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I love how intent she is on appearing strong and composed, while it’s obvious she’s completely fucked up inside.
Takes one to know one, baby.
She pulls a sledgehammer from her bag and starts knocking the broken slats off the fence. She scowls as she swings the hammer, smashing the slats with all her might. I bet she’s pretending each one is my face.
I head back inside, but only so I can watch her more comfortably through the polarized windows. I don’t expect her to keep up the furious pace, but she keeps swinging the hammer like that for two full hours. Her stamina is impressive, especially since I know she already spent all day working on her own house.
I’d know that even if I hadn’t walked over to see for myself. She’s clearly the type who burns her own body for fuel, who takes out her stress in labor. Plus, she doesn’t have much choice. The car alone tells me how broke she is—the bumper’s tied on with rope.
The sun is sinking before she stops for so much as a water break. Sweat drips down her face. She takes out the sort of metal canteen used by construction workers, drinks a huge draught, then pours the rest over her head.
Her shirt was already drenched, but the pose of her head thrown back, eyes closed, chest thrust forward, shows me the exact moment the cold water hits her face and her nipples harden like pencil points. The water runs all the way down to her strong thighs and into her boots.
She lifts the front of her shirt to dab her face on the only dry patch near the bottom. The movement reveals a tiny slice of the underside of her bare breasts.
The flash lasts less than a second and was completely unintentional, but Remi couldn’t have devised a more devious way to send me into a tailspin. I’ve always found underboob ten times sexier than cleavage.
My cock is so stiff it no longer feels like human flesh—more like a homing missile determined to drag the rest of me exactly where it wants to go.
I slip my hands in my trousers and squeeze hard around the base.
My cock throbs with each bend and flex of her body as she fixes my fence. Her soaking shirt clings to her tits. Her bare skin glows in the sun. She has the deep tan of long hours spent outdoors and the broken nails and bruised knees that show it was in work, not in leisure.
We don’t get that kind of sun in Grimstone. Clearly, she’s not from here.
You could tell anyway, just from the way she talks, just from the way she looks around…
She’s living in a dream, that one.
I remember what it felt like to dream.
Dreams fuel you. Look how hard she works…because she believes in what she’s doing. She thinks she’s building something.
That fence is almost always in the sun; it’s why I haven’t fixed it.
Remi switches to a claw-head hammer so she can lever out the straggling nails.
Watching her work is so goddamn arousing. Watching her bend and move and sweat for me…
I’m lost in fantasies of what else I could get her to do.
It’s not my fault she drove down my road…
She practically came knocking on my door…
I stroke my hand lightly up and down my raging shaft.
This girl is nothing like what I’d usually be attracted to. I’m not into tattoos and piercings and ridiculous colored hair.
But there’s something vivid about her, like a firework, like fresh-squeezed orange juice. I’d like to put my mouth on her and see if she crackles against my tongue.
As she yanks and wrenches at the nails, the hammer slips. The claw comes down on her leg, cutting a gash out of her thigh. She clamps her hand against it, but blood seeps through her fingers, shockingly fast.
I’m sprinting across the yard before she’s had a chance to move, scooping her up in my arms and carrying her into the house. I had no intention of bringing her inside, but it’s instinct.
“Fuck,” she says, lifting her hand. “That’s a lot of blood.”
“Keep pressure on it!” I bark, pressing my hand down over hers.
