Sunday Rituals
The screen door slammed shut, and my heart did that little flip it always did. I knew that sound. Heavy, confident, followed by the deep rumble of a laugh that vibrated right through the floorboards and straight between my legs.
"He's here," I muttered to my reflection, smoothing down the thin cotton of my sundress. My nipples were already hard, poking against the fabric like two little flags saying 'come and get it'. Pathetic.
From my window, I had the perfect view. Richard was standing by the grill with my dad, a beer bottle dangling from his long fingers. God, those hands. I'd spent countless hours imagining them on me, and I was about to add another thirty minutes to that total.
He was wearing those faded jeans that hugged his ass just right and a simple polo that stretched across his broad shoulders. The sun caught the silver at his temples, making him look like some kind of distinguished god. A god I wanted to worship with my tongue.
"Maya! Come say hi to Richard!" Dad's voice boomed from below.
"Coming!" I called back, giving myself one last glance. My cheeks were flushed. I looked exactly like what I was: a girl who was about to go rub one out to the thought of her father's best friend.
I took my time walking down the stairs, letting my hips sway a little more than necessary. When I stepped onto the patio, Richard turned, and our eyes met. His were that deep, piercing blue, the kind that seemed to see right through all my bullshit.
"Maya," he said, his voice a low rumble that made my thighs clench. "Look at you. Another year older and more beautiful every time I see you."
My dad laughed. "She's twenty-two now, Richard. Practically a grown woman."
Richard's gaze lingered on me a second too long. "I've noticed."
I felt a blush creep up my neck and quickly busied myself by grabbing a soda from the cooler. "How have you been, Richard?"
"Can't complain," he said, leaning against the railing. "Work's been a beast. But it's good to see your dad. And you, of course."
The 'of course' was almost a whisper. I pretended not to hear, but my panties were already damp. This happened every time. A few words, a look, and I was a goner.
I stuck around for about ten more minutes, making small talk while secretly memorizing the way his biceps flexed when he gestured, the crinkles around his eyes when he smiled, the way he licked his lips after taking a sip of beer. Then I made my escape.
"Nice seeing you, Richard," I said, already backing toward the house.
"You too, Maya. Don't be a stranger."
Oh, if only he knew.
I practically ran up the stairs, my sandals slapping against the wood. I didn't even bother closing my bedroom door all the way. I went straight to the window, parting the curtains just enough to see.
They were laughing about something, Richard's head thrown back. I watched as he ran a hand through his hair, his forearm flexing with the motion. My hand was already up my dress, fingers tracing the edge of my panties.
I imagined it was his hand. His rough, calloused fingers sliding beneath the lace, teasing me. I closed my eyes, leaning my forehead against the cool glass of the window.
"Richard," I breathed, my voice barely audible.
In my mind, he was here with me, his body pressed against mine. I could almost feel his hot breath on my neck, his teeth nipping at my earlobe.
My fingers found my clit, already swollen and eager. I circled it slowly, building the pressure. Down below, Richard bent over to turn a burger on the grill, and the view of his ass in those jeans made me gasp.
I slid two fingers inside myself, pretending it was him. "Please," I moaned, my hips bucking against my hand. "Please, Richard."
I imagined him telling me how much he wanted me, how he'd been waiting for me to grow up. How he'd noticed me watching, noticed the way I blushed whenever he was near.
The sounds from downstairs—laughter, the sizzle of the grill, the clink of bottles—mixed with the wet sounds of my own fingers working my pussy. I was so close, my body trembling with need.
And then I heard it. His voice, clearer this time. "Maya! Burgers are ready!"
My eyes flew open. Shit. I pulled my hand away, my fingers glistening. I took a deep breath, trying to compose myself.
"Just a minute!" I called back, my voice shaky.
I looked down at my hand, then back out the window. Richard was looking up toward my room, a curious expression on his face. Had he heard me? No. Impossible.
But what if he had?
The thought sent a fresh wave of arousal through me. I quickly adjusted my dress, ran a hand through my hair, and headed back downstairs to face him—and the burger I suddenly had no appetite for.
