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"It's my fault," he says. I've got an ear for voices and the timbre of his mesmerizes me. I imagine him whispering naughty words to me.
The heat in my core spikes and I squirm.
He's kneeling over me and I'm sort of sitting up. I rest my hands on his thighs to steady myself.
They're like steel and the way he's angled, they are fully flexed. I can feel the definition of his muscles under my palms and my brain is screaming for me to squeeze.
"Um, what should we do?" I manage to say and I'm humiliated by the fact that my voice comes out husky. Good thing he can't see my face because I’m sure it’s beet red.
"Well, let me see." His fingers are gentle as they try to get the hair unwrapped from his button but based on the tugs to my scalp, I have a feeling this isn't going to work out quickly.
"I was cutting that hair anyway," I say. "That's why it's so uneven. I was almost done when you knocked."
"I don't suppose you brought the scissors with you to the door," he says.
"Actually, I did. They're on a little table just inside. Do you think you can reach them?"
He stretches back and my head goes with him, only now my face is directly on his cock. His hard cock. It's so hot, I swear I can feel the heat of it through his pants.
He must have realized what an awkward position I was in because he moved back quickly. "No, sorry. Can't reach it. Do you think we could sort of walk there together?"
"Sounds like some kind of weird party game to me, but I'm willing to give it a shot."
He laughs and his stomach goes in and out as his laugh turns into guffaws. The motion creates more pull on my hair so I have to move my head closer to him to lessen the tension.
Yeah, that's a joke. I put my hand behind him and rest it on his ass while I hold my face closer to him.
Then I get hit with a case of the giggles and I can't stop it.
I wonder what the tabloids would think of this one?
And that just makes things worse.
If anyone had seen us, they'd have thought we were nuts. He's kneeling on the porch, I've got my hands wrapped around his ass, struggling not to squeeze, while my face is pushed into his cock.
Tears are running down my face. I haven't laughed like this in ages. Possibly years. It feels good.
Not as good as gripping his ass feels, but it's a different sort of good feeling.
Finally we both stop laughing enough to talk.
"Here's an idea," he says when he catches his breath. "I'm going to pick you up and carry you with me into the cabin and get the scissors."
"I think I can walk," I say, though the idea of him picking me up is rather delicious.
He ignores my protest and cups my ass in his hands and then stands up. I wrap my legs around his hips and somehow he manages to get us inside the front door of the cabin. He sets my feet on the floor and bends over me to keep the tension on my hair slack.
The tension everywhere else is damn thick.
And speaking of thick...I can't stop thinking about his cock.
You'd expect all that laughter would have caused his cock to soften a bit, but not Caleb. Definitely not.
"Okay," he says. His voice is rough so I know he's not unaffected—as if his cock wasn't enough of an indicator—but I admire him for trying to pretend that's not the case. "I've got the scissors. I'm going to try to get them between us and snip this pesky hair. Okay?"
"Okay," I agree. This is super awkward, but I'm a little sorry that we might not be bound to each other for much longer. I like the feel of him. And he smells terrific, if a little bit like he just came out of a mechanic's garage. Manly.
He maneuvers us around and I gasp when I see the sharp point of the scissors so close to my face.
