AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The birdhouse, though less intricate, makes this even clearer, as there are tiny details all over it like gingerbread architectural features along the roof. I even catch Sean’s name signed in cursive in paint, just like Sam Baldwin does over at his gallery. Sean must take tremendous pride in his work.
But it’s the dollhouse that captures my imagination.
Unlike his other projects, the dollhouse is actually sizable despite it being shrunk down to Barbie scale. There’swainscoting and wallpaper on the interior walls, a curved rail on evenly spaced stairs with twin newel posts, and itsy-bitsy furniture outfitted with what feels like real curtains, blankets, and appropriate fabrics.
“Did this come as a kit?” I ask him. It must’ve. It’s too elaborate to create from scratch.
“No. I built every piece.” He sounds offended, so I backtrack.
“Even the cushions on the rocking chair?”
He nods. “Sewing’s not that hard if you’re willing to learn.”
“Holy shit, Sean, you sewed all these?” I’m not trying to be incredulous as I indicate the inch-wide decorative pillows and tablecloth. Then he continues to blow me away by flipping a switch and causing the interior to light up with authentic looking light fixtures. The amount of work he’s put into all this is nothing short of extraordinary.
He bobs his head silently again. “I sell these online, and it spawned all these messages requesting personalized commissions. I have a waiting list.”
“I believe you,” I say, and I do, no matter how wild this is. “I hope you’re getting your money’s worth because these have to be worth a pretty penny.”
“They are. Or at least the dollhouses are. The others are less expensive, but they’re all fun to complete. I had the electrical skills, and I dabbled in woodworking prior to this. When I need to learn something new, I do.”
“This is so impressive. I mean, I consider myself to be creative, and so is my best friend, but I don’t know anyone who goes to such lengths to make art. How long does one of these dollhouses take you?”
“A month or two, start to finish.” He shrugs as if everyone goes to the trouble to display that level of handiwork.
“Sean…” I say his name as if it’s three syllables that rise and fall in pitch. “That’s amazing. Especially for a hobby.”
“Glad you like it.” His gray eyes flit to mine and away again as his lips curve subtly upward.
I’ve never met a man like this. One who’s solid, strong, and definably masculine, yet who has the reserved personality of a poet.
I don’t know why, but I feel compelled to touch him. I reach out to secure his hands, collecting them as if for an inspection. They’re rough with calluses, no doubt due to his constant use of them, and I’m so entranced by the fact that his days are full of both physical toil and well-honed inventiveness that I kiss his palm.
He watches me, not saying anything at all, his expression inscrutable. He’s not objecting, though, so standing on my tippy toes, I offer a peck to the column of his throat, then another up on his neck under his right ear. This causes a soundless shudder to race through him, and pleased by inciting such a reaction, I move my face slowly until our mouths are lined up, until we’re breathing the same air.
Then I kiss him.
Five
Sean
Becca is kissing me. The understanding takes several seconds for me to fully compute, and by then, my brain has decided to go offline entirely. All I can feel are her warm lips on mine, how her inhales and exhales are becoming more intense, more rapid as I deepen our kiss by thrusting my tongue into her mouth.
“Mmmm,” she moans in response, and the noise in addition to how her hands are roaming over my chest, back, and torso encourage me to continue.
To go further.
This is getting out of hand. I barely know this woman, and this should stop. I should stop. Only it feels so fantastic to be the object of a woman’s desire again.
Becca pancakes her body to mine, rubbing her breasts against my chest and abs, and I remember vividly how those breasts looked while exposed through that sliver of window. My cock’s as hard as a hammer, my hot blood thrumming through my veins. While I’m not sure why she’s doing this, when she lowers her hand to cup my erection over my pants, I suddenly don’t care.
Dammit.
Yet I say nothing out loud. Not as she lifts my shirt, trailing wet kisses down my torso. Not as her hand comes to my pants and unfastens those. Not as she drops to her knees to take my length in her mouth, her small hands fisting the lower part of my shaft that won’t fit.
Tell her to stop, some distant part of my psyche warns me, but I ignore that voice. I ignore everything that’s not the pleasure of having a woman’s mouth encompassing my eager cock. I’m not even fucking her mouth as she does all the work, drawing me deeper and backing away until I’m almost out, only to continue in a delightful rhythm I can’t help but relish.
It’s only as a zap of ecstasy shoots down my spine and my balls tighten that I think to bring this to an end, and by then, it’s too late. All I can do is tap her head and mutter, barely coherent, “Becca, I’m going to come.”
