Am I just a pervert who assumes she’s getting herself off in the middle of the night? What else could it be?
Oh, what I’d give to find out if she’s flat on her back, sliding the lucky silicone through her tightness. Or does she have a suction-cup style so she can sink herself onto it the way I’m imagining her straddling me, taking my length an inch at a time—slowly while she stretches to accommodate me, the rosy beaded nipples of her tits giving me a distraction while I give her time.
When she’s fully seated on me, I’d wrap my hands around her waist and pump her up and down, cherishing the bounce of her tits while her walls clamp around me.
“Ohh.” A muffled moan is quickly silenced. The cyclic hum switches to a steady, quieter sound. Any belief that she was doing anything other than getting herself off is shattered.
My release hits so hard and fast, I shoot all over myself before I can reach for a tissue. These hot streams of cum would look so much better on her silky belly with me towering over her. She’d be wearing nothing but pleasure and my mark while she looks at me with her sinfully gorgeous blue eyes.
Barely audible moans come through the wall.
Shuffling sounds from her room draw me back to reality where my heavy breaths are the only other sound intruding on the silence. Jesus Christ, I’d heard her come. Had she heard me?
Climaxing at the same time as Zoe could be my life mission.
The wall separating us has to go.
How am I supposed to deal with her having to take care of herself? Is it arrogant to think that she was wishing it was one of us?
I have two weeks to find out.
Seven
Nathan
Wakinguptothearoma of bacon with a hint of something warm and sweet, maybe pancakes, fills me with happy memories—of times when I was a kid and had people around me who loved me. No chance it’s Carson doing the cooking.
Zoe wraps my heart around her little finger a little bit tighter. She’s always been kind and smart, but now that she’s grown up, her inner beauty radiates with an allure I’ve never experienced. A torturous seduction when combined with her womanly curves. A forbidden fruit.
I roll myself out of bed before I replay any more images from the moments before I knew the woman on my rooftop was off-limits.
Throwing on sweats and a t-shirt, I head downstairs. She has her back to me. Her short shorts and tank top give me a stiff reminder of why I kept dreaming of her. My mind hadn’t played up her beauty. Every bit of what taunted me in my sleep is standing in front of the stove.
Long tanned legs, brown wavy hair, curves highlighted by her form-fitting pajamas… We might need more ground rules than which tasks she’s responsible for. Better coverage from her clothing would give me a chance to regroup. My brain is racked with the desire to walk up behind her, slip my hands around her waist, and plant a kiss on her neck.
She turns, catching me staring before I’m able to divert my gaze or act casual.
I toss out, “Smells delicious. I could get used to having you around.”
That would have sounded better if I’d stopped before the last comment.
She giggles and I’m reminded of how cock-stroking the sound is.
“Just pancakes and bacon. I’ll get your plate ready.” She motions for me to go to the table.
“I can do that.”
“You guys are paying me really well. Let me take care of you.” Her smile is genuine and does all the wrong things to me. When she stands beside me to set my plate down, I have to close my eyes and breathe. Focus on the bacon.
It’s part of the arrangement that she’ll cook. Simple. Got it. She’s doing her job.
“Are you going to eat?” I ask.
“In a minute.”
I wasn’t prepared for how it would feel to have her serve me. That wasn’t part of the deal, but not an illogical extension either. Domestic. Like we have a relationship. Like she’s a part of my life.
She’s our housekeeper for two weeks, nothing more.The reminder does nothing for the extra tug of tightness she has on my heart.