by S. R. Grey
When he skims over my soaked panties, I swallow hard.
Softly, he coos, “Ahh, you’re so wet for me, beautiful. I feel your heat.”
“You do this to me,” I murmur.
“Yes, I do.”
He’s so smug.
But he has every right to be, as he already has me so close to the brink.
“Please, Landen,” I cry out.
“Please what?”
“Don’t keep me waiting. I want more.”
While he pumps his cock into my hand, his fingers slide beneath the silky material of my panties and he begins to finally, and skillfully, work my clit.
Holy fuck, does Landen know what he’s doing.
As I stroke him harder and harder, he strums me like an instrument he’s been playing all of his life.
“I’m so close, Landen,” I tell him. “So close.”
“Come for me, baby. Let’s come together.”
“Yes.”
Just as I feel him shuddering and climaxing into my hand, his thumb working my clit along with two fingers pumping into me, I also fall apart.
“Landen,” I sigh as I collapse against him, burying my head in his shoulder once more.
I can’t move.
I can’t speak.
I’m in total bliss.
I’m glad Landen’s more cognizant.
He reaches into the map holder at the base of the door and grabs a handful of napkins.
“Good thing I stopped for fast food the other day,” he says as he cleans us both up.
“Yeah, good thing. You’re so good to me,” I reply softly.
He whispers back, “I promised you I would be, right?”
“Yes, yes you did.”
“And just think,” he goes on, “this is only the beginning.”
The Sound of Painting
Over the next several weeks, in between games and Cricket working team events, we spend pretty much all of our free time together.
It’s been quick, but we’re officially dating one another.
And, as I requested, there are no other men for her.
No additional women for me, either.
It’s only fair, and what we ended up mutually deciding the day after I won the driving bet.
It’s working out great.
I have no regrets about rushing into things so quickly, nor does Cricket.
She’s told me as much.
Interestingly enough, though, the one thing we’ve held off on is moving forward physically.
This is like a complete reversal for me. I’ve always been a “love ’em and leave ’em” kind of a guy.
But Cricket makes me want to be different.
She has from the start.
I’ve enjoyed this moving slowly in the physical area, as it’s allowed me to explore my feelings for her.
And they are intense.
That’s exactly why I’m going to need her under me soon.
I can’t wait forever, nor can she.
I mean, we still mess around a lot—hell, do we ever!—but I’ve yet to fuck her. And there’s no reason for us not to go there. We’ve had all the necessary talks about birth control and diseases, and we’re both clean. She even went to get the Depo shot a couple of weeks ago.
You know, for when it does happen.
I guess now we’re just waiting for the right time.
Maybe it’ll be today?
Or tomorrow?
Even next week.
I don’t know.
I just know it’ll be soon.
There’s something in the air—tension, anticipation.
Yeah, I think we know it’s about to happen real soon.
Cricket is coming over today to help me paint a spare bedroom I’m turning into a home office. The room is currently a very drab pale yellow color. And I fucking hate yellow, especially that crap shade.
I’ve decided to go with a nice teal that will match the dark teakwood furniture—desk, file cabinet, and credenza—I recently ordered.
I check the time.
It’s two o’clock.
Cricket should be here any minute.
Good thing I’m almost ready, having just changed into old gray sweats and a ratty white tee, clothes suitable for painting.
As I head out of my bedroom to the big spiral staircase that leads downstairs, I hear Cricket coming in through the front door.
Yeah, I gave her a key the other day so she can let herself in whenever she comes over.
She did the same for me, as we’re always at either my place or hers.
The exchanging of keys felt like a natural progression.
We also have toothbrushes and a few toiletries at each other’s places, as well as some clothes.
The day we decided and followed through on all that, I felt so fucking good.
I am clearly really into this woman.
Guess that’s why I’m smiling my ass off as I trot down the stairs to greet her.
“Hey.” Cricket gives me a cute little wave.
“Hey, back at you.” I reach her and take her into my arms.
“Mmm…” I trail my nose along her hair, which is pulled back into a long ponytail. “You always smell so delicious.”
Hugging me tightly, she says, “Delicious, huh? Maybe later you can take a bite. You know, just to see if I taste as good.”
Laughing, I lean back. “There are no maybes about it, babe. You do taste fantastic.” I playfully smack her ass, and tell her, “But for now, let’s get started on painting. Before I change my mind and scrap the whole project.”
“Okay, okay,” she says, laughing.
She looks so cute and sexy in black leggings and a pink long-sleeved sweatshirt with one shoulder pulled down, revealing a white tank underneath.
I come so close to just saying “Fuck it” to the painting.
But tomorrow I have an afternoon game, and the day after that we hit the road for a stretch of away matchups, mostly in the eastern part of the country.
So yeah, this is our best chance to get the painting done.
I’m glad it’s only midafternoon. We’ll have the whole rest of the day and the night ahead of us.
That means I will indeed be taking a “bite” of this hot and sexy woman at some point in time.
For now, though, I take her hand and say, “Come on. Let’s paint.”
Sighing, Cricket allows me to lead her down the long hallway to the first floor spare bedroom that’ll soon be my home office.
The space is cleared out, and I laid down several drop cloths earlier.
I have two cans of teal paint set out, one on either side of the room, and two rollers. I also have an assortment of brushes in different sizes, mainly for edging.
Glancing around, Cricket notes, “This room really is a blechy yellow. I can see why you want to change it.”
“Right?” I chuckle as I grab a screwdriver off the floor so I can pop open our paint cans. “I just couldn’t picture myself sitting at a desk in here, working on the computer, surrounded by boring banana-colored walls.”
“No, I can’t see that, either,” she agrees, laughing along with me as she picks up two wooden paint stirrers, one of which she hands to me.
Gesturing to the second can as I pop off the top, she says, “Pass that over when you’re done and I’ll start stirring.”
“You got it.”
Once the top is off, I slide the can over to her.
As she begins stirring, she remarks, “Wonder what this room was before?”
I blow out a breath and recall what I was told. “I think the realtor mentioned that it was a kid’s bedroom.”
Still blending the paint, Cricket glances around. “That kind of explains the pale yellow, I guess.”
As I begin stirring my own can of paint, I raise a brow. “I know, right? You see why I need to change it then?”
“Aww,” she coos. “But you’d look so cute. Like you said, a big, beautiful blond man tapping away at t
he computer, getting work done, surrounded by kid-yellow walls. All you’d need would be a few stuffed animals to complete the adorable picture.”
I bark out a laugh. “Ahh, yeah, no, that’s not happening.”
Getting back to the task at hand, Cricket asks, “Okay, so where do you want me to start?”
“Anywhere is fine.”
She nods, glancing around. “I think then I’ll start with the corners. I like working with the brushes better, and I’m good with detail work.”
“Perfect.” I nod. “I’ll grab a roller and get started on the walls.”
Cricket kneels in the corner closest to me, adjusting the drop cloth. “Sounds like a plan,” she says.
We’re about to get to work when I realize something. “Hey, we can’t paint in complete silence.”
Cricket, having just dipped a brush into her can, looks up at me. “Some music would be good. Do you have a radio?”
“I have something better. Hold on a sec.”
I run up to my bedroom to retrieve a Bluetooth speaker.
Once I’m back in the room with Cricket, I take out my phone. “We can stream one of my workout playlists.”
“Ooh, I like that idea. I’d love to know what you listen to when you’re skating and working out.”
“You’re about to find out,” I tell her, smiling as the devices connect and I turn up the volume.
The yellow room is filled with the eerie opening chords of Disturbed’s version of “The Sound of Silence.”
“Oh my God, I love this song!” Cricket exclaims.
She begins humming along and painting in rhythm with the tune.
Softly, and really to myself, I murmur, “See, we really are fucking meant to be.”
I guess she hears me, as she stops what she’s doing and peers over.
I just shrug, because it is what it is—I am way into her, and there’s no secret about it.
Has there ever been?
“Do you mean that?” she asks.
“I do,” I reply. “It’s the way that I feel. I have from the start. And it’s only grown stronger the more we hang out.” I pause, then ask, “Is that okay?”
Smiling, she tells me, “It’s more than okay, Landen. I’m kind of right there with you, anyway.”
I raise a brow. “You are?”
“Yes.”
Quickly, she turns back to the wall and starts painting again.
Still, I can see that woman is smiling like crazy.
Hey, I’m grinning like a fool as well.
I get started with the roller, and it all goes smoothly from there. It’s just us painting and listening to good music.
About an hour into it, I decide for sure that we’re an amazing team in so many ways. We even have this tandem painting thing down.
As the music changes from song to song—some metal, some rock, and a little bit of pop—the walls transform from yellow to teal.
“It’s really looking good in here,” I say as I finish with the last of the walls.
“It is,” Cricket agrees, leaning back to take a look around. “I love this color.”
She’s up on a small wooden ladder, finishing up with the last of the corners by the ceiling.
As she gets back to work, the pulled-down shoulder of her sweatshirt slips a little lower, exposing the part of her tank that’s covering her breasts.
Holy shit, I don’t think she has on a bra.
Kill me now.
I put the roller down in the paint pan.
Striding over to the ladder, I grab hold of a rung near her beautiful breasts, her warmth radiating.
I’m truly going to die if I don’t touch her.
“What are you doing?” Cricket asks, pulling in a breath.
Gently, I take the paintbrush from her hand.
“I think this can wait,” I say as I place her brush across the flipped-over lid to her paint can.
Turning my attention back to her, I murmur, “But I can’t.”
My hands find purchase on her waist as I urge her to come down.
As she wraps her legs around my torso, I grab hold of her ass.
With both of us laughing, I spin her around—once, twice—but then I stop.
“I have to kiss you,” I tell her.
She touches her forehead to mine. “I feel the same way. So kiss me, Landen.”
I don’t know if it’s me who leans in or if it’s her.
I think it’s both of us as our lips crash together.
But it’s definitely me who pulls her sweatshirt over her head, tossing it aside and lowering her to the drop-cloth-covered floor.
Propping up on my elbows above her, I say, “You have the cutest little streak of teal right…here.” I touch her cheek where a smudge of dried paint is indeed smeared.
I then kiss the spot.
When I rise back up, Cricket trails a finger along my arm. “You have a little paint here too.”
“I do?” I look down.
“Yes.”
Lifting up from the floor, she presses her lips to the curve of my bicep, where there is a touch of teal. The dried paint extends up under the arm of my T-shirt.
Cricket lifts the material to kiss and lick.
“Fuck. Hold up a sec.” I stop her long enough to tug my tee over my head.
As I ball it up and throw it aside, she traces circles down my chest to my stomach.
“Find any paint there?” I tease, raising a brow.
“No. But I could.”
“How do you mean?”
I’m curious as to where this is heading.
I find out quickly when she reaches over to where I placed her paintbrush and dips her fingers into the wet paint on the bristles.
Pulling back her hand and holding her paint-soaked digits within inches of my chest, she says, “Now where should I start?”
Before I can say “Anywhere you fucking want,” Cricket begins tracing circles again, spiraling teal paint over my pecs and down my abs.
Fuck, her touch feels amazing.
I don’t even care that she’s getting paint all over me.
It’s latex.
It’ll wash off.
In fact, we can clean up together in my shower later.
Maybe I can make that fantasy from long ago come true?
I interlock our hands, wet paint coating my palm and fingers.
With my clean hand, I pull up her tank, exposing her beautiful full breasts.
“I can never get enough of these,” I murmur as I dab paint onto one nipple and then the other, trailing my finger down her taut tummy and leaving my mark.
Cricket groans and writhes, and I use the opportunity to wiggle her leggings and panties down and off.
She ditched her flats a while ago, and I sit up to slip my old running shoes and socks off.
“Those sweatpants have to go too,” she demands.
“I’m on it, beautiful.”
When I tug my sweats down my legs, my cock, hard as fuck, springs free.
“Mmm, going commando today, I see.” She nods approvingly. “I like it.”
“I bet you do,” I reply, smirking.
Our eyes meet and I know it then—today is the day that I will finally have Cricket Nance, and she will finally have me.
I stop playing around with the paint, and I’m back on her in an instant. This is important, and I want to remember every second of it.
Licking her lips, she opens her legs.
I settle between them, brushing back a strand of hair that escaped her now-messy ponytail.
Our bodies press together tightly, the paint that hasn’t dried smearing and covering our skin with every move.
I blow out a breath. “Fuck. This is kinky.”
“Yes,” Cricket groans. “I love it.”
“I do too,” I admit.
We can’t stop writhing and rubbing.
Our skin grows more heated, my cock stroking her soaked folds and swollen clit with every pass.
Faster and faster, our hands are everywhere as we become desperate—for each other, for release, for more.
With Cricket’s hand on my cheek, she whispers, “I want to feel you, Landen. All of you. I’m done waiting.”
“Hell, I am too.”
Growling, I reach down and adjust my dick so I can slip into her.
When I do, fuuuck…
I have to stop to just fill her and feel her.
Moving her hand down to my chest, she rasps, “Don’t move. Stay just like that.”
“Okay.”
She begins working herself on me, arching her hips, sliding along my cock.
“Shit, woman.”
“Right?”
She smiles up at me.
And then her eyes close as her brow furrows and she falls apart.
“Yes.” I smooth back more loose strands of hair. “Come for me. Just like that.”
As she quivers and spasms, I lower her hips and pick up the pace, fucking her hard and fast.
Her orgasm starts to subside, but then resumes.
“Jesus.”
This is my undoing.
Feeling Cricket come and come again on my cock pushes me over the top.
Filling her, we collapse into the drop cloths, spent and satiated.
Stake My Claim
“So Landen and I did the deed,” I say to Bettina over the roar of the arena crowd. “And it was super kinky and hot as hell.”
We’re up in a luxury box. My boss, Ahren, really came through on the Wolves tickets today. Maybe that’s due to the fact this is an afternoon game. They’re not as popular as the night ones.
It’s been really good, though.
We’re up 4-3 late in the third.
Well, since Jaxon Holland just scored a goal, make that 5-3.
That’s why everyone is going crazy.
But it’s what just came out of my mouth that has Bettina almost dropping her hot dog.
Readjusting and saving a jalapeño from falling off the big pile on the top, she lowers her food and says, “Holy hell, what did you just say? Cricket, you sneaky little bitch.”
After the sirens and lights die down, I murmur to her calmly, “You heard me.”
There are other people in the box with us, but they’re all a few rows back.
Still, Bettina keeps her voice low like I did when she replies, “Hot and kinky, huh? I’m going to need details on that. And now that we’re on this subject, it’s about damn time, woman! But what’s with the delay in sharing? Why are you keeping this all to yourself?”