Her temper excited me, and as we spent more time together, I was learning how to read her. When Dana first saw me at the cabin, all signs indicated she was somewhat pissed.
I should have probably told her, but, like I said, her temper excited me, and as predicted, she showed up with a spirited fire in her eyes. One just small enough for me to put out without too much difficulty, which I enjoyed doing. The woman might have been somewhat explosive, but she cooled easily.
I’d hate to see her truly angry. Actually, that thought frightened me a little.
When my towels passed her whiff test, I saw her coming around.
By the time I was showing her how to operate the hot tub, she was back to being sweet and sassy, as opposed to just the latter. I’d flipped up half of the cover to the tub, and I leaned against the enclosed side as she ran her fingers through the bubbling water.
I was confident I’d went over everything she needed me to.
Ask me to stay.
“If your keys are in your car, I’ll move it and then I’ll be out of your hair,” I said.
“What?” She stepped between my legs, flattened her petite hands across my chest, and looked up at me. Those deep blue eyes crippled me sometimes.
Ask me to stay, dammit.
“I didn’t come here to crash your party, Dana. I had a guy come this morning to fix the hot tub for you guys, and I didn’t think you’d appreciate all the patio furniture sitting in the storage room. So I moved it out. Plus, Reuben called me last night. Becca asked to take the boat out on Sunday, so I hauled it down and put her in the water.”
Which reminded me, I still needed to name the damn thing.
She gawked, silent. Understanding wrinkled her forehead.
“I just took the day off to get a few things done so you’d have fun this weekend.” I pushed her hair behind her shoulders and smoothed it down her back.
Dana was a challenging puzzle, and usually not the first one of us to be affectionate. Of course, she always returned it. So when she wrapped her arms around my waist, pressed her cheek against my chest, and hugged me, it was priceless.
“Why don’t you stay?” she asked quietly against my shirt. “And I’m sorry I was bitchy when I got here.”
Victory is mine!
I stroked the skin on the back of her arm, enjoying the moment. She didn’t want me to go, and it was the first time she’d ever apologized for giving me attitude. Attitude which quite literally turned me on.
I loved that she was feisty, unlike many wilting flowers I’d been with in the past. Dana had a fierce backbone, and I’d never want her to lose it. It made her who she was, and she was easily forgiven after hearing she wanted me to stay.
However, I’d prepared for both outcomes and brought a packed bag, my laptop, and had a reservation at a nearby resort—in the event I hung out a while, but still felt it best to leave.
It was my place, but I’d offered it to her and didn’t want to intrude.
Now, I didn’t have to.
“Don’t be sorry. I sprung it on you.” I gathered she wasn’t fond of surprises.
She rested her chin on my sternum and peered up at me, her eyes earnest. “Do you have to go? Like do you have to get back for work or anything?”
I was the boss. Work was wherever I was, whenever I was doing it. Besides, Cheryl and Lance practically shoved me out the door when I mentioned taking a few days off. They had things under control.
“I don’t have to work.”
A lazy smile played on her face, and she slanted her head to the side, pretending to consider something. “Then you should probably just stay. It’s too late to drive back.”
I adjusted lower on the edge of the spa, widened my stance, so she could get closer to me, and she took advantage, pressing herself between my legs.
I liked how unguarded she was being, and I foolishly pushed my luck.
“You need me to?”
She nodded her head slowly and lifted up on her toes. “Nope, but I want you to.”
That was so much better. God, that woman had my balls in a vice, and she didn’t even know it.
“The best days are when I find a way for a student to afford what they need. Loans are no joke for those kids. If it wasn’t for Mom and Dad saving for my college, I’d be totally fucked right now.”
Somehow the conversation had turned to our jobs, something neither of us usually brought up.
We’d taken turns playing music with our phones over the speakers as we drank on the lower patio. She thought it was cool that she could sync her phone to them and change songs without getting up.
“Was that always what you wanted to do?”
“Not hardly, I wanted to be a high school principal when I was a kid. How about you?” She tucked her feet underneath her butt in the club chair next to mine.
“This sounds dumb, but as a kid, I just wanted a job where I had to wear a hard hat. My grandpa had to, and I’d always thought that men just wore them when they went to work.”
Her beautifully wine stained grin slid off to one side. She looked so natural and relaxed. “Do you wear one?”
“I do,” I proudly confirmed.
She put her glass down on the wide arm of the chair and graciously offered her congratulations in the form of a slow clap. “Well done, Mr. Taylor. Mission accomplished, and now you have all of this. All you could ever want.”
Mr. Taylor. Oh, how I like hearing that.
What she’d said was mostly correct, but there was still a lot missing. There were only a few things I wanted for, but still so much that I needed. Namely, the mouthy redhead to my right.
“So, exactly, how did you amass such an empire?”
My beer was cool and as refreshing as her conversation, and I took another drink.
“I take risks.” I’d answered in jest, but it was the truth. “I have a few small businesses. Mostly ones that I bought for cheap and then invested a little in. So that helps. During a normal day, it might be anything from checking on a job site to see if it’s moving along to making sure contractors are staying on schedule. Getting bids for upcoming projects. Having them revised. Mostly, it’s just a lot of paperwork and emails,” I explained.
I hadn’t done much of my own labor since I put in the dock two summers back when I bought and renovated the cabin. It wouldn’t be long until I was looking for another hands-on project to do for myself.
Maybe another property. Who knew? But I could feel the itch.
“Well, whatever you’re doing, I think it’s working.” She yawned and rested her head on the back of the chair she’d sat in side ways to face me while we talked. “Is Cord short for something?”
“Cordell. Family name. Cordell Ferguson Taylor.”
She smiled but didn’t laugh. “I like it. I’m Dana Elaine Rogers.”
“That’s a good name.” It suited her.
As I’d done from the start, I used restraint when I spoke to her, but when we were relaxing and just being together, I often wanted to dig deeper. Ask her questions about what she wanted. Where she saw her future. Things she wanted to accomplish.
But there were only a few more weeks left until the wedding, and so far, everyone was happy, from what I could tell. What Dana and I were doing wasn’t adding any stress to Becca or Reuben. In fact, taking things slow had been surprisingly beneficial and not too rough at all.
I reassured myself that there would be plenty of time to pick her brains and mine her for information later, in a few weeks. I’d let things just happen; there was no rush.
She looked tired, and it was getting late.
“I have Netflix here too. Want to watch an episode or two of Shameless?”
You could have translated that to, “Want to go inside and sit somewhere I can touch you?”
“Oh, my God. I wasn’t even going to look to see if you had Netflix here. Have you watched ahead?”
Watched ahead, intentionally? No. But I’d already seen most of season one before we’d met. She didn’t need to know that. Besides, the show was awesome.
“Nope. Have you?”
“No. It would have been pretty damn tempting though, if I was here alone. Good thing you showed up.” She emptied the last of her glass into her mouth and sat up. “Let’s go.”
She walked in, and I followed, shutting lights off on the way. Everything felt right, including the view of her sweet ass as I trailed her up the stairs.
“If you grab me a water, then I’ll lug your suitcase to the room,” I said and lifted the sliding handle.
“Okay.” Barefooted, she padded to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. “Wait. Which room?”
“The master.”
“No. I can’t stay in there. Just put my stuff in one of the others.”
I stopped and turned to give her my full attention. “Why in the hell can’t you stay in there?”
She pulled a bag of popcorn from one of her totes and tore it open. “Because. It’s not like this is my boyfriend’s place or something. I have no claim to it. More importantly, it’s Becca’s weekend. She should have it.”
I was so motherfucking tempted to argue. I didn’t give a shit about the label. Okay, maybe I did since she’d brought it up. But we were in a gray area, at the beginning of things, and defining shit like that was tricky.
I decided to skip that war.
“They won’t be here until Friday, Dana. It’s only Wednesday.”
She shoved another handful of cheddar popcorn into her mouth, squinting at me in deliberation.
I added, “Besides, if you’re planning on bringing that bag of popcorn to bed, we’ll have to wash the sheets anyway.”
Her eyes grew wide and she covered her mouth with her hand, and then held it up palm out to me. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“Bring it with you.”
If sleeping alone meant no popcorn kernels in my bed, and sleeping with Dana meant there’d be a few, I’d get over them.
Every rose has its thorn, right?
She tucked the bottles of water under her arm so that her hands were free as she walked.
“Now that’s what I call compromise, Cordell.”
I liked making her happy, and, I had to admit, I loved watching her lick her fingers.
Twenty minutes into the episode, after she’d wolfed down half of the long clear bag, she fell asleep sitting up against the headboard, fully clothed, on top of the covers, glasses still on. Her mouth hung open, jaw unhinged, and she was so damn close to drooling.
I paused the episode we were on and made my peace with seeing it a third time. She was worth it.
As gently as I could not to wake her, I got up, kicked off my shoes, and stripped down to my boxers.
Dana was legit passed the fuck out. I even did the floppy arm test and it just fell, palm up, without even a stir. Her shoes were already off since she’d kicked them off the second she had wine in her hand, but I didn’t want to be a creep and strip her naked. Although, I didn’t think jean shorts were going to be very comfortable to sleep in.
After slowly pulling the frames from her face, folding and stashing them on the bedside table, I dipped my fingers into the waistband of her shorts and unbuttoned them, watching her for signs of life.
“You’re touching my fat roll,” she croaked. Then she clumsily smacked my hands away, lifted her ass off the bed, and tugged her shorts off herself.
Fat roll or just the crease where her body bent from the way she was inclined, it didn’t matter. She didn’t need any improvement, and I adored every part of her. Soft, tight, or otherwise.
I wasn’t sure if she was all the way awake or not, but she kept her eyes shut. She wrestled the blankets, kicking and flopping, until she slipped under them, rolling toward the center of the bed.
I mounted the mattress beside her, and then stretched to click off the lamp.
“I’ve touched you lots of places. I’ve liked all of them.”
She hummed and chucked her arm over my chest, heaving herself into my side.
“I was a short, husky kid. Braces. Hard to tame fire-red hair. Freckles. Glasses. You name it.” Although it was hard to picture her that way, the image of young Dana was endearing.
Her legs found mine, and she pushed her foot through the space between my calves. The sheet was cool under her pillow, where I slid my arm under her head so I could get closer.
“Even with all of that, I bet—No, I’m sure—you were still …” I kissed the top of her head as she wiggled, getting comfortable. “… mouthy as hell.”
“Just for that, I’m not going to have sex with you until tomorrow.”
A smile crept across my mouth. What a smartass.
Sex was never the last thing on my mind, so I won’t lie, but I wouldn’t trade a single minute we’d spend together that night for a single orgasm—no matter how good they were.
But sex tomorrow? Well, that didn’t sound too fucking bad.
I always shaved before I showered because it never failed that I’d miss the shaving cream that somehow always got on my ear.
From the bathroom, I heard her wake and stretch just as I was smoothing the cream over my face. When the water was the right temperature, I began.
I surveyed her as she passed the door, which I’d left intentionally open, but before I was finished with my razor work, she returned.
“Do you need the bathroom?” I asked when she put the lid down on the stool and silently sat to watch me.
“No. I went down the hall.” Her hair had half fallen out of the bun thing she’d pulled it up into the night before, and her eyes were still sleep-swollen and glassy under her thick black frames.
“What are you going to do today?” I gave the blade a rinse. Stretching my upper lip, I shaved the spot under my nose.
“I have to go shopping for the weekend. I thought about cooking some stuff ahead of time so nobody would have to later, but I don’t know.”
I tapped the razor, then ran it up my neck. “I’ll go with you if you want company.”
When I’d told her I didn’t want to intrude, I hadn’t been lying. However, I’d be damned if I didn’t have a free day, and I couldn’t think of a better way to spend it than with the grouchy spitfire to my left.
I rinsed the steel blade again and looked to my side at her face. Her mouth was pinched to one side, thinking.
“I’ll let you go, if you wash my hair. Unless you’ve already showered, and you just put on the same underwear. Which is so gross.”
Still wearing the pair of boxers I’d slept in, I answered, “Oh, I’ll wash your hair. In fact, I’ll wash whatever you want.”
She stood up as I reached into the shower and turned on the water. She was always cantankerous in the morning, but she was also very affectionate. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you how much I liked it.
“If you keep your mouth shut and do a good job, maybe I’ll let you stay another night.”
She better let me stick around longer than that. As far as I was concerned, after this weekend, we were in the homestretch.
“What do I have to do to take you to dinner?”
She grimaced, tossed her glasses to the counter, and then pulled her shirt over her head only to wrestle with the collar when she got tangled up.
Dana warned, “Oh, you are not gonna like it.”
“Try me.” She turned around and stepped out of her panties before looking over her shoulder, squinting to see.
“You’ll have to buy me breakfast.”
I’d buy her a fucking castle in the south of France if she’d ask me to. The Hope Diamond. Her very own popcorn factory, if it pleased her. What wouldn’t I do to keep her?
While she’d been facing away, I’d kicked my boxers off. I loved the way she looked me up and down, although I wasn’t sure how well she could see me, as she padded slowly into the walk-in. I followed, grabbing wash cloths off the wall as I trailed behind her glorious ass.
Thank God for my twenty-twenty vision.
“Breakfast? Easy,” I replied. “The cinnamon rolls are already out of the oven.”
“Oh, yeah,” she silently mouthed.
I stepped around her, getting under the spray as she fought with the hair tie snarled in her thick red mane.
“You’re a mess. Come here.”
She put her hands down, defeated and inched closer with her head down so I could see what I was dealing with. Gently, and after some strategic un-knotting, I pulled the elastic free.
She scratched her scalp. “Thank you.”
We’d never showered together before, but any activity where I get to see a completely naked Dana was one I was happy to participate in. I’d thought about it a lot, to be honest—like every time I took one. Thing was, our height difference was going to make getting all up in her tricky, but I loved a good challenge.
So after I fulfilled my obligations of washing her hair and other bits, I was going to also fa-fill her too.
Admittedly, I’m glad I kept that pun to myself.
We switched places, and she soaked her hair. Eyes closed. Mouth parted. Head angled back. Arms lifted, moving her russet locks around to make sure they all got wet. All while her heaven-sent breasts swayed before me under the hot water.
She blinked and wiped the water from her eyes.
It was a fine sight, and there was nowhere to hide my fast-rising appreciation. There I stood with a major boner, shampoo in hand, thinking about all the ways I could make her scream.
“Time to get to work,” she sang.
I was frozen and very much already in love with her, this much I knew. What surprised me was how fast it had developed, and how strongly I felt about convincing her to love me back.
Love, coincidentally, made me an extremely motivated pussy.
She cleared her throat when I didn’t move or say anything, but I was stuck in the moment.
“Um, how much do I use?” I finally asked.
She stole the bottle and squeezed a huge glob into my palm. It looked like enough to wash my truck, but who was I to question her regime? Whatever she was doing did her justice.
She read my face and explained, “I have a lot of hair.”
Although we’d never showered together, I had showered with women before. Let me tell you, shampoo amounts rarely came up. This was different. Oddly, I liked knowing every trivial thing about her. How much shampoo she used, which was roughly, by my best estimate, half of a gallon.
She put the bottle in a niche on the wall and turned around.
I washed the fuck out of that hair. I scrubbed. Scratched. Massaged. Lathered her up until there was more white than red between my fingers.
I put my hands around her waist and moved us forward to rinse.
“Now conditioner, but use a little more than the shampoo.”
Forgoing the hand fill method, I squeezed the bottle directly over her head until it looked coated. When I started to give it the same treatment as the shampoo, she told me to stop, and I did.
“Like this,” she instructed. Her fingers, spread wide, she combed through her long auburn locks. The creamy serum made her hair feel like silk and my hands moved through with surprising ease.
Her head pivoted from one side to the other, and, when she had enough, she turned so that her hair was under the water behind us. The sleepiness was gone from her eyes, and in place of it was a more hungry, more I’ve-had-enough-cleaning expression. I’d stayed the course, reveling in the hopes that she’d initiate something when she was ready.
I wasn’t exactly sure how we’d make it work in there, but I was damn sure I’d find a way. At that point, the granite in my shower was much softer than my dick, and I couldn’t ignore it any longer.
She pulled a wash cloth from the bar where I’d hung the pair of them, side by side. Her breasts swung against my arm, and that was probably my tipping point.
My mind was prepared to wait for her to make the first move, but my hand agreed to no such arrangement and had already started without us. It felt damn good—so fuck it—and I shamelessly touched myself. Stepping back, I found the tiled bench behind my knees and took a seat.
Dana added soap to her cloth, and before placing it back on the shelf, she squirted just enough over my hands and cock. She was just as wicked as I was.
She rubbed the cloth in her hands until it was soapy, and then gave me one hell of a show.
My stare followed her hands over her body, slick and slow. Then I glanced up at her face. Her fuck-hot lips were parted as she studied what I was doing to myself.
Over and over, I stroked my dick, and when she dropped her cloth and stepped closer, I thought she was going to hop on.
She didn’t.
Instead, she propped one of her legs on the ledge beside where I sat. She made a meal out of teasing me, caressing her breast in front of my face, and unabashedly pinching one of her nipples before heading south to the playground between her legs.
Erotic and wild, I’d never watched a woman touch herself like she was. I’d never touched myself, for more than a few tugs anyway, in front of a partner.
I greedily wanted to see what else she would do. Upping the ante, I smacked myself against the palm of my free hand, and she moaned.
The fingers on her right hand rubbed in circles as she played with herself right before my eyes.
The game was thrilling, but I wanted to be the one touching her.
The one pleasing her.
The one making her eyes flutter, her head roll.
The one making her moan.
Letting go of myself, my hands wandered behind her and I leaned forward to catch a breast with my mouth. She sidled closer, and when I thought she was going to climb on my lap again, she carefully turned, waggled her ass in my face, and then she started to sit. Facing away from me, she straddled my legs and steadied her weight with her hands on my knees. Then she lowered her wet body onto mine.
Sweet mother of God. Reverse cowgirl …in the shower …with a bombshell …who made every other woman on the planet disappear …who made every-fucking-thing on the planet disappear.
The tile beneath my ass was slick, so it was easy to move with her as she began to ride me on the edge of the shower bench.
Yet, she hadn’t gone all the way down. You know what I mean? She hadn’t given me everything she had, and in turn, I had so much more to give her.
My fingers ached to clutch her by the hips and smash her against me, but I let her set the pace, the depth. At least, I’d planned to for as long as I could.
Hot water sprayed over our bodies as I moved her hair to one side and gripped her shoulder. Leaning back, I watched my cock disappear in and out of her as her ass bobbed on my lap.
Deeper and deeper, she went.
“Fuck yes. Ride my cock. Just. Like. That.”
“Ah,” she panted. “Oh.”
Gloriously, I held on to my composure as her speed increased. Her sounds got louder and came more often. She tightened inside, her back arched, and she pressed her shoulder blades into my chest. Dana’s hips rolled, and she reached behind herself to hold onto me.
“I… need…” She began, but never finished her thought.
“What do you need, baby?” My mouth at her ear, I promised, “I’ll fucking give you everything. Just say it.”
“I need more. I need more … of you.”
She could have it all.
Then she said a word that sparked an instant reaction. “Please.”
I rose, lifting her with me by the back of her thighs. She held on to my neck as I switched places with her, putting her knees on the seat, and reminded myself that I needed to be careful.
She was small in comparison to me, and I had to I spread my legs wide across the shower basin to align myself with her. I didn’t want to hurt her, roughly beating her against the hard surface, so I wrapped my arm around her stomach and held her tight to my chest.
“If this is too much, tell me. I’m going to fuck you hard, Dana.”
Holding both our weight away from the wall with one hand, I crashed into her. Just once, a test.
“Yes,” she wailed.
“Is that enough for you? Is that what you like?”
She begged again, “Please.”
Every tether I had to my control snapped, and I pounded into her. It was nearly vicious how I drove in and out.
The sounds around us grew louder. The water slapping the floor. Our moans. Our bodies colliding.
With my forearm around her waist, her fingernails dug into me, and she seized around my cock.
That’s what I’d wanted. That feeling right there.
Her coming on me. Around me. For me.
“That’s it. Fucking feel it? You’re mine, Dana.”
She repeatedly gasped—her tell. I twisted my hips, begging for even more. Marauded by my approaching orgasm, I lost myself.
Each swell of her chest constricted my hold around her. The sensation of her shaking sent tremors through my fingertips as they held on for dear life to hollows of her ribs.
I thrust ahead, and she took it all.
I roared her name.
She cried mine.
The echoes of our ecstasy clung to the steam on the walls.
“God, I love when you come for me.”
Dana was made for me. The perfect size. The perfect fit.
She turned her head, and I dipped to capture her panting, hedonist mouth with mine. And I could reach all of her—because I had to.
It was the last surge, the last crash, the final twitch of my orgasm’s end.
Or maybe not, because she quivered and an aftershock tore up my spine, and I found even more release.
She was surprise after surprise.
I dropped to the bench. My knees broke a fall that could have taken us both down, but I wasn’t letting go yet. When she relaxed her hold on my arm, I propped us against the wall where we sagged together and caught our breath.
I’d said she was mine, and I hoped she’d heard it because there was no going back for me. And, in about fifteen days, I wasn’t going to give a shit what anyone said or thought about it.
Fuck them. Fuck everything.
I’d keep my word, but I was also keeping her.