Without speaking, I lean up on my knees. His hands grip my thighs and he watches where we are joined as his cock sinks into my pussy slowly. He hisses through his teeth as his head hits the wall once he's buried inside me, filling me fully.
I pull up and he bucks his hips up to meet mine as I slam down on him. I repeat the same motion, pivoting my hips every other slide down. I cling to his shoulders as we fuck. Our movements, while initially erratic, find a rhythm as we move against one another.
He holds me still as he fucks me from underneath, pounding into me as I squeeze him from the inside. He groans loudly as his jaw clenches. I can feel him throbbing as his release fills the condom.
"I'm coming," he grunts through his teeth as he pushes into me.
Beads of sweat coat his upper chest and hairline as he catches his breath. His cock is still rigid inside me and I don't want to move. His body twitches with aftershocks of his orgasm.
I lean down and kiss him, putting as much passion as I can into the kiss. Then I lift myself up and his semi-hard cock unceremoniously lays on his pelvic bone. We continue kissing for several moments, lingering in the after effects of everything we just felt, our bodies sweaty with desire and fulfillment.
"I need to use your bathroom," I explain as I prance out of his bedroom, feeling like I'm on cloud nine.
When I return, Royce is waiting in bed, smelling of soap and wearing only a smile. He scoots over and pats the space next to him. Once I slide into bed, he pulls me into his arms and slips his tongue in my mouth. His breath tastes of mint. We get lost in another kiss as we wrap around one another.
"Stay the night?" he asks.
"Okay," I say into his mouth as his kiss consumes me again.
HIM
"I envision that on this wall over here, you'll have art quality photos of animals, and some fake indoor plants to add some homey element to the space. Have you purchased any seating for the front area yet?" Emma asks me as we stand just inside the door of the almost finished clinic.
She's holding a clipboard against her chest, covering her cleavage, which is looking damn good today from the little that I can see peeking over the top of the board. Her long blonde hair is in a braid, and she's wearing a knee length skirt and a tank top. I want to slide the straps of her top down and bare her chest to me. She looks at me as if she's waiting on an answer from me.
"Royce? Earth to Royce?" She taps her foot.
I shake my head. "Huh?"
"Do you have seating picked out yet?"
"Oh, um. Yes, no. Wait. What?" I have no idea what she's talking about right now.
"For your patients’ owners, while they're waiting to see the doctors. Do you have seating purchased already for in here?" she asks, taking a deep breath.
"Oh, yes. I chose some; I just need to establish a delivery date with the vendor."
"And artwork?" she prompts.
"I was hoping you could help with that?" I smile, stepping closer to her. I slide my hand around her waist and pull her body flush against mine. I lean down and capture her lips gently with mine, only to have the moment ruined by someone clearing their throat.
"Sorry to interrupt," Cyrus says.
"No, you're not," I retort, pulling back from Emma and glaring at him.
"You're right, I'm not. But anyway, while you two lovebirds were in here making out, I was on the phone arranging for the painters to come in. I need your help to choose the right colors.
"I don't care what color you choose. Make it earthy or something. Calming colors," I reply, turning back to Emma.
"Not you, bonehead. I want the help of your lady. Chicks have a better eye for that crap. I already know your lack of style. I mean, who buys a house that has nothing but wood throughout the house," Cyrus jokes.
"It's true, she's good with that stuff. She helped me change exactly what you just mentioned about my place."
"What would you guys do without me?" she asks, patting me on the chest.
“Well, for starters, we wouldn't be as far along in the business as we are now, and Roycey-boy here would be sexually frustrated and admiring you from afar," Cyrus jokes as I shoot him an annoyed look.
Emma breaks out of my grasp. "Show me to the paint," she directs as she follows Cyrus down the hallway to the back office where we each have our own space. Cyrus has several paint swatches sitting on top of a stack of boxes. He's laid them out from darkest to lightest and stands with his hands on his hips, as Emma looks them over. I look over her shoulder, see a whole bunch of random colors, and hope she will work her magic, because to me, it's just an array of colors.
She wakes me up with her mouth on my cock and I can't think of any better way to wake up. When I first met Emma, she seemed shy, but as we've gotten to know one another, I've noticed all the layers to her. This frisky layer is my favorite. I love that she is not afraid to show her sexual side. Case in point, her head bobbing on my cock. The best part is that when I look down I see her hand is between her legs, rubbing and disappearing into what I envision is her drenched pussy.
Every day this last week, we've spent time together. It has ranged from hanging out and talking, to fucking like we're starving then back to working like we're on a deadline. The fucking has been amazing, the hanging out has been comfortable, the conversations insightful, and the working has made huge progress for the clinic. I even helped her rearrange her shop.
Her hair has fallen over her face, blocking my view of her swallowing my cock. I gather her hair in my fist and, as our eyes meet, she smiles around my shaft.
"Get up here, I want to be inside you," I order her as I tug on her hair gently. With my other hand, I fumble in the bedside drawer for a condom.
She lets my cock pop out of her mouth and slowly moves up my body. She straddles my thighs as I sheathe myself. Looking to her face and meeting her eyes, with my finger I beckon her. She scoots up, my stiff cock in between our bodies, and leans down to kiss me. She's gentle and her tongue tentatively slips into my waiting mouth. She sits up and slowly sinks down on my straining erection. I watch as my cock disappears. When she's fully seated on top of me, she waits a moment, adjusting to my size and then begins her movement.
With her hands on my chest for balance, her hips move back and forth, up and down. She throws her head back as she rides me. Her pussy grasps onto my cock with each push and pull, squeezing me in the most perfect of ways as she finds her release. Around her parted lips, a blush creeps across her skin as she bucks on top of me, her climax overtaking her. The squeezing and contracting of her inner muscles almost bring me to my own orgasm, yet when she slows, I take the opportunity and flip her onto her back. My cock plunges in deep as I take control. Her hands have gone over her head and I maneuver so that I can lace my fingers with her as I fuck her.
Our bodies move against one another, our moans echo through the bedroom, and the feeling of ecstasy rips through my body as my orgasm spills out. My hips continue to pound against hers as I grit my teeth. My balls tighten and draw up as I release the last drop into the condom. Resting my head between her neck and shoulder, I catch my breath while my hips languidly push and pull out of her, chasing aftershocks of my orgasm as her fingertips trail along my back.
"Good morning," she says softly.
"'Morning," I reply into her skin.
I am spent in the best of ways. I want to pull out of her, rid myself of the condom and curl up with her in bed all day, maybe have a little repeat action. The blaring of my cell phone beside the bed squashes those thoughts as the ringtone of a voice repeating “do not answer the call!” fills the room. My cock immediately feels like it has shriveled up. The mood destroyed, I remove myself from Emma and get rid of the condom in the wastebasket.
Emma laughs. "Who the heck do you not want to talk to so badly, that you have a ring tone like that?"
I turn to her with a somber expression. "My ex."
10
HER
What a way to ruin the mood. It wasn’t my f
ault or his, but I wasn't really expecting him to say it was her. I was thinking that maybe it was Cyrus or a work thing.
Why would she be calling so early?
How often does she call?
Does he ever answer the phone, even though the ringtone says not to?
Question upon question popped into my head for the rest of the day. Royce's mood changed drastically from there. While he tried to hide his irritation, he’s had a slight edge to him I've never seen before. We showered together and while I tried to make him forget, he wasn't in the right frame of mind and shower sex was out of the question.
I have to be at my store to work the day shift and prepare for the end-of-summer party that takes place on Main Street, including making up a flyer for my shop with a discount attached. Once that is done, I’ll figure out what the heck I will bring food-wise.
The end-of-summer party is always a lot of fun. The town of Sweeny takes the Labor Day weekend and combines it with the end of summer party to expand the final holiday of the summer for the town.
I need to focus on the event and not on the stupid phone call this morning. The diversion only worked until halfway through the day when Cyrus showed up to the shop.
"Oh, I thought Willie was working today?" he inquires, looking around.
"Nope, she's off today," I reply, not looking up from the paper I'm doodling on.
"Oh. Cool. Thanks," he says, turning. He stops and walks back to the counter. "Are you okay?"
"What?" I meet his eyes.
"You seem a little down," he notes.
"Oh. No, I'm just, um, focused on this." I wave my hand over the paper as his gaze follows the movement.
"Doodles. Yeah, I get focused on those too. But hey, listen, if you are down or whatever, I know I'm like the boyfriend’s friend and all but, I know the guy pretty well. If he's messed up in any way, I could likely explain it, or kick his ass," Cyrus offers.
"Thank you. But I think we're okay in that department." He called Royce my boyfriend. That doesn't go unnoticed.
Cyrus raps his knuckles on the counter and starts walking through the aisles.
"Hey, Cy?" My words stop him and he turns with his hands in his pockets and a quirked eyebrow. "Do Royce and his ex get along?"
He laughs. No, that’s not the way to really explain the sound coming out of him. He cackles, loudly, with his head thrown back and his hands on his stomach. He's doubled over and the reaching for something to steady himself. He's getting a bit overly dramatic if you ask me. I wait for him to stop, tapping my pen on the counter.
"Oh, man. That was the best thing I've heard all day." He takes in a deep breath, as he stands straight. "His ex is the devil. There is nothing about her that he gets along with."
"So, they don't talk?" I inquire.
"He avoids her like the plague. So, no, if he can help it, he doesn't talk to her." Cyrus shakes his head. "Why do you ask?"
"She called this morning and I wasn't sure if he wasn't answering because I was there or if he….” I let my voice trail off.
“He wasn't answering because he doesn't need to speak to her. Don't sweat it, Em. He's the most loyal of guys out there. She was probably calling because of the for-sale sign in front of his place in Sac."
"Why would she care?"
“Who knows? She's crazy and likely trying to find out information to try to get her talons into him in some way. That's just how she is; she's conniving."
"Do I have anything to worry about?" I ask.
"Nothing. Your boy is all about you. Trust me, the only woman on his mind is you.”
I smile. "Thank you, Cy. You're a good friend."
"Don't tell him I shared any of that with you. If he heard I told you about his goofy look, he'd have my head for calling him a pussy."
"You didn't," I reply.
"Oh, but I was totally thinking it!" He winks and then leaves the store.
Ding!
The oven timer goes off in the kitchen. I run from the living room to check on dinner. I made a shepherd’s pie for dinner in hopes that Royce would be here to share it, but he had some last-minute stuff to tend to with his real estate agent and he was running late. I’m not sure how long Royce will be — he didn't say and I neglected to ask — so I figure I’ll wait a little bit just in case.
After thirty minutes, he still hasn’t shown up or called with an update. My stomach growls, so I make myself a plate and take a seat in front of the television. I eat the casserole quickly and settle into the couch cushions. Just as I get comfortable, I hear a faint knock behind me. I slowly rise from the couch and walk to the door. Through the peephole, I see a tired looking Royce. I open the door and offer him a smile.
He looks like he's been running his hands through his hair repeatedly. His eyes are tired and his posture is tense. I open the door fully and step aside to let him walk through.
"Hungry?" I ask, shutting the door.
"Truth be told, I haven't eaten all day," he replies.
"Sit down; I'll warm up something for you." He settles himself on the couch and I dash to the kitchen to warm up some casserole for him. I hand him the plate once it's ready and he thanks me with a kiss on the cheek and then begins to dig in as I take a seat next to him. Once he's practically licked the plate clean, he gets up to put the plate in the sink. He returns to the couch and takes his seat beside me.
"I'm sorry I missed out on dinner. I really wanted to get here as soon as I could," he says, his voice strained.
"Everything okay?" I ask with concern.
"The townhouse in Sacramento, it had several offers, and I had to look over each one. Then my agent had some listings for a smaller place she wanted me to look at," he explains as he reaches for my hand.
"Why do you look so bummed out?" I inquire.
"I'm not bummed, I'm just tired," he replies as he leans back and pulls me with him.
"Anything that I can do to help you relax?" I quirk my eyebrow at him playfully look up at him from my head resting on his chest.
"Babe, you just fed me whatever that amazingness was and now you're snuggled up with me. I think I could call this heaven right now."
"Such a sweet talker. Are you staying over?"
"If you don't mind. I promise to keep my hands to myself."
"It would be completely okay if you were to break that promise," I say as I sit up. "Come on, let's crawl into bed."
He doesn’t keep his hands to himself, not even close.
HIM
I sold the townhouse and put in an offer on a smaller condo closer to my parents' house in Sacramento. It all happened rather quickly. Within three weeks, I will no longer own the old place and will soon be the proud owner of a two-bedroom condo my ex will not know the address of. The same ex who has called me daily for the past two weeks, leaving numerous messages that have gone unheard and just as many text messages that have gone unanswered.
I’m sitting at my desk at the back of the clinic, sketching my ideas for the flyer advertising our grand opening, which we will have the week before the end of summer party, when Cyrus comes into the room.
"Hey, man. Whatcha up to?" he asks, peering over my shoulder.
"Just getting an idea on paper. What are you doing here today?" I ask.
It’s late on Sunday afternoon and Cyrus usually only works Monday through Friday, so him being here today isn’t something I expected. Emma is supposed to meet me here at the clinic to go over some last-minute design ideas and she’s going to bring her laptop to make the flyer with me.
“I figured you got a call too." He shrugs.
"The call?" I tilt my head in question.
"I got a call from some lady asking if we could see her dog."
"We're not open yet. We can't start seeing patients, man." I shake my head in protest.
"Dude, I'm not going to charge her. We've got the equipment, we're both here, so why not?"
"Cy, I think it's a bad idea. We don't want to shoot ourselves in the foot man."
/>
A voice from the front of the clinic stops our argument. A worried voice backed by loud doggy whining draws Cyrus and me into the front lobby. Standing in front of the reception counter is one of the waitresses from the diner carrying her full size golden retriever, whose back leg is currently wrapped in a plaid shirt more dark red and brown than whatever the color was before. I rush to her and take the dog from her arms. I turn and head into the canine exam room and lay the dog on the table.
"What's your name?" I ask her, feeling like a dick because I see her all the time.
"I'm Joanne, but you can call me Jo. That's Roger. He's four years old," she replies.
"What happened?" Cyrus asks.
"He got caught on a trap out behind the house. I think he tried to get out of it but started tearing his fur. I heard him yelping from inside the house at the sink. Larry, my husband, got the trap off him and wrapped his leg in his shirt. I couldn't see driving all the way to Chesterville to see that vet over there. Plus, they aren't the best and they aren't open on Sundays. I know you guys aren't open yet, but I didn't know what else to do," she sobs.
"Jo, I'm glad you called us, this is why we wanted to come here to Sweeny. You need a Vet close by, especially for reasons like this." Cyrus says. He usually has great bedside manner and, while he may come off as a total asshole, he loves animals more than humans. I’m not sure why he’s stating the obvious right now; instead, I smile and continue to evaluate her dog.
Jo nods her head and wipes her nose. "Thank you so much. I'll pay you guys. I have pet insurance."
"Don't worry about it. Let's just worry about getting Roger back into shape and then you just make sure to save me a piece of that famous cheesecake and we'll call it even." Cyrus winks.
We spend several minutes shaving off what we can of the blood soaked and matted fur to get down to the injury and determine what needs to be done.
I hold up Roger's leg and he whimpers. I look to Jo and ask her to come over to her dog and comfort him. I don't want to give him any drugs, since we're not in practice just yet and we don’t have our pharmaceutical order fulfilled yet.
Summer Fling Page 8
