by K B Cinder
I heard giggling in the background, a high-pitched woman’s laugh loud and clear.
Shit. I totally interrupted him with a girl.
But why would he answer like that?
“If you’re busy, I totally get it…” I trailed, shoulders slumping as I resigned to showing myself in a microscopic towel to strangers. At least I knew Dash.
“I’m just leaving the station now. I finished my shift at eleven. I can be there in ten.”
Talk about timing. I forgot he worked 24-hour shifts.
“You really don’t mind?” I was so happy I could cry.
“Uh, no. You’re trapped in a bathroom, you weirdo. Lifesaving is my job, Juni.”
As promised, he arrived exactly ten minutes later, the roar of his truck obvious out front. He let himself in with the spare key I had hidden behind a flag pole on the porch, Pierogi barking like mad the whole time.
“Juni, I’m home!” he called mockingly, his heavy footsteps sounding across the house.
He set something down just outside the door, a rustling of tools erupting a moment later. It was a toolbox. A heavy one.
“You’re my number one human right now, dude!”
“I’m honored!” he laughed, jingling the handle from the other side. “Damn, you’re in there good.”
“Tell me about it!” I croaked, adjusting the towel around myself. My skin was bone-dry, and I would have been freezing if it weren’t for the thick steam in the air.
I watched the handle jiggle more as he worked with it on the other side, the slow creak of decades-old screws moving grating on my ears.
A moment later, the handle sagged and the door popped open, his hand sliding in to catch it before it hit the ground.
“Tada!” he announced, his head popping in. “Damn, do you bathe with the water set to fire and brimstone?
“Something like that.”
I took a hesitant step forward, moving carefully to keep everything covered.
I’d never forgive Karine for picking out towels that looked more like pillow cases. I missed my beach towel monstrosities. Especially now that I was standing in front of Dash with my girly bits dangerously close to showing. I had to leave a good portion of the girls up and out in view to keep my cat hidden.
Dash’s eyes widened in appreciation, but he was a gentleman through and through, stepping out in the hallway and keeping his eyes to himself while I shimmied to my room.
“Thank you so much!” I squeaked over my shoulder frantically as I shut the bedroom door. “I’ll be out in a minute!”
I’d never dressed so fast in my life, pulling on shorts and a bra before plucking the last tank top from my drawer to slip over my head. The towels laid in a heap on my bed, as I yanked open the door again, my hair falling in damp, tangled waves. But at least I was decent.
Dash wasn’t in the hall as I’d expected, so I padded to the kitchen, spying him leaning against the counter.
“Thank you,” I repeated, meaning it from the very depths of my being. I would have been a goner if I had to wait for Karine in the morning.
He nodded with a smile, looking up from petting Pierogi who was standing with his paws against his knee. “Anytime.”
“Did you have dinner?” I asked, remembering he’d just gotten off of work. “I have leftover herb-crusted pork chops.”
“You cook now?” he teased.
“Nope, I bought them,” I admitted without missing a beat. “The Italian place on 9th makes killer food.”
He laughed, straightening to rest his hands on the counter behind him. “That they do.”
“So, interested?” I crossed toward the fridge, the stainless steel piece the only appliance younger than me in the room.
“Not in the pork chops,” he replied.
I froze, swallowing hard before turning to look at him. “Oh, uh, I have some TV dinners if that’s your thing. How was work?”
Nope. We were scooting right by that.
“Long. It capped off with a nice surprise, though.”
“I can’t imagine staying on for 24 hours.” I fussed with the letter magnets on the fridge as I ignored his flirts, the same magnets Karine and I arranged back and forth to one another. The ones that very clearly spelled out a don’t have 2 many orgasms message from Karine.
“It’s easier to do with my job than yours. Twenty-four hours of kindergarteners would send me over the edge.”
“Same,” I admitted with a grin, quickly arranging the magnets into hi Karine.
“I see you haven’t started your weekend fun yet.”
I turned with a raised brow, finding him grinning wickedly at the cucumber and coconut oil sitting untouched on the counter next to him.
Yes, I’d thrown my entire year’s resolution out the window because just looking at the cucumber made me blush after his taunt.
“I’ve had plenty of fun,” I protested as I bit my cheek. “That bath was magical.”
He took a step toward me, and I found my heart ready to beat out of my chest in an instant, even before his lips were breaths away from mine. “Was it?”
I nodded, my lips almost brushing his from the movement. Admittedly, I would have been more than happy to visit pleasure island in the tub had I not encountered the whole doorknob situation. But I had yet to visit that forbidden land again since my subconscious decided it wanted him.
“Did you think of me?” he asked, eyes heavy lidded as they burned for me.
“When?” My knees were doing that stupid knocking again, any bit of confidence I’d worked up waiting for him in the bathroom disintegrating now that he was in front of me, ready and willing to give me what I wanted.
He leaned closer, his lips grazing mine as he spoke. “When you were rubbing your hands all over your body trying to wash me away.”
I didn’t reply, too busy fighting off the urge to lead him down the hall to my room.
“I would have loved to see you soaping up those sexy tits,” he said, voice no more than a rough whisper. “I can’t wait to come all over them while you look up at me with that pretty little face. Good luck washing me off then.”
His lips brushed against mine again, and I lost it, shoving him back against the counter, our bodies melding in a tangle of limbs and lust.
His hand fisted in my wet hair while another fell to my ass, kneading the flesh hungrily.
Mine simply gripped the front of his shirt and held on while we sprinted into the unknown.
We barreled through the awkwardness of first encounters, our bodies speaking the same language as if we’d been together hundreds of times.
He knew exactly how to kiss me. How to coax. How to tease.
And I knew I was in trouble.
I knew it before my hand skimmed down his muscled abdomen to the front of his jeans, grabbing a bulge that deserved to be worshipped.
His lips feathered across my cheek before falling to my neck, feasting on the exposed flesh like a starving man, nipping and sucking until I couldn’t take it any longer, tremors running up and down my back as my skin peppered with goosebumps.
His hand fell between my legs, slipping under the leg of my shorts, growling at my lack of panties. I was already shamefully wet for him, the first sight of him standing outside the bathroom door making my pussy clench like a wild animal with a mind of its own. I was more than ready for him.
He wasted no time, slipping a finger inside me as he went back to feasting on my mouth, my hands trembling as I held on for dear life with one and struggled around his bulge with the other.
Another of his fingers joined the first, pumping into me while his thumb toyed with my clit, and I saw stars, a frenzied moan sounding into his mouth before my head lolled back, his lips once again meeting my neck as we spun, him pinning me against the cabinet, the countertop cool against my back as my shirt rode up.
“Fuck!” I cried out as he slid a third one inside, my hand falling from his length to grip the counter.
He gave me no respi
te, his thumb mercilessly working my clit until I was crying out, coming hard and fast, my legs nearly collapsing as I fell apart in his hands.
I was spun then, my shirt lifted as he pressed me onto the cold counter top, my breasts flattened against it. He hauled my hips into the air as he slid my shorts down my thighs, leaving me completely exposed.
He plunged his fingers back inside, pumping them in until I was almost in tears from the buildup, my lower belly in knots from the strain.
Just as quickly as he started, he stopped. I expected to hear his zipper. Prayed I would, really, but I didn’t.
Instead, he dropped to a crouch, his breath hot as it skittered across my flesh before his mouth was on me, tongue returning where his fingers had once been, licking, sucking, and fucking me just the same.
It was too much.
I came again at the sudden contact, dissolving into a mess of moans while he continued his torture, gripping my hips painfully as I went to pull away for relief.
I collapsed against the counter, legs too weak to carry on. I expected him to have his way with me, to give me a taste of that thick cock in his pants.
But he didn’t.
He stood, pulling my shorts up before straightening me and adjusting my shirt.
He turned me around to face him, pressing a hard peck against my lips. “You taste like trouble, petite.”
I laughed nervously, still coming back down to Earth from two mind-blowing orgasms.
“Trouble both of us know will happen if we keep this up,” he warned, kissing me again. “I’m going to leave, so you can think about that. To decide if that’s what you want.”
I reached for him, but he stepped away, already halfway across the kitchen in one stride.
“Because the next time, I’m fucking you, and I won’t stop once you’re mine. You need to be ready and willing to deal with all the trouble that comes with it.”
11
Karine barged in at noon the next day, her eyes shielded by jumbo sunglasses as she smacked gum under her tongue. Pierogi announced her arrival before she entered the kitchen, yapping up a storm in the living room.
I was attempting to make Christmas cookies from scratch, failing miserably at creaming butter and sugar together. I might have been my mother’s daughter, but I’d never be as talented in the kitchen.
My weapons of mass destruction were splayed around the counter. A spoon here. A potato masher there. The pathetic excuse of a mixer that wasn’t up for the job.
“Hey there, chickie!” Karine set her sunglasses and keys down on the kitchen table, eyes seeming to double in size as she took in the room. “Feeling domestic?”
“I wanted cookies,” I offered with a shrug, smashing the butter with a meat mallet. Surprisingly, it did the trick. So much for the name. It should be called a butter mallet.
“Weird. You usually only bake when you get laid.” She glanced at the fridge, spying my greeting in our letter magnets. “What did you end up doing all weekend?”
“You mean other than embrace my inner domestic goddess?” I slammed the mallet into the butter, the yellow blob making a satisfying squish in the bowl. “I hung out with Pierogi.”
“You should have came!” she squawked, lifting the strap of her backpack higher on her shoulder. “We would have had so much fun!”
“I had plenty of fun.” I forced the mallet back down into the mixture, squashing the urge to kiss and tell.
I told Karine everything, but the whole Dash rendezvous had to be a secret. At least until I figured out what to do about it.
“Orgasms galore, I hope.” She continued toward her bedroom, voice raising as she traveled down the hall.
I didn’t reply, refusing to lie. I just kept creaming the butter and mulling over my options.
“What the fuck did you do to the bathroom doorknob?” She reappeared, holding the disassembled knob in her manicured hands, fresh emerald acrylics on her fingers.
“Oh,” I breathed, forcing a smile over my shoulder. “Funny story: I got locked in there, and Dash had to rescue me.”
“Better you than me!” she laughed, setting it down on the counter with a clank. “When did it happen? How long were you in there?”
“Last night, and it was only a half hour tops. I survived.” I moved from creaming the butter and sugar to mixing in the egg yolk and vanilla.
Karine crossed the kitchen, turning the oven to 350 degrees. “You forgot to preheat the oven, Julia Child.”
“Look, I must have reached my domestic capacity of the day. I also made eggs for breakfast. A miracle, I know.” I added the flour and milk slowly.
She smirked as she watched me work like a home-ec teacher with a bone to pick. “Did you add salt?”
I grabbed the salt shaker and sprinkled some in. “Yes,” I replied. A lie. “But thanks for reminding me to add more.”
“Rightttttt.” She leaned back on the counter. The same place Dash had brought me to the moon and back hours earlier. “So, did the whole fire department come out, or just Dash?”
“Just Dash,” I replied, reaching for the piping bag. I spooned in the first glob. “Thank God, too. Can you imagine a group of men rescuing me from a bathroom?”
“Did you at least have a bra on?” she laughed, watching me put scoop after scoop into the bag. “I know you love to let the girls out at night.”
I laughed, making sure the tip was secure before swirling a cookie blob on the baking sheet. “I was in a towel after a bath.”
She deserved a slice of truth to gag over.
And she did. Literally.
The gum she was chewing hit the back of her throat as she sucked in a breath of surprise, sending her spiraling into a choking frenzy. I patted her back as she gasped for air, rescuing my bestie from certain-death.
“Holy shit! In one of the tiny towels?” she gasped.
I nodded glumly, reliving my embarrassment along with her. At least I’d shaved. It would have been a lot worse if he’d rescued me during the week when Sasquatch legs reigned supreme if I wasn’t wearing a dress.
“Oh jelly! He was hella sexy at our pre-Turkey Day celebration! I felt like a pervert for noticing.”
“Girl, same!” I laughed, turning back to pipe more blobs on the sheet. “We must be going through a drought.”
She rolled her eyes, false lashes heavy and dark as they went skyward. “Or he’s just fine as hell.”
“It could be that,” I admitted, focusing on my cookies to avoid talking myself into trouble. It was a little weird to hear her drooling about him in the same spot he’d thoroughly had me a night earlier.
I’d tossed and turned thinking about his words. Trying to sort out what I did and didn’t want. What he did and didn’t mean.
Did I want him? Yes.
Did I want the ensuing drama with Sage? No.
And was he looking for just sex or something more? I wasn’t sure if I could handle something casual, as fun as it would be. Seeing him with another woman would rip my heart out.
She grabbed a bag of Doritos from the counter, heading to lean against the wall while I did my thing. “Anything else? Impromptu striptease? Raunchy romp with the mailman?”
“I watched some Christmas rom-coms with Pierogi.” That was all she was getting out of me, whether she liked it or not.
“Juni, you could have been surrounded by beefcakes in thongs!” she whined, crunching a chip in her mouth. “There were dicks everywhere!”
The oven beeped to signal it was to temperature just as I finished filling the baking sheet. “Did you slip and fall on any?”
“As much as you and I would have loved that - no. I’m all business at expos, mama.”
“The traveling dildo pics really showed that,” I teased, slipping the tray in the oven.
“I try.”
She continued to munch away as I cleaned up, the mess lying all around starting to make me anxious. I wished I was one of those weirdos that could clean as I worked.
“How did everything go?” I asked, wiping the counter clean of spilled flour.
“Oh my God, it was so much fun! I met so many new contacts and scored an invite to one in Vegas for Valentine’s Day!”
“That’s so awesome!” Every victory of hers made me cheer from the rooftops. She’d worked tirelessly for her business, and I wanted the moon and the stars for her. “If I can get off of work, I’m totally coming with you!”
I was single. I might as well live it up during the second-worst day of the year.
“Really?” Her eyes bugged wide, her lips rust-stained with Dorito dust.
“Uh, duh.”
I might have skipped Atlantic City, but I wouldn’t miss Vegas with my dildo-wielding sister from another mister for the world.
12
I woke up thirty minutes late Monday morning, and from there on, the day was a giant shit-show. The Monday-est Monday of them all.
I accidentally flashed my nextdoor neighbor while getting dressed in a rush, my curtains wide and offering mega-bitch Carol a view of my lady lumps while she perfected the elaborate manger display in her side yard.
She told me about it on my way to the car, too, despite us locking eyes and exchanging the look. You know, the one where you silently agree to never speak of the event again. Obviously Carol didn’t get that memo.
That was one-upped by dropping my hot cocoa in my passenger seat while hurrying to park at the school. Luckily, I kept a hoard of Dunkin napkins in my center console. I sopped it up before stuffing them in an extra Target bag, the collection of wet wipes I’d accumulated from the barbecue joint up the street saving the day from sticky chocolate.
But that was just the start of the fun.
The kiddies refused to cooperate all morning, one of the little devils smuggling in a lunchbox full of Fruit by the Foot. They gobbled it down while I took a call from a parent that had to tell me about her darling, little Madisyn’s strict need for organic, non-GMO snacks only in painstaking detail.
Unfortunately for her mother’s demands, Madisyn had already eaten roughly a mile of fruit tape with her little friends, and the whole lot of them were bouncing off the walls.
