My eyes roll back in my head with another stroke of his finger inside my pussy. He inches deeper and deeper looking for that spot that makes me come. His thumb presses against my clit and caresses the tight skin around my anus with his pinky. I moan as my fingers grip the sheets in a climax I can’t control. My legs are shaking and the sheets are soaked beneath me. He’s licked every inch of my body tonight, and I can’t take anymore.
I’m sensitive to his touch everywhere, even the slight roughness of his tongue that licks all around my puckered nipples has me begging for more. He’s teasing me still as I shatter all around him. He’s enjoying my complete surrender to him. My eyes close in sheer pleasure, and he kisses my closed lids.
My phone beeps and vibrates with a text waking me from my dream. I grudgingly reach over to my nightstand slapping my hand around for it and snatch it up under the covers. The sun is shining brightly through the slits in my closed eyelids, casting an orange aura over my eyelids. I won’t dare open them to the morning, just yet. Not if I can steal a few more moments.
I roll over onto my back and pull the covers over my head creating a blanket fort to block out the sun. I squint one eye open testing the light and it’s not too bright so I swipe across my phone and go to the messaging app.
It’s Katie Wells. She needs to cancel the brunch tasting today. She and her fiance have been up half the night with food poisoning from their previous night’s dinner. Oh my, their poor souls. I text back my understanding and wishes for a speedy recovery, making a mental note to ask her about the restaurant at another time. I don’t want to ever recommend it if this is going to be their reputation.
I jump out of bed because now I can go see Frank. I excitedly scroll through my contacts looking for the number to Jack’s Bistro to cancel the brunch appointment with their chef. They understand and I promise to reschedule as soon as possible. Then I scroll the opposite direction and call Frank. I hope it’s not too early for him.
“Good morning,” he says in an overly sexy, sleepy voice. Heat just rushed to my sex, and I fan myself. His voice is deep and gruff, making me think of the rough sex we had in my dream this morning. His tongue must be worn out.
“Damn, you sound good in the morning,” I tease, hoping to find him in a good mood. That compliment should seal the deal for what I have planned.
He clears his throat before responding, sending another heat wave through my body. “Thank you. You sound very full of sunshine this morning. Like you are awake and excited.”
“I’m sorry if I woke you, but my day plans have been canceled, and I want to play outside with you today,” my words rush out in one quick sentence in my excitement. “Let’s go hiking!”
“Okay,” he says slowly, his voice is still raspy and deep. “I need coffee first. I take it you are coming to me unless you plan on hiking the city?”
“Yes, I’m coming to you. I breathe enough of this city air. It makes my lungs feel dirty,” I explain, laughing at his unintentional joke. “I want to inhale some evergreen and clean, fresh mountain air, and exhale some city bullshit.”
His rough, boisterous laugh rolls through the phone like a summer thunderstorm. It sends electrical pulses through my body and a sadness pulls at me for having missed seeing him laugh so hard again. He has a beautiful, genuine smile.
I can hear water running in the background and a faint beeping. He must be making coffee. “When will you be here?” he asks.
“I can be there in about two hours,” I say, hoping that’s going to be okay.
“Make it an hour and I’ll make it worth your while,” he says and the phone clicks. It sounds like he hung up. I look at the screen and the timer has stopped.
“Hello?” I ask. “Hello? Frank, are you still there?” That dirty dog. I guess I better get my ass moving then. I can’t go hiking in my pajamas. I look at the time on my phone. “Oh shit,” I say out loud.
I run to my closet and push back the sliding door, grabbing the things I need and tossing the things I don’t. I feel like I’m on one of those mad dash game shows. I’m going to hate this mess I made later. I get dressed in less than five minutes before racing to the bathroom for deodorant and my toothbrush. I splash water on my face and decide that’s enough, forgoing any makeup, except my sunscreen. I may be in a hurry, but I’m not impractical. I grab my purse and I’m out the door within ten minutes.
Today is the first day since I bought my house that I’m happy I live less than a mile from the highway entrance. It’s Sunday, so the traffic is extra light but it’s still a big city with lots of people trying to get places. Before too long, I come upon the first mileage sign for the Knightsen exit. Nineteen more miles. Glancing at the clock, “Yeaaaaaah, I’m gonna make it!” I say aloud, doing a little car dance in my seat.
I crank the radio to full blast when “Walking on Sunshine” by Katrina and the Waves comes on. It seems like an appropriate song for my mood today. I pull into the parking lot of The Beer and Brood, not sure if I should use the front entrance to his home or not. Looking for the street and house would waste too much time. I want my “worth your while” and don’t want to be late on a technicality.
The gate is leaning open so I don’t have to stretch to reach the top latch. He did it so easily last night, but I’d need my heels to reach it. He actually came out here and thought of that. What a gentleman.
I walk through the tranquility of his Japanese garden again, running my hand over the wide expanse of the wooden bridge railing. I stop to admire the vivid orange of the koi fish in the pond below. They are such beautiful fish.
I hear pots and pans clanging in the kitchen just beyond the path, and wonder what he’s doing. As I round the bend in the path, I can see him through the large windows bending to put something in the oven. Is he cooking? This man...he’s amazing.
I knock lightly on the door before turning the knob and pushing the back door open. He turns and I laugh out loud. He’s wearing an apron that reads “My kitchen, my 5-second rule applies.”.
“Nice apron. I love it,” I say before stretching upwards on my tippy toes and kissing him right on his luscious lips. He tastes like bacon. Mmmmm.
His arms snake around me and pull me higher holding me firmly for a deeper kiss. His tongue parts my lips and devours me. He’s a hungry man.
“I thought I’d feed you since I made you rush to get here,” he says against my lips, giving me one more quick kiss before letting me slide down his body. “I’ve made you a full breakfast, complete with coffee.” He hands me an empty large, red coffee mug and then shakes the coffee pot and a pint of creamer at me teasing, not sure if he should pour or not.
“Oh yes, please,” I beg. My legs dance in place with my impatience to take a sip. “I can’t believe I drove here not fueled by coffee.” We both laugh, and I close my eyes while sipping the creamy elixir of the morning gods. I open them and he’s staring at me, amused. His slight smile and crinkled eyes tell me he enjoys what he sees. I feel like a giddy school girl with her first crush.
“I only need to know how you like your eggs?” he asks, cradling two eggs in mid-air waiting for my response.
“That actually depends on the meat,” I reply. “What are my options?” He raises his eyebrow with a mischievous look in his eyes.
“I made bacon and turkey sausage patties,” he puffs out his chest with pride at the choices he made.
“Oh, wow. Now that selection throws a monkey wrench in my decision,” I advise. “Usually it’s scrambled eggs with bacon, and over easy eggs with sausage. I’m slightly complicated when it comes to protein.” I tap my lips, having to make a hard decision here.
“I can see you are having a hard time with it, so, no decision is necessary. I’ll make both,” he declares and sets about cracking eggs into a mixing bowl.
Within a few minutes, the entire meal is prepared, and he pulls out many platters and bowls from the warming oven. He’s made a meal fit for a king and his entire court. There’s little silver dollar pancakes, bacon, sausage, buttered toast that perfectly browned, small bowls of cut fruit, and of course, eggs. How much did he think I would eat?
Good Lord, but it was all delicious. I know he says he just knows the basics of cooking, but he could have been a chef. “That’s the best breakfast I’ve ever had. I swear,” I inform him, and he smiles, accepting the compliment with a nod as he sips on his own coffee.
“I’ve also packed us some snacks for the trails,” he admits. “I hope you like almonds, celery and carrot sticks with some dip, Plus I packed a few protein and granola bars, and packed us some water.”
“Oh, wow!” I exclaim with a half laugh, speechless that’s he better prepared than me. “I’m glad you adult better than me. I was just going to take water.”
“The Round Valley Regional Preserve is nineteen hundred plus acres of beautiful land, but it does contain some steep slopes that can be tiring,” he explains. “Getting hungry is inevitable, and the boy scout in me likes to be prepared.”
“Then I’m glad I’m hiking with a boy scout,” I giggle, standing and gathering both of our plates. “I don’t even know where North is unless it’s on a highway sign. Go change and I’ll clean up in here.” He doesn’t attempt to argue with me about cleaning up. He takes his coffee with him down the hallway humming a song as he walks.
I pull open a few doors and drawers looking for storage containers and plastic wrap, finding everything easily. His kitchen is laid out very well, neat and organized. Within fifteen minutes, the dishwasher is loaded and the leftovers are placed in his refrigerator. I pour myself another cup of coffee and take a seat at the counter waiting.
The urge to walk around his home is overwhelming, but I won’t disrespect his privacy. He hasn’t told me to make myself at home, so that tells me he’s a private man. He’s got a demon on his shoulder with the death of his fiance. I still don’t have the courage to bring it up. I pray he trusts me enough to tell me someday.
He comes back into the kitchen and dumps his remaining cold coffee in the sink, and sets the mug down. “You ready?” he asks, grabbing a backpack and throwing it over his shoulder. I do the same with my coffee as we leave the comfortable confines of his home.
“Where do you park your car?” I ask. “The bar lot was empty and I don’t see a driveway to your home.”
He stops walking mid-bridge over the koi pond, turns, and looks at me before answering “I don’t drive anymore,” he admits. The sadness in his eyes is hard to miss as his words resonate in my ears.