Here is a little sample that I cooked up while avoiding doing actual work lol. Let me know what you think about these two in the comments. These words are mine, unedited and highly subject to change lol. Highly.
I descended the narrow staircase and rounded the corner into the living room. Immediately, I noticed her in there alone. She sat on the edge of the two-cushion love seat that was right in front of a large picture window with her left foot up on the coffee table. She was bent over with her chest pressed to her knee. A sliver of her pink tongue poked out between her lips and she stared down at her foot with a look of concentration on her face. As I walked further into the room, I took note of the assorted bottles on the table near her foot, as well as the brush in her hand. She was painting her toenails and was so focused on her task that she hadn’t even noticed me enter the room. Every set of stairs in the beach house was solid wood and made a ton of noise and I hadn’t exactly been trying to be stealth.
I watched her for a few moments and saw the moment when her hand became shaky, right before she let out a loud sneeze, jerking her head forward and presumably ruining her hard work. She swore softly and I smirked at the way the word sounded coming out of her mouth. She didn’t seem the type.
I stepped into her view. “Bless you.”
Her head popped up and those gorgeous brown orbs of hers widened as they landed on me. “Thank you.” She started to pull her foot off of the coffee table. I held my hand up.
“You’re good. Keep doing what you’re doing.”
“No, it’s fine. I messed up anyway so I’m just going to—”
I sat next to her on the couch and pulled her foot into my lap before she could finish her sentence. With my hand out palm side up I said, “Hand me the bottle.”
She flicked her gaze over to the door near the kitchen, then back to me. “What are you doing?”
Even if she refused to actually look at it, I knew that she saw my hand hanging in the air. “Waiting on you to hand me that bottle of nail polish.”
She still didn’t budge. “You know what I mean. What are you even doing right now?”
I knew what she meant, what she was asking me, but I didn’t have an answer for her. All I knew was that when I saw her sitting on the couch, trying to paint her nails with a shaky ass wrist, I wanted to be near her. I wanted to talk to her. What I didn’t want, was to sit and wax philosophical about the whys of my wants.
So I squeezed her ankle and used that same firm tone I’d employed when I found her outside on a blanket in the dead of the night, abusing her innocent clit.
“Tahiry.” I’d intended to say more but had to bite my tongue because as quickly as her name fell from my lips, her response was instant and a bottle of pale purple nail polish was sitting in my open palm. I nodded my thanks and bent over her foot. As I worked on correcting the slash of color across her toe and completing the paint job she’d started, I felt her pulse racing beneath my fingers. It was hard to ignore how my own jumped to match the pace, but I kept my eyes down until I was satisfied with my handiwork. I set her foot in my lap and twisted the cap back onto the bottle then reached over and set it on the coffee table. She started to pull her foot back but I grabbed her heel and lifted her foot to my face, gently blowing on her toes. I didn’t hear it, but I felt her suck in a breath when I did that.
I froze and slowly lifted my head, allowing my eyes to travel lazily up her body. My gaze stuttered over the plump flesh visible through her shorts at the junction of her thighs. I licked my lips, remembering just how good that fatness felt against my face, how good it tasted against my tongue. And maybe my renewed hunger rose front and center to my face because the air became thicker and her scent drifted up to my nose. My grip on her foot tightened and my eyes snapped up to her face. Her bottom lip was sucked into her mouth and her eyebrows were furrowed. I was so tempted to throw her leg over my shoulder and once again feast at her table but the look in her eyes stopped me.
The desire lay buried beneath fear and guilt.
I released her foot and immediately she bolted off the couch and out of the room. I heard her deliberate steps against the hardwood flooring echo throughout the house until she reached the room she shared with my brother and the door slammed.
I guess that explains why she’d avoided me all morning.