He watched her delicately roll the shiny condom off his flaccid penis and wrap it in a tissue she pulled out of a box conveniently located on the nightstand. Her soft mound tickled his lower abs as she stretched across the bed.
“You wanna do that again?” she teased picking up another condom and playfully waving it in front of him as she continued to straddle him. The instant she asked him, the very thought of being inside her for a second time sent a surge of arousal immediately to his manliness.
“Oh, hell yeah!” He grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her forward, smashing his lips against hers. Her long hair covered his face, obscuring the light of the room as their tongues frolicked, licking and sucking with want.
Making love to Katie was everything he had ever dreamed of. Being close to her was everything he had ever wanted.
Chapter seven
Every muscle and joint in Katie’s body ached as her head bobbled for a split second. She was about to fall asleep in the front seat of Clay’s truck, the droning engine lulling her into a relaxed state of consciousness as they drove on the interstate. It was late afternoon, and she was accompanying him to see his mother at her retirement home on the south-side of Atlanta.
Yawning, she stretched and looked over at Clay. His eyes caught hers and he smiled. She couldn’t help but smile back, admiring his freshly shaved face and messy hair. This was a handsome man who didn’t have to try very hard, his natural good looks a definite distraction to her current state of contentedness.
“Did I wear you out?” he asked, his eyes displaying a hint of playfulness.
“Yes…,” she mumbled, rolling her stiff neck around, trying to wake up.
They had stayed in bed until early afternoon fucking like horny teenagers. She couldn’t get enough of him, her appetite for sex insatiable after going so long without. That and the fact that Clay Watkins was an incredible lover. They could have stayed in bed all day if he hadn’t already made plans to see his mother. Lying nose to nose on the sweat-dampened sheets, he asked if she’d like to join him, admitting he wasn’t ready to say goodbye. She enthusiastically accepted his invitation and proceeded to straddle him with her butt in his face rewarding him with the best blow-job she’d ever given. When they had run out of time and had to get ready, she quickly got in the shower to rinse off the aftermath of their afternoon delight, startled when he joined her under the spray of water. He efficiently washed every nook and cranny of her body, pausing to pay close attention to her most vulnerable areas. When he bent her over one last time, thrusting his hardness into her tenderness under the shower spray, she didn’t think she could explode again—but she did. She had never been so sore in her life.
“I’m sorry. I feel a little stiff too.”
“Stiff?” she joked, stifling a giggle.
“Easy girl…” he laughed, squeezing her thigh.
Laying her head back on the seat, she sighed happily. “Tell me about your mom, Clay.”
“Okay.”
Katie learned a lot about his family during the thirty-minute ride around the perimeter of the city. His mama and daddy were quiet country folk who had been married for thirty-five years. Mr. Watkins, affectionately known as “Big Daddy,” was a truck driver and spent many days on the road away from his family while Clay was growing up. He became the man of the house while his daddy traveled, helping his mama with household chores and making sure the doors were locked tight at night. Birdie Watkins was a sweet and gentle stay-at-home mom who loved her little family more than anything in the world. He talked about her incredible talent for baking and all the contests she had won over the years, entering her famous peach cobbler in local fairs. She loved flowers, especially the lace-capped hydrangeas that dotted the landscape of the homes they had lived in, and her vegetable garden. It was always a remarkable sight, the colorful summer harvest ending up in mason jars lining the shelves of the Watkins pantry or in big, bountiful gift baskets she would give to the neighbors.
The Watkins family had never owned a home of their own, always renting for several years at a time before they had to move on to the next one. Big Daddy’s trucker’s salary allowed them to live a comfortable life, but there was never enough money left-over to put a down-payment on a house, which was something they had always dreamed of. Clay made sure that dream became a reality when he made it big in his career, buying his folks a home on Lake Oconee, complete with a fishing dock and a panoramic view of the water. His parents enjoyed it for a few years together before Big Daddy’s unexpected death. When the dust settled, Birdie Watkins just couldn’t bear living in the vast, empty house alone without her precious husband. Clay contemplated having her move in with him, but she refused, not wanting to be a burden during a time when his career was skyrocketing. Out of the blue, she showed him several colorful pamphlets of retirement homes that looked like a good option; places where she would never be alone, make friends and stay active in her retirement years. Clay was diligent in his research to find a reputable, upscale facility in Atlanta where his mother would be comfortable and happy.
“She sounds like a very selfless and caring woman. I can’t wait to meet her,” Katie said smiling warmly at him.
He looked back at her and grinned.
The front of the Sunset Ridge retirement community looked like something out ofGone with the Wind. A large front porch wrapped its way around the entire building behind tall, white columns. A beautiful fountain was the focal point of the circular drive, enhanced by vibrant, summer flowers in full bloom. The manicured plush, green lawn looked more like a luxurious carpet than a living plant. The entire estate reminded her of a posh country club, not a facility for the elderly.
Clay parked his truck in a visitor spot and quickly got out, running around the side to open the passenger door.
“Thank you.” Katie gripped his hand and climbed out of the cab onto the asphalt. He continued to hold her hand as they walked the short distance to the front entrance, swinging it romantically back and forth much to her chagrin. Humongous ferns hung from long chains across the porch area and several black, lacquered rocking chairs spread across the wooden boards of the porch, adding another element of southern charm. A large sign displayed above the front doors said, “It’s always a sunny day at Sunset Ridge” making Katie smile. Clay approached the receptionist window in the interior entryway and signed their names on a clipboard. The woman on duty nodded politely and handed him two visitor stickers.
Peeling the back off one of them, Clay gently pressed the sticker onto Katie’s shirt above her right breast. She inhaled quickly, their eyes meeting momentarily. He offered her a slight smile and raised eyebrow, not saying a word, and grabbed her hand again, leading her down the hallway. Her sandals slapped against the travertine tile as they walked hand in hand. She was surprised that the place didn’t smell antiseptic or remind her of a hospital. It was quite lovely, decorated in shades of teal and light brown with a pale green accent color. Beautiful artwork was expertly positioned on the walls, and she swore she could smell the distinct traces of fresh gardenias.
“This place is nice,” she whispered, leaning into him.
He squeezed her hand. “Mama loves it. She’s made a lot of new friends and even volunteers in the kitchen so she can continue to bake.”
They rounded a corner and walked through a double doorway that led into a great room with floor to ceiling windows on the back wall. Rows and rows of tables were set up in the space, with elderly men and women sitting or standing while talking animatedly. Big band music played softly from small speakers mounted in the ceiling and refreshment tables were set up along the wall with brew stations and multi-tier silver trays of home-baked goodies. Clay must have noticed the surprised look on her face as she looked around.
“Afternoon bingo is a popular pastime here on Sunday afternoons. Mama usually sits at the end of a table near the windows with her posse.”
“Her posse?” she giggled.
He continued to guide her, pulling her by the hand through the people and furniture until they reached the back wall of windows, the view of the gardens this side of the property breathtaking. This was not your average retirement home.
They approached a group of ladies, one of them immediately recognizing Clay and offering her outstretched arms to embrace him. He let go of Katie’s hand.
