Summer Fling

by Tarrah Anders

  I hold up the various color cards and, after staring at everything for so long my eyes have crossed, I choose the color that looks light gray and a very, very, very light, almost-white blue. I order samples of each color and then head over to my store to relieve Willie for the rest of the day so she can go on her date tonight. Once I've parked my car behind the store, I send a text to Royce to let him know I have paint choices and to confirm that I will see him tonight. Then I head inside to start my shift at the shop.

  “Mrs. Williams was in here telling me you were at the hardware store staring at paint samples.”

  “I hate small towns sometimes,” I groan. "I am helping Royce with a project,” I say, busying myself behind the counter.

  “More playing house?”

  “It’s not like that. Anyways, don’t you need to go? I came in today to relieve you so you could go on this fancy date you have tonight. Who’s the guy?”

  “Some out-of-towner.” She shrugs.

  “A tourist?” I try to clarify.

  “Not exactly.” She avoids my eyes.

  “Why are you looking away from me? Who are you going out with?”

  “I might be going out with Cyrus.”

  "Wait a minute. I thought you hated him, mostly out of principle because of when you guys were kids?" I ask.

  “I mean, I hated him back then, sure. He was a little punk. But I’ve run into him here and there since they moved here and he’s actually quite nice. You’ve spent time with him; you know what I mean,” she defends.

  “I don’t remember him from when we were kids. But I agree, I think he’s a nice guy. A little cocky and too rich for my taste, but um, congrats?”

  She laughs at my choice of words. “Thanks, Em.”

  “Where’s he taking you?” I inquire.

  “I’m going to show him what Chesterville has to offer.”

  Chesterville is a little bigger than Sweeny. It has a movie theater and a mini-mall. It’s where folks around here usually go for their nightlife, or whatever passes for nightlife in a small town. Granted, the Chesterville movie theater gets movies after they’ve already been in other theaters for a month or so, but at least they have something to do.

  “Well, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” I tell her with a wink.

  “That shouldn’t be too hard.” She throws her bag over her shoulder, turns and heads down the back hallway. “Enjoy picking paint colors and playing house with the guy you’re totally into but pretend you guys are just friends, even though I've seen the way you both look at each other," she teases.

  The afternoon into the evening is quiet. A dozen or so customers come in and I see Royce’s truck drive by a few times. My phone stays silent until the moment I turn the lights off and am setting the alarm.

  I walk out to the jeep and sit in the driver's seat, then pull out my phone.

  Royce: Wanna meet me at The Woody?

  Me: The Woody?

  Royce: The Woodpecker?

  Royce: The Log Cabin?

  Royce: Lincoln’s Wood?

  Me: Are you trying to come up with a name for your place?

  Royce: Cyrus dubbed it the Dam because all the beavers wanna come there.

  But that doesn’t vibe well with me.

  I shake my head and laugh quietly.

  Me: I’ll meet you at your new place.

  I put the car in reverse, then pull out of the parking lot and head toward Royce’s place with a shake of my head.

  Guys can be so weird sometimes.

  HIM

  I think I just fell a little in love with her.

  Emma stands off to my right with her hands on her hips watching me as I look over her selection.

  “Why do you have two samples of white? Why not just get one?” I ask her curiously.

  “They are not exactly white. One has a bluish tint and the other has a grayish tint.”

  She points to the colors on the left, which, to me, still look the same.

  I look from her to the paints again.

  “You choose.”

  “Oh no, I can’t be the one to choose.” She shakes her head quickly and steps away.

  I stand straight up, catch her by the waist, and pull her to my body.

  “Babe, to me these are two of the exact same color. You chose these two for a reason; now make the final decision because I can’t.” I kiss the tip of her nose.

  “It’s your place,” she defends.

  “If I’m lucky, you’ll be spending a lot of time over here.” I tighten my grip around her.

  “If you’re lucky,” she repeats.

  “Will I be lucky? Please say that I’m lucky,” I beg my voice low and pleading.

  “We’ll have to see about that,” she says coyly, leaning back and smiling.

  I lower my head so our mouths are a breath apart. When she licks her lips, I align my lips with hers. She opens up and our tongues slide against one another. In the dance of the kiss, I pull her tongue into my mouth, suck lightly as we open up, and deepen the kiss. My hands move to cup her ass as she presses herself into me. My cock is aching to be closer to her. Her hands slide under my t-shirt and graze my skin, igniting the need to have our bodies skin to skin.

  I pull away from her slowly. Her eyes are hooded and her breath is rushed.

  I’m fucked because I have no furniture in the house, at least not until this weekend. I’m fucked because I want nothing more than to be closer to her, and by the look in her eyes, she wants the same thing, or at least I hope so. I'm fucked because we clearly both want to be intimate, but we haven't moved into that stage again.

  “So, um…” She pulls away from the kiss and bites her lower lip. “Gray or blue?”

  “Huh?” I ask.

  “The whites, they have tints, remember?” She angles her head towards the counter.

  “Right.” I nod and release her, first, to control myself, and second, to make a decision. Blindly, I point to the paint sample on the right and she smiles.

  “I figured you would go for this one.” She walks up to the counter and picks up the container.

  I look at the sample. I chose the gray one.

  “When do you want to start painting?” she asks eagerly.

  “Well, I have to go back to the city this weekend to get some of my furniture from the townhouse. So, I guess while I don’t have a lot of furniture to move? I mean, you really don’t need to help me with that unless you really want to. I have you helping me so much with the office, and you have your own business to run and a life too,” I ramble on.

  She turns to me and wraps her arm around my waist. We’re standing side by side, and her gaze is on me.

  “I’m here, aren’t I?” She lifts on her tiptoes and lays a kiss on my jawline. I smile and turn back toward her.

  “You sure are.” My other arm goes around her again and I pull her back into me. I kiss her quickly and then, against the pleading of every fiber of my body to continue, I stop.

  “I think you promised me a date,” I remind her.

  “I did, didn’t I? Well, let’s get to work then.” She pushes away from me, grabs her purse and heads to the front door.

  “Where are you going?” I ask.

  “We have to get more paint if we want to paint these walls. Plus, no more kissing me until we go on our date.”

  “Well, we better get a move on.” I quickly grab my truck keys off the counter and we head out of the house.

  I’m back in Sweeny, officially moved in to my new home and surrounded by my own furniture so I don’t feel like I’m living in a stranger's house. Cyrus and Jackson helped me move half of the townhouse’s contents into a large moving truck. While in the city, I met up with a friend of mine who is a real estate agent and made plans to put the townhouse up on the market.

  I’m unpacking a box when Jackson walks through the front door with Emma trailing behind him.

  “Look who I found just roaming around the outside of the house. I think we need to get the
sheriff on the line and have this troublemaker taken in.” He slings his thumb over his shoulder and walks into the kitchen.

  “Hmmm, did you frisk her? Is she armed?” I play along.

  “Nah. I figured you should be the frisker, this being your property and all.”

  “C’mere, lady. I need to frisk you,” I say, pushing the box out of the pathway. She walks over to me with a slow saunter and a bashful yet playful smile on her lips.

  “The place looks good with stuff in it. This is all your furniture?” She looks around the living room.

  “Yeah. I’m glad I had stuff to put in here.” I smile looking around the space. “How was your weekend?”

  She takes a seat on the recliner and looks up at me. “It was busy. It seems like a completely new shipment of tourists came into town. The shop activity was constant, and I got some well-needed rest. How was the drive?”

  “Easy. I could do it in my sleep now. Thank you for all your help with the painting,” I say, looking around at the improved state of my new home.

  “I have ulterior motives.” She smiles.

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Maybe. I thought that maybe I would cook you dinner here tonight?”

  “I’d like that,” I reply.

  “How much more work do you have tonight?” she asks, looking around.

  The house is pretty much set up. I have to make the bed and put away some dishes, but other than that…

  “Not too much. It’s small things. Everything is mostly situated. At least, I hope so.”

  “I just wanted to stop by before I went to the store, to make sure you were cool with dinner.”

  “I’m definitely cool with it. Especially since, it involves food and you. Always assume I'm in if the opportunity involves those two things."

  Dinner was excellent.

  If I didn't know Emma was a clothing storeowner, I would assume she was a chef. She made us chicken Marsala with cauliflower mash, which I'd never had before now. We cleaned up side by side and now we are sitting on the patio overlooking the lake with glasses of wine and low music playing from inside.

  "You know, if you squint your eyes, you might see Cyrus and Jackson up to no good." I laugh.

  "I don't want to know what Cyrus is up to. He and Willie have gone on a few dates, so if she's over there I want to see nothing of that monkey business."

  "They're hanging out?" I ask.

  "You didn't know?" she asks me with a tilt of her head.

  "We don't really sit around and gossip," I deadpan.

  "The other day I had to relieve her from the shop so she could go get ready for their date. I think they've hung out one other time since."

  "Interesting." I nod.

  "Should I be worried about them?" she asks concerned.

  "Deep down, Cyrus is a stand-up guy. I wouldn't still be friends with him if he wasn't. He acts douchey sometimes and can come off as an entitled prick, but he's been fucked over so much in his life that he has to appear standoffish. He's a good person to know though. If you're in his circle, you have a friend for life. He’s someone who will always have your back and will stick his neck out for you."

  "Sounds like you've had to take advantage of that before," she notes.

  "He's put up a lot of the capital for the clinic. But personally, he's always had my back. He was like my bulldog during the divorce."

  "Bulldog?"

  "He heard a lot of the rumors that were going around and he made it his own personal mission to put an end to the lies by providing the truth when he could.”

  "That's sweet." She smiles.

  I sit up and turn to her, grab her chair and pull her closer to me.

  "You know what I think is sweet?" I ask.

  "What's that?" she asks her voice breathy.

  "I think it's sweet that you've been so freaking helpful. With the clinic, with painting Woody and then dinner tonight." I run my nose against her cheek to her ear and kiss just below the lobe as she breathes in a shaky breath.

  "It's my pleasure," she whispers.

  "I want that," I mumble, pulling her earlobe between my teeth.

  "You want what?" She cranes her neck giving me full access.

  "I want your pleasure."

  "Oh fuck," she whispers as she turns her head in towards me. Our lips meet and her hands come to both sides of my jaw as I guide her face to mine.

  The kiss turns ravenous. I want to strip her bare here on the patio and fuck her with the night sky twinkling above us, but instead I pull away. Her eyes look glazed with lust, and her mouth looks happily kissed.

  My voice is thick with need. "Inside?"

  She holds out her hand and I take it in mine. She leads me through my home and up the stairs to my bedroom. She pushes me down on the bed and stands before me.

  "Do you want to undress me?" she asks.

  "More than anything," I confess.

  "Or should I undress myself, give you a little show?"

  "Oh shit. Whatever you want to do is what I want." I can't make up my mind, but I'm thankful both options end with us both naked.

  "No, you need to choose," she instructs.

  "You." I flick my chin in her direction as she smiles lazily.

  She begins by pulling her tank top over her head slowly. She crosses her arms and the fabric is flung in my direction. I catch it and smile. She goes to work on unbuttoning her jeans and slowly removes those as well. She kicks them to the side and stands in front of me in simple, un-matched — but still very sexy — bra and underwear. Her bottoms have multi-colored stripes and her bra is black and smooth. She reaches behind her to unhook her bra and I stop her by holding my hand up.

  "Wait. I want to do that," I say, sitting up fully.

  She comes to stand between my legs and I pull her closer to me. I kiss the valley between her breasts and look up at her. I reach around her tiny frame and unhook her bra. Her breasts bounce lightly as I release them from the confines of her bra. I take each in my palm and squeeze as my lips lightly graze over her flesh. Her nipples pucker and goosebumps form as I trace her breasts with my tongue, leaving a light trail.

  My hands travel to her hips. I put a forefinger on each hip, slide them into the waistband of her panties, and slowly pull them down.

  Any resistance I had leaves my body as she stands before me naked. My cock is aching to come out and connect with her. Remembering how good she felt that night, my heart pounds in anticipation.

  "Fuck. You are a vision," I say quietly as my eyes graze over her soft curves.

  9

  HER

  His hands are on the top of my hips as I stand in front of him naked. He's still fully dressed, which needs to be remedied immediately. I step back and pull him up by his hands.

  We're doing this tonight.

  I'm not saying that we waited too long to be intimate again, but I am saying that tonight is overdue. The first time, while was insanely hot, doesn't count. We didn't know one another at the time. We were two drunk people hooking up. Now, we know each other and we want to continue getting to know one another.

  My hands reach for his buttons. When I release them, his pants drop to the floor. His boxer briefs are next, showing a sizable bulge. Just as he did to my underwear, I pull at his waistband and lower his briefs, lowering myself to my knees in the process. His cock springs out and he removes his shirt. Once he's naked, I look up at him as my hand wraps around him. He takes a deep breath as I stroke from the base of his shaft to the tip. I keep my eyes trained on his as I part my lips and put him in my mouth. His hand flies to the back of my head, although he adds no pressure as I move back and forth on his cock. My tongue massages the underside as my teeth gently graze the top of him. He watches me with lust-filled eyes, while his jaw tenses and he breathes deeply through his nose.

  "I need you. I want you to ride me and let me come in that pretty pussy of yours." His voice is husky with emotion as he pulls me off him.

  He places himself at the head of
the bed, sitting up and I crawl onto the bed and onto his lap. He moves slightly to grab a condom and places it beside us on the bed. His hands grab me by the hips and pulls me closer to him.

  "I want your mouth," he says as he kisses me.

  He deepens the kiss and groans into my mouth as his hard cock brushes against my pussy. I'm wet and ready, but I also want to prolong the foreplay.

  Make an event out of tonight.

  His hands rub roughly, but not to the point of pain, along my back as he pulls me against him. He lifts his hips and presses his hardened length against me, rubbing his cock through my slit. We each groan at the feeling.

  "You feel so good," he mumbles against my mouth as his tongue dips in. I suck on his tongue and rub myself on him, back and forth. The sensations that erupt inside me when his cock hits my clit have me on the verge of coming. I want nothing more than for him to be inside me but this feels too good to stop now.

  Forward and back, I grind myself on him. His hips stay firm and his hands hold my hips, guiding me, letting me use him for my own pleasure.

  We've stopped kissing and we both pant with need. He watches his cock appear between my folds and then disappear, covered in my wetness. His tongue runs along his bottom lip as he watches.

  A moment later, a silent scream comes out of my open mouth. Royce kisses me and takes it into his mouth as I lose myself on him. A moment later, I'm catching my breath and slowing my motions.

  "That was the hottest thing that has ever happened to me," he rushes out.

  "I'm sorry. I just totally used you," I apologize shyly, hiding my face against his shoulder.

  "Never apologize for getting yourself off, or for using my body for your pleasure. Holy shit, I was about to come just from you rubbing against me. Damn."

  I smile, happy that I shouldn't feel embarrassed, and I'm still turned on. I reach for the condom and tear it open with my teeth. I move down on his lap and hold his cock. I stroke him, feelings my juices on him and slip the condom on him.