The Build Up (47)

Porter propped his elbows up and his hands on his chin. “Well. What about a compromise? You know, the homes I’ve seen now have the large tub inside the shower. So then, you don’t have water everywhere from your bath. The drainage system is already there. Maybe you can also add some nice rain showerheads as well. And then, you have choices. See, a compromise.”

“Wow. I hadn’t even thought about that. Funny, with as many home improvement shows as I watch, I didn’t think of that idea at all. I’ll have to run that by Mr. George.”

“See, what would you do without me? Partner-in-design,” Porter said, smiling widely. He gently stroked my exposed leg, peeking out from under the sheets. He slid one finger up and down my shin, and then past my thigh. I felt a shiver each time his touch reached the bend of my knee.

“I don’t know. I’ve been asking myself that a lot lately,” I mumbled.

I felt the warmth of his hand move past my knee, under the sheets, and toward my inner thigh. Porter was now on his knees, his hands inching closer toward the growing primal aching that he was causing. He slipped a finger inside me, and I let out a moan. Fuck, I was already wet. It was as if my body instinctively responded to his touch. After last night, he had already claimed his spot forever. I knew it and apparently, so did my pussy.

“Could you do this without me?” he asked in a husky, low voice.

I moaned and arched my back a bit. “Yes, but it wouldn’t be as fun,” I replied, my voice laced and dripping with anticipation. He was such a tease, but I loved it.

I looked over at the clock. Shit. It was almost a quarter past eight. We had to be in the office by nine for morning briefings with the partners.

“Do you want to be late for work?” Porter asked, his voice heavy and thick with lust. “I know your boss. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. But only if you had a valid reason.”

“Would you like me to give you a valid reason?”

Porter increased the movement of his fingers, the wetness between my thighs ramping up. “Hmm... I’m sure I can think of something. I can say you had engine trouble, and I came to give you a jump.”

I snapped my head at Porter. He’d pressed a thumb against my clit at the same time, bringing me to the edge of having yet another orgasm. God, he was good. “You’ve got five minutes,” I said breathlessly. “And my car takes time to warm up.”

Porter grinned. “Just your car, huh?”

Porter slowly unwrapped the towel from around his waist. He licked his bottom lip, plump and peachy. I looked down at his Adonis belt and the hardness of his obliques. My eyes slowly began making my way down every inch of him, finally landing on his G-spot loving dick. He returned his hand to the spot where he was stroking me to near ecstasy.

“Okay. Make that ten minutes.”

Porter crawled closer. “I need more than ten minutes. You know that Ari.”

My breath hitched as he continued to stroke me. His touch scrambled my mind and thoughts like old-school television. “Porter, seriously, we need to talk...”

Porter’s lips were near my neck, nibbling as he followed the curve of my throat to my shoulder. “We are talking, Mon Coeur.”

I leaned back. “No. Porter. About us.” I bit my lip, trying not to scream as my clit was responding to his touch. I had to focus. “Seriously...”

Porter groaned, removing his lips and tongue as they left their slick imprint on my skin. He leaned back on his knees, reluctantly removing his hands. “Okay. What about us, Ari?”

I looked up into Porter’s eyes, which were soft mint and sweet, like pistachio ice cream. “Porter, you know I like you, right?”

Porter wasn’t sure if he should smile or frown. So, his face did something in between. “Okay? I’m pretty sure I know that.”

“And I want to keep liking you...”

Porter narrowed his eyes. “Ari, what is this about?”

I chewed my bottom lip. “We can’t be a thing, Porter. I don’t care how bomb the sex was...”

Porter smirked. “So, the sex was good, eh?”

I playfully pinched his nipple and he laughed. “I’m serious. Porter, we can’t.”

“And I told you I’d never hurt you. This is not that. I’m not him. I’m Porter. Porter Etienne Harrison, Junior.”

“Your middle name is Etienne?”

“Yep.”

“That’s kind of...bourgeois. Maybe a touch pretentious.”

“Uhm. That’s rude. It’s a family name. And you’re getting off topic, Ari.”

I took a deep breath and rubbed my temples. Porter reached for my hands, placing them inside his large, warm palms. He was right about one thing; he certainly wasn’t Maurice. Maurice had never been this damn good in bed. Or this considerate of my feelings. Or orgasms.

“Porter, you’re amazing,” I blurted out.

“As are you, Ari.” Porter leaned closer to me, placing a chaste kiss on my forehead. “I’ll take your lead. No pressure.”

“No pressure?”

“No pressure.”

I traced my tongue against my teeth. “No expectations?”

Porter nodded. “No expectations.”

I turned and looked at Porter. “Just sex. No...relationship?”