He was in pajama bottoms and a t-shirt and looked every bit the college boy that lived in the apartment over my garage for a year. Still sweet and attentive, but broader, and sexier, and dirtier…definitely dirtier as he’d pulled out a pair of AirPods and his phone with a video queued up on the screen.

“Wait…” He turned and looked at the dryer. “How do you turn this thing on? Do you have something we can put in here that’s kinda loud?”

“Why?”

“You don’t want anyone to hear us in here, do you?” he asked, his voice low and suggestive and a mischievous look in his eye.

I grabbed two of the big dryer balls, threw them in the front loader, and selected the quick cycle.

“Yeah, that’ll work,” he said with a nod, then bullied me up against the door again.

“What do you have for me?”

“Your video… I was going to send it to you, but I kinda figured you wouldn’t take time to watch it before you came down, so…” He put the phone in my hand and the AirBuds in my ears. “But first…can I see your wet pussy again?”

“Yes,” I whispered, looking directly in his eyes as I parted my robe and watching as he looked down to where I was bare underneath the silk.

Tommy let out a long, deep moan. “I remember the first time I saw you in one of these robes. It was in the kitchen, and you were making me lemon ricotta pancakes before I went to class. I always wondered if you were naked under them. I’m glad to know that my fantasy isn’t just a fantasy… Show me, Darcy. Let me see how wet you are,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with need.

That little glimpse into his memory. Me in the kitchen, making him breakfast, and him fantasizing about me… It made this moment feel even dirtier.

I pushed two fingers inside, barely able to hold back my moans.

“Fuck…” he cursed softly when I showed him the slippery evidence of what he’d asked for. “Still so, so wet,” he whispered. “You didn’t even take care of yourself, did you?” he asked.

“I—”

“I know you didn’t,” he interrupted, sinking down to his knees. “You prettied yourself up and rushed down here to meet me for coffee. You neglected your pussy.”

“There wasn’t time. I wanted—”

“You gotta learn to put your oxygen mask on first, Darcy.”

“That’s not what that mea—” But my retort was cut short by his warm tongue dragging over my sensitive pussy.

He pursed his lips and placed a delicate kiss right above my clit. Looking up at me, he bracketed my hips with his hands. “Let me take care of you, Darcy,” he whispered, his thumbs stroking comforting circles on the jut of my hip bones.