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"I don't remember you complaining one bit that night ... and I don't hear you telling me to get away from you now. So is it really about how old I am, or is it the fact you know how good I can make you feel but I haven't yet?"
Forty-three, forty-four, forty-five ...
I am too focused on counting - and keeping my heart from pounding straight from my chest - to answer his question. And I'm ashamed to admit that it's the second one that really has me all twisted in knots. He pushes his palm against me, the pressure on my clit eliciting a moan that tumbles from my lips without my permission, acting as an admission that I want more from him.
"Tell me to stop," he pleads as his hand traces along the waistband of my scrubs leaving goosebumps along my stomach in its wake. But I don't tell him to stop, instead I lean up on my toes and capture his lips in a kiss. It's more fevered than before somehow, my body buzzing from being around him, having his hands on me. I completely lose track of counting my heartbeats, getting wrapped up in feeling his pounding against me as our chests meet.
Ashton takes it as an invitation and dips his hand into my pants, finding my panties damp and clinging to my skin. He moans into my mouth when he feels how wet and ready for him I am. It's like déjà vu from that night in the club - except I didn't come in here for this and I sure as hell don't have a condom in my pocket. Our mouths never break as he pulls my panties out of the way, tracing his finger up and down my slit before driving one finger all the way into me. The molding of the doorframe digs into my back as the force of him entering me pushes me tight against it. Instead of counting heartbeats, maybe I should start counting how many times his finger pushes in and out of me.
He breaks our kiss, dropping his lips to my neck, running his tongue along it before reaching my ear.
"Weird, I don't hear your pussy complaining that I am some inexperienced teenager." With his final word, I feel him fill me more, another finger joining the first, my walls tight around them both. I can't say anything. My mouth hangs open but the only things coming from it are labored breaths and moans of pleasure that I am trying - and failing - to hide.
I desperately try to find something to hold onto, my knees getting weak as my body trembles closer to orgasm. My hands grip his bare shoulders, feeling the muscles contract and expand as he continues his exploration of my pussy. I am about to combust when the angle changes, his shoulders dropping out of reach in front of me as he gets on his knees.
Holy shit.
"What you swearing for, sweetheart?"Crap, I must have said that out loud.
"No - nothing, just ... holy shit I am so close," I admit, my brain too focused on a million things going on around me to keep my desire a secret. It's not like he can't tell I'm enjoying myself, my juices are practically dripping down my thighs.
He looks up at me from where he is kneeling at my feet, pulling his fingers out of my body and leaving me instantly cold and empty. His eyes jump down to his fingers coated in me, bringing his tongue out to clean them before pushing them back inside and locking his lips around my clitoris.
His tongue swirls around the sensitive bud while he curves his fingers inside me to stroke the walls that are tightening against him. I am on ecstasy overload, all the things at the same time and I can't focus on any of them, my mind drowning in the combination of everything he is doing to me. And then my head drops under water. I can't catch my breath, the waves crashing as my orgasm washes over my whole body like the tide. My legs buckle and Ashton uses his other hand to pin me up against the doorway, keeping me upright as I tumble through the remaining pulses of my orgasm.
Ashton rolls his tongue lazily against my exhausted pussy, wringing every ounce of pleasure he possibly can from my body. I am about to fall asleep standing up. I can feel all of the tension from the past week untying itself and floating out to sea, replaced with relaxation and a deep desire to sleep for the next four days uninterrupted. When my body is spent and the pulses have subsided, he takes his fingers from me, smiling down at how they stick together with my release, before cleaning them again with his mouth.
He rises from his spot on the floor in front of me, the smile never leaving his face as he returns to his full height above me, the evidence of my orgasm clinging to his lips and chin shining in the moonlight.
"Age is just a number, baby," is all he says before he leaves me there clinging to the doorframe, disappearing into the bathroom and closing the door behind him.
Holy fucking shit. There's no way that he is only nineteen and knows how to play my body like the damn devil in Georgia with his fiddle. I pull my pants back up, my soaked panties rolling and tangling on the way up against my leg. I hobble my way to my room, my knees acting like Bambi walking for the first time. I shut my door, leaning my back against it before inhaling what feels like the first breath I have ever had.
I push out of my scrubs, pulling on fresh panties and a pair of shorts to sleep in. Curling under the blankets and staring up at the ceiling, the fog in my mind finally parts.
We just broke so many rules and there's no way to take it back. How am I supposed to look at him tomorrow when all I will be able to see is him kneeling in front of me, feasting on me like his favorite meal?
There are few things in this life that can get my mind to stop wandering to how Melanie looked coming undone with my fingers knuckle deep inside of her. The way her pretty pink lips hung open, her cheeks rosy and warm. I didn't even care that she might hear me jacking off in the bathroom after, my dick was so hard it felt like it might fall off if I didn't relieve the pressure. It didn't take long for my balls to tighten against my body, the spurts of cum shooting down the shower drain less than a minute later.
When I came back into the hallway she was gone, the lights off in the living room and kitchen except for the one over the stove that she insists needs to remain on. She must have gone straight to bed after. I'm sure her body was spent after working and then having to keep her body upright while I explored every inch of her I could reach. The way her body responded to me was fucking intoxicating. Even now as I lay in bed waiting for my alarm to sound, I feel like I need another shot of her.
I can hear the rain pelting the window and wonder if it plans to stop anytime soon. If there's rain, there's no work. As much as I love a good day off, part of me is worried about making the bills now that I live here and the rent is higher.
Things will only get more interesting once the snow flies. Snow means the temperature has dropped enough that the ground will start to freeze, which in turn means work will stop until spring. A bunch of the guys from the crew work plowing residential driveways and shit in the colder months but that would require me to have a truck and a desire to be out in the shitty winter weather. Which I don't on both counts.
The little bit that I had stashed away to get me through the winter months I had to use to fix whatever was wrong with my car exhaust a few months back. I will figure it out though, I always do. Luck of the unorganized but resourceful.
My phone chimes once before I shut the alarm off, not needing any of the three extra snooze alarms I use most mornings. My feet are on the floor and sliding their way towards the door before the sun has even risen high enough to shine through my window, the bright moon from last night hidden by the clouds raining down. I contemplate pulling on a shirt and then decide against it. I am better at cooking if I don't have sleeves constricting my arm mobility. That's the story I tell myself, but I am secretly hoping I run into Melanie and seeing me how I was last night will make her want an encore.
I pull open the curtains in the living room on my way toward the kitchen, the slightest sunrise visible from above the trees outside. The fridge light adds a tiny bit more visibility in the kitchen as I gather my ingredients. It's interesting that since I moved in, I haven't seen Melanie add any groceries. There wasn't even anything in the fridge when I loaded it up on my first day. The only thing that seems to be a staple is a box of breakfast sandwiches collecting frost in the freezer. If that is her breakfast of choice, she is about to get a joyful awakening. After the way she came undone last night, she is going to need more energy for today than any crusty breakfast sandwich from the freezer section can give her.
The bacon sizzles in the pan, letting off the distinctive aroma that is notorious for waking people from a dead sleep. I already scrambled up some eggs, not knowing how she might like hers cooked. I can't recreate the egg puck from her glorious sandwich, but I like to think this will be better. There's a secret to making great eggs: butter. I learned it from a Gordon Ramsey video once and have never made them any other way since. Sprinkle in some black pepper right before they are finished cooking and voila, chef's kiss.
I saw that her normal breakfast of choice includes an English muffin so I toast one up on a skillet with - you guessed it - more butter to get a good crunch on it, just like Dad used to grill them up on our camping trips. I pile the eggs and rip the bacon into strips small enough to stack into a sandwich. I'm not sure what time she gets up for work since she is asleep when I usually leave for work, but I know it won't be for a while so I cover it with foil. I score her name into it with my fingernail so that she knows it's for her. It will taste the best fresh, but breakfast foods are always good no matter how long they sit. Plus there's no way it won't be better than that frozen shit she is used to.
Once I finish my breakfast and clean the dishes, I make my way to the bathroom for my shower. Even though I took an extra one last night that resulted in most of her scent being washed off my skin - and my cock getting milked - showering in the morning is the only sort of routine I stick to. The hot water trickles over my skin and I feel my muscles open and relax with the warmth. Having a labor intense job like mine, hot showers are amazing for sore muscles and aching feet after spending long days in steel toe.
I am dressed and heading into the kitchen to put on my boots when I get the text from the foreman that we are taking a rain day. When I look up from my phone, Melanie is sitting at the table with the haphazard foil-covered plate in front of her.
