Page 91 of Silver Linings
He always knows what to say to set me at ease, and it was terrifying how much I was coming to rely on him. But I just…I trust him. Intrinsically. Everything in my being tells me I can count on him in every way.
“You’re kind of the best. Did you know that?” I smile, feeling my shoulders loosen and my body start to relax.
“What do you need?” he asks, always putting me first.
“Just you, I think.”
His smile is so bright, it blinds me.
“I do believe I was promised lederhosen, though.” I pout, pointing at his work pants and t-shirt.
“You don’t think this is sexy?”
It definitely was. The casual blue collar worker vibe was definitely doing things for me, but I had a bit to commit to. I reach my foot out, grazing it along his thigh. “It’s fine. I was just looking forward to making you yodel for me.” My foot brushes against the crotch of his pants, and he yelps at the unexpected contact, grabbing my ankle. “Yeah, like that.” I wink.
“I knew you wouldn’t behave,” he laughs, rubbing circles around my ankle before releasing me.
“Where would the fun in that be?” I hop off the table and prowl towards him, slipping my hands around his waist and resting my chin on his chest, peering up at him.
“You’re shameless, using those eyes against me like that.” He leans down, brushing an almost-kiss against the tip of my nose.
I leap up and capture his mouth with mine, and he falls into the pull with me, deepening the kiss before pulling away abruptly.
“We can’t. I’m at work, and this,” he motions between our two bodies, “is forbidden.”
“Yeah, that just makes it hotter,” I laugh.
He weighs his decision—indulge in something a little illicit with me, or take the safe road.
“Mrs. Evans could come back. She’s just looking for a reason to get me fired,” he says half-heartedly, looking at the door.
“There’s still fifteen minutes on the spin cycle. Seems like plenty of time to me,” I shrug, a challenge clear in my voice. “But if you don’t think you can d–”
Then, he’s lifting me off the floor and setting me on the table, spreading my legs and slotting his hips between them, hands grasping my waist and pulling me tightly into his body. His lips take mine in a punishing kiss, tongue sweeping against the seam of my mouth, and I open for him instantly, tongues grappling for dominance as the taste of him drives my pleasure higher.
Hendrix reaches down to the waistband of my pants but pauses, pulling back. “What are these?” He looks down at my rainbow argyle pajama pants.
“It’slaundry day,” I scoff. No one should be judged for their outfit choice on laundry day. We’re down to bare bones in the closet.
He shrugs, accepting it for what it is, and pulls at the drawstring. I lean back a bit to give him room to slip his hand under the waistband. He stills, sucking in a harsh breath.
“Why aren’t you wearing panties, sweetheart?” He runs his finger through my folds to find me already wet and ready for him. I’m always ready for him.
“Like I said, it’s laundry day.” I throw my head back on a sigh as he rubs back and forth, paying close attention to my clit, and I cry out as he applies more pressure.
He leans forward, growling into my ear, “You aren’t playing fair.” Then, he spears me with two fingers, my whole body lurching forward, chasing more, seeking his touch.
I’m writhing into his hand now, fucking myself on his fingers while the palm of his hand applies steady pressure to my clit, driving me out of my mind. I reach for Hendrix, licking his bottom lip before moving to his neck, sucking on the skin beneath his ear. His answering groan and the hardness I feel against my thigh tells me everything I need to know.
“More,” I gasp. “Please.”
The desperate plea seems to break him, because he pulls his hand out of my pants rapidly, lifts me off the table, and turns me so I’m standing facing the washing machine. He places his palm between my shoulder blades and presses me to lean over the top of the machine before shucking my pants off completely. I’m shifting back and forth, desperately seeking friction, as the sound of his zipper descending fills the room, drowning out the machines.
I jump when I feel the head of his cock rub against my center, spreading my arousal along his shaft in preparation. I know this isn’t going to be sweet. It’s going to be fast and filthy. He lifts one of my legs, hooking his arm under the back of my knee and opening me for him. I find myself leaning forward to give him the best unobstructed angle.
“You like the thrill of maybe getting caught, baby?” Back and forth, he fucks through my folds, driving me mad, aching for him to fill me.
“Please,” I whine.
