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“You’re getting changed too?” I ask, my eyes shamelessly moving over his body as he starts to undress.
“Let me,” I squeak, rushing to the clothes so I can pick out what I want to see him in.
Jeans, a white T-shirt, and a sweater… New briefs too.
Perfect.
“These really should be washed first,” I call out as I walk back into the bedroom, noticing him watching me as I come in.
“You alright?” he asks. “You’re walking funny,” he observes, “Is it the new jeans?”
I give him a knowing smile.
“Not really,” I sigh. “Some brute of a man had his way with me last night. Changed the way I walk forever,” I tell him with a serious expression, having to laugh when he looks concerned.
“It’s alright,” I whisper as I hand him his clothes. “I hope he does it again real soon.” I remind him, pinching his rear as I try not to ogle him too much as he gets dressed.
Trying to finish packing what few belongings I have to take with me.
It’s hard not to look at the man, and he seems just as keen on watching me as I am him.
He slips into his new jeans, which he has trouble zipping up.
Not because they don’t fit, but because when he first tried them on I don’t think he had such a raging hard on.
“It’s what you do to me, Katelyn, what can I say?” he shrugs, slipping his shirt on instead.
“Maybe you’ll just have to get around naked from now on,” I warn him, chancing the risk, and moving over to him and giving his manhood a firm squeeze which makes us both moan softly.
“Suits me,” he replies and his hands find my zipper, forcing me to choose if we’re actually going to stay or go.
“I thought we were going?” I ask him, not minding if he kept me here forever.
“No, you’re right,” he agrees, “we can run around naked as jaybirds once we get home.”
“Promise?” I ask him, pouting, and circling the tip of what I know is going to be hard for some time yet.
“Promise,” he growls, before grabbing hold of me and gnawing on my neck until I squeal.
There’s a knock at the door, and looking down we both agree I should get it.
“Just have them pack everything into the car, tell ‘em we’ll be checking out soon, and to leave the car out front,” he instructs me, and I do just that.
By the time the bellhop’s taken the last box and bag, Wes is ready to go and we follow him to the elevators, making our way downstairs to leave.
Wes doesn’t even look at the bill, just slides over his card and signs for it, giving me a little wink.
“We hope you enjoyed your stay and look forward to seeing you again, Mr. Heart, Mrs. Heart,” the concierge says tactfully.
I feel myself blush and Wes grunts with approval as he takes my hand, walking us both out to the car.
“Mr. and Mrs. Heart eh?” he grins as I get in the car.
It does kinda have a certain ring to it.
I can still feel myself blushing as we pull away from the town and Wes takes a winding road up into the hills overlooking it.
“How far is it?” I ask him, trying to change the topic, but I can see he’s still beaming at the idea of Mr. and Mrs. Heart.
Better than being mistaken for his daughter all the time, I guess. But it does make me feel older and I check my face for lines in the side mirror.
I’ve got a few more good years yet.
“It’s not too far,” Wes finally says, leaning back in his seat and stretching an arm around me, pulling me closer to him on the bench seat.
“It’s far away enough from prying eyes though, I used to come up here all the time when I first built the place.
“What stopped you from coming back,” I ask him.
“Little too quiet for one person,” he reflects. “I was having trouble coming back down here to go to work at all,” he adds. “Got to not liking people so much.”
And I wonder if that’s a bad thing.
“Is it wrong to want to be alone?” I ask him, curious if it’s what he prefers.
“It is when you find the right person,” he says, catching himself and looking away a little embarrassed.
“What about you?” he says suddenly as the houses start to thin out and are replaced by rolling hills covered with fall trees.
“You’re not totally alone, surely? You must have friends, some distant family maybe?” he asks curiously.
It’s an easy one for me to answer. And I don’t mind the question coming from Wes. I get the feeling we’re birds of a feather.
“Nobody, really,” I tell him. “State care from as young as I can remember. Nobody at school gets that. Everybody has somebody these days and I’m even more the odd one out because I don’t,” I tell him truthfully.
