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TRAVIS
This damn woman was going to be the death of me. Every day this week, she popped out of her room in a dressy blouse and pants. She was truly a professional from head to toe, but there was no concealing those curves.
I’d lost count of the number of times I’d jerked off thinking about her. At least once after arriving home each night and once before bed too. But sometimes she’d pop into my head while I was watching TV or eating dinner, leading to an emergency whack-off session.
By midafternoon on Thursday, I was exhausted from trying to stay focused on the task at hand. Today, it was worse than usual. I was painting the lobby, and Sierra had thrown on a T-shirt and shorts and come out to help me. I loved having her nearby, but I kept messing up, and it was all because of her.
“It’s starting to look dark out there.”
Sierra’s words pulled me out of my nine thousandth fantasy of the day. In this one, I had her facing the reception desk I’d build once we had the painting finished. I was doing her from behind, my hands on those bare tits as I made her cry out for me to fuck her harder.
I stepped back from my work and looked out the front window. She was right. It had gotten dark out there. Too dark for the time of day. A storm was definitely brewing.
“I didn’t even know rain was predicted today,” she commented.
I turned and saw her staring down at her phone—probably checking the radar. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, which was a different look for her. More cute than sexy. But having her hair tied back would come in handy if she were to go down on me. My mind immediately launched into another fantasy.
“Tornado warning,” she said, looking up at me, her eyes wide.
I must have misheard. “What?”
“There’s a tornado warning.”
She turned the screen around and walked toward me, bringing it closer. Sure enough, the words “tornado warning” were written in big red text across the top of her screen.
“Probably no big deal,” I said. But I was already looking around. “They issue those all the time, and nothing comes of it.”
She smelled so fucking good. Like cinnamon and sugar. I’d love to taste her neck while I plunged inside her?—
“I guess Mrs. Gray’s office would be the safest place,” Sierra said.
Huh? Oh yeah. The tornado. A potentially dangerous storm was brewing outside these walls, and all I could think about was sticking my dick inside her.
“It couldn’t hurt,” I choked out. “There’s not a basement here.”
“You think we should go in there now?” she asked.
I turned and looked outside again. Was it possible it had gotten even darker? There was no rain, though. Was that a good or bad sign with a tornado? I couldn’t remember.
“Let’s go,” I said.
I sealed up the paint so it wouldn’t dry out and followed Sierra to the small office. The room held only a table that I assumed was meant to be used as a desk. Nobody had bothered to put a chair in here, though.
When I closed the door behind us, the room felt even smaller than normal. All week, we’d been having our lunch in here, seated on the floor—takeout from the various restaurants in town. But with the door open, it hadn’t seemed quite so intimate. Or maybe it was the fact that my fantasies about her had been accelerating in recent days.
Whatever the case may be, all I could think about was that we were completely alone in here. We could do anything, and nobody would know outside this room.
“Do you think it’s safe?” she asked as she climbed up on the table.
Her bare legs dangled from the edge, slightly parted. Oh, what I wouldn’t give to step between them and kiss her like she’d never been kissed before.
“Do you think we’re safe?” she asked.
“It’ll be fine,” I said, shaking my head. “These things rarely turn out to be anything. If the shit hits the fan, I’ll throw my body on top of yours.”
Her eyes widened, and I didn’t even have to review my words. I knew what I’d just said, and I’d meant it innocently enough. But I could see that it might’ve come across a little pervy.
“You know, to protect you,” I rushed to add.
