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“Jesus Christ, Millie,” he growls. “You look incredible.”
I went for a dress I bought online a few months ago but always secretly thought I’d never have the courage to wear. Golden brown and form fitting, it cuts just above my knees and shows a dignified amount of cleavage. I have matching four inch heels, too, nothing crazy … but still a big deal for me.
“Really?” I say, unable to hide the quiver in my voice.
“Really,” he growls, turning the screwdriver one more time and then climbing down off the stepladder.
The new window looks shiny and obviously new compared to the ones on either side of it.
Shiny and new, like us.
He puts the screwdriver down and runs the faucet, washing his hands quickly. The house is silent except for the hum of the refrigerator and the heater, a light wind outside. Jackie’s at work and Lava is staying at the doggy daycare in town since Jackie is understandably nervous about leaving him alone now.
“Washing your hands?” I murmur playfully. “Somehow I didn’t expect a beast like you to stoop to such a thing. I guess you really are a gentleman after all.”
“Not usually,” he smirks. “But I don’t want to get that dress all dirty.”
I gasp as he surges forward, his hands gripping my hips and guiding me into the hallway, dark with only the light from the kitchen and living room filtering through. But in here, there are no windows, just us, and the intimate closeness that explodes between us.
His lips are on mine, both of us moaning, our tongues battling together, as he slides his hand up my bare thigh, lifting the hem of my dress and dragging his touch toward my sex.
“Fuck,” he growls, breaking off the kiss and staring at me. “Turn around and stick that ass out. I need you to cream like that for me, Millie, with those gorgeous hips thrust out for me, and that tasty goddamn cream sliding down your thick beautiful thighs.”
Another gasp punches from my throat, even as a voice screams inside of me that I’m not ready for the real thing, the main event, not yet … and isn’t it unfair, taking and not receiving?
But then all thoughts are blotted when my autopilot of lust takes over and I spin around, place my hands against the wall and arch my back, and push my hips out and feel the wetness of my sex soak into my panties.
“Fuck, you’re already so wet,” Markus snarls, pushing aside any self-consciousness thoughts in that regard.
I look over my shoulder at him, his black-silver hair dappled with sweat and swept to the side, his musky scent overwhelming me. His forearms pulse with their ginormous muscles as he slides both hands up my thighs and pushes up my skirt again, and then grabs my panties and slowly, pulls them down.
“Fuck,” he grunts, pushing up my dress so that it’s gathered in bunches just above my ass.
The bare air pricks at me and in a sizzling, illicit vignette I imagine Jackie driving up to the house, opening the door—catching us.
“I’ll hear if anybody comes,” Markus says, and I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that he can intimate so much about me now, that our souls sing to each other even when our tongues are silent.
“Find my hand, Millie,” he snarls. “Take your own pleasure. Fucking grind against my palm and get yourself off.”
I feel my hips twitch before he’s even finished the command, as though my sex has a mind of its own, fueled by my womb and his words.
We stare into each other’s eyes as I bring my pussy to his waiting hand, my vision shimmering in lust as I begin to writhe against him, moving up and down so that my clit presses against the firmness of his palm, and then I shift down, a little closer …
“Oh, fuck,” we both say at the same time, mine a moan and his a snarl.
He smirks and I giggle through the lust, and then we drift back into the intensity of the lust, his finger sliding into my hole as I take the reins and begin to buck up and down on his hand, chasing a tight orb of pleasure that dances and sears at the end of his finger.
“Another … finger,” I gasp, stunned and delighted by the forwardness I’m able to summon in these moments.
He lets out a carnal growl and then offers up another finger for me, but he doesn’t drive it inside of me. Instead, he holds it there erect, waiting for me to guide myself onto him.
My eyes are too bleary with pleasure now for me to make him out, so I just focus everything I have on the heat between my legs, an exploding star that sends ricocheting flares through me, touching every part of me.
