Page 93 of All I Need

My nod is jerky and I can’t speak.

“My imagination didn’t do this justice, Ellie,” he says, struggling to keep an eye on the road. I should feel guilty for distracting him the way I am. I don’t.

He keeps up his rhythm, sliding his fingers in and out of me as his thumb continues to work the sensitive nub. All thoughts leave, I’m not even paying attention to where we’re going, grateful that he seems more than capable to drive and well, finger me on the way to his place. My surroundings are just the white stars I see from the delicious intrusion of Walker’s fingers inside me. The past two weeks have been one giant act of foreplay and it takes me no time to shoot off like a rocket.

The sounds of my orgasm echo in the small space. Sweat is beading on my forehead, down my chest and I have to suck in air to get a deep breath.

Then…

Walker removes his fingers and with a wicked gleam in his eye, lifts them to his mouth and sucks my wetness from them. The sound combined with the image that will be burned in my head for eternity is the most erotic thing I’ve ever experienced in my lifetime.

I’m still panting, he’s smiling and adjusts himself. I glance down and see that he’s hard, there’s no denying it or hiding it.

The pickup slows and I look out the window, recognizing it as being the same place we first met. With a quick glance left and right, Walker punches the gas, my body flying back into the seat with a force I wasn’t expecting.

“In a hurry?”

“Around you? Always.”

He turns down a long lane and I lean forward in my seat, getting a look at Walker’s home for the first time. And what I see takes my breath away.

“Wow.”

A tingle goes up my spine, the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

This can’t be his home.

There’s simply no way.

He parks right in front of the garage rather than inside, which I’m grateful for. It gives me more time to look around, my eyes taking an inventory of everything I’m taking in.

“Hey,” Walker jostles my arm to get my attention. “You okay?”

I don’t know how to answer that.

Because what I see before me is something I’ve dreamt for the past twenty years. Right down to the simple landscaping and the tire swing hanging from what looks like an old oak tree next to the house. I envisioned nights cuddled on a porch swing with a faceless husband as the evening settled around us. My dream could have been transplanted into the middle of the woods, a cabin-like feel to the house I would call a home.

The visual has always been so vivid in my mind but until this second, I’d never seen it in person. And now that I have, knowing it’s Walker’s home, I don’t know how to react.

“Ellie,” the sound of his voice jolts me out of my staring. “Talk to me, sweetheart. If we’re moving too fast, we can slow down. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. We’re kind of bowling through all the normal steps in a relationship. I know this was just our first date and I typically don’t jump so quickly but…”

I interrupt him with a hand on his arm. “This is your home?”

He looks at his house and back to me, his eyebrows bunching together in confusion.

“Yes. I built it several years ago. Is it not… okay? Do we need to leave? I meant what I said, we can slow it down. Nothing needs to happen here tonight.”

“I would like you to show me your home, Walker.”

He watches me for a few seconds, probably trying to understand where my odd behavior is stemming from.

“I would love to,” he says instead.

Without waiting for him to come around, I open the door and hop down, anxious to see inside. Curiosity, about whether or not the inside is as much of my dream home match as the outside is, pulses through my veins. Propels me forward with quick steps.

Inside I hear Brutus lazily bark, clearly not worried about a stranger coming to his home, and likely knowing the sound of Walker’s pickup.

I turn around to see Walker press the garage door button on the roof of his pickup. The clunky sound of the door going up sounds like an invasion to the quiet that is surrounding us. Brutus charges—well, sort of, anyway—out through a doggy door, greeting Walker as if he’s been gone away to war for months. He notices me and lumbers over, begging for attention.

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