For You (The 'Burg #1)(160)
Wilson followed him out of bed and started meowing. Then he followed him to the bathroom then he followed him down the hall then, after a minute or two, Wilson shut up.
I let Colt’s pillow go, looked at the clock and saw it was after nine in the morning. I rolled when I heard Colt coming back down the hall and I got up on an elbow, pulling my hair out of my face to watch him walk into the room wearing nothing but boxers.
His eyes were on me and he came right at me, stopping briefly at the side of the bed to hook his thumbs into the boxers and yank them down. I got a good look, I liked what I saw but it didn’t last long because he leaned in and pulled down the covers. A slight cold hit me before it was swept away when Colt put a knee to the bed right before he covered me with his body.
His hands went into the tee at my sides and his face disappeared into my neck where he said, “Mornin’ baby.”
This wasn’t just a morning, this was a good morning but I decided not to point that out because he probably knew it already.
I slid my hands across the skin of his back, turned my head and said into his hair, “Mornin’.”
His hands were moving on me, his weight heavy, both felt unbelievably great as his lips slid up my neck to the hinge of my jaw where he said, “Fuckin’ love Saturdays.”
I smiled because he sounded content and also because I agreed with him. Only better day in the week than Saturday was Sunday and that was tomorrow. Something to look forward to and it’d been way too long since I’d had something to look forward to.
His hands went up the shirt, taking it with them then it was up further then he arched his back, I lifted my back from the bed as well as my arms over my head and the tee was swept away. He tossed it to the side and dropped his mouth to mine.
“Feel like waffles,” he muttered against my mouth.
I knew what that meant.
Something else to look forward to.
One of my hands went up his neck and my fingers sifted into his hair before I replied, “Me too.”
He grinned against my mouth then he took it in a deep kiss and, after, he did other things at other places on my body with his mouth. Then he was between my legs, lifting and spreading them wide and cocked with his hands behind my knees. He took me with his mouth, making me come then he moved up and over me, f**king me slow and sweet, then harder, then faster, then even harder, his hands on me, my hands on him, our mouths locked, tongues sparring, building it again for me, but now also for him, until I exploded the second time just moments before he lifted my knees high, rammed in deep and groaned.
After, when Colt was gliding gently in and out of me, his tongue tracing my necklaces, I was thinking I was pretty happy I’d packed the waffle iron with the stoneware.
* * * * *
Colt waited for his waffles because I did yoga.
Seeing as I’d had two orgasms, I didn’t really need to do the yoga to relax and de-stress, but I did need to do it to practice and keep fit.
Colt sat at the bar on a stool wearing a pair of shorts and a tee, reading the paper and drinking coffee. I was in the den, my yoga mat down the length of the pool table, one of the scented candles that I brought over from my place burning and I had Norah Jones playing. I was trying to concentrate, clear my mind, focus on my positioning, my muscles, my breathing, deepening the poses, rooting myself to the floor for the balancing ones but this was difficult. This was difficult partly because there was a lot of shit to think about so clearing my mind was a challenge. This was also difficult because, more times than most when I caught Colt in my vision, he was watching me.
“Don’t watch me,” I ordered as I moved from triangle pose to downward-facing dog.
“Baby, your ass is in the air and you’re wearin’ tight clothes. Not watchin’ you is impossible.”
“You’re breaking my concentration.”
“With practice, you’ll get used to me enjoyin’ the show.”
I rolled my eyes to the floor which luckily Colt couldn’t see.
“Next time, you’re doin’ this with me,” I told him and he burst out laughing so I asked, “What?”
“I do yoga the day you play basketball.”
Morrie and Colt had often tried to get me, Jessie, Meems or whatever girl Morrie was dating at the time to play basketball with them. It was supposed to be a low contact sport but the way they played it was not. I figured it was their way to look superior as well as bump into girls a lot. I didn’t mind that, it was all the running and sweating and dribbling and rules that I minded.
No way I was going to play basketball. Ever.
“Enjoy the show,” I invited, and dropped down into child’s pose as I heard Colt chuckle.
Something about his chuckle, maybe the satisfaction I heard mixed with the humor, freed my mind. Everything left it and all I had was the scent of ocean in my nostrils, Norah in my ears, my mat under me and my muscles releasing.
* * * * *
I made Colt waffles. We ate them both of us sitting on the counter. He helped me clean the kitchen, which I thought was nice until I realized he did this to delay taking a shower so he could do it with me.
The shower we had was nicer than him helping me clean the kitchen. A lot nicer.
We got ready for the day. This took Colt five minutes. It took me forty-five.
We went to my apartment and got another load, leaving behind nothing but my bed, nightstands, lamps, dinette set, table and armchair. While we were in the truck with the boxes on the way home, we discussed the rest of my belongings and how it was too bad Mom bought that bed from Bud because now we had an extra one. Still, Colt figured he had enough room in his garage to store it all until we could find homes for it. I’d called my landlord and he was happy I was jumping my lease by a few months. Our town was a popular location for city commuters and retirees looking for accommodation that took less than three hours to clean so he had a waiting list.