Page 45 of Silver Linings

He doesn’t miss a beat, concern etched onto his handsome face. “Did you talk to her?”

“No. I just stood there, screened the call, then deleted the voicemail.” I look down at where my hands rest in my lap, fingers picking at my cuticles. “I feel like a coward.”

“Look at me.” His voice is gentle but rings with authority.

“Choosing yourself over someone who hurt you beyond compare is not cowardice—it’s bravery.

You don’t owe her a conversation or a place in your life.

She forfeited that a long time ago. It’s okay to not want to let her in again. You get to choose.”

He always knows what to say to set me at ease, and it was terrifying how much I was coming to rely on him. But I just…I trust him. Intrinsically. Everything in my being tells me I can count on him in every way.

“You’re kind of the best. Did you know that?” I smile, feeling my shoulders loosen and my body start to relax.

“What do you need?” he asks, always putting me first.

“Just you, I think.”

His smile is so bright, it blinds me.

“I do believe I was promised lederhosen, though.” I pout, pointing at his work pants and t-shirt.

“You don’t think this is sexy?”

It definitely was. The casual blue collar worker vibe was definitely doing things for me, but I had a bit to commit to.

I reach my foot out, grazing it along his thigh.

“It’s fine. I was just looking forward to making you yodel for me.

” My foot brushes against the crotch of his pants, and he yelps at the unexpected contact, grabbing my ankle. “Yeah, like that.” I wink.

“I knew you wouldn’t behave,” he laughs, rubbing circles around my ankle before releasing me.

“Where would the fun in that be?” I hop off the table and prowl towards him, slipping my hands around his waist and resting my chin on his chest, peering up at him.

“You’re shameless, using those eyes against me like that.” He leans down, brushing an almost-kiss against the tip of my nose.

I leap up and capture his mouth with mine, and he falls into the pull with me, deepening the kiss before pulling away abruptly.

“We can’t. I’m at work, and this,” he motions between our two bodies, “is forbidden.”

“Yeah, that just makes it hotter,” I laugh.

He weighs his decision—indulge in something a little illicit with me, or take the safe road.

“Mrs. Evans could come back. She’s just looking for a reason to get me fired,” he says half-heartedly, looking at the door.

“There’s still fifteen minutes on the spin cycle. Seems like plenty of time to me,” I shrug, a challenge clear in my voice. “But if you don’t think you can d–”

Then, he’s lifting me off the floor and setting me on the table, spreading my legs and slotting his hips between them, hands grasping my waist and pulling me tightly into his body.

His lips take mine in a punishing kiss, tongue sweeping against the seam of my mouth, and I open for him instantly, tongues grappling for dominance as the taste of him drives my pleasure higher.

Hendrix reaches down to the waistband of my pants but pauses, pulling back. “What are these?” He looks down at my rainbow argyle pajama pants.

“It’s laundry day ,” I scoff. No one should be judged for their outfit choice on laundry day. We’re down to bare bones in the closet.

He shrugs, accepting it for what it is, and pulls at the drawstring. I lean back a bit to give him room to slip his hand under the waistband. He stills, sucking in a harsh breath.

“Why aren’t you wearing panties, sweetheart?” He runs his finger through my folds to find me already wet and ready for him. I’m always ready for him.

“Like I said, it’s laundry day.” I throw my head back on a sigh as he rubs back and forth, paying close attention to my clit, and I cry out as he applies more pressure.

He leans forward, growling into my ear, “You aren’t playing fair.” Then, he spears me with two fingers, my whole body lurching forward, chasing more, seeking his touch.

I’m writhing into his hand now, fucking myself on his fingers while the palm of his hand applies steady pressure to my clit, driving me out of my mind.

I reach for Hendrix, licking his bottom lip before moving to his neck, sucking on the skin beneath his ear.

His answering groan and the hardness I feel against my thigh tells me everything I need to know.

“More,” I gasp. “ Please. ”

The desperate plea seems to break him, because he pulls his hand out of my pants rapidly, lifts me off the table, and turns me so I’m standing facing the washing machine.

He places his palm between my shoulder blades and presses me to lean over the top of the machine before shucking my pants off completely.

I’m shifting back and forth, desperately seeking friction, as the sound of his zipper descending fills the room, drowning out the machines.

I jump when I feel the head of his cock rub against my center, spreading my arousal along his shaft in preparation.

I know this isn’t going to be sweet. It’s going to be fast and filthy.

He lifts one of my legs, hooking his arm under the back of my knee and opening me for him.

I find myself leaning forward to give him the best unobstructed angle.

“You like the thrill of maybe getting caught, baby?” Back and forth, he fucks through my folds, driving me mad, aching for him to fill me.

“Please,” I whine.

He slowly rocks into me an inch, giving me what I want but not nearly enough at the same time. I try to press back, but he holds me in place, controlling the rhythm. I bury my head into my arm as he feeds me another inch. It’s the most delicious torment, one I don’t know how he’s surviving.

“Hendrix…” I try my best to sound stern.

“Hmmm?” Another inch.

“I swear, if you don’t fu–” He slams all the way to the hilt, and the sensation is so acute, my eyes cross.

“Always so impatient.” He doesn’t give me a second to recover as he pulls back and rams into me from behind, making us both groan in pleasure. The feeling of him stretching me wide, dragging in and out, is the most intoxicating feeling. I want to be drunk on it for the rest of my life.

“Is this what you wanted? To be ridden hard in the laundry room when anyone could walk in?” One arm is still under my knee, the other curling up between my breasts, holding me against his chest as his hand settles around my throat.

My eyes roll back in my head as his cock nudges that place inside that drives me out of my mind. “Yes,” I stammer, completely lost to the carnality of what he’s doing.

In and out, he pounds into me, grunting in my ear, taking as much pleasure as he gives. It’s the single most erotic experience of my life.

Distantly, I can hear the elevator bell chime. We both clock it but are too lost in our bliss to care.

“Touch yourself, Silver,” he commands, applying pressure to the hand around my throat, making me clench around him. “If I could have my way, I would fuck you like this for the rest of time, but we’ve only got a few minutes left on that machine, and no one but me is allowed to see you like this.”

I gasp, fireworks popping at the base of my spine and shooting out across my skin like a web.

We’re both close, and Hendrix clutches my leg tightly in an effort to hold himself back to make sure I come first. I reach one of my hands down between my legs, groaning loudly as I start to circle my swollen bud, tightening around his shaft.

“ Fuck . You have to be quiet, Sunshine.” He growls in my ear.

“Faster.” I twist my head around and take his lips with mine.

He pounds into me with the speed of a man possessed as I rub myself, feeling the orgasm dance up my core, making everything pulsate.

“So. Fucking. Perfect.” He enunciates each word with a punishing thrust, and it sets me off.

I come with a guttural cry, prompting Hendrix to cover my mouth with his hand as my core flutters wildly around him, spurring on his own release.

He pumps into me until the last of his orgasm subsides, his strong tattooed arms bracketing my body.

My legs are still shaking and then go limp all together.

If it wasn’t for Hendrix holding me up, I would be boneless on the floor.

He leans forward, resting his chest against my back, settling my raised leg slowly down on and holding me softly to him, chin resting on my shoulder as we catch our breath.

He pulls out of me with a wince, the aftershocks of our orgasms making the movement hyper-sensitive. He helps me pull up my pajama pants and fixes himself before he spins me and rests his head against my forehead.

“How are you real?” He hums, full mouth an inch away from mine.

I tip up to brush my lips against his, a barely-there touch of our mouths, when the buzzer for the washer goes off, startling us apart and making us laugh.

“Wanna watch baking show reruns and order pizza tonight?” I ask.

He’s about to answer when the door to the laundry room opens, and Mrs. Evans swaggers in, looking between us with accusation in her eyes. I can’t tell if we’ve been caught, or if that’s her typical I despise you stare.

“I unclogged that filter, so you should be okay to use that dryer,” Hendrix says to me in an overexaggerated tone.

I look at him, confused, for a minute before he nudges his head in the other direction, and I catch on. “Great. Thank you.”

He squeezes my hand quickly while Joyce looks away before Hendrix slips out the door.

No sooner is he gone that I get a text from him.

Hot Handyman

Yes to tonight, but if you start lusting after Paul Hollywood again, we’re changing the show.

I smile down at my phone.

Silver

Boooooo.