by Dee Florence
I nod into his pecs. I don’t have words yet.
All I know is that I’ve never been this well fucked, ever.
“Is that so?” I can feel his smirk before I look up to see it.
Shit, I must have said that out loud.
“Is what so?” I ask innocently.
“You said you’d never been this well fucked.”
“I never said anything of the sort.” I shake my head and try to climb off him. “That’s not something I would say.” He just wraps those bear arms around me and keeps me in place.
“Oh, but you definitely did, sweet cheeks.” He grabs my ass cheeks for good measure. “I fucked you well and good and now I know the truth. You can’t hide from me.”
I try to bury my face in his smattering of chest hair but it does nothing but seem to wake the snake between his thighs.
So soon?
He flips me and we fall into each other again. I’ve never been wanted like this, so I succumb and enjoy it for what it is: the dirty weekend of my dreams.
Hours and many orgasms later, I’m in one of his loose t-shirts and sitting at his dining table whilst he cooks us a meal, shirtless.
“You have to stop that, babe.”
“Stop what?”
“Staring at me like that! I need to finish cooking this and you need your sustenance. If you look at me with those come-fuck-me eyes, I’ll get distracted and burn down my house.”
“That is a scurrilous accusation and you have no proof!” I playfully bang my fist on his table.
He laughs. “Have you been watching those lawyer shows again?”
“I might have watched re-runs of The Good Wife. Whatever makes you ask?”
He just laughs again. “Look at something else. We need to eat before I eat you. Snoop around if you must, just stop looking at me with that face.”
I stand up and look around. Snooping is no fun when someone tells you to do it. I think about looking in the living room, but I don’t want to be far from him. There’s this magnetic pull.
So, I do an awkward clockwise lap of his round table and sit in the spot just left of where I was sitting before. Like that old children’s party game, musical chairs. His laptop is open and the screen is unlocked.
“It’s not very safe to not password protect your computer.” I tut at him.
He shrugs his shoulders, “It never leaves this house and I’m the only one that lives here, so it really didn’t need it. Until today.” He pokes his tongue out at me.
I giggle. Then blush at the girly noise that I made.
Oh good. Awkward Cate is back. Fabulous.
I get distracted by what’s on the computer screen. It’s a mock-up of a landscape design with a few paragraphs about what’s included and why the design and the specific plants were chosen. I’m sucked into the details and find myself scrolling to read and understand more.
Along with the mock-up there’s a vision board with images of the plants and the types of brick and mulch that would make the design come to life.
“Is this your work?” I point at the screen, that Blake can’t see. He brings the plated food to the table and looks over at the screen, as he puts my meal in the place I was sitting before. Without words, he taps his finger next to the place he’s set, to indicate that he wants me to move over and eat.
“Yeah. That’s my current assignment. It’s for a small sustainable garden in a drought prone area.”
“It’s amazing! I know nothing about gardening and I can picture it coming to life. You have a gift, Blake!”
“Thanks, babe. I love sharing my gifts with you.” He winks. “Now, eat!” He taps his finger at the place he set for me again and eyes me like a naughty child.
He sits in the next place over and digs in. He’s made healthy omelettes. Usually I don’t eat all that healthily, but this is delicious. We’re so hungry that we stop talking and just enjoy our food in silence.
The boy can cook. He’d make a great boyfriend from all that he’s shown me. Except, he doesn’t do relationships and I’m not looking for a boyfriend. I need to push all boyfriend thoughts from my head. Right now.
We finish our food.
“What are we doing now?” I ask.
“You look so hot in my t-shirt right now,” he growls low in to my ear. “I need to go lie down whilst you sit on my face wearing only that.”
Trouble. So. Much. Trouble.
EIGHTEEN
BLAKE
She’s lying sated on top of my comforter, completely naked. I’m on my side facing her and making circles with my finger across her belly.
She’s fucking stunning.
She reaches out for the edge of the comforter and tries to cover herself up. “Nu-uh, sweet cheeks.” I flick it away. “I want to see you.”
She turns her head away from me and tries to bury her face in the pillow as though that will make her discomfort with her naked body go away. She’s blushing again and the sight of it gives me a chub.
I’ve never gone this many times, or rebounded this quickly, with anyone else.
She’s like a drug I can’t get enough of.
I lean in and kiss her shoulder. Then her collarbone. She turns her head to look at me, perplexed. I kiss her jaw and then her lips. I move over her and kiss her again, this time parting her lips with my tongue and taking her mouth.
But I don’t want to get distracted from my mission so I kiss her other collarbone and shoulder and work my way down her arm with tiny kisses. She giggles, but lets me continue.
I want to map her body. I feel compelled to know all of it. When I reach her right wrist, I notice a tiny tattoo on the inside. In script, it says Fly. I kiss it. There’s a light tan mark around it from where she usually wears her watch. It’s hidden from the world. Like a secret that only a few people know.
That now includes me.
I growl into it at that thought.
“Tell me about your tattoo, babe. Is this your only one?”
She shakes her head. I can’t help but kiss the spot again. “Long story, I’ll tell you another time. But I have one on my ankle too.” I want to argue that we have time now, but she’s shaking her left leg to indicate the location of her other tattoo, which distracts me.
It’s a series of three tiny birds in flight. I kiss each one. “Next time I ask, you’ll have to tell me the story.” I nip at her ankle. “But right now, I need to kiss every inch of you. So, you get a free pass today.”
She giggles and nods as I kiss my way up her legs, stopping every so often to double back and kiss the other side. I’m torturing her, but she’s letting me. For now.
I flip her to her stomach and start kissing a line down her spine, slowly making my way down to the ripe peach that is her ass. I take a bite. She squeaks. I kiss it better.
“Sorry, sweet cheeks. I couldn’t help it.”
I kiss it again. Then I pull her by the hips so she’s on her knees and I eat her out from behind. I didn’t intend to, but she’s too fucking delicious and seeing her climax only makes me want to make it happen again and again.
“You’re so good at that. So. So. Good.” Cate says breathlessly as she comes down.
She’s hoarse from all the screaming she’s done over the last 24 hours. It’s early Saturday evening and we’ve spent most of the day in bed. Only getting up to eat and shower. It’s, almost, a perfect dirty weekend so far.
One day down, one to go.
Later, we’re on the couch snuggled under a blanket together, watching some rom-com that Cate chose. She’s sitting between my legs and both our legs are stretched out along the couch cushions.
“Hey, babe?”
“Mmmm?” She replies, still focusing on the movie.
“Why do you always call me Blake?”
She turns her head and side-eyes me. “Uh, because it’s your name?” She screws up her face, clearly confused.
“Yeah, it is. But I call you sweet cheeks, and gorgeous, and sweetness, and babe. And you
just call me Blake? That girl in the movie calls him ‘baby’. See.” I point at the character on the screen.
“Uh. Um. I never really thought about it.” She takes the remote and pauses the movie. She twists herself so that her legs are across one of mine and are dangling off the couch, so she can face me better. “Did I hurt you?” She gives me a worried look, biting her bottom lip.
“Nah, not really. I just wondered.” I give a half shrug. I’m totally fishing here, but I can’t stop myself from asking, “Do you not like me much?”
She shakes her head furiously. “No! No. It’s not that. I’m just not good at this stuff. What would I even call you...Honey bunch?”
I huff out a laugh. “Honey bunch? That’s not very manly, babe. Try again, maybe?”
She giggles. “Sweetie pie?”
I shake my head.
“Sweet Pea? Sugar? Cuddle-pot?” Her giggles get stronger.
I groan like I’m in pain and lean my forehead on hers. “Something tougher, sweet cheeks! Please?”
“Bear arms?” She whispers and blushes, like she’s been calling me that in secret.
“Is that what you call me in your head?” She shakes her head sheepishly. I tickle her into the couch so that we’re lying on it and I’m between her legs. She giggles and squirms beneath me. “You do, don’t you?”
She squeals with delight as I tickle her mercilessly. “Okay. Okay. Maybe once or twice. It’s not my fault that you have big, bear arms!”
Her laughter is infectious.
I hit the off button on the remote and jump off the couch, scooping her up so that she’s folded in half over my shoulder, still giggling. “We’ll see about bear arms!” I say as I smack her on the arse playfully and march us back to bed.
It’s mid-morning, Sunday and we’re lying in bed lazily. I’m not usually in bed this late, but I had such a restful sleep with Cate snuggled into me, that I’m in no hurry to get going today.
I’m lying on my back and she’s laid out across my chest with her head over my heart, listening to it beat. Her fingers are tracing the thin lines of the tattoo inside my bicep. It’s a line drawing of a mountain range.
“I grew up in a small mountain town and this reminds me where I came from.” I blurt out without her asking. She smiles into my chest and continues to trace the lines back and forth.
“I love it.” She says.
I flex my bicep and the mountain grows. She just giggles.
I’m becoming addicted to that sound and today is our last day. Fuck.
“Will you tell me about yours now?” She nods and shifts herself so she’s sitting up beside me tucked into my arm. She pulls the sheet up to cover herself. I growl into her back because she’s taking away my view, but I don’t stop her.
“It’s probably silly really.” She starts.
I shake my head. I doubt that it is.
“This one on my wrist was the first.” She presses a finger over the word Fly, “I was 21 when I got it. I wanted something to remind me that I should take risks and live my live more fully. I was just finishing university and I wanted to be brave and fly.” She takes a deep breath and shakes her head.
I squeeze her waist.
“Not that I did, really. Somewhere along the way my bravery shrunk and I hid it beneath my watch so I try to forget.”
“Not silly.” I lean up and kiss her shoulder. “You’ll fly again. I don’t doubt it for a second.”
She shrugs, refusing to look at me. “The birdies on my ankle I got as a 30th present to myself. Around that time, I felt this sudden urge that my thirties were going to be ‘my decade’. That I was going to really make something of them. So, Lottie and I went and got matching tattoos.
“We called them our flock. One to represent each of us and one to represent possibility. I don’t regret these ones. But that kind of petered out too.” She plays with her nails, still not wanting to look at me.
She’s hunched up like she admitted something shameful. I can’t stand it. I sit up and tip her chin so she has to look at me. “Your time is coming, babe. I mean it.”
I look her in the eyes and kiss her slowly. I just want to kiss away her sadness. I didn’t expect this when I asked her about them and I feel the need to make it better.
Warning bells are going off in my head. I know it’s too intimate, but I fuck her slowly and deeply. I stare into her eyes while I’m moving inside her. I can’t help myself.
I brought up something painful for her and I need to be the one to make it go away. To care for her. I’ve never had sex like this before.
Fuck. This weekend is not enough.
After another nap, I’m cooking us brunch and she’s reading my lecture notes out to me. She doesn’t know anything about the subject, but she’s so enthusiastic that she makes it sound twice as interesting as it is.
It’s kind of a shame I can’t have her do this with all my classes. The sadness of earlier seems to have faded away and I don’t dare mention it again.
She’s quietly eating today’s omelette, when she looks up at me and says, “I should probably be heading home soon, yeah? It’s Sunday afternoon after all.”
I nod, slowly. She’s not wrong, but I don’t want her to leave yet. “Let me take you home? I’ll make it worth your while.” I wiggle my eyebrows at her. It’s not my best work, but she’s caught me off guard.
“Oh, that’s not necessary. And I think you’ve done that plenty already.” Her blush is back.
“Are you sure? I can buy you ice cream on the way?” I nod to reinforce my great idea.
She takes a minute to think about it. She even puts a finger to her lips like it’s a hard decision. “Oh, okay then! If I can choose the flavour?”
I smile at that. Her love of simple pleasures is adorable. “I think I can allow that.” I wink at her. “Go get dressed!”
She stands up from the table and I smack her ass. She jumps and giggles her way back to my room.
Fuck. I’m in over my head. This can’t be the end.
NINETEEN
CATE
Blake sweet talks me into showing him my apartment.
How could I resist free ice cream and not having this weekend end so soon? I’ve never had a weekend like this before and I’m a little worried that it’s all a dream.
He follows me to the back of the building and up the stairs to my door. He’s standing right behind me. Close enough that I can feel his presence, even though he’s technically not touching me. It’s like I have a tall, bulky shadow. His crowding makes me fumble my keys.
“Er, I feel I should warn you that I’m not as neat as you. Prepare yourself!”
He places his hand around my shaking one and helps guide the key into the lock.
Stop being so nervous, Cate! It’s weird.
“I’m not judging, babe.” He leans in from behind and whispers in my ear. “My sister is a messy girl and I still hang out with her. Let me see!”
I unlock the door and open it slowly, as if I’m worried that the entire place has had a clothing explosion whilst I was gone. It’s definitely lived in, but it’s not a hoarder’s paradise or anything. It’s decorated in bright colours and has flat-pack furniture, but it works.
“It’s small, but it works for me,” I say sheepishly, suddenly regretting letting him see it.
His eyes are scanning the place, but he doesn’t look disgusted. If anything, it’s like he’s excited to be discovering a secret.
Maybe he realises that I don’t have many people visit me here?
“Where should I put this?” He shakes the bag with the ice cream in it.
“Oh, I’ll put it in the freezer. I’ll be right back.”
It only takes 30 seconds, because my kitchen is only 15 steps from where I was standing. But, by the time I come back out, he’s walking around the space like he’s trying to take in as much as he can.
He looks over at me, “Where are your plants, gorgeous? I don’t see any?”
“
Oh.” I shake my head, “I don’t have any plants. I killed a bonsai once and realised that being a plant parent was probably not for me!”
Did I really just say, ‘plant parent’ to a landscape gardener? Oh, Cate!
He looks sceptical. “But there’s a plant for everyone, babe. You just need to know some basics and they’ll bring you so much joy and add even more colour to this space.” He nods to himself as though he settled an argument. “Is this a balcony?”
“Er, sort of. I don’t think it’s really big enough to be called that. But, I guess.”
There’s a glass sliding door and a small fenced in ledge that you can stand on and lean out, but isn’t big enough for a chair.
I think the official name is a Juliet balcony. Maybe.
“On hot nights, it can be good to stand out there with a drink and soak up the sounds of the neighbourhood. But I don’t use it often.”
He looks deep in thought. I’m not used to him so pensive. I mean, I don’t know him that well, but usually he’s cracking jokes or being cocky, so this feels different.
“Would you try again?”
“Huh? Pardon?” I got so distracted staring at his pretty face, I almost didn’t hear him.
“Would you give plants a second chance if someone showed you how to care for them? If you had low maintenance ones?”
“Sure. I guess?”
He just nods, looking oddly satisfied with my response and turns back into the apartment to keep looking around.
I get a text.
Shit. I almost completely forgot about my phone this weekend. We were in a bubble of us.
Lottie: Hey! You’ve been awfully quiet this weekend.
Lottie: Where are you?
Lottie: Do I need to rescue you?
I laugh.
Cate: I’m at home now. I spent the weekend at Blake’s.
Lottie: WHAT????
Cate: He’s in my apartment now. Can’t talk. Come over tonight if you want details.
Lottie: I am so there!! I need to know!
Lottie: You’re on food. I’m on wine.