“That would be great,” he said with a smile. “I could kiss you.”
Laura took a step back. “Let's keep the skin-to-skin contact at a minimum.”
Peter nodded and she saw the disappointment on his face. She did not want to go there.
“Can I drive you home?” he asked.
“Nope. I’m not going home, but thank you for the offer. I’ll see you at the library tomorrow.”
“Aren’t you working at the diner anymore?” he asked.
Laura shook her head, waved good-bye and began the walk to Dean’s house. The night air was warm, fresh and delightful. Forty minutes later she knocked on his door.
Dean answered dressed in jeans and nothing else. Laura paused. His large, half na**d body exposed for her to see. Considering he was a writer, he looked like he pushed weights for a living. She wouldn’t even get her hand around those arms.
“Laura, what are you doing here?” he asked.
“I brought some ingredients and while you work, I’m going to cook dinner. Don’t you worry, I’ve already told my parents that I’m going to be late and they said not to worry.” She lifted her bag of goodies.
“Why not?” Dean agreed and opened the door wider.
She stepped over the threshold and ignored the tingle low in her stomach when her arm brushed against his. She wore a small, plain white blouse and black skirt that fell past the knee -- the proper protocol for working at the library.
“You look like a stern teacher,” he mocked.
“They're my work clothes for the library job. What do you think?” she asked. She placed the bag on the floor and gave a twirl. The skirt cut in at the waist and smoothed over the curve of her hips. All of her was on display. She felt fat and too exposed for her liking. She thought her ass looked like two melons were rolling around under it. She personally preferred baggy clothes with plenty of space to hide her body.
“You look stunning,” he whispered.
Laura snorted, making a horrible sound. “Yeah, right," she replied sarcastically.
"You go and work and I’ll cook us dinner. And don’t argue. I know you need to get this mystery book finished." She shooed him into the study, then took on the mission in his kitchen. A cast iron pot found, she began her quest to chop, grate and cook.
* * * *
Dean sat behind his computer desk. His dick was hard. Laura did not look like a young woman in that outfit. The baggy clothes she normally wore hid most of her body from view and he could imagine her as nothing more than a young girl trying to act all grown up. And her ass—holy shit. Her ass looked so gorgeous, all round and full. When she'd turned away from him he’d been tempted to reach out and grab a handful.
He placed a hand over his throbbing c**k and moaned. The sounds from the kitchen were teasing him to abandon all good thoughts, to seek her out and force her to put out the fire she’d created in him. Never before had he acted like this with a woman. His wife had been passionate, but when he saw Carla dressed she hadn’t brought about a raging hard on.
He ran his fingers through his hair and grabbed a shirt to put on. There was no way he could have dinner with this stiffy straining his jeans. He moved to the kitchen. Oh, sweet lord, have mercy.
She was bent over and looking in the fridge, her ass sticking up into the air. From this angle alone he was given the perfect view of stockings at the top of her thighs. When did young women start wearing stockings? He had to get out of here.
“I’m just going for a quick shower. I’ve done my writing for today,” he called, facing the stairs as opposed to the delectable delights in the kitchen.
“Okay. Take your time,” she said.
I plan to.
Dean walked up the stairs and went straight to his room. He closed and locked the door before going straight to his ensuite bathroom, although there was no need to the lock the door. He saw his reflection in the full-length mirror in the corner. For most of his life he’d always had a mirror in the bathroom. He stripped out of his clothes in quick time. The ache easing in his groin the moment his jeans were around his ankles.
The reflection in the mirror showed that the time he spent on the weights in his home gym was taking effect. His arm muscles were larger and their definition was strongly outlined along his body. He thought he looked more powerful than he’d ever been throughout his forty years. His hands went to his chest and then moved down his body, over the hard planes of his stomach and to his large, protruding shaft. His tip leaked pr**cum and he ran his fingers through the sticky liquid. It had been a while since he’d masturbated or had any sexual thoughts to make him want to.
He watched himself in the mirror as he played with his balls. He ran his hands up and down his shaft. The pleasurable sensation almost brought him to his knees. He pictured Laura with her ass on display. In his mind he rid her body of the skirt and imagined her in only her stockings. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t bring up the image of her pu**y or her slit. Instead, he watched his reflection as he f**ked his hand, the head disappearing and reappearing through his fist, the image of Laura in her stockings reappearing in his mind.
He noticed the sweat now shining on his skin and he began playing with his bu**ocks as he continued pumping his dick. He felt himself so close to the edge. His cum leaked out of the tip, shiny and glossy in the light. He pictured Laura knelling in front of him, her hands tied behind her back and her mouth open, ready to receive him. Mixed feelings suddenly overcame him, one of intense arousal and the other of sheer protectiveness.
He gave himself a few more strokes and his seed shot out of the tip, landing on the laminate floor and the bottom part of the mirror. His breaths came in heavy pants. When he calmed down he turned the water on for the shower. He quickly cleaned his seed from the walls and mirror and stepped under the water for a quick shower to rid the sweat and the day’s grime from his body.
The scents wafting up through the house made him realize how hungry he was. Once he’d wiped the bathroom down, he dressed in another pair of jeans and shirt before walking down the stairs.
“Something smells good,” he said as he walked in.
Laura stood at the counter and piled a helping of boiled rice on a plate followed by the , home-made chilli. The woman was after his heart.
“I found some cheese in the fridge. No sour cream though,” she told him.
He didn’t mind. He liked his food spicy.
Laura walked over to the table and handed him a plate. She took the seat next to him and at the same time they both dived into their meal.