Page 21 of Outside the Lines
“Or,” said Lydia, as she rounded some shelves and paused to straighten the boxes on them, “you can keep working and let me do it?”
He sat back down and picked up another stanchion. “Who am I to argue with that logic?” There was sheer joy in his voice.
I realized that Simon’s good mood was because he got to keep spending time withme, and Lydia had facilitated that. This whole open-marriage shtick was going to take some getting used to. I’d never dated guys in happily committed relationships before. There would be no sneaking around. No lies. No finding out the guy was on the down-low when the wife showed up screaming. We weren’t cheating, at least not in Simon and Lydia’s book.
I believed them, but it was hard to wrap my head around, despite Simon’s need being almost a physical presence between us, like the mythical psychic link the show went on about sometimes.
This wasn’t magic, but it was real and tangible and I couldn’t wait to get my hands on Simon.
We kept painting until Lydia came back around. “We’re all ready to lock up. You guys going to stay later?”
Simon gave me a sly look that Lydia couldn’t have missed. “A little longer.”
Her chuckle was low and she kissed Simon. Not a lingering taste, but not a peck either. “I’ll see you later.”
Something passed between them—a flicker of understanding that touched both their eyes and smiles—then Lydia peckedmeon the cheek. “Have a good night, Ian.” Her grin said everything—whatever happened between me and Simon was okay.
“You too.” I breathed the words out.
After she left us, the lights near the front of the store were turned off and Dexy yelled “Bye, guys!” We yelled goodbye back, then there was a rattle of a lock. Then silence, but for the gentle hum of the HVAC system and the pounding of my heart.
Alone.
“Um . . .” Simon focused on the torch he’d been painting. “How much did you want to get done today?”
Good question. While I wanted to abandon my work and go to town on Simon, I needed to get the set repaired by Wednesday. We’d accomplished quite a bit, but more would be better. “We should finish all the items that need to be sculpted tonight, or the clay won’t set in time to paint.”
Simon sank onto his chair. “So, we’re still working before playing?”
Goddamn did I want to play. I set aside my paintbrush and slid up close to Simon. “Don’t drop that,” I whispered, right before I tipped his head back and kissed him. His whole body trembled, and he opened his lips to my probing tongue.
He didn’t drop the torch, but made these delicious helpless moans that I drank down when I took his mouth and lips. The pulse in his neck beat wildly against my fingertips. Kissing him had been worth the wait. He surrendered to me, but also tangled his mouth and tongue with mine. Simon was pliant, needy, and sexy.
I broke the kiss, and Simon stared up at me, his throat moving under my fingers. “I thought we were working?” Rough words, full of desperation. I bet if I slid my hand down to his lap, I’d find him hard and ready.
“We are.” I kissed him again, with more force this time. He still didn’t drop the piece he’d been painting. I worked my palm over his chest and then between his thighs, and yup. I’d been right about that. He spread his knees and rocked his dick against my palm, and I wanted him there and then, maybe bent over the table, or maybe with my cock down his throat.
I fucking loved how much he needed me. The kiss left him panting and I stroked him, enjoying the way his eyes glazed over. “How long have you wanted me?”
He gave me a chuckle that was half a moan. “Since I saw you that first day.”
So, the same as me. “The sooner we finish, the sooner you can find out what else I can do to make you moan.” I traced his length with my fingers.
“Incentive?”
“A promise.” I relented on teasing him—we did need to finish. I had to get this set ready for shooting on Wednesday . . . but I also wanted to discover how loud I could make Simon yell before the night was through.
Simon gulped a breath and slowly examined the torch he’d been painting. “I like your promises.”
So did I.
It took maybe another hour for us to finish fixing the parts and I had to resist touching, teasing, and kissing Simon.
Despite my previous distractions, Simon managed to finish the torch stanchion and repair a few other pieces as well. As it had been for the past two days, his work was excellent and his hands remained steady, though his neck was red and his glances smoldering. What fantasies were rolling through his mind?
I knew the ones going through mine, and as we cleaned up the area, I wondered how many of them he’d let me create. At last, we headed to the back of the store and Simon shut off the rest of the lights in the shop. When he turned toward me—and the door to the alley—I cupped a hand around his neck and pulled his lips to mine. Again, he opened to me, but now that his hands were free, those roamed down my back and he kneaded my ass while grinding against me.
I wanted that mouth elsewhere on my body. Between bites on his lips, I whispered, “I hope you like sucking cock.”
