Once it’s all taped off, I get ready for the fun part. Painting!
And then I remember that Hunter insisted that I buy some primer. I can still see his face now as his eyebrows knit together over those piercing blue eyes, and he said, “What do you mean you don’t think you need any primer? What are you, Meg, a neanderthal?” I’d laughed because I don’t know exactly what came next in evolution after neanderthal, but I’m guessing they didn’t use primer either.
But I’d bought a couple of cans of primer, and now I realize I have to put it on the walls first. That doesn’t seem like as much fun.
At least I have a top-of-the-line rolling paintbrush. Hunter had scoffed when I’d picked up the cheapest one. I told him, “Some of us aren’t rich, Mr. Stone,” to which he’d laughed and said, “I’m buying, Meg.” I’d tried to talk him out of it, but at the end of the day, it was his apartment.
So he’d paid for all of the paint and supplies and told me to save up for that new car so I didn’t die in the Gremlin. I couldn’t tell if he was calling it that because he doesn’t know what model my car is or if he thinks it’s a little evil monster from an eighties film.
I roll on the primer and don’t stop smiling about Hunter. He was so nice yesterday, and I couldn’t help but notice that he likes to call me Meg. Not Meghan like everyone else—but Meg. It makes me smile on the inside to hear that nickname slide off his lips.
After about an hour, the living room is mostly primed, and I’m starting to get hot. I decide that’s due to all of the manual labor and not the fact that I’ve spent a good deal of my waking hours so far daydreaming about my boss.
I figure I should open a window and turn on a fan, which means I need to turn the music up slightly, and then I get back to work.
Once the primer is on in the living room, I decide to go ahead and tape off the kitchen. It’ll take a while for me to do that with all of the cabinets, so maybe the primer in the living room will be ready for me to put the first coat of actual paint on when I’m done.
“At least there’s not a lot of wall space in here to have to paint,” I remind myself as I finish with the tape.
When I finally get to painting the first coat of a nice, bright yellow in the living room, I grin. It’s just the right color, and I love it, I do think it will take two coats, but that’s okay. If it will make my apartment more cheerful, I’m all about that.
I’ve decided to use this same color in the living room, kitchen, and small entryway. My bedroom will be the light pink color, and I have a can of blue for my bathroom, but I don’t know if I’ll get to all of that today.
Hunter had said, “If you made it red instead of pink, you’ll have the primary colors.” When I asked him if he thought my bedroom really needed to be red, his face had turned just that very shade.
I am being silly, and I know it. He’s my boss. He’s nice. Despite the fact that he killed a guy at the club, and I think he probably killed my previous landlord, he’s a sweet guy. I can see it. Maybe other people can’t, but he doesn’t fool me.
Somehow, I manage to get the living room and kitchen painted, as well as my bedroom primed before I realize just how sore and tired I am. It’s been a long day, but I’ve gotten a lot done. I can work on finishing up everything else during the day this week, when I’m done working at the club and sleeping, and have it all done by next weekend.
But for now, my back is aching, as are my limbs, and when I notice the tape all over everything in the kitchen, I decide not only am I not cooking tonight, I’m not even going to put the furniture back. I’ll sit on the couch in the middle of the room.
I move to pick up my phone to order some Thai from a great restaurant I found nearby, and my arm screams at me not to move so much.I need a shower, I think to myself, not only because of the muscle aches but because I’m covered in paint and sweat.
After pressing a few buttons on my phone to let the restaurant know how hungry I am, I see that I have about thirty minutes or so before my food gets here. That’s plenty of time.
The water takes a few minutes to heat up, so while I’m waiting, I strip off my clothes and let my hair down. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and see that I have paint on my left cheek. A giggle escapes my lips. Maybe it’s just as well that Hunter didn’t come over and see me this way. I’m a mess.
Stepping into the shower, I let the hot water work its way into my muscles and let out a deep sigh. It feels so good, and I can feel the tension rolling out of my tissues. The small space steams up pretty quickly since the exhaust fan doesn’t work worth shit, and I feel my head beginning to get a little foggy, lost in thoughts of Hunter.
I know it’s stupid to indulge my feelings for him, but as I run body wash all over my torso, I picture his face in my mind. His rugged jaw, those beautiful eyes, the way he holds his mouth when he’s trying not to smirk at me.
The images in my head drop lower down his frame, past his muscular biceps to what I can only imagine is a six-pack of washboard abs, the perfect low V, and runner’s legs with hard, muscular thighs and calves.
And then there’s the part I just glossed over. Hunter’s a badass. He’s so confident and tough. He’s gotta be well hung to pull that off, right?
I realize I’ve dropped the loofah I was using to soap myself up, and my hands are running over my hardened nipples. I can’t help but imagine it’s him tugging on them, teasing me, bringing me to life.
The warm water pours over me, and I picture his mouth leaning down and taking my erect peak between his teeth, sucking and flicking at my sensitive skin with his tongue. Leaning back against the tile, I let out a soft moan and slide one hand down my abdomen.
I can’t tell if the wetness between my folds is strictly because of the shower or due to my juices, but the more I run my fingers along my slit, the more heated I become. I can see him on top of me, his hand holding my wrists above my head as he spreads my dripping thighs and pushes into me.
One finger won’t do—no, it’ll take at least two or three.
I press into myself, my other hand grinding against my clit. It doesn’t take much for me to start feeling my muscles spasm around my pulsing fingers as I think of Hunter thrusting again and again. I toss my head back and let out a few lewd moans. I don’t even care if the neighbors hear me, I’m so lost in my daydream.
When I finally come, I come hard, his name on my lips and my body continuing to vibrate beneath my fingers for several seconds as every muscle in my body sings for him.
Still panting, I pull my hands away and grab my loofah, trying to get my head out of the clouds. I do another scrub of my sensitive parts, getting one more tingle to race up my spine, before I rinse out my hair and get out of the shower, turning it off and grabbing a towel.