The Handyman (18+ Only) [COMPLETED]

6: In Which She Takes a Bath

“That it’s a fucking old house,” I panted in response to his question after I’d come down to earth with a bang.

“It’s ancient,” he groaned, before his own pleasure consumed him and he was squeezing the life out of me. “Good girl.”

The urge to remind him that I was two decades away from being a girl was strong. Still, I loved it when he called me that. It was such a turn-on to be called a good girl. Or, even better, a bad one. Most of the time, I was bad.

“My skin’s getting pruned,” I breathed, getting off him and slowly pulling myself to my feet. Vaughn stared up at me, desire in his dazzling jade eyes once more. “And no, we’re not screwing again. You need to work on this shower.”

“OK, OK.” He got up in one fluid motion, removing the condom. Looking down at me, he laid a kiss on my forehead. “I find you extremely sexy, Mrs. Harrington.”

I reddened. I did not need the reminder of my husband. “Sofia. It’s Sofia. Just Sofia.”

“I find it pretty sexy to be fúcking a married woman,” he breathed in my ear. He chuckled, stepping out the bathtub to dispose of the condom. Then he grabbed my towel, wrapped it around his waist and headed back into the bedroom, where we’d first had sex that morning.

I made a mental note to take care of the incriminating latex in the bin.

Just what is wrong with you, Sofia? I thought to myself, shaking my head and getting out the tub as well. Naked and dripping, I followed him back into the bedroom.

He’d already pulled on his boxers, his back to me. Once again, I admired his long, youthful body. What was a man like him doing with a woman like me? Vaughn struck me as one of those sex-crazed playboys with boyish charm and c0cks of steel who only targeted gazelle-like blondes.

So where did I, a married, unfit older woman, come into the picture?

“Sofia, put some clothes on. Or I’ll have to eat you,” Vaughn was saying, a smirk on his face. It was only then that I realised that he was fully-clothed while I was standing nude, drooling over him like a pubescent teenager.

I picked my towel up from the carpet and quickly dried myself up, aware of Vaughn sitting on the bed and watching me. I wanted to tell him to go away.

“You need help with that?” he asked as I rubbed in my sunscreen.

“Nope.”

“I think you do,” he said determinedly, and came to stand behind me. “Give me that.”

“Vaughn, I really don’t –”

The bottle was snatched from me and I shut my mouth, watching our reflections in the mirror. Mine shivered in anticipation; his got to work rubbing the cream onto my shoulders. Just the gentlest, lightest touch was an electric shock to my entire body.

Vaughn was gentle, rubbing the sunscreen into every bit of my body that was likely to be exposed to the sun’s scorching rays. His hands cupped my breasts, carefully massaging them, playfully teasing my nipples. Uninhibited, I released a low moan, leaning back into him.

I felt that he was hard once again.

Without talking, I turned around and unbuttoned the fly of his shorts as he mashed his mouth against mine, already following my train of thought. Pushing me back into the vanity table, he swept my cosmetics onto the floor and set me on top of it. I should’ve been annoyed about my spilled perfume, but not right then. I was too wet to care about such trivial things. Again. With that thought, Vaughn entered me with such force that I let out a scream, biting down on his lip, hard enough to draw blood.

Wrapping my legs around his waist and leaning back against the mirror, I experienced a quick and almost painful climax. Vaughn followed, his shout stifled with his mouth on my skin. Gasping for air, he lifted me up, still semi-erect inside me, and gently set me on the bed, meshing his body against mine. I ran my hands through his hair, still panting.

Staring into each other’s eyes like this was not part of the deal, but that’s exactly what we were doing. Once again, I was struck by how beautiful his eyes were; how vivacious.

And then the door opened.

With great effort, Vaughn pulled out of me, still hard, and I jumped up, grabbing my towel and wrapping it around me.

A tall, golden-haired woman stood in the doorway, a straw basket in hand. She blinked in shock at the two of us.

“I…I heard… The scream,” Harriet Periwinkle said, her gaze staying on Vaughn. “Jack said you wouldn’t be able to make it for brunch, so I brought it to you.” She held up the basket, her lined face flushing. “Er…I’ll be downstairs?”

Oh God. This is not happening.

“Yeah. Could you…could you wait in the kitchen?” I asked, matching her rouge skin tone.

“Of..of course.” She closed the door behind her.

This is horrible, I thought furiously, getting up. I shot a glare at Vaughn, who had a big grin on his face.

“What’s so funny?” I spat, thoughts of Harriet blabbing to Jack racing through my mind. She’d tell him, wouldn’t she? And then Jack would… He’d leave me. Or he’d do the thing he’d done once. The thing I swore had never happened...

Vaughn let out a short bark of laughter. “Did you see her eyes on my díck?”