| |
Taryn
––––––––
I open my eyes and try to catch my breath. I have never had so many orgasms in such a short amount of time in my life. I’ve also never come so fast. This man is an expert musician, and I’m his ready and willing instrument.
“Stand up,” he orders.
I do, and watch him shove his sweatpants down, his cock springing free as he stands.
“Get on your knees,” he demands.
As I kneel, his dick in my face, he looks down at me. “Touch me.”
I lick my lips and obey, using my hand to wrap around the base. I begin to pump him up and down, then I slowly wrap my lips around the head. It seems natural for my mouth to follow the movement of my hand, and I look up at him as his eyes roll and his head cranes back.
Gently gripping my hair, he moves with my head as I take in the saltiness of the precum dripping into my mouth. I can feel him shuddering, and his moans are all the encouragement I need to keep spurring me on.
“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” he says shakily.
I don’t stop what I’m doing, but instead, use my hand to pump him faster, my mouth following, drool dribbling down my chin. I hum in acknowledgment and he repeats, “I’m gonna come, Taryn, you better pull off of I’m gonna explode down your throat.”
Well, that sounds good to me. I hum again and grip him tighter.
He groans and his dick jerks. Suddenly, warmth gushes into my mouth and slides down my throat like he promised. I have no other choice than to swallow it, so I do, and it’s not as bad as I thought it would be.
Now, when do I pop off here? Do I keep sucking until he’s soft?
I feel the gentle encouragement of his hand in my hair, pulling me off. Which I do with a slight sucking pop.
Looking up, I can see him staring down at me with hooded lids and breathing heavily. “Holy shit, Taryn, that was amazing.” He helps me up then plops down into the chair he’d vacated. He quickly slides his sweatpants back on and pulls me into his lap.
With one hand, he brushes my hair out of my face and says, “Thank you, love.” Then, we kiss again, him obviously not caring that I’d just had his junk in my mouth, and I happily kiss him back, feeling wet again and ready for more.
***
I’ve got the phone on speaker as I chat with Christa from my mom’s garage.
“I just have no idea what I’m supposed to do with all of this shit!” I say, exasperated.
“Like, what is it?” she asks.
I swipe the back of my hand against my forehead. “Just crap. Garden tools. Boxes of stuff. A broken washing machine. Car washing supplies. So much other stuff too.”
“Take pictures of the bigger stuff and list it for sale or free online locally. State that they have to pick it up. It’ll save you from paying for junk removal,” she says.
“Who wants a broken washing machine?” I ask, exasperated.
“You don’t know what’s wrong with it?”
“No clue, Mom just said it was broken then bought another one. Thankfully that one and the matching dryer still work so it’s staying in here and I’ll probably sell it with the house when it comes down to that,” I reply.
“It could be something small. People who are handy fix them then re-sell them. I’m sure someone will come get it,” Christa says. She sounds out of breath.
“What are you doing?” I ask, leaving the phone propped on the broken washer and heading to a dark corner that is stacked with boxes.
“Walking,” she replies. “You know I don’t run but I do walk around my neighborhood every day when the weather is nice.”
I look out of the open garage door to see the sun is out. I’m jealous she’s out in the sunshine while I rot here in the damn garage, sorting through this crap.
“That’s right. I need to start walking with you. My ass is getting bigger by the second, sitting in a chair all day,” I say dryly.
“Fat asses are in style, rock it, girlie.”
I laugh. “Yeah, no thanks. Cellulite is not attractive.”
“Just do some squats,” she suggests.
“That would require me having time for the gym these days,” I mutter.
“True. Well, I’m almost home. Gonna hop in the shower and get my stuff ready for work tomorrow. We need to talk about Mr. Hottie Boss later though,” she says.
I laugh. “Yeah, that’s fine, I have a lot to tell you.”
She lets out a little squeal. “Ooh, I can’t wait.”
After I end the call, I pick up the first box I see. It’s not marked so I open it and smile when I see my cheerleading uniform at the top. Why did she keep this? I’ll never know. I remove it and look at the bottom of the box. My diary. Oh, my gosh, I’d forgotten about this thing.
I turn the manual dials to put in the three-digit code, 1-2-3, and open it up. I thumb through it, smiling at my young teen thoughts. I continue to flip through it when I see Carter’s name and stop.
July 20
I can’t believe they came! I asked Eric to ask Carter if they’d come help at my cheerleading car wash fundraiser and Eric said I was stupid cuz they’re 22 and too old but my teacher said they could be our ‘sponsors’ so I begged and begged and they showed up! They took their shirts off and we got so many cars coming through—lots of old ladies. It was awesome! We made $412! I was really distracted tho! Carter without a shirt looks like some kind of movie star. I could not keep my eyes off him. I know he’s old but he’s sooo fine. I hope he’s still single when I turn 18 cuz I’m gonna snag him! <3 <3 <3
I chuckle at my little thirteen-year-old self. If I could go back in time and tell myself anything, it would be to just be patient, her dreams were going to come true.
I flip through the diary and find another from when I was 17.
December 26
Carter is staying with us during Christmas. He moved to Kansas for some girl he met but they broke up and he’s moving back here and starting his own business. I keep trying to flirt with him but he barely gives me the time of day and calls me ‘kid’ like when I really was a kid. I’m almost 18 and I wish he’d notice me. Oh well, at least he’s moving back here and I’ll get the chance to see him again hopefully! He’s soooo fine.
Yes, he is. I sigh dreamily like my seventeen-year-old self.
That is the last entry. I remember thinking writing in a diary was dumb and for kids so I’d stopped. I wish I hadn’t. Maybe I should start journaling. The grief counselor I saw after Mom’s death suggested it. She eluded that I still had unresolved anger and sadness about Eric’s situation and told me it was okay to grieve losing him, even though temporarily. Said I should be writing down how I feel, either in a physical journal or an online one, or start a blog, even if I only shared it with myself.
After reading my diary, I think maybe it won’t be such a bad idea.
I put the journal, my high school yearbook, and the cheerleading outfit back into the box and use the Sharpie to mark it with a K to keep. I can’t give that stuff away. I’m glad it’s only my high school cheerleading uniform she saved though. I’d started cheering young—in elementary school, but thankfully those old uniforms had been donated or thrown out, if I remember.
I peer around the garage and at the rest of the boxes I have to go through. Well, I can only hope there are no more uniforms in there. Then, I remember all the sports Eric played and groan. Yeah, it’s going to be a long day.
***
Coffee in hand, I greet everyone cheerfully Monday morning as I enter the office. After Carter dropped me off at home Sunday morning after spending all day Saturday with him—mostly in bed or eating delivery—I’d spent the whole day at Mom’s, cleaning things out. I made pretty good progress, but I still have a lot to do. The junk haulers are going to be making a pretty penny from me. I’m just glad I have a place to store the things I decided to keep.
“How was your weekend?” Jeff asks as I sit at my desk and start to turn everything on.
I smile at him as I shove my purse into my desk drawer. “It was awesome. How was yours?”
“Very nice. Took the kids to the water park on Saturday, then church on Sunday.”
“Sounds very relaxing. I haven’t been to the water park since I was a kid. I need to go back. Sounds like fun.”
“Yeah, they just opened Memorial Day weekend. Better go before the end of the summer.”
I nod in agreement but he’s still standing at my cubicle. Usually he greets me in the morning on his way to the breakroom to get coffee, but he’s lingering.
“Is there something you need to talk to me about?” I ask, not sure what else to say.
He’s hesitant. Jeff is a very friendly guy—a family man. Probably in his late 30s. He’s a good supervisor and is always very helpful. But one thing he’s not is confrontational. He’s easygoing and I’ve never seen him angry. Finally, he says, “I’m sorry about what happened Friday, I didn’t know you’d gotten locked in the office on Thursday night. I’ve been feeling bad about it all weekend.”
I haven’t...
“Were you feeling bad about me getting my butt chewed from Mr. Lockwood, or that I was stuck on the floor?” I ask with a grin.
He smiles. “Both. But mostly what Mr. Lockwood said. I mean, he’s right, but I should have briefed you on what to do in case that happens.”
“It’s okay, Jeff. Now I know. I don’t usually stay late anyway. I was just trying to wrap up one last thing so I didn’t have to deal with it Friday.”
Jeff looks relieved. “Okay good. If you’re not upset, then I’m not upset.”
I wave a dismissive hand. “Not at all.”
He walks away and I plug in my username and password to start my day.
After a couple of hours, an instant message pops up on my screen: My office pls. Grab a folder with papers in it and bring it with you.
The top of the message has Carter’s name. Weird, but okay.
I grab a manilla folder that has all my work tickets in it and my tablet and head down the hall to his office. I greet Briana. “Hi, Mr. Lockwood wanted to see me?”
She smiles and points to his door. “Yes, go ahead and go through.”
“Thanks,” I say, knocking twice and opening the door.
Carter sits behind his desk and looks fierce in a crisp charcoal gray shirt and shiny blue tie.
“Hi,” I say.
He turns to smile at me. “Hello yourself.”
I just stand there awkwardly, not sure what he wants me to do. It’s so weird that I can be so comfortable and act myself at his house, but in here, I feel like a child asking my dad if I can go to a sleepover at a friend’s house.
Not that I knew my dad, but still.
“Close the door and come here,” he says quietly, and I head toward him. I go around his desk and he pulls me to sit in his lap. He smells absolutely insane and I want to rub myself all over him like a cat.
“Hi,” he says against my lips, and then kisses me.
I’m still holding the folder and tablet so I set them on the desk and then put my hand on the back of his head as we kiss.
“I missed you yesterday. I just had to see you,” he says after he pulls away slightly.
“I’m glad,” I say. “Because I thought for sure I was going to get a spanking in here for breaking into your computer.”
“That’ll be later. At my house. With my leather flogger.”
My eyes widen. “Really?”
“Absolutely. Or I might make you wear a toy in your panties all day at work and then I’ll remotely turn it on to turn you on sporadically throughout the day.”
I gasp. “You wouldn’t.”
“Oh, yes, I would.”
“Carter! I can’t be sitting at my desk having orgasms all day. Plus, wouldn’t my coworkers hear it?” I ask.
He smirks. “Probably.”
I smack him on the chest and get up. “I need to get back to work.”
Carter adjusts himself through the outside of his black slacks and says, “I’d rather bend you over this desk, but yes, better get back to it. I don’t need the smell of sex and your perfume lingering in here for Briana and my two o’clock meeting to discover.” He smacks my ass.
I lick my lips and check my reflection in my electronic tablet to make sure I don’t have lipstick smeared on my face before I walk out of the office, swaying my hips a little more than usual. I much prefer that treatment to the one he’s been giving me for the past couple of months.