Authors: Miller,Cassie-Ann L.
My eyes flutter open as I stretch and roll over in bed. Keeland is gone. A rush of disappointment surges in me at the realization.
It’s not like I miss him or anything. Hell no. Not at all. I swear.
No, I mean it. I’m serious.
It’s just that last night, he’d showed up with chocolate cake. When I’d refused to eat it, claiming to be on a diet, he’d smeared it all over my naked breasts and eaten it off, lick by lick.
I was hoping that there’d be some more of that this morning.
I roll over to get out of bed and my fingers brush up against a piece of paper lying on top of the sheets next to me. I pick it up and squint up at it. That’s when I lose my breath.
It’s a portrait of me, drawn on the back of an old envelope with blue ink. I’m lying on my side with my eyes closed, a peaceful smile settled on my lips. The blankets are draped around my waist and my breasts are completely exposed. But it doesn’t look vulgar or crass. It’s beautiful and almost innocent.
My stomach is doing crazy stuff, my cheeks are blushing hot and I’m grinning wide as I pad into the bathroom, holding the drawing to my chest.
“You’ve got to let me do my work,” I say, fighting back a smile as Keeland leans down over the back of my chair and trails his teeth up my sensitive neck.
“Your job description has officially been modified. Screw keeping my books and handling my accounting. Your new tasks are giving me blowjobs and sitting on my face. How does that sound?”
“Sounds a whole lot like prostitution,” I say with a throaty laugh.
He sighs heavily, shaking his head as he pulls out the chair next to me and takes a seat. “Sammie, Sammie, Sammie. Why must you put labels on everything?” He says joking.
But in all seriousness, I like labels.
Labels help you keep things organized. Labels tell you exactly what you have in front of you. And I'm starting to feel like what Keeland and I have going needs a label sooner rather than later because I'm starting to feel a bit messy on the inside.
I've fallen asleep with my head on his shoulder three nights this week and I've woken up with him tangled in the sheets next to me just as many times. And while I'm definitely not interested in being this man's girlfriend, I think it's time we talk about expectations.
I look across the table at him. “What? What are you thinking, Sammie?” He asks warily.
I shrug and focus on the spreadsheets in front of me. I’ve been a bit immature in my interactions with Keeland. I know this. Maybe it’s time to just face our situation head on and have an adult conversation about it. “It’s just — we haven't talked about — I just don't know where we stand.”
His eyebrows inch up and he shoves a tense hand through his hair. “Oh?” he says, apprehensively.
Panic lights flash in my brain. I can see it on his face – I’m
close to making our situation complicated. I need to make it clear that I want this to remain simple. “I think we should just keep this casual.” The words spill out of my mouth.
I won't allow myself to get attached to him again only to have him walk out, dragging my heart along with him.
When I finally find the courage to look up at him, those electric blue irises are trained straight on my face. For a second, it looks like it might be disappointment shining in his eyes, but then he says, “Yeah, yeah. Casual is great. Sure.” He scrubs his hand along his stubble.
“Yeah, casual is perfect,” I agree with an overly enthusiastic nod, “and we have to be careful because if Daniel finds out…”
He nods, too. “Yeah, if Daniel finds out…”
We sit there and just stare at each other a while.
I'm the one to break the awkward silence. “So, maybe I should get back to work.” I pull a stack of papers in front of me.”
Keeland pushes his chair away from the table. “Yeah. I'll get going.”
“Yeah.” I keep my eyes on the document instead of allowing myself to watch him leave.
He opens the back door then turns back to me. “I'll see you tomorrow?”
When I glance up at him for a second it almost feels like he's waiting for an invitation to come back later and spend the night. But then he gives me his trademark cocky grin and I know there's no innuendo in his statement.
Almost immediately, my insides wrench at the idea of spending the night without him.
Don't be silly, stupid girl. All those years when he was away, you were fine. Don't start acting needy.
I give him my brightest smile. “I'll see you tomorrow.”
And with that he's out the door.
I feel like Sammie needs some space. And maybe I do, too. That’s why I’m leaning against the kitchen sink, flipping through last spring’s Master Ink tattoo catalogue when I’d rather be with her, inside of her, now. Admiring the beautiful inkwork is helping to keep my mind off of the hot-as-hell girl next door.
I’ve kept away for two days and it’s driving me crazy but I just need some time to cool off before I go over there again. Things are getting a little intense between us. She says that she wants to keep things casual so I need to take a step back – bringing her breakfast, tending to her lawn, fixing her car – I’ve been getting a little carried away.
But can you blame me? The girl is addicting. The sparkle of her smile. The smell of her skin. Even the frown that’s always on her forehead. There's something about Samantha Trotten that could make a man fall head over heels for her and I’m fighting like hell not to be that man.
I only hope it’s not too late because what I feel for Sammie is anything but casual.
I’ve got to get myself in check before I embarrass the fuck out of myself, or worse, get hurt. I did
come to Reyfield to fall in love. I came to clear my head.
I’m not saying that I can’t fuck her till she clutches the sheets, screaming my name as she has one orgasm after another. I’ve just got to keep my head on straight through it all.
I turn the tiny, wall-mounted kitchen TV to the sports network and a group of talking heads make a bunch of noise about last night’s football game. That’s when I hear the doorbell. I’m not expecting anybody, so I take my time going to answer. But when I glance through the peephole, I see Sammie standing on the front stoop, red-faced and wiping her tiny little nose.
I swing the door open. “Hey. What’s up?” I move aside and let her come in.
“Ahhh! Warmth!” she exclaims, rubbing her hands together as she steps into the foyer. She yanks off her ridiculous fur-lined ushanka and thick, wool mittens.
“What’s up with you? Heater broken?” I ask as I help her take off her heavy coat and hang it on the rack by the door.
“A pipe burst in the basement two days ago and since my brother is a slumlord, he hasn’t sent anyone over to fix it.”
“Whoa, are you okay?” I ask. “How’ve you been holding up over there?” The snow came back overnight and the temperature dropped to below freezing. It’s unseasonably cold this year and, although it’s still technically fall, it looks like the snow might be here to stay.
“I set up the fireplace last night, so I was fine, but right now, I need a warm drink. Do you have any coffee? Tea? I’m all out.”
I can think of something extra warm for her to put in her mouth, but it might be a little inappropriate to suggest that right now since she honest-to-god looks like she might be a blink away from hypothermia.
“Jeeze, Sammie. You should have come over sooner. Why the hell did you stay over there till you were hanging between life and death?”
“You’re being overdramatic. I’m fine. Really.” She follows me into the kitchen, sniffling all the way.
She leans against the counter and picks up the catalogue as I turn on the kettle and pull two cups out of the cupboard. “I’ve only got instant coffee. None of that classy, imported shit you drink.”
She scrunches up her nose in disgust then sighs. “Beggars can’t be choosers so…”
She’s still shivering a little, even after I’ve handed her a cup of coffee. And now, I just want to wrap my arms around her to keep her warm. I lean my hip against the counter next to her and get close, snaking my arms around her waist and burying my nose in her hair. “You always smell so good…”
She sets her empty cup on the counter and sighs, molding into the warmth of my body. “Coconut-lavender balm…” she whispers, nuzzling her cheek against my heart. I lean down to get closer. I take a whiff of her and press kisses to her ear, her jaw, her lips. She groans accepting my tongue. She kisses me the way she always does, passionate and eager. I slip my hands into the back pockets of her jeans and give her ass a good squeeze.
But instead of coming closer, she pulls out of my arms.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, shrouded in a fog of lust.
“I should go.” She tries to squirm out of my arms.
“Back to your igloo? No. Stay.” I stroke the side of her face, my cock already filling with blood as it presses against her stomach.
She looks kind of embarrassed. She’s hiding something. “I’m on my period,” she says in a low voice.
I throw my head back and laugh despite the small pang of disappointment that echoes throughout my body. “Come here, silly,” I say pulling her close. “You don’t have to go freeze to death just because you’re on your period.” I put my hands on her shoulders and guide her towards the couch. “Sit down. We’ll watch a movie…” I say and she breathes an audible sigh of relief. “…Then, you’ll suck my dick.”
She laughs and slaps me on the chest. “Get your hands off of me, you pig.”
I give her a wink. “Hey, I wouldn’t be a man if I didn’t find a way to benefit from the situation.”