Page 14 of The Consequence of You
“I should have just let you go home.”
“Afraid of a little hard work, Pennington?” I shrug off my cardigan and hang it on the back of the door before removing my slip-on pumps. His cocky arrogance seems to have faded a little, and that’s definitely something I can get onboard with. It’s certainly a distraction from my earlier worries.
Asher pulls off his knitted sweater and I avert my eyes when his shirt lifts up with it, exposing his toned chest. His skin is smooth and taut, and he has a defined v shape leading to his… I avert my eyes again as I feel my cheeks heat.
Of course he’s as perfect under his clothes as everywhere else. I turn away, giving him a minute to straighten himself out, except when I turn back, he is standing in just his boxer shorts. His tight, black Calvin Kleins which leave absolutely nothing to the imagination.
“I… sorry… fuck… I…” I squeeze my eyes tight shut whilst my mouth catches up with my mind. “Asher! Why the hell do you have no clothes on?”
CHAPTER TEN
ASHER
Lately, every time I hear my name pass her lips; it makes extra blood flow to my groin. My dick may as well be waving, the way it jumps in response. She opens her eyes and tries to maintain eye contact, but I don’t miss the way they widen. I swear they water a little, which means she’s probably imagining how big I am at full mast. I’m as blessed in that department as the rest of me, and there is no disguising it in my choice of underwear.
“It was very expensive. Hand knitted by Tibetan monks.” Confusion mars her face as her eyes sneak another look at my cock. Clearly, she needs clarification. “My jumper? It’s new. I had it sent over last month, when the temperature dropped. I took it off because I don't want it to get paint on it.”
“And your trousers?” She mumbles the words, as her eyes drift lower again, taking in the rest of me.
“They’re nothing special, but if I get paint on them, I run the risk of getting it on my car upholstery.” She nods slowly before seemingly remembering where she is. She turns around to unfold the dust sheets, crouching down to methodically cover the floor.
“I’m sure Susan can find something else you can wear.”
“Are you suggesting I wear a spare pair of Mr Charles’ pyjamas, Calliope? Because I really don’t think taupe is my colour, and we both know they’d be a little tight on me.”
“I meant there are probably some spare staff uniforms somewhere.”
The conversation is beginning to bore me, and it is especially pointless when I would never be caught dead in cheap polyester, plus Callie is enjoying the view. So, I adopt her usual Modus operandi and ignore her.
I pop open the lid on one of the tins of paint and pour a generous amount into a tray as Callie pushes the head on a roller. This might not be something I’ve ever done before but it doesn’t mean I’m completely clueless.
For the next hour, we work silently side by side, falling into an easy rhythm of Callie doing the delicate, detailed work of painting the edges and coving, while I cover the bulk of the walls with the plain white emulsion. It’s strangely enjoyable, watching the room become brighter and cleaner. Seeing our physical work translating into something tangible.
The first coat is almost finished, and I need to open a new tin of paint. I turn to put the roller in the tray, except Callie must have moved it, and I end up stepping directly in the paint. My foot sinks into the cold white liquid, and it splashes up my shin. I’m about to curse when I hear it.
The prettiest tinkle of laughter.
It’s so unfamiliar to hear it from her; it takes me a second to realise what I’m hearing. I spin to look up at Callie who stands at the top of the step ladder. She clamps her hand over her mouth to disguise her mirth and in doing so, sprays paint from the brush she’s holding across my face. The splatters only miss my eyes as the bulk of it hits my glasses.
She lets out a louder laugh, clearly unable to contain it now. Oh, she thinks that’s funny?I’ll show her funny.
I lean down and dip my hand into the paint can, soaking my fingers with the viscous liquid, and she immediately stops laughing. I step closer to her, intending to coat her foot in paint, much like my own, except when I look at her small feet on the middle step, I stall.
Her delicate toenails are painted pearly pink, completely contrasting with her usual black attire. On her fourth toe is a tiny silver ring. For some reason, I can’t bring myself to cover her foot with paint as I intended.
Instead, I smear a line across the bare skin on the top of her foot. Using my second finger, I slowly circle her slender ankle, leaving a white ring below the hem of her black jeans. She makes no move to stop me, just shivers under my touch. I stand up straight, now eye level with her naval, as she stands a few steps above me on the ladder.
A couple of inches of her bare stomach show between the bottom of her cropped grey vest top and the waistband of her jeans. With my third finger I circle her naval, my eyes fixed on the tiny black jewel that catches the light. Goosebumps appear on her flat stomach as we both watch a drop of paint trickle down her alabaster skin.
She does nothing to make me stop, so quickly I wipe the excess paint off my hands onto my boxer shorts and I push the fabric of her top up, slowly revealing another inch of her stomach. The silence in the room is palpable, punctuated only by the sound of my heart pounding in my chest. I watch for the slow rise and fall of her chest but it’s still, so I look up to check she’s okay with this.
Callie’s pupils are blown, her dark eyes are fixated on where my hand meets her bare skin. She bites down on her bottom lip in a way that has me desperate to replace her teeth with my own. She’s holding her breath, waiting for my next move, so I slowly push the snug fabric upwards.
After a few more inches of her skin are revealed, the bottom of her black lace bra becomes visible. I step up onto the bottom step, trapping her between my own body and the ladder. She leans back and arches her back, her hips meeting mine, so I take that as an invitation to continue. She certainly makes no move to stop me, and while I like to get what I want, I would never presume to take something that was not offered freely, so before I go any further, I make eye contact with her.
Silently, I ask her for permission, and the moment Callie offers a small nod, I stop being patient and pull her vest up and over her lace covered breasts. She raises her arms, allowing me to slip it off entirely, and I drop it onto the floor next to us. Suddenly I’m conscious of being naked except for my underwear and every place my bare skin touches hers heats up.
Her tits are rounded and soft and pillowy, her trembling white flesh perfectly showcased by her bra. Her breath hitches and becomes heavier. I lean in closer and lick down the column of her throat, chin to chest, beforelightly sucking at the soft flesh I find there. I let her skin go and study the dark pink mark I’ve left behind.
