CPOV
After the staff meeting, Ana and I worked in her classroom for a while - bringing in a few boxes of her personal supplies, setting up a reading corner with a Poang chair from IKEA - she finally managed to get me in that store and... it wasn't horrible. I might have to go back at least for some more of those Swedish meatballs.
We just got home, and I'm heading over to the worksite to see if they've finished pouring the concrete walkways while Ana goes in to start dinner. They look great, and I take a minute to admire them and talk with the workmen.
"D'ya think the missus will approve?" asks Derek, the foreman, with a twinkle in his eye. He and his men have had fun teasing me about my new status. I started this project as a single guy, and it was all about what I wanted for myself. That quickly changed into what she would like, and what would be best for us.
I leave them to finish up for the day, turning to take in the view and to give myself just a minute before I head in to see my girl. I couldn't help but notice that Laura was shooting daggers at Ana, and I know Ana felt it too. She didn't say anything while we were at the school, but she was a little quieter than normal. I have a feeling that she's inside brewing over it right now, ready for me when I go in.
Laura pursued me pretty persistently last year, eventually ending up in my office late one afternoon. I'm not perfect and let's face it - I'd had a pretty long dry spell. We kissed, and there was some pretty heavy petting... until my face was in her very full, very firm breasts. And my only thought was 'Are these real? They can't be real, can they?' And I pulled back, realizing that it wasn't just her breasts that were the problem. Everything about her was fake... from her colored and carefully coiffed hair, to her heavy makeup, to her pointy stilettos. She was perched on my desk by this point, and over her shoulder, I caught sight of my favorite photo of my girl. Messy ponytail, no make-up... all natural and drop-dead gorgeous.
So I pulled away, made some excuse about being inappropriate in the workplace, and ushered her out of my office.
Sighing, I turn and head for the shed... hoping that she's not too mad and that she left that staff shirt on like I asked. I can hear cabinet doors being slammed, pots being banged as soon as I slide back the door. Here we go.
As I make my way over to our living quarters, I can see that she is still wearing the jersey shirt and that her legs are bare below it. She's sending off mixed messages, but my pants tighten at exactly what I could do with a naked and pissed-off Ana in my kitchen.
I'm just a few feet from her when she whips around to face me, her hair wild and her cheeks flushed. She's a green - er, blue - eyed goddess, and I involuntarily reach for her. She jumps back as if I'm about to scald her, effectively pinning herself between me and the counter.
"Whatcha makin'" I ask, peering around her at what she's been preparing.
"Pasta with bolognese sauce. Did you sleep with her?"
"Who?" As if I didn't already know.
"Laura what's-her-name. The slut puppy who couldn't keep her eyes off you."
I feel the corners of my mouth twitch. Slut puppy? Really? Oh, my girl is jealous.
"Don't you dare laugh. This isn't funny. Tell me. Do you still have feelings for her?"
"Ana, NO. I told you before... I haven't slept with anyone. Not since Natalie. It's the truth." I decide that I better just tell her everything. It's not like I did anything wrong. Except that I could have told her - warned her - before today. "We kissed... once. She was a warm and very willing body. But before it went any further, I realized that was just all artificial and wrong for me. Fake personality... fake hair..."
"Fake tits," she says, crossing her arms under her very real ones.
"Yes. And then I spotted the photo of you on my wall... and all desire for her just - poof." I throw my hands in the air for emphasis.
"Poof?"
"Yes. Okay?"
"Mmm... okay." She puckers her lips and I lean in, plant one on her.
"Now... you are looking mighty inviting for someone who's mad at me."
"Maybe I just wanted you to see what you'd be missing... you know. If you didn't want to be truthful... or you decided..." She shrugs and looks down at her feet.
"No. Not gonna happen. Look at me." I put one finger under her chin, pull up so her eyes are forced to meet mine. Her eyes are uncertain and shiny with unshed tears. She's so smart-mouthed and seemingly confident most of the time, that I forget the hurt - the damage - that he caused, that's still lurking inside her. "You are everything I want."
"So now what?"
"Now I want everything," I say, reaching behind her and clearing a space on the counter with one sweep of my hand.
She squeals as I lift her onto the counter, but allows me access as I part her legs and step between them. I look her over from the top of her head to her painted toenails, trying to decide where to start, and then plunge my face between her very real tits. I suck on one and then the other, leaving two wet spots with her nipples straining against the fabric. "Such a good girl," I whisper, kissing my way down her midline, "to leave this on for me. But what... do we have under here?" I ask, as I lift the hem of her jersey. I'm pleased to find that she's wearing a tiny, navy thong. Oh yes. I lean down and kiss her stomach right above the lacy swatch of fabric. I hear her breathe in sharply, feel her body twitch and arch backwards.
"Christian, please..." she gasps. I'm finding that she's a little self-conscious when it comes to me just appreciating her body. She's a spank-and-slam kind of girl. But not tonight... Tonight I'm going to take my time. No toys, no kink, no pain... just us.
"Did you just put these on?" I ask, sliding one finger under the elastic of her thong. "Or have you been wearing these all day under your work clothes? Were you thinking of me while you were squirming in your seat?"
"Yes. All day... now please," she reaches for my belt, intent on freeing me, but I take half a step back, shaking my head. No.
She growls in frustration and tries to snap her thighs shut... it's truly adorable, but she's not getting her way. I grip her knees, spreading them even wider, and I can see the moisture coating her inner thighs. She might be pissed, but she's also aroused as fuck. The sight makes me painfully hard, and I almost wish that I'd let her open my pants. But then this would be over much too quickly.
I reach forward and slide one finger inside the soaked fabric, and this time she jolts forward and her mouth is at my neck. I can hear her breathing, fast and shallow, in my ear. "You're making a mess on this countertop," I scold. "I'd better clean you up."
I slide her thong down her legs, letting it drop to the floor, then dive between her legs. By the time I'm finished, she's come - twice - and it's even messier than when I started. She's starting to slide around in the wetness, and the counter's a bit high for what I want to do next, so I take her into my arms and carry her bridal-style over to the little kitchen table. Her eyes closed and body limp, she doesn't protest - maybe doesn't even realize where she is. I peel off her shirt before laying her down, her knees at the edge, and her lower legs dangling. Perfect.
I pull off my own staff shirt and finally open my pants and free my dick, which is throbbing now and leaking cum from the tip. Her glistening center is lined up perfectly with the edge of the table, and I waste no time in thrusting into her. Fucking finally.
She's warm and so wet, and I can hear slurping sounds as I pound into her. I could almost believe that she's passed out completely, but then I feel her walls begin to tighten around me. I look up, and her blue eyes are cracked open and there's a little smile on her face.
"Come on baby. I need you to come. One more time..." Now it's me that's begging, because I'm about to blow. "Right... NOW."
On command she closes her eyes and throws her head back, moaning as she milks me, as I feel myself tip over the edge and spurt inside her over and over and... oh fuck me... I collapse on top of her.
I'm sweating and breathing hard, and I feel my damp skin slide against hers, our hearts pounding against one another. She lies still for a minute... two, before she starts to squirm. "So sweaty... too heavy," she manages to gasp, which is impressive considering I'm smashing her lungs.
I chuckle and push myself up and into a standing position, then reach down and pick her up again, this time carrying her to our bed. "Now do you believe me?" I ask. "You're everything."
"Mmmm..." And she rolls into me, tucking herself in along my body. Where she belongs... fucking finally is the last thought through my head before we both pass out.
=/=/=/=
I'm awakened by the sound of an unhappy stomach rumbling, and then I hear a soft giggle. "Was that your stomach or mine?" She asks. "You didn't let me finish making dinner."
Showing no sign that she was passed out spread-eagled on our table an hour ago, she pops up and dresses in one of my tee-shirts and a pair of my boxer briefs. So sexy. She turns on some girly pop music and dances around the kitchen, wiggling her hips to the beat. I feel completely spent - satisfied, but spent. And then I remember that she's only twenty-three, young and resilient. I get that guilty feeling in my gut, the one that reminds me that I'm robbing the cradle, but I push it down. Nothing to be done about it, because I am one-hundred percent in love with her.
I'd rather just lie here and enjoy the show, but finally manage to pry myself out of bed, my bad knee complaining just a bit, and go to help her in the kitchen. The table's going to need a good cleaning before we can eat. I take time to get dressed myself, because God knows I won't survive another round before dinner.
=/=/=/=
"So. Where are we on RSVPs for the wedding - er, wedding-slash-barbecue?" She asks, wiping her mouth on her napkin and getting up from the table.
Ohh... she's gone from pissed-off to sex goddess to dancing chef... straight into wedding planning mode. We're all set for next Saturday at six o'clock... ten days from now. And counting.
All of the major players are on board, except that I haven't officially introduced Ana to Matt and Olive yet. We've FaceTimed with my family in Colorado a couple of times, and they're all coming to the ceremony. When it comes to my family, they're happy if they can see that I'm happy.
And we've been up to Montesano to spend a weekend with Ray. He took me fishing, and over an hour of staring at our bobbers, I was able to convince him of two things: First, that we didn't cross the line while she was in high school. Well, there was that tiny little... but he doesn't need to know about that. Second, I assured him that my intentions with his daughter were nothing but noble. In his quiet way, he reminded me that he was trained as a sharp-shooter in the military. And then we went back to fishing. We stayed overnight and behaved ourselves in her childhood bedroom... mostly.
As for Ana's mother, she's been tight-lipped, only saying that they're not in contact anymore. I know it's something to do with what went on in Texas, and that she'll tell me when she's ready. She's not the only one with mommy issues, with a mother that didn't put her first. She assumes that my scars are from chicken pox, and I just haven't corrected her. Someday.
Ana returns to the table with her planner, opening it and removing a sheaf of papers. So much for round two... or would it be three?
"... replied to your email, right?"
"What's that?" I snap myself out of my fantasy that had my... never mind.
"Matt and Olive replied to your email, right? I know he's agreed to stand up with you, but did they say if they're coming for the whole weekend? Are they bringing the boys?"
"Oh right... yes, they are. They're bringing the boys - the barbecue has always been a family event. And I think they're staying with her parents... on Mercer Island."
I see her freeze for just a second before making some notes on her paper. Yes, Olive's parents are also her parents. Will she be there that weekend? I don't know. Do we actually need to have a real conversation with them, tell them the 'Ana' I've been dating all summer - that I'm about to marry - is a former student? Natalie's protege and mine? Yes. Before the wedding? Yes.
"Ana, we need to talk to them. They're nice... they'll understand. We've put it off way too long as it is... we can't stay our bubble forever. And it'll be better coming from us."
She bites down on that lower lip of hers, and I can tell that she doesn't believe me, but finally she nods. "Okay."
"Let's FaceTime them tonight... around 9:00? The boys should be in bed by then, and we can talk."
=/=/=/=
APOV
Christian's iPad lets off that shrill, distinctive FaceTime ringtone and my heartrate kicks up a notch. Here goes nothing. Maybe they're not there... maybe they went to bed already.
But no luck... the call connects and the screen goes black for just a moment before Natalie's face fills the screen.
Fuck! He called the wrong number! I start to panic, glad that I'm standing off to Christian's left, just out of range.
"Hey Olive, long time no see," says Christian, his voice warm and relaxed.
Olive... not Natalie. I knew they were identical twins. Right. Get a grip, Steele!
"Well speak of the Devil... you're alive! And you look good."She laughs and it's familiar, but different too. She has the same dark blonde hair as Natalie, but it's short and stylish, cut just below her ears. And she's wearing glasses with dark plastic frames. "Matt! It's Christian... doesn't he look good?" Matt's face - olive skinned with short dark hair and a goatee - appears over her shoulder.
"He looks like shit. He always looks like shit," Matt jokes.
"You're just jealous," Olive says playfully, and swats at him.
I like them immediately, they're fun, and I can understand why Christian's kept up his friendship with them.
"You're sure you want one of these again?" Matt asks.
Christian laughs. "Yes, I'm sure. And I'm glad you're all coming for the big day."
"Is she there? We want to meet this mystery girl that you've been hiding up there on your property," says Olive, straining her neck as if it will expand her view.
I'm holding my breath, waiting for him to make some sort of speech... an explanation, when he reaches out and pulls me onto his lap. I appear in the little screen in the corner, visible from my knees up at this angle. Thank goodness I put on some jeans over Christian's underwear.
Olive and Matt are motionless for several moments, and I begin to wonder if the connection has frozen, but then I feel Christian shift beneath me and see us both move on the screen. Olive recovers first, shutting her mouth that had dropped open and squinting a little, as if trying to make sure she's seeing me clearly.
"She's the Ana?" She asks, turning her attention back to Christian. "As in the one who's had you under her spell for the past EIGHT years?"
Oh holy fuck. Mother of all shitstorms... It seems that my reputation precedes me. And it's not good.
A/N: Thanks for reading! I've finally time-hopped these two to where I want them and it was time to stop for a little fun.