by Kelly Myers
I wave off her apology. “I’m done with work for today, don’t worry about it.”
She turns and leads me up the stairs, and I take note of the way her hair is falling in loose tresses down her back. She’s wearing sweat-pants that she has rolled at the waist. Her maroon T-shirt is cropped so that the faintest sliver of her stomach is exposed. I have an overwhelming urge to hook my fingers inside the elastic band of her sweatpants and feel her warm skin.
I swallow and keep my eyes on her shoulders and no lower.
When we enter her apartment, she turns to face me, and I examine her face. She’s tired, I can see it in her eyes. Her mouth is pressed in a firm line as well. She’s probably working herself too hard in school.
I don’t pry, but I resolve to try and cheer her up a bit.
“The water’s just not heating up,” Cynthia says. “I know you did something to the water heater, but I forget. I should have paid more attention.”
“Cynthia, you’re not responsible for stuff like that, I’m the landlord.” I give her a smile. “Not everything is something you’re being graded on.”
Cynthia doesn’t smile back. “Ok, I get it, I’m not totally obsessed with my GPA, alright?”
I can tell by her huffy reply that I’ve hit a sore spot. I wince inwardly. So much for cheering her up.
I open the water closet as she stands behind me and crosses her arm.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to tease,” I say.
“It’s ok,” Cynthia says. “I’m being sensitive.”
“Anything you wanna talk about?” I speak carefully, as I don’t want to push her or cross any lines.
“I’ve just had a long day.” Cynthia lets out a huge sigh. “And everyone is always telling me I’m too uptight.”
I want to reach out and ease her tension. Instead I keep my eyes on the water heater. As I suspected, a pipe just needs to be tightened.
“I don’t think you’re uptight,” I say. “You work hard, but there’s nothing wrong with that.”
When I turn around, she’s looking down at me with the oddest expression in her face. For a second, I think she might cry, as her eyes are going wide. Instead, she just nods and smiles. “Thank you for saying that.”
I shrug and stand up. “Should we go make sure it’s working?”
She blinks. “That’s all? You were in there for like 5 seconds?”
“Well, I’m not positive I fixed it,” I say with a chuckle.
“You probably did,” she says. “I’m hopeless when it comes to this stuff.”
“Hey, we all have our skills,” I say. “I’ll know to call you when I need surgery to get my gallbladder removed.”
Cynthia laughs, and the sound sends a jolt of desire through me. Her voice is level and even, but her laugh is rich and bubbly and warm. She tips back her head a bit, and I see the elegant line of her smooth neck. She’s so beautiful right now, just as she is, in her comfortable clothes and bare feet.
I blink and focus on the bathroom. It’s clean, which I of course expect from her. It smells faintly floral, just as she does. I know I’ve got it bad for her because even the sight of her green toothbrush in a little blue mug is turning me on.
I glance over at her as she reaches to turn on the shower. When she lifts her arm, I see even more of her stomach, and I force my eyes up to her face. She turns on the shower and then leans back, tucking a long dark strand of hair behind her ear as she does so. I’m captivated by the curve of her jaw line where it meets her neck. I want to run my finger gently across her skin.
When she turns to me, I make a spur-of-the-moment decision. I’m done holding back. I’m done pretending to be interested in her only as her landlord and no more.
“So tell me more about these people accusing you of being uptight,” I say. “I’m pretty sure it’s part of our rental agreement that I should go yell at them for you.”
Cynthia blinks in surprise before tipping her head and smiling. “I don’t really remember that part of the fine print.”
“Well, I’m pretty positive it was in there.” I grin down at her before reaching out to test the running water. It’s warm. I instantly start trying to find something else to fix. We’ve never gone down this path of overt flirtation before. It was like yesterday I opened the door a crack, and now I can’t close it.
It feels dangerous but also exhilarating.
Cynthia seems unsure about how to proceed. She shrugs and her smile fades.
“I don’t want you to yell at anyone,” she says. “My friends just worry that I’m missing out on the fun of my youth or whatever.”
She glances up at the shower, as the water splashes into her sink. Her mind seems to be far off. The water is definitely hot now, but she doesn’t move to turn it off.
I take a small step forward.
“Well,” I say. “Are you?”
Cynthia blinks at me from behind her glasses. Her full lips press together and then open. I follow her every miniscule movement, waiting for her next words.
“Am I what?”
“Missing out,” I say.
For a long moment, she keeps her eyes on mine, and I think she’s going to say yes. I think, for just a second, she’s going to step towards me and ask me to show her if she’s been missing out.
But instead, she breaks eye contact and looks back towards the shower. I avert my gaze down to the floor. I went too far. She’s not interested in continuing down this road. Or, if she is interested, something is holding her back.
“Well, the shower is fixed,” I say. “But while I’m here, I’ll just check the water pressure of the sink, it can get a little sketchy.”
I kneel down and peek under the sink. I have no idea how the sink’s water pressure is, but I want to move on from my attempt at flirting. I want to reel everything back to the sedate landlord-tenant relationship.
Or rather, I don’t want to do that, but I feel it’s probably the right thing to do in this situation.
I think it’s what she wants as well.
But as I kneel down under the sink, I can feel her eyes searing into my back. There’s heat in her gaze. And I’m not so sure she wants to go back to the safe ground. I can sense her inner turmoil. She is considering taking the risk.
I’m not going to make her bolt. She has to come to it on her own. I’m sensitive to her every movement, as if I’ve been hardwired to detect every slight shift in her movement, every breath she takes.
“Maybe I am missing out.”
My back is towards her, but her voice is low and sultry. She’s using a tone I’ve never heard before, and it makes my stomach tighten with desire.
Still on my haunches, I turn to look up at her, my wrench dangling from my hand. I’ve forgotten all about the water and the pipes and random home repairs. My entire focus is on her.
She seems as composed as always, except for two flaming spots of red on her cheeks. Her arms hang at her side, and she just stands in a natural pose, and yet somehow she’s the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen. I rake my eyes up over her legs, taking in the curve of her hips, and the way her soft T-shirt ever-so-slightly clings to her breasts.
“I can help with that,” I murmur.
Cynthia’s blue eyes flash with realization behind her glasses, and I know she knows now. She wasn’t certain before, but now she knows today is different. We’re treading on territory we’ve never gone near before.
She breaks eye contact with me and crosses her arm as she stares back at the shower, the water still running. The steam clings to the soft peach fuzz on her arms, and I swallow as I see how her crossed arms pushes up her soft breast.
“Really?” she whispers, a small smile tugging at her face. “You’re a very useful landlord then.”
My cock aches. I want her so bad. But I can’t just grab her and push her into her bedroom. That wouldn’t be right, not for sweet and intelligent Cynthia. She’s young too, I have to remember that. I’m not the guy who takes advantage of naive youn
ger women.
But Cynthia isn’t naive. She knows who she is. And if she really wants this, well then I’m going to give it to her as good as I can.
I rise to my feet until I’m towering over her. I give her a gentle smile.
“It wouldn’t exactly be in a landlord capacity,” I say. “More like a friend helping a friend.”
What I want from Cynthia is way more than friendship, but I just don’t want her to think of me as her landlord right now. I want her to think of me as a man who is more than willing to meet her every need.
“Hm.” Cynthia furrows her brow. I want to reach out and smooth away the consternation from her face. She’s thinking about this way too hard. That’s classic Cynthia though. As tempted as I am to tell her not to think and just go with what her gut tells her, she wouldn’t be herself if she didn’t overthink things.
The shower has been running for so long that the bathroom is starting to fill with billows of warm steam. They fog up Cynthia’s glasses. She tugs them off and starts to wipe away the condensation on the glass.
I decide it’s time to take a risk, and I reach out and touch, ever so gently, the strand of hair that’s waving in the humidity near her ear. I brush it once with my forefinger, and then take my hand back. I don’t want to get too much in her space, I just had to reach out a little.
The next move has to be hers though. She looks up at me and stands perfectly still. I stand still as well, my heart hammering against my chest.
Chapter Seven
Cynthia
I can’t lie, the sight of Nate Ramsay in my bathroom with a box of tools is one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen.
He’s throwing me for a loop though, and my brain is scrambling to catch up with the conversation.
I know it shouldn’t be confusing. I’m attracted to him, and it seems like he’s attracted to me. But it is confusing. Because he’s my landlord. And I’m a virgin. And what does he actually want? Is it possible he’s just teasing? That he just wants to flirt but not take it any further?
I’m a medical student. I like research projects with facts and figures. I like data.
Phrases with ambiguous or hidden meanings aren’t my thing. I don’t know how to interpret Nate telling me, with that sly grin of his, that he could help me. That I don’t have to miss out anymore.
My breath catches in my throat as I look up at him. I thought for a second he was going to put his hand on my cheek when he reached out. I know if he touches my skin, I’ll lose it. In close quarters, his manliness and rugged good looks are only emphasized. I can see the way his T-shirt stretches over his broad chest, and the steam from the shower has made a lock of hair hang over his forehead.
But he didn’t touch my cheek. He just brushed one finger against a lock of my hair, as soft as humanly possible.
I’m so confused. I want to call a timeout or ask for extra help or an extension. I don’t know what to say, and I usually always know what to say.
Well, I think to myself. What do you want?
I want to know what he’s suggesting, first and foremost. If he’s suggesting what I think he’s suggesting, then I can’t deny that I want him on a physical level. But I just don’t know if we’re on the same page.
The frustrations of my day come bubbling back to the surface. I’m sick of being stressed about school and my future and my mom. I’m sick of my friends judging me for never letting loose or relaxing.
I just want to feel good. And I have an uncanny hunch that Nate can make me feel good. Very good.
If he’s up for it.
That’s what I need to know, and I don’t want to play games or tiptoe around the subject anymore.
In that moment, I make my decision. I straighten my mouth into a firm line and meet his intense gaze.
“Tell me what you’re suggesting exactly,” I say. “Are you into me or not?”
To my surprise, Nate lets out a soft chuckle. “Cynthia, I’m more than into you. I’m fascinated by you.”
His eyes move over my body, and a warmth surges in my lower stomach. No one has ever looked at me like that, as if I was a seven-course meal.
“As for what I want exactly.” Nate sets the wrench down on the sink and takes a step forward, causing my breath to catch in my throat. “I could show you? Or would you like me to spell it out?”
He leans over and his warm exhale tickles my cheek.
“Tell me,” I whisper.
“I want your body,” Nate says. “I want to touch it and feel you and be inside you. I want to make you scream for me.”
At his words, a spasm of desire shoots through my flesh. Beneath my sweatpants, my knees are trembling. Not with fear though, with excitement.
“I want that too,” I say.
In the blink of an eye, his hand is on my waist, and he’s pulled me closer so my hands are pressed against his chest. It’s as hard as I’ve imagined it, and I can feel the mysterious press of his erection through his jeans.
“But Nate, first you have to know something.” I flush with nerves, but I refuse to be embarrassed. I’m not ashamed of my choices, I just want him to know before we go any further. “I’m a virgin.”
He raises one brow, but he doesn’t look overly-shocked or disgusted.
“Are you sure you want this?” he asks.
I nod.
“You have to say yes,” he whispers in my ear. “And you have to keep saying yes, so I know you mean it.”
A smile twitches at my lips. “Yes, Nate, I want this.”
Nate’s large hands skims over the front of my stomach and down to the sliver of bare skin above my waistband. “I’ll be gentle. Or rough. Whatever you want.”
His head is bent over me, and I’m pressed against his torso, and our lips are inches apart, but he hesitates, keeping me in suspense.
“I think I want you to tell me what to do.” I give him a playful smile. “I trust you.”
Something sensual and deep flashes in his dark eyes. “Then I’ll take care of you.”
Lust, hot and heavy, courses through me. I never thought this would happen this way, in my bathroom with my landlord who came over to fix a water heater, but it feels so right.
I want him to take care of me, I realize. My whole life, I’ve taken care of myself. I like being in control at school and in my career. But not in this. For once, I want someone else to be in control.
A thought flashes through my head, but I hesitate. I’m not sure if Nate would be into it. He might think it’s weird.
I straighten my spine and let my hands rest on his arms, every inch of my skin buzzing in excitement.
“I want you to teach me things,” I say. “Please.”
“You have such good manners.” Nate presses his lips to my neck, and I gasp. “Such a good girl.”
Sensation courses through me at his low and rumbling voice.
I want it so bad, and I want it to be like I’ve imagined it. I want it to be everything I want. So I decide to ask.
“If you’re going to teach me things,” I say. “I want to call you Daddy.”
I look at his chest instead of his face. I’m nervous. I know it’s a little risque, but when I picture Nate telling me what to do and me following his every order, I want to use the word. I want him to have the power. I trust him in this.
Nate’s arm clenches around my back, and when I look up there’s a wicked grin on his face. I realize that he’s just as into it.
“Will you be good for me?” he growls.
I nod. “Yes, Daddy. I promise.”
Just saying the words makes my pussy throb. I grip his shoulders and lean into him.
Nate leans back and pushes me away. He sits down on the toilet, his legs spread out. I take in the sight of him, all muscle and brawn and devilish good looks. My stomach is erupting with butterflies. Some of it is due to nerves, but more of it is sweet anticipation of what Nate is going to teach me.
“The first thing you need to learn,” Nate says. “Is
how to undress for me, nice and slow.”
I nod. “What should I do first, Daddy?”
Nate sucks in his breath and lifts his chin.
“Take off your shirt. Nice and slow.”
I grip the hem of my shirt and slowly lift it up, exposing inch after inch of my skin. Nate watches me with single focused intensity. It’s insane how he can make me feel things only with his words and eyes.
I raise the shirt above my head and then let it fall to the floor, leaving me in my simple white bra. Nate’s eyes rake over my exposed chest and down my stomach to the waistline of my sweatpants. I reach for them and he leans forward.
“No, not yet,” he says. “I’m going to take those off for you.”
He cocks his head and a glint sparks in his eyes. “You moved too fast, how should I punish you?”
My lips part at the sinister yet sensual tone of his voice.
“Maybe just a small spanking,” Nate mutters. “Since it was only your first mistake.”
My ears perk up, and my body throbs with eagerness. “Alright, Daddy.”
Nate lifts a finger and beckons me closer. I step forward until I’m between his knees. He reaches up and delicately plucks my glasses off my face. He folds them with care and sets them on the sink. Then he grips my hips and maneuvers me until I’m face down over his legs. I suck in my breath as he lifts his hand and brings it down, firm but not too painful.
He keeps his hand on my bottom and squeezes, and I suck in my breath.
“Do you like when I touch you like this?” he asks.
“Yes,” I gasp, my hair falling in my face as I stare down at the ground. “Yes, Daddy.”
He massages my bottom again, and he lets out a little groan, as if the feel of my flesh is something divine. Then he hooks two fingers into the back of my waistband and pulls me up. He positions me into a standing position between his legs and he grips my hips in both his hands.
His head is level with my chest, and he leans forward and places a soft kiss on my right breast, where the flesh swells out of my bra. I let out a hum of satisfaction. Then he flicks his tongue along my skin as he moves his mouth to the edge of the bra. His hands meanwhile roam over my stomach until one thumb slides under my bra.