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Ağu 05

V is for Veronica Ch. 05

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Ass

Rakeem

It doesn’t matter how much space I take, Veronica lives at the forefront of my mind now. I wipe down the spackle on the drywall of Mrs. Lombardo’s master bathroom, and reapply it for the third time. I need to get my head in the game.

We were simple. It was all supposed to be simple. Just me and Veronica, doing what we do. I guess shit isn’t that simple anymore. Maybe it never was. Everything else in my life has just been so complicated that this seemed simple in comparison.

A wave doesn’t have to be a tsunami to drown in it, though.

The renovation of Mrs. Lombardo’s bathroom was on the books for ages, but because it was such a big job, we hadn’t gotten to it until now. This whole week there’s been a few of us knocking down a wall to open up the bathroom and installing a clawed antique tub along a stone tiled wall.

In other words, bougie.

The bulk of the work is done, though, and I’m here for touch ups on the spackle and some interim cleanup. After the weekend, we’ll paint with a crew.

But today, it’s just me and Eva. Just how she likes it.

I can’t complain. It’s been quiet. I’ve been listening to music. I can’t focus though. I just keep thinking about how good Vivi feels and then about how quickly she shoved me away when shit went down with Janessa.

I can’t stop thinking of the sexual tension between them that was so thick it was hard to breathe. I can’t stop thinking of the look of horror on her face when Janessa touched me. Was it for her? Was it for me?

If what Janessa said was true, it wasn’t for me. I’m just a stand in until a woman comes that can meet Vivi’s needs.

I cut my finger on the edge of the putty knife while I clean it. My hands are so dry and my head is so far up my ass I don’t even notice when I’m doing stupid shit. It takes a special kind of stupid to get hurt from a spackle knife.

I’m a special kind of stupid.

“Fuck,” I sigh, and reach for a paper towel from my bucket. I need a distraction from Veronica, not from work.

“Ouch,” Mrs. Lombardo says. I look up. Mrs. L is wearing a cream blouse that clings to her like Saran Wrap, with a plunging neckline that dips starkly down to the bottom of her sternum. Her high waisted black pants are like a second skin.

“Good morning, Mrs. L, looking beautiful as always,” I smile and nod politely, as though I’m not bleeding.

She raises her finely arched brows and smiles, “You’re funny. Let me help you with that.

As though she was a ghost, Mrs. L glides past me into the bathroom and rummages in her medicine cabinet. I straighten, heavy and sad, but try to shake it off before it draws attention.

“Come,” she declares, a smile playing on her lips.

I stretch and amble towards her, not at all missing the innuendo. I have to give credit where credit’s due, she has absolutely redirected my focus.

“What has you down, Mr. Harris?” she purrs, cleaning my hand. Her scent is redolent and feminine, making my head spin a little.

Alas, attention drawn. I gaze at her for a moment, almost wishing I could tell her. Wishing I could just say that I don’t understand how I can feel so unmoored, lost, and listless while simultaneously so very restricted to the point where it feels like my bones will break. That my respite from the storm of bullshit that is the unending drama in my life, with her musical laugh and razor sharp wit, just became yet another port in its path.

Dramatic. I am so tired.

“I’m fine,” I murmur quietly. She bandages my hand. “Thank you.”

“Now, I know you’re quiet,” Mrs. L smirks, dragging her eyes up and down my frame. I’m numb, largely, but I’m rooted to the spot. “Even for you, though.”

She leans her hip against the newly installed countertop and examines me, hiding nothing in her expression. Just open lust.

There’s an honesty to it.

“Girl trouble?” she asks. It’s her go to, but today she’s on the money.

I don’t say anything though, it would only invite more questions and I don’t have therapy with Mrs. Eva Lombardo scheduled today.

“Would this have anything to do with that phone call you had on break?” her voice is low and husky, and I know exactly what she’s referring to, and suddenly every nerve ending is at attention. “Hmm. It is.”

And here I almost forgot about her fangs. I take a step back. “I should get back to work, ma’am,” I clear my throat.

She laughs her airy laugh with a “suit yourself”, and disappears around the corner. My face feels hot at the memory, a mixture of arousal and embarrassment. I don’t know where she’s taking this. She let it rest for so long I allowed myself to relax, to almost forget about it. Again, a special type of stupid.

She fades into the background, however, leaving me to my thoughts. I focus on getting everything done as efficiently as possible so I can get out of dodge.

By lunchtime I’m cleaning up, setting the room for painting, and removing all the debris and unnecessary items. I london escorts start taking trips to the truck, satisfied with my work, and packing up my supplies.

Just before my final trip, I come back and evaluate the drywall, the room, looking to see if there’s anything missing that we’d need to bring on Monday, and pick up any residual trash.

“Why does it look like you’re leaving?” a pouting Mrs. L appears. I smile, but I’m wary.

“I’m done for the day, Mrs. L.”

“Eva,” she pouts.

“Eva,” I amend. I wipe my brow.

“Rakeem,” she murmurs, taking another step forward. “What do you have planned for the rest of the day?”

“Heading back to the shop, ma’am.” I am uncomfortable with this line of questioning.

“Do they know you’ve finished?”

I pause, and I can’t help myself. “What would make you ask that?”

“Just curious, I guess.” Her eyes are sharp and dilated. I hand her my clipboard with the paperwork to sign. She dutifully takes care of it making sure her hand is on mine.

I have to get out of here. She’s got the devil on her mind.

“Thank you, Eva,” I nod when she lets go of me and my clipboard. I pull out my phone and take a picture of the contract and I text over the photo of the contract while I’m walking towards the door of her bedroom to grab the garbage and leave.

She catches me by the belt loops of my jeans. A chill runs up my spine.

Did she really just put hands on me?

Eva tugs me backwards and slides her hands over my hips from behind. Her nails are red and long and natural. The rock on her left hand has a blinding sparkle, and my heart is in my throat.

I look over my shoulder in surprise. “Ma’am?”

She presses her body up against my back. Veronica’s teasing about taking Mrs. L to bed flashes in my mind and I can feel my dick stirring. Her hands are dangerously close to my growing bulge.

I don’t have time to think. I have to think. But she wraps her arms around me, under my shirt to run her fingertips along my belly, groping.

Shit, shit, shit.

“Mrs–…Eva,” I warn as her fingers trace my abdominals upwards until she finds my nipples. I grunt from the sensation.

I cannot fucking believe the balls on this woman.

“This is not a good idea, I could lose my job,” I hiss.

“You’re off the clock aren’t you?” Her voice is husky. “It’s not like you’re fucking around on the job.”

I pocket my phone very carefully.

Hearing that language out of her mouth is jarring. I shudder as she runs her nails over both my nipples again.

“You don’t want it?” Her hands, flat against my stomach, start to slide down a dangerous path. I catch her wrists just as her fingertips pass the waistband of my jeans, stopping her. She chuckles deep in her chest and my heart is slamming.

Nah.

“I don’t want trouble, ma’am,” I murmur. ” Look, Mrs. L–you are married, I don’t want to disrespect your husband. He looks very large.” Very large.

“Fuck my husband,” she snarls.

I raise my eyebrows and slowly tug her hands off me. I keep hold of one of her wrists though, holding it up and to the side away from me, but I have to appreciate what it does to her chest. The swell of her pale breasts are inviting, almost like they’re telling me how easy it would be to slide my hands into her blouse and grasp the nipples straining against the fabric.

Her thighs are pressed together. She’s looking at me intently.

“He’s on business in Vegas and probably fucking everything he sees like he always does and if not, it’s probably his new intern. I’m just a trophy wife, arm candy for the events,” she laughs bitterly, her eyes hot. She snatches her wrist back and grasps the bulge in my pants and I suck in a breath.

“I do what I want, Rakeem,” she purrs. I look down in her face, and once again grab her wrist.

“I..” I breathe, trying to find the words.

Man, I am not trying to get my ass beat.

“You’re fucking hard as a rock,” she growls. “For me. Give me what’s mine.”

I’m speechless, she’s vicious. I’ve never seen this side of her. I open my mouth and close it.

“Sit down,” she demands. I’m frozen in place, gawking at her.

“Now,” she hisses and she shoves me with surprising strength onto the chaise lounge in her bedroom. I land hard, and it knocks the wind out of me, and the world spins.

She straddles my lap and grasps my chin tight, her nails grazing my cheeks and turns my face to hers. “I’m going to ride your cock until I cum, and then I’m going to ride your face.”

I blink and find her eyes, cold and hot at the same time, and my cock surges against her without my permission. She grinds down, pleased, and I huff out a breath and a groan.

“Do you understand?” she smiles sweetly, but her excitement is barely contained. She’s got a rosy flush spreading across her chest, and I can see sweat prickling on her neck.

I don’t know what to do. I can’t do this, though.

She grinds over my cock and I groan. “Rakeem, I london escort could’ve reported you for rubbing your cock in my driveway, but I didn’t, did I?”

“No, ma’am,” I whisper.

“Quid pro quo, Rakeem. Now, are you going to make me cum?” she smirks, rotating her hips. My traitor of a cock throbs below her, and my eyes flutter closed. She lets out a soft moan, riding the seam of her pants against me. Fuck, my boxers are going to be a mess.

“Good boy,” she purrs. “You are a good boy, right?

She takes off my glasses.

Enough. I catch her wrist. Nobody has ever spoken to me in this way, ever. Now I want to fuck her. I want to ruin her for any other fucking dick she has in her life for talking to me like this. I’m tired of being out of control of my life, and this rich, grown Veruca Salt brat isn’t going to be yet another thing, another person that runs me in circles like a damn dog.

Nah. Fuck that noise. I grasp her hard by the hips. Her eyes widen and she flushes a pretty pink.

“No,” I growl, seizing control. I flip her onto her back on the couch and pin her beneath me until we’re nose to nose. “I am not a good boy, Eva.”

Those aquamarine eyes of hers are wide, and her pupils large with lust. A lustful sound vibrates in her throat.

“I am a fucking man, and that’s why you want it,” I flick my tongue against her lips and she writhes beneath me. She’s panting, trying to rub on my cock but I shift my hips against hers so she can’t and she whimpers. “Say it.”

“You’re a man,” she breathes, undulating like a snake.

“And you,” I murmur, pushing her face to the side with mine with some force. I nip her earlobe. “Are not a good girl at all.”

Her hips rise in a desperate attempt to touch me.

“You’ve put me in a really difficult position,” I hiss, dragging my teeth down her neck. She brings her arms up to wrap around me but I pin them above her head.

“If I tell you no, I could lose my job. If I tell you yes, I could lose my job,” I bite hard enough to mark her on her shoulder and she gasps. “Your man finds me, he could beat my ass, you could raise a fucking fuss, tell him I forced you. You’ve made your power over me abundantly clear.”

“No! Rakeem I would ne-” she begins to protest, seemingly horrified at the thought. Easy for her to say. Helpless whimpers eke out when I claim her mouth, interrupting her useless defense. This is going to happen on my goddamned terms.

For once, I decide.

Her mouth is sweet, like sugared coffee. Her kisses are hungry and possessive. Her lips feel so different, but not in a bad way. They’re new, and her tongue snakes into my mouth like I’m her first meal after a fast.

I pull away. I’m not done.

“But you could. And he’d believe you,” I stare into her eyes. “Everyone would believe you.”

She’s nervous and hot and trying to figure out the words that will convince me that she would do no such thing, to just put that notion out of my mind, but there aren’t any. She closes her eyes and nods.

She rocks her hips. Bitch wants it bad.

“Please,” she whispers and I smile slowly, lasciviously, and she pants, her eyes pleading.

“Please what?”

“Please, sir,” she moans. I raise my eyebrows in surprise. That was not at all what I was asking for, but I don’t hate it.

“Hmm,” I muse. I pull my weight off her, one foot on the floor, and press my knee between her thighs. The crotch of her pants is damp and hot and the air is thick with the scent of her arousal.

I slide my hands into the V of her shirt. I push the fabric off to the side.

Her chest is flushed and heaving and I gaze approvingly down at her breasts. I think of how I’ll describe them to Veronica when I tell her I finally fucked the cougar like she always wanted.

Pink tipped. Creamy. A sizable handful. I brush my thumb over a nipple. She whimpers and grinds on my thigh.

I lower my mouth to one and lightly swirl my tongue around it, keeping my eyes on hers. I’m killing her with this pace. Good. She grits her teeth when I flick it with my tongue.

“Fuck me, for chrissakes!” she erupts. “I can’t fucking take it, Rakeem, what the fuck do you want? A contract? I fucking ask for you exclusively–I’ve wanted you for years. I make myself cum at the thought of you. Fucking give it to me!”

“Beg,” I grit out. There’s a flash of outrage in her eyes that quickly transforms into smoldering heat.

“Make me,” she challenges.

Aight.

I pull back from her and move away. “No.” I hide my smile at her sudden panic. I make to leave.

“Please!” she scrambles to her knees, tumbling off the lounger and grasping at the waistband of my jeans. I watch her pretty tits and hard nipples sway.

“Please?” She begins to unbutton my pants. I allow her. She’s looking up at me with her pleading eyes. I smirk. She slowly unzips my fly, gaining confidence.

“Pretty please?” she grins, flirty now. I watch her in silence, waiting. She tugs my jeans down, sliding my boxers london escort agency with them.

“With a cherry on top?” she whispers. Out springs my cock and she sucks in a breath in delight.

I clasp my hands behind my back and look down at her. She surprises me by running her tongue along the veiny shaft up and up. She bathes the exposed head of my cock with her tongue and then plays with the sensitive flesh of my foreskin. I flex hard to keep my balance and let my head fall back. I shiver.

“I’ll make it worth your while,” she gazes at me coyly, my precum and saliva like a spiders web between us.

“Please do,” I intone.

She sucks down my cock, her red lips tight and tongue like velvet and I gasp. I have to brace myself on the doorframe to the bathroom, and I use the other hand to grip her blonde head. She moans on my cock. She takes it all the way down into her throat.

Goddamn, Mrs. L.

She looks up at me and I’m breathless at the sight of her, her lips tight and unyielding, and she comes back up, working the base as she does, searching my face for approval.

I lick my lips and close my eyes.

“Good girl,” I breathe, and she moans on my cock. I pull my shirt up over my head and her eyes widen; she bobs up and down hard and fast.

I shudder and tighten my body, the wet vulgar sounds of her mouth, the drag of my head on her throat consuming me. I groan quietly, and she works my balls, grazing my taint with her nails. She strokes and she licks and she pops off, the sound rude and arousing.

“You like it?’ she moans in a broken voice. I can see her hair standing on end. I gasp and my hips jerk when she takes me in again.

Instead of answering her, I grip her head hard. Her eyes bulge and she looks up at me as I push myself into her throat. She grips my thighs when I roll my hips back.

“You know what I’m going to do?” I ask.

“Mmhmph,” she gargles around me with her mouth stretched wide.

I start slow, pulling in and out of her mouth. When I begin to pick up the pace she gags and her eyes well up. She squeezes them shut.

“Eyes on me,” I snarl, and her wet eyes quickly obey.

I fuck her face. I fuck her throat, and the shrieks trapped in her throat hit my cock. Tears streak her face, and I feel her claws break skin on my hips.

I smile wide. But I’m not ready to cum yet. I pull her off my cock by her hair. She’s panting and her lips are puffy and swollen from sucking me off, her face beet red. She could cut stone with her nipples.

I gently tug upwards and she rises on shaky legs. I kiss the corner of her mouth, tugging her head back to expose her throat. She whimpers and I mark her again with a bite on her clavicle. I take her mouth forcefully and her hands fly up to my face, her tongue battling mine for dominance.

She kisses me with urgency and grasps my cock stroking it, while she pushes her tongue against mine. I grip her by the back of her head, dominating her with my mouth, making her moan. Making her mine.

With one hand I unbutton and unzip her pants. She drops her hand to help me, and between us we push them down. They’re fucking tight. I guide her down so she’s sitting on the lounger and admire her ruddy knees. I kneel before her and tug the pants down the rest of the way, peeling them from her smooth legs.

I kiss the arch of her soft foot and straighten. I’ve teased her enough.

Her panties are…just for decoration. Sheer red mesh barely covers her mound, waxed bare with the exception of a dark blonde landing strip.

A natural blonde. Hm.

I push her knees apart like I told Veronica I would all those weeks ago, and I’m greeted with the delicious musk of her sex. I tug her legs forward, opening her to me. She’s fine as hell. I roll her g-string down and toss it with my jeans to keep. She giggles.

I don’t think I’ve ever met an ugly pussy in my life, and hers is no exception. I come in close and breathe her in.

“Rakeem,” she whispers.

I bury my face between her legs, and press my tongue against her. She wails and grips my head. She’s delicious, with a big swollen clit and I lap at it, sucking her pussy lips into my mouth, dipping my tongue inside her to collect the nectar inside. I slide my tongue up and down and hear her squeal. I pulse my tongue on her clit.

I can hear the sounds of Veronica’s begging echoing in my head and I pick up my pace. Eva pushes her cunt against me and I use my whole damn face. My lips, my tongue, my nose, and lips and she locks up with a climbing moan, cumming in what feels like mere moments.

She’s vocal, but not loud like Veronica. Her pussy isn’t tucked away and hidden like Veronica’s.

I feel her juice flood my tongue and she pants my name.

“Please, Rakeem, please, please, please. Please, please, please,” she gasps and I suck her fat clit hard and now she screams. Now she’s loud.

I slip my fingers into her while she howls and she nearly chokes, her back arching, her hips spasming.

“Fuck me, Rakeem!” she barks, and I push my face up and hard against her, my tongue dancing along her velvety sex and she’s thrashing again, grasping my hair and cutting off my air supply with her pussy.

I gasp for breath when she lets go.

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