“What’s that?”
“I own the unit next door. She was staying there. Also, she’s married, hence her need to get back home. And most importantly, she wasn’t you. So none of the rest of it matters.”
“Smooth, Camden.”
He grabs a kiss and sneaks in a feel of my ass.
“Why do you own the unit next store?”
“Why not?” He shrugs. “I bought this place during construction. I didn’t want a neighbor so I bought both the units on this floor. I thought I might eventually need the space for a personal security team. I wasn’t planning on nanny quarters, but there you have it.”
“So Alice is staying there as well?”
“She is,” he says, trailing kisses down my jaw. “Are you jealous of a woman old enough to be my mother?”
“No, actually. I was just wondering how much privacy we’d have later and how sound a sleeper Jake is.”
“Sleeps like a champ.” Sawyer grins.
After we paint pottery—Jake picks a cat and paints it orange, Sawyer and I paint mugs—we return to the condo for Jake’s nap. He falls asleep on the drive home and barely stirs while Sawyer carries him through the parking garage, onto the elevator and into his room.
“How much longer will he nap? I don’t even care if you say ten minutes. I’ll take a quickie,” I say, wrapping myself around Sawyer the second he shuts the master bedroom door closed behind us.
“An hour, at least.” He lifts me, my legs wrapping around his waist as he carries me to the bed. “Fuck, I’ve missed you.”
I rip off my shirt as he carries me, dropping it to the floor before he lays me out on the bed, his hands immediately unbuttoning and unzipping my jeans. I lift my hips to assist him in sliding the denim down my legs. My panties quickly follow and then he’s on me, flipping my ankles over his shoulders as he inhales me, his arms snaking under my thighs and back over, pinning me open. His thumbs zero straight in, pulling my * open while his tongue takes a long, slow sweep up my core.
I buck my hips into his face. I’m so wet I can feel a trail of wetness escape a moment before his tongue cleans it up.
“Do you have any idea how many times I’ve masturbated to the video on my phone? Of us?”
That was the last time we were together. Over three weeks ago.
“Do you know how many times I’ve masturbated to the memory of that video?” I return, digging my hands in his hair and moving his face where I want it. “Zero. Zero times. Because I have a roommate and a communal bathroom. I’m gonna need you to focus.”
He laughs. I can feel it more than hear it, the vibration driving me that much closer to where I want to be. Then he skips the single finger and gets right to the point with two, thrusting them in with just the hint of roughness that I like, making my back bow and my toes curl. He covers my clit with an open mouth, flicking me with his tongue and pounding me with his fingers until I come.
I loosen my grip on his head and flop back, chest heaving as my pulse slows. Sawyer slides onto the bed next to me, propped up on one elbow, his face relaxed and happy.
“I love you, Boots.” He cups my breast, rolling the nipple between finger and thumb, and it takes me half a second to be ready for more. And to realize he’s woefully overdressed.
“I love you too, but I hate your clothes. Why are they still on?” I question, and then they’re coming off in a flurry of tangled arms and legs until he’s naked and flat on his back. I kneel over him, my knees bracketing his hips as I fist his cock and guide it inside of me, sinking onto him.
We groan together as the length of him slides in to the hilt, the stretch a slight and welcome burn. Then his hands are on my hips, mine overlapping his as he thrusts from below while I control the pace from above, sliding up and down his cock, my tits bouncing with increasing velocity.
I let go of his hands so I can lean forward a bit, bracing my hands on his chest, changing the angle so my clit rubs against him when I rock forward.
We come moments later, my orgasm an instant before his. My * pulsing around him sends him over the edge as he grunts his load into me.
I relax onto his chest for a moment before moving myself off of him, and when he slides out of me I immediately notice how much wetter it is without a condom.
“Why did I ever say I didn’t want messy?” I joke. I reach a hand down to touch myself—to touch him on myself, really. “This is so fucking hot.”
“You know that’s going to be leaking out of you for the rest of the day, right?” he asks, placing his hand over mine, rubbing the fluid onto the outside of my *.
“This just gets better and better,” I murmur.
His dick looks like it’d like to make another run, but Sawyer glances at the clock on the wall and gets up, walking into the bathroom and returning with a wet washrag.
I blush when he uses it to clean me up.
“Everything we do and this embarrasses you?”