and wore tinier panties. Eventually I stopped wearing panties at all.
Since I worked late some nights I began leaving the door open for him, with dinner on the table. By the fifth day, I actually gave him a key. After all, the guy was fixing my car for free… among other things. Besides, if I couldn’t trust someone whose tongue had been inside me, who could I trust?
I noticed Tate had grown bolder and more comfortable in the house, too. He’d started doing our dinner dishes and cleaning up a little before I got home, and once I even found the television on. But it was yesterday, just before the finale of our latest explosive encounter, that he really surprised me.
“What’s up with the basement?”
I’d stood silent for a moment, blinking in surprise before answering. “What about it?”
“There’s a whole apartment down there,” he’d said, “private entrance and everything. Why aren’t you renting it out?”
“Because it’s trashed,” I’d told him. “There was a tenant down there at one point, before we moved in. Eric planned on fixing it one day, but he told me the appliances and fixtures were too far gone. Then he moved all his stuff down there, and—”
; “You mean the ton of useless crap that’s scattered everywhere?”
“Yeah,” I’d laughed. “That.”
“Well the plumbing’s solid, and the heat still works,” he’d said. “A few new fixtures, and the rest is cosmetic. Paint. Carpet. Maybe a drop ceiling.” He’d said the last part with a shrug of beautiful shoulders. They were the same wonderfully-hard shoulders he sometimes liked hooking my legs over while he devoured me until my eyes crossed. “It wouldn’t be too hard to fix it up, actually.”
“Really?”
“Really,” he’d nodded. “Plus, I know a guy.”
Moving past a row of ovens, I turned left into a steam-filled room. There was a chair near the dish machine I could sit down at. If I were lucky I could maybe rest my legs for a minute or two before I had to get up again.
My mind wandered back to the guy Tate was bringing over tonight. He was apparently a good friend of his, and another co-graduate of David’s. Whoever he was, I hoped he wouldn’t stick around forever. I had something I planned to do with Tate, later. Something… different.
“Yo!”
The distinct sound of my manager’s voice shattered my daydream. I looked up into a big round face that couldn’t get more Italian-looking if it were on the Sopranos.
“You just comp’d the fish at table seven?”
“Damn right I did,” I groaned, stretching my legs.
“You know she already ate half of it, right?”
“More like three-quarters, yeah.”
The man shook his head solemnly. He looked down at me, took one glance at my poor feet, then relented.
“Two more minutes,” he said, nodding my way. “Three, tops. Okay?”
“Thanks Maurice.”
My manager snapped his big fingers and smiled. “You got it.”
Eleven
SERENA
“Well the floors are shot, but we knew that already,” the man said. “The drain pan leaks in the bathroom, but I could pick up a prefab shower body. Change out the fixtures, the faucets, paint it all up… the whole thing will look like new.”
Cole came off immediately as the quintessential handyman, complete with tool-belt, tape measure, and a big, broad grin. His back tattoos were visible past his muscle shirt. And he had a lot of muscles.
“New sounds expensive,” I noted.
“Not really,” Tate shrugged from beside me. “The whole place is small enough that it wouldn’t be too bad. Besides, at some point chasing problems becomes more expensive than starting over. Right?”
Cole rubbed his bald head with one big hand and nodded. “Yeah, for a place like this that’s definitely true.”
I stared at him some more, wondering what it was that made the man so attractive. He was as Italian as they came. I liked Italian — hell, I even worked at an Italian restaurant. But that wasn’t it. He turned sideways, and that’s when it hit me:
He’s got a Vin Diesel thing going on!
Shit, I couldn’t believe it had taken this long to figure out. The broad shoulders, the square-cut jaw. I’d watched every Fast and Furious movie there was, and even the voice was the same.
“So what’s your budget?” Cole asked.
I outright laughed. Poking Tate in the ribs, I laughed again. “You tell him.”
My gorgeous mechanic cleared his throat. “She doesn’t have any money,” he admitted. “Not up front anyway. So when it came to payment, I was thinking one of two things...”
My eyebrows knitted together in confusion. This was news to me. Tate hadn’t even told me one thing, much less two.
“First, she could pay you after she rents the place out,” said Tate. “Give you a chunk of the rent she’s bringing in each month, until you’re all paid off.”
“So I’d be laying it all out?” asked Cole.
“Yes.”
“Not sure I like that idea,” he growled.
He was scanning the basement again. Looking past all the junk my ex-husband piled down here and adding things up in his sexy bald head.
“Neither do I,” Tate countered, “so here’s another: you rent the place when it’s finished. You stay down here for free until you’re all paid off, and then she charges you rent from that point forward.”
Cole hesitated a few long seconds, then made a grunting noise like Vin Diesel would make. He glanced back at Tate.
“Yeah?”
“You’re looking for a place anyway,” Cole shrugged, “and this is right where you want to be. You could make it yours, bro. Build it to suit.”
“What kind of rent are we talking?”
He was looking at me now, as if I had any idea what I should say. Cole’s arms were folded over his chest, his mouth pursed forward in a way that made him look even more ruggedly handsome. Especially with the faded jeans and flared-out workboots.
“I… umm…”
“We’d have to work on that part,” said Tate. “But whatever it was, it’d be reasonable, because you helped the lady out.” He turned to me. “Right?”
“Yes,” I agreed immediately. “Of course.”
Cole did a slow three-sixty, taking in everything around him. He set his hands on hips.
“Well mom always did say you don’t need a reason to help people.”
Tate punched him in the arm hard, shouting “That’s the spirit!” Cole barely moved, though.
When he was done sizing everything up, he shook Tate’s hand. “Give me until tomorrow. I’ll need to price out materials and run some totals.”
“Sounds good,” Tate agreed.
“Nice to meet you Serena,” Cole grinned. Smoothly, he extended one big Vin Diesel hand. It didn’t just envelop mine, it dwarfed it.
“You too,” I smiled back, as he turned and left through the outside entrance.
Two minutes later we were back in the living room, listening to the rumble of Cole’s work truck as it left the curb. It was late but not too late. Cole had come over around ten o’clock, right smack in the middle of our nightly routine.
“You’re finished with the car for tonight,” I said.
“Could be,” shrugged Tate. He’d taken his gloves off, but still wore his jumpsuit.
“It wasn’t a question,” I countered. “It was a statement.”
I took a step toward him, then another. Butterflies erupted in my stomach thinking about what I was about to do.
“I guess I could finish the air intake assembly. Maybe tie up a few loos—”
My hand reached his chest and I shoved him, backward, into the chair he was standing in front of. Tate half-fell, half-helped himself to an instant seat.
Dropping to my knees, I had his jumpsuit off in an instant — his jeans too. The zippers slid smoothly and easily. My fingers, though out of practice, remembered the movements well.
Wordlessly our eyes locked, even as my hands kept going. I found the waistband of his boxers and pulled them down his thighs. Something big and heavy sprang forth, swinging from the motion of being suddenly freed. Even though I could only see it peripherally, I could tell it was big.
YES.
Still trapping his eyes with mine, I slowly lowered my face between his legs. Something warm and wonderful grazed my lips, and without breaking eye contact I opened my mouth and swallowed him more than halfway down.
“MMMmmm….”
Tate let loose a sound that was a deep groan mixed with a hiss of intense pleasure. It was followed by me lowering my gaze, gripping the thick base, and finally giving a hundred percent focus to what I was doing.
His hands moved upward, his big fingers combing my hair back as I bobbed up and down in his lap. I felt the flat of his stomach quiver. His body went totally relaxed, as I began blowing him with even more heat and enthusiasm.
“It’s about time,” he grunted, letting his ass sink into the chair.
Twelve
TATE
There were blowjobs and then there were blowjobs, and this was definitely the latter.
I rolled
my head back. Sank my fists into her soft, fragrant hair as the warm pleasure of her wet mouth washed over me. Mrs. Nelson! Holy shit. No, scratch that — she was only Serena now. The woman who made me dinner each night. A neighbor in trouble, that I was helping get back on her feet.
But she was so much more than that, too.
I’d been on cloud nine just watching her sit across from me, then pinning her ass to the couch each night. She was soft, fragrant. Delicious. But right now this beautiful woman I’d been devouring all week was going down on me. Feasting on me with every bit as much hunger and passion as I did her.
“Mmmmm…”
She was making noises down there, too. Rolling her fingers along my shaft and letting the saliva drip down, to get everything wet and slick and wonderful. Her mouth was hotter than hell, her lips so tight around me I was gripping the chair’s arms and willing myself not to lose it. I wanted to enjoy this. I wanted to make it last forever.
Forever isn’t gonna happen, though. Not when she’s doing stuff like this!
Every time I thought I had her pegged she’d surprised me. She worked enough hours for two jobs. Kept up with a mortgage payment and student loans, all while taking the bus back and forth to work. Her ex-husband was a piece of shit, to abandon her so fully and completely. I wasn’t too happy with David either. Either my old classmate had manipulated her into sending him to Florida strictly for selfish reasons, or he’d just plain fallen in love unexpectedly.
None of that condoned him abandoning her, though. In that respect, he was no better than his father.
I’d learned these things through talking to her, of course. We shared little bits and pieces of our lives with each other, while at the same time sharing dinner. And now…
Well, now we were sharing this.
Serena shifted even closer, spreading her hands over my thighs. The feel of her nails gently raking my skin was a pleasant distraction from her churning, swirling mouth.