Page 83 of How Dare You
He comes up to stand and folds us both into the wide cushioned chair, with me sitting perpendicular across his lap.
“These chairs are nice and wide,” I say, noticing how well we fit into it together.
“That was intentional.” He smirks.
“How did you know?” I ask, pointing around to the samples.
“Bea helped me with a lot of the choices. And the upholstery too.”
No wonder the upholsterer mentioned a rush job when we were on the phone the other day.
The look on Rhett’s face is one I’ve only started to see recently. His lips are pulled into a smile that seems involuntary, and his lips are soft with a mix of awe and desire, almost like he’s reveling in the view of someone he—“You love me,” I gasp out.
His brows rise in surprise as his shoulders shake with quiet laughter. “You’re supposed to let me tell you that.”
I wince, feeling like a ruined a special moment for him. “Go ahead, I’m listening.”
“Devon Blake, I love you.” The second the words are out of his mouth he’s laughing. “Fuck, that felt good. I love you.” He kisses me then repeats the sentiment again and again until finally cocking his head and saying, “You love me, don’t you?” And I no longer feel bad for ruining his special moment.
I nod. “I love you, Rhett McCoy.”
“Wait till I show you what else I made these chairs wide enough for,” his smile turns salacious, and then his hands are flying, peeling off my clothes and his, keeping our faces together in wild kisses as much as possible. Every piece is thrown on the construction-dust covered floor until we land with us both naked, and me straddling him.
His hands run up and down my thighs, where they just barely touch the arms of the chair. “See? Perfect fit.”
“Did you measure?” I ask, trying to check if the chair is a standard width or if-
“Is that really what you want to think about right now?” he asks, pulling me closer, and bringing his lips to my collarbone. His hands shape my ass cheeks and my low back, pressing me tightly into him.
“No,” I admit, bracing one hand on his shoulder and the other around his neck.
He continues licking and nibbling along my collarbone, moving down to pull one of my nipples between his teeth, sending a quiver between my legs.
All thoughts of the chair’s design are forgotten. I reach down, lining his hardness up with my center, and sinking down on top of him. He releases my nipple, throwing his head back and looking up at me. “You really are a goddess,” he says, rocking his hips up in a quick thrust that has me gasping, arching my back and then starting up a rhythm, riding him as he holds me steady with a hand on my waist. Reaching between us, he circles my clit with his thumb, adding to the sensation as my pleasure ratchets higher and higher.
“And I thought you looked pretty choking on my dick,” he says, in a breathless laugh. “This might be better.”
I squeeze down around him hard and keep up my pace as I glide my body along the length of his cock. His responding moan bolsters me as shocks of pleasure begin to weaken my legs.
Maintaining the motion at my clit, he lifts his hips, matching my rhythm and urging me on. Together we work each other to gasping releases, one after another.
When I collapse against his chest, he whispers, “I love you.” Into my ear, and I whisper it back, giddy at how delicious it feels to be loved by him.
Once we’ve gotten back into our dusty clothes with the promise of another joint shower, Rhett has one more thing to show me. He holds my hand as we walk down the hall, through the kitchen and garage and then out opposite side of the house. We walk for a few minutes, until we come to the base of the hill that backs up his house and round the corner, revealing a freshly poured concrete slab.
Squeezing his hand, I look up to him expectantly. “Is this what I think it is?”
He nods, “My woodshop. I’m going to give McCoy’s Chairs another try.”
There is no stopping the laugh that sputters up to ruin the moment. “We absolutely must come up with a different name for your company. Your work deserves something more creative.”
He leads me forward to the edge of the slab. “What about Trailer Daddy’s Chairs?”
“Oh my god,” my mouth drops open. “You cannot be serious.”
“I’m not, but your face is priceless.” He points down toward the edge of the slab. “This is what I wanted to show you.”
While the concrete was wet, he scraped out RM + DB inside a heart.