by Penny Wylder
“It got you to come down here, didn’t it?”
“I’m prepping for my interview,” I say.
He smiles, and it’s a beautiful smile like he isn’t standing in front of me with his shaft at attention. “You looked like you could use a break.”
I sigh, unable to keep my eyes off him. “Why did you work so hard to get me down here?” Our whispers are soft, and hopefully inaudible.
“I thought of another thing I want to do with you.”
“Oh?” Sarcasm drips from my voice. “How can I serve you today?”
“Jerk me off.”
It takes me completely by surprise. “What?”
He takes a step forward, his arms bracing the wall behind me and closing me in. His erection is pressing into my stomach. “Jerk. Me. Off,” he says, his voice so low and dirty I can feel my pussy contract. “I want to feel your hands on me, stroking me until I come. And when you need another break…well, then it will be your turn.”
Everything suddenly comes into sharp focus. I feel the soft breeze blowing through the yard, the wall behind me digging into my back, the heat of his cock through my shirt. His face is so close to mine and we’re breathing each other’s breath. “I guess this is part of that amazing sex we’re still having?” I ask.
“You could say that.”
I lick my lips, unable to stop myself from teasing him. “And why should I do what you say?”
“No one’s forcing you,” he says, a hint of a smile on his lips, “but I think life’s better when you take some risks. And you, Vera Caldwell, you do not take them. I think I can help with that. So today, you do what I tell you.” He presses lips against mine roughly, thrusting his tongue into me. Oh god, it feels like he’s fucking my mouth with his. Heat spreads through me like a fever and I may have changed my mind. Maybe I’ll fuck him now.
He breaks our kiss. “Vera, put your hands on me. Now.”
I do. Reaching between us, I take hold of his cock. It twitches in my hand and I start to stroke him. Our foreheads are pressed together, and his breathing is uneven. I lick one hand and then the other, giving them slick friction. I use them both, squeezing and twisting as I increase my pace. James bites his lip and I think it might be the sexiest thing I’ve seen on his face.
Suddenly I change the rhythm, now giving him slow and deliberate. I fist my hands around him and drag along his cock from base to tip and back. I slowly fuck him with my hands and suddenly his eyes fly open and his body stiffens. His cock shudders in my hand and he spills over into my palm. I feel his come drip between my fingers. He groans softly, “Fuck.”
I’m aroused beyond belief and I know that if he were to touch me right now I’d be seconds away from coming. He doesn’t move, and we’re frozen for a second, recovering. My hand is still covered in him, and a feeling of raw power flows into me. The knowledge that I made him come, that I can bring him that kind of pleasure. I want him and I want him now. “James,” I say softly.
Then he smiles. “I think you’re going to like what I have planned for you.”
My stomach tightens, and if I hadn’t been wet before that would have done the trick. “Take me now.”
He leans into me, and we’re eye to eye. “Finish your design. Meet me in your garden in exactly two hours.” Two hours? I groan. If I can make it that long I’ll be amazed. Then, as if he can read my thoughts he says, “And no cheating. If you come before I get to take my time with you, I’ll know.” He kisses me, a rough press of lips and tongue, and then he is gone. I lean against the wall, staring after him. Two hours to go.
I go back inside and get the drink I made my excuses for and go back to the balcony and my design. I clean my hands before I join my mother back on the balcony.
My mother looks up from her book. “That took a while.”
“Yeah,” I say, clearing my throat. “I got distracted. Realized I had to check something in my email.”
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” I say, my voice overly cheery.
Two hours. I pick up my eraser and start to work. These designs are the only thing that will keep me sane.
Times slips by and I think I’m as ready for the interview as I could ever be. Trying to keep my mind off of James and what he’s planned has turned me into an efficiency machine. I finish cleaning up the rest of my design and use my father’s studio to make some copies to add to my portfolio. I double-check said portfolio and made sure everything I need is in there. Then I check to make sure that all of it is still in perfect condition. I also double-check my interview clothes, a sleek suit that I save for occasions like this.
By the time the two-hour mark rolls around, I’m not only aroused and excited but also less anxious about the interview. I also changed into a skirt—my instinct tells me it will be easier this way. As I head outside, I’m relieved to see that my mother is no longer on the balcony. The garden is drenched in afternoon sun, and I stop to admire it. This is one of my favorite times to be here, when it’s quiet and sunny. No place has ever felt more like home than my little garden.
I hear his footsteps a second before his arms wrap around me from behind. “Hello.”
“Hi.”
He grabs my hand and tugs me into the garden. The grass under my bare feet is wet, like it’s just been watered. I should scold him for watering my garden again, but I have a feeling he’s about to make it up to me. “How’s your design?” he asks.
“All done.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” I say. “I got pretty much everything done in the last two hours. I was incredibly focused.”
He laughs as he guides me to my bench; I picked it because I thought it was beautiful, and it became a great place for me to study on the weekends.
He tells me, “Sit down.” And I do. “Close your eyes.”
I do not. “Why?”
James smiles. “Because today you do what I say. And,” he adds, sitting down next to me, “I don’t want you thinking about anything besides what I’m about to do to you.” His voice pitches down on those last words and I shiver. I close my eyes. “Keep them closed.”
His hand is on my shoulder guiding me so I’m leaning against the back of the bench. Then it’s on my skirt, lifting, his fingers teasing my pussy through my underwear. My whole body is on alert, waiting for his next touch. All the arousal I’ve been ignoring the past two hours comes roaring back and I’m finding it hard to breathe.
“Do you trust me?” he asks.
“Yes.”
He’s no longer sitting next to me. His hands are on my knees and then my thighs and then my underwear are sliding away. James pushes my knees apart, and with my skirt up around my waist I can feel the air on my pussy. I have the urge to open my eyes, to make sure that we’re alone and that no one else can see me. But James asked me to trust him, and I will even if the thought of being vulnerable in the open makes me shake.
He draws my legs further apart, and I bite my lip. I’m holding my breath. There’s the lightest touch on my clit and my nerves crackle to life, sending heat through my core. There it is again—just a flick—barely there. He touches me over and over with his tongue, each touch a little stronger, each a little more curious. He drags the tip across the top, cutting so close to my throbbing center, and then I feel it explore underneath. And then he starts flicking from side to side. I can’t predict where he’ll go next.
When he slips a finger inside me, I groan. Sealing his mouth over me, he sucks hard while his hand works inside me. He adds another finger, curling them and stroking me from the inside. They slip across that spot that makes me go blind and my body jerks in response. I feel him smile against my pussy as he continues to work me with his tongue. The sensations inside and outside of me combine and send me straight toward the edge. It feels like the pleasure is being drawn from everywhere in my body, all of it rushing between my legs to his lips locked against me. I feel that rush building. I let my head fall back and surrender, preparing for
the wash of pleasure welling up within my body.
As he starts fucking me faster with his fingers, I savor the edge of pleasure before the fall. I’m close, so close, so—and then he stops. Entirely. His fingers don’t move, his mouth leaving my pussy ice cold in the open breeze. My eyes fly open and I look down to find him grinning. “Not yet,” he says. My jaw drops. I think I might kill him.
He tells me, “Close your eyes.”
“James.”
“Close your eyes, Vera.”
I close them and clench my teeth together. It doesn’t matter. As soon as he touches me again I’ll be seconds away from my orgasm. It’s still so close. But James doesn’t touch me there. He takes his fingers out of me and then his hands are running along my thighs and down my calves. The muscles in my legs relax as he massages, and my orgasm fades.
There’s a part of me that’s seriously reconsidering the choice to trust him. His hands move to my feet, working out any tension he finds. I gasp as he works out a knot I didn’t even know was there. Massage is definitely a career choice he should consider. When he’s finished with my feet he moves up, reversing his trail until his hands are centimeters away from where I need them to be. The sound I make isn’t ladylike, and I don’t care.
“You’re not being patient,” he says, amusement evident.
My voice is more growl than girl. “Would you be?”
He laughs, and I get my wish. His mouth takes me, plunging his tongue deep inside, and my arousal comes crashing back with force. It’s not slow this time, not exploring. His hands press my thighs wide as he devours me. Teeth graze my clit followed by lips and tongue. His pressing becomes pulling, and the licking becomes sucking and it inverses, reverses, beyond my control, everything driving me higher and higher as the feelings he gives me pulse deeper and deeper, the rush overtaking me as I imagine the feeling of his cock filling me all the way up and I realize I’m moaning and now I’m coming so hard I can hardly breathe.
The orgasm splinters through me, and I feel like I’m drowning in it. Those few seconds of sheer bliss are always too short. I fall back into myself, slowly blinking myself back to reality.
“Hmm…” James says, and I look down at him. “It seems like I got your pussy dirty. I guess I’ll have to clean it.”
I’m about to ask what on earth he’s taking about when I see him reach down to the ground. He has a garden hose in his hand, and it’s already running. Somewhere in my mind I realize that’s why the grass is wet. I don’t even have time to think. James moves the water and it’s flowing over me, and I gasp because everything is sensitive. The water is cool and the flow of it feels so good. He moves the water around, and it hits different parts of me, sending aftershocks through my nerves.
I watch James, and he is utterly focused on the water and my pussy. Then his fingers move and I understand his plan. He covers the water with his fingers and suddenly there’s hard pressure and— “Oh god.”
He’s drawing patterns on me with the water, always returning to my clit and teasing. Hard pressure, then soft, then hard again. It doesn’t take me long to realize that I’m going to come again. “Please,” I say, “Please. Yes. Yes.” The water moves back and forth over my clit and I can’t stop asking him. “Please don’t stop.”
The pressure slows, water moving in lazy circles over my pussy, “Are you begging me?” James asks.
“God, yes. Please. Make me come. Please.”
James locks his eyes on mine, and suddenly the water pressure is harder than it’s ever been. He doesn’t look away as he works it over my clit and I lose track of everything. He moves the water, circles and crosses, never stopping, and everywhere it goes is sheer pleasure. I still beg him to let me come, I’m so close, God, please. Suddenly his hand stops, the water at full force directly on my clit, and I break open.
I hold onto the bench as my orgasm wrenches through me in spasms. I feel heat and I see light. I savor that indescribable feeling deep in my gut. The water doesn’t stop and neither does my orgasm. I feel like it goes on forever and I’m fine staying here. I don’t even feel myself lie down. The pressure fades slowly back to a gentle flow, and then it’s gone. When I open my eyes again, I’m looking up at the sky. I feel his finger press against the top of my clit, dragging down through my folds, and dipping inside me. I shudder in response.
I feel James pull my skirt down over my legs again. He gets up, sits on the bench next to me. He pulls my legs over his. I feel like I should say something, anything. But I can’t find my voice to say anything. Instead I lean forward and kiss him.
“You are stunning when you come,” he says, and I blush.
I’m furious at my body for blushing at that when his tongue was just inside me.
“Plus,” he says, with a smirk on his face, “I got you to beg.”
I make a face. “Well, that won’t happen again.”
“Is that a challenge?”
“Maybe.” I smile.
We sit together in silence, looking at the garden. I’m struck by how comfortable this is. I’m also struck by how much I enjoy it, just sitting here together relaxing.
“Are you nervous about tomorrow?” he asks.
That’s a good question. I shrug, mulling it over. “I’m going to do the best I can, make the best impression I can. But that’s all I can do. Then it’s out of my hands.”
“Good attitude to have.”
I laugh. “Well, I’ve had a lot of rejections by now—it’s mostly self-preservation.”
“I’m sure you’ll be great,” he says.
We sit in silence again, and then we hear the front gate. My father is home.
“I guess that’s my cue.” He extricates himself from my legs, and leans over to kiss me. “In case I don’t see you before, I wish you the very best of luck.”
“Thanks.” I’m blushing again. Dammit.
He saunters away and there’s no way I’m not looking at his ass. I should go back inside. I should move away in case someone saw him walking away from this direction, but I don’t. I want to sit here for a while longer, keep the moment going as long as I can.
So I do.
11
Vera
The Harrison foundation’s office is in a glitzy part of L.A. filled with boutiques and high-end restaurants. I’m pleasantly surprised by the relaxed nature of their offices. They have many windows, and everything is filled with natural light.
The interview itself feels like it is speeding by, but I think it’s going well. The founder of the company, Rebecca Harrison, likes my work. As we get further into it, I realize that she is especially interested in my ELIH designs. The Harrison Foundation, in addition to their more high profile projects, does a significant amount of charity work.
When we’ve finished she asks if I’d like to visit one of their sites under construction. Of course I immediately accept. Seeing designs and concepts is one thing, seeing a building come into existence is a whole different ball game. The design we’re going to see is a new town center, surrounded by houses, stores, and apartments. While we make our way over there, Rebecca tells me more about their charity work—which is also tied to this project. “It’s hard,” Rebecca says. “You have to balance the cost of the pro-bono construction with projects that are profitable, but we do what we can. I’ve chosen for the time being to focus on people who have lost their homes—particularly veterans and their families who have lost their houses due to medical bills.”
“That’s great,” I say.
“I’d like to expand the criteria we use at some point, but we’re not at the place where we have the capital.” She glances over at me and smiles. “We’re not a juggernaut like your father’s company.”
I laugh, trying to hide my nervousness. “That’s really okay with me. I’m looking for something a bit smaller and more personal.”
“Well we certainly are that.” She turns off the main road. “Anyway, several of the homes under construction in this neighborhood are part
of our charity initiative. We contract the work to people who specialize in low-income housing. They know how to stretch the money further than we do, and that allows me to take on a couple more charity projects every year. Every little bit counts when you’re helping families survive.”
We’re driving through the bones of a neighborhood now. The skeletons of houses rising here and there. Here on the edges of the neighborhood things are just getting started and it looks more like a wasteland than the suburbs, but I can already tell it will be a nice place to live. Deeper into the neighborhood the houses become more finished, closer to being livable.
Rebecca slows down and points to a house on the right. “This is one of our pro-bono houses.”
It’s a nicely designed house. The framework is for a two-story house, and it looks like the windows and doors have recently gone in and the siding is mostly completed. “Looks like it will be beautiful,” I say.
“I hope so.”
Just then, a construction worker comes around the house carrying several two-by-fours, and I have to keep my mouth from falling open. It’s James. James is working on this house.
My mind goes blank—why is he here? He works construction as well as landscaping? I mean…the fields are certainly compatible, but…
Everything inside of me tells me this doesn’t make sense, but I don’t have time to puzzle it out. We’re driving on and into the town center, which is a beautiful confection of textures and color, a subdued color scheme of greys and blues along with stone and glass. It looks finished—minus retailers in the storefronts.
“This is gorgeous,” I say.
“Thank you.” Rebecca pulls into a parking space in the vast empty lot. “We’re hoping to use this as a model and show towns the benefits of creating built-in communities. If successful, I’d like to think we’ll build them all over the country.” She walks me around the town center, and it’s impressive. In the back of my mind I’m still freaking out about James, but I force myself to focus—this is more important.
