I’d just have to hope I didn’t have any stray bits of hay dangling from my underwear. It’s been known to happen.
One of the perils of heading straight to a lunch date after a morning at the stables.
I vacated my vantage point at the end of the street, then rumbled onto Rick’s driveway. The Range Rover was missing. Made sense that Rick’s was the sporty little BMW, it suited him. I switched off the engine and my heart was pounding, which was standard, but there was more than nerves today. I’d woken early, even for me, and I was excited. Ridiculously excited. So, this was crushing? I’d never really had a crush before. I’d liked plenty of guys, but it was always just a like. Occasionally a strong like. Sometimes even a considered yes, I’d like his dick in my ass, possibly many times, but never something that had me waking up before dawn with a big goofy smile on my face.
Rick. His point score was going up every time I pictured his face, every time he sent a text, every time I rubbed myself off to the thought of his hot pierced cock. And now I was at his door, with the promise of no Carl, just us.
That shouldn’t feel as good as it did, and definitely shouldn’t feel as good as the thought of three grand a month landing in my bank account. Keep your fucking head, Katie, keep your fucking head.
Rick opened the door before I’d even locked my car, and today he was barefoot, low slung jeans hugging his hips. He was wearing a simple t-shirt, but it was bright yellow, emblazoned with life is art in a funky font. He looked awesome, and his smile told me he was pleased to see me, too.
Yep, this was definitely crushing.
I was shorter in flat pumps, short enough that his lips pressed to my forehead as he pulled me into a hug, his arms wrapping perfectly around my shoulders. I leaned into him, my tits pressing to his chest, hands snaking around his waist to land on the top of his ass, and there was that ocean smell again, only the ocean never smelt as good as it did on Rick’s beautiful inked skin.
“Hey, pretty lady.” His smile was boyish and animated and delicious. “Pleased you could stop by.”
He took my hand and led me inside, and the place felt so alive today. A radio blasted out soul music as the afternoon sun spilled through the kitchen windows, and there was a hint of a breeze from the open patio doors. He turned the music down and grabbed me a water from the fridge, then clinked my glass with his own.
“Cheers.”
I smiled. “Cheers.”
“Lunch is on.” He pulled the oven door down enough to peer inside, and the smell hit me. Chicken. Barbeque.
I raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you, um…”
“Veggie?” He smiled. “Yeah, I am. But you’re not. I’m not one of those thou shalt not types. Eat what you want.” He pulled out a salad bowl from the fridge, and he’d even made that artistic. Chunky colours in flamboyant shapes. Cucumber stars, and tomatoes in neat little triangles.
“You shouldn’t have…” I started, but he waved it aside.
“Used to it. Carl’s virtually an anti-veggie. He has a side of beef with his beef, that guy.”
Carl. I felt like an intruder upon hearing his name, hitting on his boyfriend while he was out of sight. I fucking hate cheating. The thought gave me shivers, feeling way more seedy than selling my ass for three grand a month. Go fucking figure.
“Where is Carl?”
“Work,” he said. “He’s sorry he couldn’t make it.”
I only wished I was, too.
He gestured behind me, to the laptop on the kitchen counter, the stool placed in front. “Beauty of working from home. My time’s my own. Mostly.”
“That’s what I want,” I said. “My own timetable.”
“Best feeling in the world.” His eyes looked me up and down. “Or one of them.” His gaze burned me, his low laugh making me blush. He pulled out some bowls, and sauces, and a couple of serving spoons, laid them out on the kitchen island and pulled me up a stool. “Thought we could eat here.”
I took a seat. “Works for me.”
I was glad I’d opted for casual. It felt so much nicer to wear my own skin. My jeans were my best pair, and my t-shirt was one of my newer ones, and I’d even worn a couple of bracelets to jazz