Taking Chances Ch. 02

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We were way out in the country. I knew that from things he’d casually told me. But I also knew it was hobby farm, gentrified country, five acre lots pigeon holed for the upper middle class and above, who wanted to raise their babies away from the mean city streets. I knew most of the trees on the hundred or so acres had been cut down so the new owners could play landed country folk and landscape their lots to suit their desire so…and there we were! It was the only other house, and obviously unfinished, that I saw when I took a slightly giddy inspiring 360 degree whirling look about. And only about a two acre walk away from me…nothing for a country chick tomboy like me.

One acre into that walk I had to admit, the sandals probably hadn’t been the best choice in footwear. I was developing several definite blisters. Yes I was an athletic tomboy, in great shape, but a two acre walk in the wrong shoes, blisters are just gonna happen! And I didn’t even have the option to take the damn sandals off! Gavin had just started this project. Eventually he’d have a huge crew under him, putting up a dozen houses at once, but first he had to finish the second house. So the two acres I had to walk to get to that second house he was working on were just roughly plowed under, and had erupted in a growth of nettles and prickly vegetation.

I took that last acre walk slow, and kept the threatened blisters down to almost shows.

The house looked really nice, even as rough as it was. It was basically just the shell still; no shingles, no siding, but I could see it eventually easily being worth the three to four hundred thousand each house was slated to net. This was luxury housing, and it came with enough property to make each and every new owner feel that olden days King of your castle smugness. Owning land will probably never lose its value.

There was a battered old picnic table plunked down just in front of where the driveway for the house would eventually be poured, and I hopped up on top of it; wriggling back far enough to bring my legs up and pull my sandals off so I could sit Indian style and regroup for a minute or two. I was hot and sweaty and my damn feet hurt! Maybe I should have just waited for Gavin to get back to the finished display house because fuck knows my arousal had kinda wilted during the walk and at the moment I was flat out just hot, sore, and cranky as an Irish Banshee!

I’d been smart enough to bring a bottle of water with me for the walk-and Gavin knew me so well that half a dozen had been nestled, three quarters full, in the freezer half of his fridge. I love water. It’s what I mostly drink. I’ll buy a twelve pack of diet coke, and it lasts me sometimes a month. But cold, cold water is my favorite drink. It’s cheap, when it comes from the tap, and good for the body.

So I sat there, on the picnic table, which happily was being shaded by the garage, and drank down half that icy, refreshing bottle of water. And I thought about Gavin. At first just thinking how nice…and typical of him it was, that he’d remember that my favorite drink is chilled water.

But my thoughts didn’t stay innocent for long.

I love the fact that he knows me, understands illegal bahis me. There’s really only two things that I totally can’t stomach. The first is being bored. And the second is stupid people. I’m honestly not an intelligentsia snob-I have almost no street smarts, and I struggle with math and science and technology. But anything that involves reading or words-that’s MY world. I taught myself to both read and write when I was five. Don’t ask me how, I was FIVE, I don’t remember. I wanted to read my mom’s Nancy Drew books, and she was too busy to read to me, so I learned what I needed on my own.

I’ve spent my life being told to “speak English” by people who don’t read or write much, if at all, and see no value, get no rush from reading a 500 year old antique book and finding a wonderful new word. That got old when I was about ten.

He speaks my language, and to me, nothing is more erotic then the cerebral.

To be with someone I can’t hide from, that I can’t manipulate-even if it’s in an “innocent” and non malicious way-is very rare for me. I can’t paint a pretty picture and put my best foot forward with him. And in a way that’s terrifying to me. He sees ME, the real me, not the pretty china doll hiding behind whatever version of the mask I put on that I think people want to see, to give them what they want, to make them like me.

So yep, that’s terrifying as bloody hell to me.

But there’s that other thing. He knows I’m not perfect; he knows I have a temper that can erupt in ugly ways-rarely, but yeah, it can. He knows I hold grudges and that I get my feelings hurt easily. And he always knows when he’s hurt my feelings-unlike most people I know-and he won’t let me get away with my tendency to go quiet and pull away, shoving my emotion down and withdrawing.

He knows that I whine when I’m sick and that I can be a real bitch over silly little stupid shit. And he still likes me. Even when I’m not playing pretty, perfect little good girl.

“Hey sexy, what you doing sitting out here?”

AWK!!!

And he’s standing framed in the open front door of the house smiling at me and oh wow, just…all the little gods above and below what the sight of this man does to me!

He’s half naked-that man has a definite aversion to clothing, gotta fricking LOVE IT! And I giggle a little at the sight of the heavy duty, steel toed working boots paired with nothing but a pair of faded, skin kissing raggedy cut off denim shorts. I think a little dizzily that he’s prolly NOT wearing the official and/or expected “uniform” of a construction worker but of course he’s the only one on the site, and he’s not really big with following orders from above.

He’s sweating…I can see little rivers of water running down his shoulders and chest, and once again it hits me; that desire to run my tongue over the deltas and planes of that toned upper body. I wanna lick him up and up, with my tongue drawn flat and slowly dragging; collecting his salty moisture to let it mix with my saliva, and slide down my throat with every convulsive swallow. I wanna do it until the only wet on that beautiful upper body is the moisture from my tongue’s licking.

And then…only then…I want illegal bahis siteleri to drop to my knees and lick, starting right above the last button, the top button, the one that he hasn’t bothered to button, and lick a tight line, feeling the roughness of denim on the sensitive edge of my tongue, up to that right hand dent. And then start again, at that button, and do the same, up to that left hip dent.

I want, I want, oh please I want…

“I’m almost done for the night. You’re looking really flushed K…why don’t you come inside and sit in front of the fan while I finish up.”

His soft, throaty words, so innocent and just…nice, thoughtful man…tear me out of the wickedly dirty porno zipping through my mind and my head snaps up to meet his eyes.

Shit! My throat is so tight I can’t speak. I try twice, then give up and take a fast double swallow of my no longer so cold water before bothering to try a third time. When I look up at him again, my throat threatens to close again at the look in his eyes.

His smile is so innocent and concerned, but his eyes, my gods his eyes!

And I realize in an instant…damn bastard knows EXACTLY what he’s doing to me! Because those eyes are not innocent. They are on fire with lust and need and a fiercely animal hunger. And I KNOW he’s not calm and relaxed. He wants to lunge and knock me flat on my back, rip my dress off and slam his hard flesh as deep inside of me as he can get it.

He blinks, and the look is gone, but I know, and suddenly I can breathe and speak again because for me, in regards to ONE thing, nothing has changed. I am gonna get my fantasy first! After that, I don’t care what he does to me. I know I’ll love it all and even if it hurts…I kinda like a little being hurt.

And so I manage to smile at him, holding up and casually waving my pack of cigarettes, telling him that I’ll be in soon, just want to have a last smoke and of course I need to get my sandals back on and for an instant his eyes are…spelling out that this is a crossroads. I see it. And I know and understand and I wait, not being able to breathe yet again. How many times does this make?

Then he laughs, lazy and easy, and grins at me. “OK sweetheart, see you in a bit.” And turns and disappears back inside the house.

Whoosh and oh golly gee! I let my body collapse and melt backwards, letting both water bottle and cigarettes drop as I lay myself supine, giggling up at the blazing bright blue sky, my bare feet kicking upwards, feeling the bite of the aged wood of the picnic table nibble into the backs of my knees.

I won this one! Badddddd kitty! But I’m not, really honestly I’m not a bad kitty, not a bad girl. I just want THIS one little thing. And I’ve waited so long, listened to him talk so much about HER, and tried to be supportive and helpful. I’ve dreamed about doing this to him for so long. I just want this. And then I’ll be that…anything he wants me to be. Because that’s what I really want, being a special Ones everything.

I roll lithely over onto my belly, head hanging blood rushing down, and flail about trying to grab my water bottle up off the ground. Luckily my cigarettes landed right next to canlı bahis siteleri my sandals on the bench of the picnic table. I snag the water bottle and Ally OOP myself back into a proper sitting position. I can barely stay still long enough to smoke half the cigarette before I’m wrestling my sandals back on, tossing down the last of the now barely cool water and wresting myself off and free of the battered picnic table.

GIMME GIMME oh please…..

I slink in through the open door of the garage, into the house, peeking around corners and being as quiet as a hormone crazed secret agent-huh, wonder how quiet that would be? Must be somewhat quiet, because when I peek through that last door and finally see him, it doesn’t look as if he knows I’m there.

He’s sitting sprawled out on a metal folding chair in the roughly delineated bare bones of what I take to be the house’s future dining room; his head back and a bottle of water resting, dripping condensation, against his taut belly.

I must have made a sound, because his eyes open and he smiles at me, so lazily seductive that my pussy pulses and clenches in hot,throbbing lust.

“I know what you want.” He purrs. “It’s gonna tear hell out of your knees baby. It’s gonna hurt you bad.”

I whimper helplessly, slipping further into the room. I KNOW it’s gonna hurt me. I’ve always known that getting my fantasy would hurt me but I still want it. I need it.

“I don’t care.” I whisper, eyes pleading, begging.

‘Then it’s lucky for you that I do. Because I know what you want. You want to lay me down flat and devour me, and it seems to me…” He got up from the chair, and walked away from me through a doorway. “That my idea is better. Now come here!”

And I obeyed, following him through the doorway into the room he’d entered to find him laying on a bare mattress laid out on the floor, already naked, his cock rock hard and pointing straight up.

“I don’t want splinters in my ass.” He growled, his eyes pinning me where I stood. “And you forget how much I know you. I’m allowing you your fantasy, because you’ve made it mine. You will do all those things you’ve told me you want to do to me, for MY pleasure. And after I explode down your throat, you’ll suck me hard again and I’ll flip you onto your belly and fuck that tight, teasing pussy raw!”

I almost dropped to the floor over what he said; it weakened my knees so badly.

Because he’s different. He’s not a Dom. That’s really not his thing. He’s not into D/s or BDSM in the “normal” way. But he is a dominant, alpha male. And I get that, because I write about D/s and BDSM, and I also write about “Others.” I like Vampires and the Fey…but I really like Were beasties; canine and feline.

The two words, alpha and dominant, can be capitalized or lower case. And both versions are ‘licious.

He’s not a Dominant. But he is dominant. And likewise, he’s too solitary to be THE Alpha. But he is an alpha male and believe you me I’ve no doubts about that!

And kitty only “won” because he wants me to do, what I want to do.

The though almost makes me cum, standing right there, beneath the bare bones of a barely half way finished luxury house.

“I’m waiting.” He snarl/purrs at me. And I realize…that I’M tired of waiting. And now-I can have what I want. And he’s aching, throbbing, rock dicked wanting it!

Mreowwww…kitty’s gonna be so good, at being, such a bad, bad girl!

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