Page 46 of Trusting the Fall
“Of course not. You weren’t talking then.”
“I was talking a little. I seem to remember you enjoying me telling you what a good girl you were when you covered my face with your cum.” The cutest little gasp comes from her lips at my words.
“Well,” she starts but can’t seem to finish the train of thought.
I watch as she nervously shuffles from foot to foot, hitching her handbag further up her exposed shoulder.
The neon pink strap of her blouse makes her skin positively glow. She looks at every corner of the room except for the one I occupy while she reaches into the back pocket of her tailored black shorts.
I’m used to seeing her confidence and charm. This fumbling ball of beautiful ambiguity, now furiously typing on her phone, is new but no less desirable.
I’m itching to take her in my arms and reassure her. I’m also torn between disbelief and excitement at finally learning her name.
She’s been insistent that we keep things casual since we started our little arrangement. Adamant we were only sex and nothing more. But now I’m realising on Saturday night, when she texted that she needed me, it was after the salon flooded. She wanted me when she was feeling down, and I can’t ignore that little tidbit.
“Well, that has to end now,” she sasses.
I know she’s trying to gain back that sense of indifference, but it sours my gut.
“What has to end, Bombshell?” I purr.
Come on, baby. Tell me to my face you can cut off the connection that I know we’ve both been feeling.
More breakneck speed typing on her phone as she glares between me and her device.
“Me and you.”
I hum. “What specifically about me and you? Me doing your renovations?”
The glare she sends me is more in line with the beauty queen I’ve come to know over the past weeks.
Determined and headstrong. A beautiful bombshell. Shocking me to my core and leaving me decimated in the wake of her ferocious allure. She breaks me apart and pulls me back together, and I revel in the unrelenting burn of it all. This is the fire I’ve always craved.
I stalk towards her, the vanilla and plum scent I’ve grown addicted to consuming my senses as I invade her space.
Her body tenses up, shoulders squared, back ramrod straight, still typing away at her phone.
“Hmm?” I draw my nose up along the smooth skin of her jaw, clenching my teeth together to hold back from nipping at her ear.
Instead, I whisper what I know we’re both thinking. “Or the way you scream my name when I’m making you come on my cock and tongue.”
She pushes on my chest, making me step back with a smug smile at riling her up.
“Which name would that be? Leif or Lee?”
Before I can answer, a whistle punches through the air. “Shit! The floors are fucked.”
I take an extra step back away from Claire as one of my carpenters, Jeremy, walks in.
“Yep. Gonna have to replace them all and the skirting boards, but the wallpaper seems to be okay,” I say.
“Don’t worry, darling, we’ll get it back on track in no time,” Jeremy says as he stands beside Claire, who’s still rooted to the spot where she first laid eyes on me.
My fists clench, and I feel an eye twitch as I watch him throw an arm around her shoulders and squeeze with easy affection.
The boys who work on Claire’s project come in every week talking about how beautiful she is and how they’ll stay back later just to see her whenever she visits.
I didn’t understand why before, but now I do.
