The Vacation

She covered as much of the wall as she could between the corner of the wall and doorway, then pulled out a paintbrush to start the tedious work of edging.

An hour in, Samuel arrived, letting himself in with a cheery, "Bonjour, mon amour."

"Ah ha! Some French words I know!" she smiled. "Thank God you're here, my arm is starting to ache." Justine switched her brush to her left hand to shake the cramp out of her right.

Sam wore old jeans that had already seen their fair share of paint, white, blue, and brown being the most notable. His white tee-shirt hugged his body and made her wish she could take it off him to see precisely what was underneath. But apparently he had his own schedule for how things would progress between them, and he was in no hurry.

Justine wasn't especially patient by nature, though she had to admit she liked the building anticipation and didn't mind letting him set the pace. It wasn't like she had no self-control. He just tested her limits by standing around looking all strong and touchable.

Justine held her paintbrush to the side as Sam leaned in for a gentle kiss. "Hello," he said, softly against her lips. His soap had a lingering pine scent that reminded her of home.

"Hi."

He hovered over her for several long kisses before he was satisfied with his greeting and pulled away. "Now," he said with a sexy grin, clapping his hands together, "where would you like me to start?"

She wanted to tell him to return to her lips, but said, "There's another paintbrush on the counter, or you can continue with the roller. Your choice."

"I'll edge the ceiling," he said grabbing a brush and pouring paint into a small container. He pushed the step ladder to the wall. "What's this place meant to be, anyway?"

Justine laughed. "She wants to expand her clientele. It's going to be a honeymoon suite. There isn't a lot of privacy in an old house."

Sam grinned. "As in, everyone can hear every little thing?"

"Let's just say in the days since I've arrived, I've had to use earplugs to block out acts not meant for public consumption."

"And newlyweds are the most avid source of such acts?"

Justine shrugged. "Well, I think everyone has more sex on vacation, but yeah. That's the nature of a honeymoon, right? Lots of unrestrained sex and maybe some sightseeing."

"Perhaps sex and sightseeing combined?" he inquired.

She laughed. "That would certainly count as unrestrained." To her anyway. Maybe Sam had had sex with Valerie all across the country. The thought made Justine's stomach turn, further proof no good came of thinking about an ex. Anyone's ex. "We don't have the noise problem at my place," she said. "The walls are all thick timber and logs. I did once walk in on a couple having sex in my kitchen late one night, though."

"Did they know you saw them?"

Justine's face heated at the memory. "Not at first. By the time I registered what was happening, the guy looked back and saw me, but his wife was bent over the counter, so I don't know if she ever realized."

"He didn't stop fucking her when he noticed you?"

"No." The man had paused for a heartbeat, but then continued on with hard determination, the wet sounds of sex cutting through her dark house. Justine could remember it as though it was yesterday, and the memory caused the same bodily reaction as the real event. She felt warm and squirmy and in need of someone to bend her over a counter and fuck her, too.

"Maybe he wanted to be seen," Samuel suggested.

"Maybe he did." For her part, Justine had gone straight back to her room and fingered herself until she was shaking with orgasm. Being turned on by witnessing something so intimate and private had surprised her, and she'd thought about it a lot afterwards, wondered where else in the house guests might have snuck off to have illicit sex. She'd gotten a lot of masturbatory mileage out of the images conjured in her mind.

"Maybe he was imagining it was you he was fucking instead of his wife."

An uncomfortable laugh slipped out before Justine said, "I doubt it. That would be... I don't know. Unlikely. It would be inappropriate."

Samuel stopped painting and she looked over at him. He told her, "Desires are not always about what's appropriate. Often, the opposite is true, and they simply remain fantasy." He smiled at her. "Or sometimes they don't and people fuck in the kitchen of their B&B where they might be caught by the pretty innkeeper."

Hearing Samuel talk so casually about sex did nothing for Justine's self-control. All she could think was how she wanted him to bend her over the counter and take her. The heat in his eyes said he was thinking the same thing.

She dipped her brush in paint and turned back to the window frame. Butterflies of anticipation fluttered in her stomach and her core clenched at the idea of Samuel's hands on her body, of his cock buried in her pussy.

She heard his brush resume with careful sweeps against the ceiling. After a few minutes, he asked, "Are you moved out of the B&B yet?"

"Yes. Martha's new guests are arriving this afternoon."

"Well, if the paint fumes are still lingering, you can sleep at my place tonight," Samuel offered.

Justine looked over her shoulder at him, but he was intent on the piece of ceiling he was edging.

Was he suggesting what it sounded like or was he just being thoughtful?

"Thanks, Samuel, but I think I'll survive the night in the cottage."

He looked at her then, eyebrow arched over a gaze that begged her to reconsider, and she had her answer.

"On second thought, I think I'm already feeling a little dizzy." Which was true, just not because of the paint.

"That's unfortunate," he said with a smirk, returning to his work.

Good Lord.

They spent the remainder of the morning working, but Justine's nerves had kicked in, and she chattered non-stop about ridiculous things. At least, she assumed they were ridiculous, she couldn't even remember what she'd said mere minutes after the words left her mouth. Samuel listened on patiently, asking questions here and there, but mostly content just to let her talk.

Did he realize she was nervous? She hoped not, but it was the emergency room all over again.

Theresa invited them to the house for lunch and provided thick sliced turkey breast on fresh bread to keep them going through supper.

They managed to finish a first coat on the entire inside of the cottage which looked good softened with the buttery yellow paint. When the white moldings went up, they would add to the crisp, clean feel of the room during the day, but at night, by candlelight perhaps, the room would feel warm and intimate.

Martha offered to feed them supper, but Sam said he had to get home to do chores, and since Justine didn't want to say goodbye, she followed him back to his farm in her car.

Aside from her running commentary, working beside Samuel had been fun, comfortable, as if they'd known each other for months, not days. But that giddy feeling in her stomach had grown as the day progressed, anticipation of what might happen later.

When they arrived at the Lafortune farm, Sam rushed off to the barn to feed animals while she sat in the yard swing, waiting. When he finally finished up and led her into the old farmhouse, she asked, "Are your parents going to be around for dinner?" She dropped her overnight bag by the door and followed him toward the kitchen.

"No. I manage things by myself on the weekends, unless something comes up. They won't be back until Monday morning. Unless of course you'd like me to invite them over?"

"Hmm, let me think..." she teased. "No. I'd like you all to myself."

"Excellent choice," he said, pulling her against him, his skin hot through the thin tee-shirt.

"Now, how about left over chicken soup for dinner? My mother is a better cook than I am."

"Sounds delicious."

Samuel moved about the kitchen efficiently, warming the soup on the range, cutting bread, and pulling out dishes and cutlery. Sitting at the table watching him made Justine feel as though she was eavesdropping on the quiet parts of his life. She liked watching him do something so normal, something he'd be doing whether she was there or not.

After they ate, she washed dishes and he dried. When the last dish had been returned to the cupboard, Samuel pulled her into his arms. "Now, for dessert."

**

"You have paint in your hair," Justine said, reaching up to pull at a little clump on the side.

"You have paint on your chin," he replied, brushing his lips over the yellow smudge. "What do you suggest we do about it?"

"I'm dying for a shower."

Sam was dying for other things, but they could wait until after the shower. Or maybe during?

"You can go first if you want," she said, before he could answer.

"Why should I go first when we can both go first?" He grinned down at her, enjoying her blush. She obviously wasn't innocent, but the fact that she was excited enough about him to turn pink was flattering. Made him hard in anticipation of other pink parts of her. He'd been on edge all day, ever since conjuring a visual of fucking her against his kitchen counter.

He released her and took her hand to guide her upstairs and to the bathroom.

"My bag," she said, hesitating on the bottom step. She gestured toward the front door.

"You won't need it." Once he got her out of her clothes, she wouldn't be dressing again any time soon.

Justine didn't protest. She smiled and followed him up to the bathroom which had been retrofitted with a fiberglass tub/shower combo in the 1970's. The rest of it had been last remodeled in the 1950's and had the dizzying black and white geometric tile patterns to prove it.

Sam grabbed towels out of the linen cabinet and reached behind the curtain to turn on the water. "It's a small shower," he said with mock warning. "You'll have to stay close."

She laughed and started to raise her shirt.

"No, let me," he said, stopping her hand. "I've wanted to undress you since I first saw you."

Justine's eyes widened a bit at his admission, and her face colored again. "I had no idea."

"It's the curse of being so beautiful," he said, "Men are not content to just see your face. We want to see it all." And touch, and taste, and fuck. He grasped the hem of her shirt and lifted it. "Arms up," he said, drawing it over her breasts.

She raised slender arms over her head allowing the stretchy material to slide up. Sam caressed her arms as he removed it, but his eyes were stuck on her chest. Pale pink lace cupped her breasts, small nipples showing darker through the fabric lattice.

He tossed the shirt on the floor and placed his hands on her narrow waist, sliding them up the contours of her ribcage until his thumbs were on her nipples. He brushed over the hard peaks before reaching around to unhook her bra.

Justine let him fumble for about three seconds before losing her patience and saying, "Let me." She bent her elbows and reached behind, her breasts thrust forward and up as she released the hooks.

Sam was happy for any assistance in getting the bra off more quickly, and reached up to slide the straps over her shoulders when it came loose. The pretty scrap of lace dropped to the floor at their feet.

It was a fine bra, but nothing compared to what was underneath. Her skin was so smooth, clear and pale under his work hardened hands. He kept his hands still on her hips while he contemplated her for a moment, taking in the dips and curves of her, and finally moving them upward letting his index and thumb roam the underside of her breasts.

"Oh, I could get used to this," she whispered.

And when his thumbs brushed over her hard buds this time she made a little sound of pleasure, and when he pinched them and pulled away, letting her breasts bounce back into place when they slid free, she gasped.

"So beautiful," he murmured, his hands gliding down to her jeans. He released the top button and drew down the zipper, pulling the two sides apart to reveal a triangle of matching pink lace panties.

Sam slid his fingers under the waistband of her jeans and pushed them over her hips. Justine wiggled and stepped out of them, kicking them to the side.

"Turn around," Sam said softly, and she obeyed.

Her tight little ass showed through the material, round and squeezable. It was even nicer than he'd imagined.

Sam went to his knees on the hard tile and spanned her hips with his hands, holding her in place. Tilting his head to kiss her low back, Sam then made a trail down to her firm cheeks. Justine arched her low back, presenting her ass to him while she looked back over her shoulder.

Sam nipped lightly at the curve, grabbing the lace with his teeth and pulling it tight against her pussy before letting go. At the pressure, Justine's hips squirmed from side to side beneath his hands and Sam felt hypnotized by the display of flesh. His cock throbbed to be inside her.

Hooking his fingers under the band of her panties, he slid them down her legs, the fabric crotch shiny with her juices. Running his hands up her legs, he admired the lean muscle, imagining how it would be when they were wrapped around him, holding his cock inside her, urging him deeper.

He gave himself a mental shake, a warning to slow down or he wouldn't make it through the shower. As it was, his erection throbbed uncomfortably in his jeans, trying to escape the unyielding fabric for a place much softer, wetter.

Sam stood and gave her a light slap on the bum. "Into the shower," he said, pulling off his own shirt.

The room was getting foggy with steam, the damp warmth pressing in around him. Justine stopped with one leg in the tub to watch him undress, her eyes eating him up. He bent to pull off his pants and boxers and when he straightened his rod stood out eagerly, thick and long with a well-defined head.

Justine's gaze was glued on him, her lips parted as she examined his cock. Was she imagining it in her mouth? His member surged and bobbed at the thought.

She finally disappeared behind the curtain and he followed.

Justine was tying her hair up in a little knot on top of her head, saying, "I don't want to get it wet tonight. It'll take too long to dry and I hate the feeling of wet hair on the back of my neck."

"How about wet kisses?"

"Those are okay," she said, turning her back to him once again, offering the side of her neck up.

He stepped into her, pressing his body against hers as he wrapped his arms around. Hot water streamed down the front of her and sluiced over his hands as they glided up to cup her breasts. Sam bent his head to kiss her neck while kneading her firm tits. Her nipples were sensitive and every time he pinched or brushed them, she gave a little moan that made his heartrate rise.

Wash! Quickly!

He grabbed for the soap, lathered his hands, then passed the bar to Justine. She held it while his hands roamed her body, everywhere but the junction between her legs. That he was saving for last.

When he'd finished her back, his let his fingers slide down the crack of her ass, just low enough to brush her tight hole before pulling back up. She arched her back again, thrust her ass up, murmuring, "Please Sam, touch me, I need it," but he pulled away and turned her to face him instead.

The soap was washing away as he slid his hand between her legs, over the thin patch of blonde hair, and, finally, to her hot center. Justine's eyelids slid closed and she grabbed onto his shoulder with her free hand to steady herself under his touch.

He parted her swollen lips with a finger and found the slick heat he'd anticipated, more slippery even than the soap.

Si je me retenais pas, je lèverai sa jambe et je la fourrerai drette là! Sam ached to put her foot up on the edge of the tub and enter her right there, to shove in and pound her until she came, but he'd already exercised more control than he knew he had and didn't want to race to the ending. Not for their first time together.

Later, most definitely.

After a moment, she pushed his hand away. "My turn," she said, her voice low and suggestive. Sam traded positions under the spray of water and tipped his head back to wet it.

As he grabbed for shampoo, her soap slicked hands trailed over his body, rubbing the light hair on his chest and traveling down his abdomen. When she drifted lower he tensed, anticipating her hands on his cock, but she let them glide sideways instead, around his ass and up his back. As she reached farther, her flat belly pushed against his dick, the soft pressure making him press forward for harder contact, but she pulled away.

Justine's hands returning to his front, she soaped them up again, then slowly squatted down to wash his legs. She worked her way down one side then up the other, ending on the inside of his left thigh.

Sam was frozen in place, waiting for her touch on his cock. He'd forgotten about the shampoo in his hair which dripped into his eyes, stinging, but suddenly her hand was circling him and nothing else mattered.

She ran her fist slowly up and down his length, using the other hand to massage his balls. Her touch was exhilarating after wishing for it, imagining it.

Sam scrubbed the soap out of his eyes and hair, desperate to watch what she would do next. She worked his shaft, but avoided the bulging head. He realized why when her tongue lapped out along the soap-free slit, tasting his arousal.

"Oh, wow, ostie que ça fait du bien..." he moaned when she took the entire head in, the hot recess of her mouth holding him while her tongue circled his unbearably sensitive tip. She looked up at him, her eyes teasing somehow. The little minx was having fun torturing him with her soft touch and busy tongue.

He'd never wanted to fuck anyone so badly in his life.

Justine pulled away after a last swirl of her tongue, letting her soft lips linger into a kiss on the tip before standing with a satisfied smile on her face.

Sam couldn't bear not to have her in his bed, under him. Right now.

He reached back with one hand to turn off the faucet as he jerked the shower curtain aside with the other, pulling off two rings in the process. He handed Justine a towel and rushed through drying himself, not really caring if he was still wet. He would be sweaty again soon anyway. They both would be.

They stepped out and he used his own towel to dry Justine's lower legs because she was taking too long. She laughed at his eagerness, but her eyes were dark with need and he already knew how wet her pussy was.

Sam snatched her towel away and tossed both onto the counter before scooping her up in his arms. He carried her easily from of the steamy bathroom into the cool hall and down to his bedroom. Gooseflesh rose on her skin from the change in temperature, but Sam barely felt it.

He climbed up on the bed and laid her down in the center. She turned her face to the side and took a breath of his pillow, her eyes closing as she took in his scent.

Justine was on display before him like a visual feast, her long limbs and luscious curves begging to be consumed. When Sam crawled over her she spread her knees, opening herself up to him.

He nestled his hips between her thighs, kissing her neck and along her jaw until his lips met hers. Her tongue slid out as his slid in, tasting. She arched under him, her soft breasts pressing against his chest, reminding him that he wanted to taste those, too.

Shifting downward on his left elbow, Sam lowered his mouth to her rosy nipple. Her breasts weren't enormous, but they were perfect for her body, round and firm. The hard tips were responsive against his tongue, his teeth, and when he sucked them in, Justine's head rolled into the pillow and her fingers tightened in his hair.