by Eden Connor
The first soft touch of the paintbrush made her jump. He barely glanced away while using the brush to spread the shaving cream. The bristles caught on her curls. Each tiny vibration seemed to tingle inside her. He swirled the brush around her clit, causing her back to arch. His dark brows rose just a bit toward the tumble of hair over his forehead, and his lips curled with satisfaction as he repeated the motion, yet his eyes never left her face.
No man had ever taken the time to inventory what turned her on. Cynda wondered what he'd do with the information once he'd wrung every response from her body, but he changed the stroke of the brush from circling around her clit to an up-and-down motion along her slit and made her lose her train of thought. The soft touch was torture. He seemed to love not giving her enough, keeping her on the edge, needing satisfaction. The dildo, though, gave her hope he'd use it to fuck her.
Or maybe he'd use the smooth plastic handle of the brush, like he'd done with that silver fork handle.
Cynda didn't care, so long as he fucked her somehow.
* * * *
Daniel considered taking her along to the shop, but the hours he needed to spend working on the quarterly tax report discouraged him. Better to make her wait anxiously for him to return, he decided.
When she was squirming and panting, he laid the brush aside and picked up the razor. "Lie back, Cynda, and be very still. I'd hate to nick you." He grabbed another dishtowel out of the drawer and folded it rapidly. Lifting her head, he slid the towel in place for a makeshift pillow and took a final look at her eyes. It was as if those dark pools sucked him under every time he really stared at them. The drowsy way she'd looked up at him the night before had prompted him to take her to his bed rather than to a room upstairs as he'd planned.
If he was playing house, he might as well get the full effect.
Looking away, he turned his attention to the tempting sight of her folds, drawing the razor carefully over her mound while he used his fingers to spread her. Concentrating was difficult since his cock was hard as nails, but Dan had a plan to take care of that too, if Cynda cooperated. A smile curved his lips again as he wondered whether or not she'd take the bait he planned to set for her and set up the evening's fun while he carefully shaved the tender skin. Her tummy rose and hollowed as he manipulated the razor. He made certain to brush her clit as often as possible with his fingertips and knuckles. Her cream mingled with the canned variety as he worked.
Once he had her shaved, he rinsed her gently, scooping the water from the faucet into his palm before pouring it over her, then patted her dry. He couldn't resist leaning down to press his lips to the top of her pretty pink slit. Straightening, he looked at her. Her eyes were closed and her lush lips were turned up in a little smile that did something funny to his chest.
No. He wasn't going to allow himself to get sucked in by her feminine charms any more than by her incredibly submissive nature. She was here because she wanted something, something he had no intention of giving.
He picked up the silicone dildo he'd allowed one of his brief playmates to make from a mold of his cock with some kit she'd ordered off the internet. He'd taken the gift, but never returned again to use the toy on her. Picking up the small tube of lube, he carefully coated the shaft, feeling Cynda watching him.
"Time for work," he said pleasantly. "You're not to use this until I get home tonight. I want to watch." Turning away, he walked into the greenhouse room, trying to gauge how high to place it on the glass wall facing the back yard. She'd use a cushion for her knees, he decided, rather than kneel on the unglazed terra-cotta tiles. He picked his spot and suppressed a smile when Cynda appeared in the door. He dragged his tongue slowly across the round suction cup base, squatting to stick the toy cock firmly to the glass. "You don't have my permission to come until I get home." He glanced at his watch, noting with his peripheral vision the pout on her lips and the way she crossed her arms beneath her breasts, making him want to take a nibble of both.
"Gotta run. Have a nice day. I'll be gone about five or six hours. Make a salon appointment for this evening. I left my number on the desk so you can call me. Help yourself to any of the dresses in the attic." He strode toward the door. She blocked his exit, looking at him pleadingly. Resolutely, he lifted her by her elbows and set her carefully back on her feet inside the greenhouse room. He went out the door without a backward look. His cock was rigid when he climbed into his truck and pulled down the drive. Chuckling, he threw her a friendly wave when he pulled past the wide glass panes. She didn't return the wave. Dan laughed, turning the wheel and cutting across his front yard, pulling to a stop on the far side of the big farmhouse.
* * * *
"Mother. Fucker." Cynda stared in amazement as Dan's truck disappeared from sight, the dust from the driveway obscuring his tailgate as he tore off, leaving her aching and needy. She angrily eyed the fake cock, hanging so tantalizingly from the glass. A ray of sunshine flirted with the toy, making the lube gleam, tempting her.
She pressed her thighs together and trailed her fingertips across her bare mound, wondering why he'd put the dildo in that spot. She glanced at the comfortable-looking rattan seat, noting he'd taken the cushion from the matching ottoman to throw down in front of the dildo. Maybe because the glass opened onto the back yard and had a good view of the garden? Did he like a floral backdrop whenever he watched a woman fuck herself? She despaired of ever figuring this guy out.
The shave had been its own form of torture. He'd bumped into her clit so often while his large hands manipulated the tiny razor, she was about to cry from her need to come. The dildo was large and as she stared at it, the thick veins almost seemed to pulse. That thing might not feel quite as good as the real deal, but it was a hell of a lot larger than the sterling fork. Her pussy ached from emptiness, tempting her to defy his arrogant order.
How will he know? She could wash the cock off and replace the lube. He'd left the tube right on the kitchen counter. Cynda grabbed a cushion from one of the chairs and tossed it defiantly in front of the glass. He didn't own her. She'd do as she pleased. Who the fuck did he think he was, ordering her not to come? That wasn't in their contract.
This place was at the end of a long road, and according to him, there were only two other houses on it. No one would see. She studied the toy, kneeling on the cushion. He'd been generous with the lube. Her channel clenched in anticipation as she turned and backed up. Moaning as she felt the broad head of the dildo penetrate her folds, Cynda pushed back hard and began slowly rocking back and forth on her knees. She'd never used anything like this, but as she pressed back to seat it inside her, she could barely tell it was fake once her hot flesh warmed the cool silicone.
She recalled the way his hands felt between her thighs as he'd shaved her, reliving every touch as she picked up speed. Their time on the mountain played a part in her fantasies and her nipples began to ache for his creative tortures.
Cynda moaned as she rode the cock, pretending Daniel had ordered her to the floor, perhaps in the middle of dinner, and then had gotten down on his knees to take her from behind. Would he thrust into her hard or would he start out slow at first?
He'd seen to it she needed it hard and deep, so that's what he'd do, she decided. After all his soft teasing, he'd fuck her like that. Her own moisture added to the silky slide of lube. She felt the heavy veins rub pleasantly against the walls of her pussy, filling her up and stretching her swollen channel. She rocked back harder, eager to feel the fake balls slapping against her ass, determined to take the entire lengthy toy inside her.
* * * *
Dan jogged around the house, slowing when he approached the back door. A peek through the glass showed him she wasn't cleaning up the counter so he hurried past, ducking underneath the kitchen windows, just in case. He stole silently around the corner of the kitchen, grinning when he caught sight of Cynda's bare ass as she backed up to the dildo. Dan prayed she wouldn't notice his shadow as he stepped up to the glass, unzipping his p
ants and easing his stiff shaft free.
Taking a wide stance, he began stroking his cock with both hands in time with the rhythm she set on the toy, biting his lip to keep from groaning aloud when she began rocking faster. His eyes were riveted to the pink flesh curved tightly around the black silicone, imagining it wrapped around his shaft.
She set a hard pace, making Dan smile slightly at the thought he'd gotten her this excited with a simple shave. He thrust into his fists, fighting to hold back the orgasm tightening against his lower spine.
"C'mon, sugar, rub your clit," Dan whispered encouragingly. "Come on, Cynda, you gotta be close, babe." He pictured the endless tax forms waiting, but was fighting a losing battle until he saw her hand slide between her thighs. Dan inhaled deeply, squeezing his eyes closed momentarily, so the sight of her rounded ass bouncing hard against the duplicate of his cock didn't throw him over too soon. Her fingers moved rapidly between her thighs as she rode the dildo.
The glass was thick, but not so thick he couldn't hear her cry. "Oh Lord, Daniel!"
"Cynda. Damn." Dan's seed erupted, jetting against the glass, and he couldn't bite back his harsh groan as the hard spurts kept coming. His vision went dark and the pleasure nearly caused his knees to buckle. Dan put a hand against the glass, breathing heavily. He saw her head turn and for long moments, they simply stared at each other as they recovered, much as they might do if they'd actually fucked. He finally recovered enough to give her a wink and a naughty grin. "You're in trouble now, girl," he promised her aloud, tapping the glass with his forefinger. "I'll spend all day thinking about how to punish that sweet little pussy for your disobedience."
It was a good thing he'd propped himself on something, because when she crawled right up to the glass and dragged her pink tongue along one of the rivulets of his seed from inside, he might have gone to his knees. Still grinning at her saucy act, he tucked himself up and leaned forward impulsively, pressing his lips to the huge window before turning away.
His first steps were unsteady, but the sheer joy of setting a sexual snare she'd fallen for soon steadied his steps as he jogged past the back door. Glancing inside he saw her standing there, naked and smiling.
Chapter Seven
Cynda grinned happily. She'd thought he'd be angry she'd defied him. Is it a bad thing I love the idea that he watched me fuck the toy? No, she decided. He liked to play games and she had to admit, his games were the most fun she'd had in a long time. Now she was sure there'd be more games tonight.
A search of the kitchen revealed glass cleaner in the cabinet beneath the sink. Cynda went outside as bare-assed as the day she'd been born, looking around at all the flowers. If he felt safe enough to jack off outside, she doubted anyone would see her. She hummed as she bent to wipe his cum from the glass, but she left the print made by his lips, and she enjoyed the task. A soft breeze tickled her thrumming clit, and her nipples seemed attuned to the wind's soft caress. When the glass was clean, she stretched as high as she could onto her toes, pressing her lips to the spot he'd kissed, pretending for a moment this arrangement was something more than a business deal.
Abandoning the cleaner on the porch steps, Cynda felt reluctant to go inside so soon. The sensation of being totally naked outdoors was foreign and exciting. Instead, she went to the shed to check on Daisy. The old English setter still nursed only one pup. Cynda noted the fresh water and bowl of food, stroking the bundle of fur that seemed fatter than it had been the day before. "He's gonna eat himself to death, not havin' to share," she confided to the pup's mother. Daisy raised her head at the sound of her voice, causing Cynda to wish anew she had the money to help Grams get her cataracts fixed.
"He's a pretty boy," she assured the new mother, kneeling in the straw to stroke the puppy's soft fur. "What we gonna name him?"
Daisy curled around her babe, closing her milky eyes.
Strolling back to the porch, she tugged her small purse from underneath the bush where she'd concealed it the day before and picked up the cleaner, looking at the rocking chairs lining the back porch while she climbed the steps. Indoors, Cynda tugged the dildo off the glass in the pretty garden room and washed it in the sink, still smiling at his brazen game. Tucking it into the first drawer she found that had space, she added the lube and the unopened razors. Cleaning the soap from the brush, she laid it on the wide drain board to dry, careful to reshape the bristles.
Her name caught her attention, scrawled on a piece of paper torn from a spiral notebook that lay by the sink. It took a few minutes to figure out what he'd written. Cynda smiled at the thought he'd left her a note to remind her she had his permission to find some dresses she liked in the attic.
First, she called to check on Grams. She needed to let King know she'd talked her way into the house and ask him for other ideas about persuading Daniel to sell him the property he wanted, but she didn't want to spoil her happy mood, so she shoved her cell phone in the drawer along with the other items, being careful to turn it off so it wouldn't ring, and hurriedly climbed the stairs.
She couldn't resist a peek inside each closed door while she walked toward the door she'd spied at the end of the hall. One room was feminine, with lacy curtains and a double brass bed covered in a cheerful quilt. Three others looked masculine, with single beds and furniture covered with stickers and the occasional carved initials. One held piles of cardboard boxes and nothing else.
The room above Daniel's bedroom, closest to the top of the stairs, captivated her. A cradle sat in one corner beside a rocking chair. The crib was stripped of linens but she smiled and spun the row of five pastel-painted balls that were set into the headboard. A mobile with tiny farm animals still played music when she turned the small brass winder on the little music box.
The siren's call of the attic eventually made her leave the nursery. She could barely wait to see what other beautiful dresses were tucked away up there.
Heat assaulted her when she opened the attic door. She gave the beaded chain hanging from the porcelain wall-mounted socket a yank and began climbing the unpainted steps. Her feet seemed small as she stepped into the prints of Daniel's boots on the dusty treads. The stale air grew hotter with every step she climbed, but when she reached the low space above the arched hallway she forgot the heat in her excitement. Everywhere she looked were chifferobes and trunks and mysterious bundles beneath plain sheets.
Cynda loved to poke around in other folk's stuff. Grams called it "plunderin'". She'd been in trouble a million times for nosing through a drawer at some friend of Grams', mostly, because old trinkets fascinated her. She knew it was wrong, but she adored seeing the things people kept tucked away, their treasured bits of costume jewelry or old love letters. She'd never take a thing, she just couldn't resist rummaging through such items.
When she lifted the lid on the first trunk she came to, the soft scent of cedar drifted up to greet her. A wooden tray held pearls and rhinestone jewelry in elegant settings, along with carved tortoiseshell and ivory hair combs that delighted her. A mirror, hairbrush, and comb appeared to have black handles, but she realized they were silver-plated when she picked up the brush and rubbed at the finish. Long strands of light brown hair twined in the yellowed bristles of the brush and the same hair filled a china jar with a hole in the lid. Light powder beneath a fine screen filled a matching jar without a hole in the top.
Spying a gold locket, she pried it open gently. The image was small, but she recognized the man from one of the photos downstairs. He held a baby in his arms and was smiling as if it was the happiest day of his life. On the opposite side, Daniel's full name and birth date were carved in a spidery hand. Rafael Daniel De Marco, 9 lbs, 7 oz. He was almost forty, she slowly figured out. Thirty-seven, if her math was right.
The locket was engraved on the back as well. I love you, Rafe. Cynda turned the locket over again, studying the white christening gown and cap baby Daniel wore. He'd been a beautiful infant but she grinned at the thought of what the adult man might say
about seeing himself in a dress.
He hadn't thrown his mother's things out, she thought sadly, recalling what he'd said about his father forgetting everything except getting her back. In spite of the stifling heat, Cynda settled onto her feet, prepared to sweat a bit in return for the chance to plunder through the feminine treasures to her heart's content.
A silvery locket turned up, with three little frames that folded open. The same man held three different babies, each wearing the same dress and cap. The inscription on the back was the same, too. I love you, Rafe. The inside of the locket was engraved with tiny names, and Cynda had to squint to read them. Eric Chapman. Colton Scott. Sarah Camille.
Eventually she replaced the trinkets and lifted the tray. Cynda gasped with delight as stiff net crinolines sprang up to meet her. Soft dresses made of fine cotton, trimmed with elegant lace, ribbons, and embroidery lay neatly folded in stacks.
Choosing was difficult, there were so many pretty things in the trunk, but she settled on a dress the color of the peachy flowers that smelled so good. She selected a second one because it matched his house. She took the prettiest net crinoline after deciding it would fit beneath the full circle skirt of the yellow dress. Eventually the stifling air drove her to fill her arms with every dress she thought might fit and she left the attic to get the assortment of clothing washed and dried while she started cleaning the downstairs.
* * * *
Dan was halfway to his goal of figuring out how much state tax the shop had collected in June when he heard the metal back door of the shop bang against the wall. He cocked his head toward the office door and listened, easing open the drawer holding one of his pistols. Colton was in Gatlinburg with his girlfriend Lila Walker. Eric had taken their nephew Jonah, who lived with Colton, to Myrtle Beach for the weekend. Eric swore he was taking Jonah deep sea fishing, but Dan figured unless there was a charter boat run by women wearing bikinis, Eric and his thirteen-year-old nephew were most likely lounging on the beach watching the girls go by.
