Daniel And Alyssa Ch 01

I slipped the business cards of the day out of my pocket and fingered through them searching for the first point of contact I was to meet that day. He was the Owner/Operator of the moving company I'd called for an estimate. I had just moved into a foreclosure just outside of Savannah and needed to get a significant amount of work done, and today was the day to move everything out - all of my belongings from home and the remaining items from the sale. The house was a gorgeous victorian with a few pieces of Queen Anne furniture still gathering dust and goodness knows what else in the dining and living rooms. I was standing in a doorway off the hall, tapping the frame and venting to a friend on the phone about my harrowing trip from Houston to the east coast when the doorbell rang.

"Good morning. Daniel Trimble," shot out at me along with a right hand. His left was holding his tool kit. His eyes brightened immediately when he glanced at my face before resuming what seemed to be his preliminary scan of the house.

"Good morning," I said with a smile. I shoved a box out of the path of the door with my foot and tossed my head to clear my vision of my dark, curly hair. "Thanks for coming on time. Alyssa Sutton." I gave his large hand a shake.

"Of course. No problem. Quite a grip..." He'd stopped looking at the house and stood still as I turned to answer his implied query.

"Uh, my father was a retired marine. My brother and I were treated pretty equally with regard to gruffness." I looked up at him with a dimpled smirk and was struck by his impressive frame. He was tall - maybe 6'2 or 3, with broad shoulders and gently muscled arms. His skin was an effortless brown, stretching from his collar, sleeves and shorts, and his eyes, a shade or two lighter than his skin, were boring into my own set of gray irises. It was a little intimidating having someone look at me so intently, and I silently thanked God for my phone ringing and saving me from his stare a moment later.

"The movers should be there soon, sweetheart," came my contractor's sing-song southern charm from my earpiece.

"The owner's here. We're waiting on his crew, I guess." I looked around and thought I caught Daniel staring at me. I gave him an inquisitive expression, and he nodded at me. "He said yeah, we're just waiting for them. I'm all set. Will you be here later?" My contractor had a crush on me, and I only slightly indulged his flirtations because I needed someone with a personal interest in this project to oversee it.

"No, not today, babe. I'm sorry. I'll be there later this week. They'll take good care of you. I promise. I've already told them what you want, but I know you'll tear 'em a new asshole if they cross you. I'm a phone call away if you need anything."

"Thank you. I appreciate it," and I was alone with Daniel again.

He had been propped against a door frame while I'd been on the phone, and once I'd hung up, he asked if everything was alright. When I responded in the affirmative, he proceeded with business. "So, during the survey, we discussed everything going into storage. Is this the same 'everything' I saw that day?"

I chuckled. "Yes, there's not more today than there was last week. This is the same 'everything'. I'm hoping to start pulling up these old boards tomorrow so that new flooring can go down."

"Okay. The guys should be here soon with the truck, and we'll get it all out by this afternoon."

I gave him a few words of warning about avoiding damage, and repeated the speech when his crew arrived with the truck. I could've sworn he was staring at my lips as I spoke. Mine are a deep pink and "kiss-shaped", as my mother always said, and I noticed his were shapely and always being worked over with his teeth when he was thinking. They worked quickly, and didn't stop for breaks or chatter. Then came the "Oh, shit!" from the living room. I sped through the hallway from the kitchen and held my cheeks in disbelief when I arrived in the living room to find that one of the movers had broken the leg off of an antique footstool that happened to belong to me instead of the previous owner. It was very fragile, and he kicked, then stepped on it because he wasn't looking, nor had he moved it out of the walkway or packed it. I lost it.

"What in the absolute FUCK were you thinking?! That's an antique! Why didn't you move it before picking up the chair it was sitting in front of? What variety of idiot are you?" I felt like smacking the shit out of him. My fingers had gathered into fists at my sides. My sweat-slick amber arms were tensing in stark contrast to my happy swing blouse, and my stance was probably suggestive of a puma about to pounce. All had fallen still in the room while I screamed over the mover who was arguing that the leg wasn't actually broken while he held splinters in his hands. I didn't really notice that the other movers had halted amidst wrapping and lifting and grown wide-eyed at my temper until I felt Daniel's hand under my arm, pulling me from the room.

His tone was quieter than before, but his sternness was apparent. "You broke the leg off. You know you broke the leg off. Apologize for breaking it and upsetting her, and I'll get it taken care of. When we're done today, come see me." I was jarred by the flatness in his voice, and found myself stifled.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to break it. I apologize for upsetting you on your move day," was the obligatory, but not insincere apology. It felt more like shame than regret, but I took it just the same.

Daniel loosened his grip but didn't let go and ushered me into a bedroom. "Are you okay?" His forehead was wrinkled in concern, and his voice was low and velveteen. "I thought you were going to slap my guy. I didn't mean to grab you, but I figured I should step in so you could calm down. Are you okay?" He asked again.

"Yeah," I said with a nod, and I was almost yelling as I moved to the door of the room, tapped out a pattern of anger on the frame and fussed about how fragile that footstool was and that he should have moved it out of the way. Admittedly, I wanted the guy to know I was still upset, and didn't bother monitoring my volume.

"I understand. It was his fault. I'll get it fixed for you. It never should have happened. The truck is nearly full. We're going to take the first load over, and we'll be back for the last few items. Here's my card with my personal cell phone number on the back. I'm going to take the footstool to an antique restoration company that can do the job, and I'll give you a call when it's fixed and ready to be delivered. Sound okay?"

"Fine... That's fine."

"Gracious, you've got a little fire in you, huh? I like that," he said with a smirk. He'd been eyeing my legs while he didn't think I was looking since he arrived, but at the moment, he was giving me the same unblinking gaze he'd given me before. I looked out of one of the old single-paned windows in the room. They'd been painted shut for years, and I'd have given anything for a breath of fresh air. I looked back at him and explained that the trip from Houston hadn't exactly gone smoothly, and just finding a contractor for this job was like pulling teeth. Each time he checked the hallway for traffic and busy noise, indicating his crew was working, I snuck peeks at the beads of sweat on his brow and exposed arms and in the shallow of his collarbone. "Yeah, I can tell. That's more than a temper wrapped in that slender little package."

I rolled my eyes at his reference. It was the first time he'd made mention of my body, even if indirectly. I wouldn't have been surprised at a more direct approach since most men aren't exactly discriminating when it comes to looks. I'm pretty average, I figure, at 5'7 and 135 lbs. They weren't really on display that day, but my breasts are usually the center of attention, given that they're 38D's. Still, even his playful flirtation was enough to garner an incredulous look from me.

"There's nothing wrong with a woman saying what she expects. I think that's great. I just think you might need a break to relax. How about a drink sometime? You just moved into town. Let me give you a well-deserved breather."

"I'll give it some consideration," I breathed after a short pause.

Daniel and his crew finished up the move, and I went back to my temporary home at a local hotel to crash. I showered, brushed my teeth, and washed off the bit of makeup I still had on, being careful to place each of the travel sized containers of cleansers and moisturizers in order of use and size, aligning them such that they'd be in a straight line with the labels front-facing. Once I was satisfied, I leaned on the wall of the bathroom and sighed at my exhaustion, tapping my fingers against the almond paint while thinking about the things I'd have to tackle the next day. I grabbed a jar of lotion from the bedside table, wrapped my long, still-damp hair into a bun and all but flopped on my back across the bed on a towel. I scooped out a dollop of thick cream from the lotion jar and spread it across my palm. There was nothing on tv, so rather than turning my head uncomfortably, I watched the light dance across the newly supple skin on my lifted legs. I love scrubbing my tan complexion after a long day and applying oil or lotion for it to soak up. Toes to thighs, I almost soothe myself to sleep as I take my time spreading the scented stuff over my hips and across my pelvis and stomach.

My ringtone wakes me out from my near sleep trance, and I quickly wipe my fingers to answer my phone. A quiet "Hello?" was my heady greeting, indicative of my relaxed state.

"Why, hello, Ms. Sutton. I hope I haven't disturbed you."

I could tell he was grinning on his end of the line and I answered in instant embarrassment. "Hi, Daniel. I was just... getting ready to lay down, and... um... Well, what's the matter? Is something going on with my things?"

"No, not at all. I called to check on you. You seemed really worked up today, and I wanted to make sure you made it back to your room okay. Uh, I also want to assure you that I haven't forgotten about your footstool. I took it by after your move, and it'll be repaired by the end of next week."

"Oh, okay... Well, thank you. I appreciate your taking care of it so quickly," I said as professionally as possible, although I was gazing at my wiggling toes and easing away from the last of my tension thinking about my poor broken antique being taken care of.

"What are you up to? Could we talk for a minute?"

"Uh, sure. I'm just winding down."

"I wanted to remind you that I'd still like to buy you a drink sometime. Don't forget. You never know when you may need to cash in my offer after a stressful day."

The thought of sipping liquor around him gave me a bit of a chill, and I wasn't sure just yet if it was good or bad. "Why are you so interested in de-stressing me? I'm not that wound up." I was playing with the stiff wave of lotion pressed against the sides of the round jar.

"You are. In fact, if I knew you a little better, I might venture to say you're a little uptight and probably a tad OCD. I saw you tapping the door frame today. My cousin used to do the same thing along with a couple of other behaviors. His were in fives, and -"

"I don't have OCD. I was just angry and frustrated, and sometimes I tap my fingers like some people tap their feet."

"I thought you were just fidgety when I met you, but as it turns out, you tap more when you're agitated. Even when you seemed fine, you tapped any time you walked into the hallway where the guys were packing up. What are you worried about?" Suddenly, I felt exposed. Goosebumps raised my skin toward the air, and my nipples scrunched into small mocha colored buttons on the bare canvas of my breasts as I caught a chill. "Alyssa?"

"Yeah, I'm here." I felt vulnerable. I went back to lotioning, rubbing my arms and breasts and wringing my nipples to work out the goosebumps.

"Well, a touch of OCD isn't terrible. You're working on a lot right now. I just think you need a little help relaxing. You should let me come by tomorrow morning. I happened to have taken the day off, and I can bring you some breakfast. It'll be early - around 6:30. What do you say?"

"Well, I get up pretty early anyhow, but I have people coming tomorrow -"

"You can tell them you have to reschedule. You're the client, and you're the one paying. Take a day off."

'Take a day off.' His voice swam in my head, so sure, it almost sounded like an order rather than a suggestion. "O-okay. I suppose that'll be fine." We said our cordial goodbyes and hung up. I willed myself to pull my favorite nightshirt over my head and coaxed it over my breasts and ass, still sticky with lotion that wasn't quite dry. I crawled between the sheets and passed out.

The next morning, a knock came at my door promptly at 6:28 a.m. I almost fell out of bed to answer the door. I had overslept somehow, and I stumbled across the room to spy through the peephole. I opened the door and upon seeing the expression on Daniel's face, immediately remembered that I hadn't bothered to pull on a robe. I was too sleep-deprived to care enough to react as embarrassed as I was, and I simply waved a hand and mumbled, "Sorry. I overslept," as i climbed back in bed and pulled the sheets up over my knees.

"Perfectly alright." A long silence filled the space between us until finally, "Are you in the mood for breakfast? I brought eggs, bacon, sausage, toast, waffles, orange juice and coffee... I wanted to be sure I had you covered."

My eyes were wide with the impression of his effort, and I let out my first giggle for his sake. "No, not now, but thank you. I appreciate the spread. I'm sorry I'm not up and about as usual. I don't know what happened."

"Well, I didn't really expect you to be up and at it. I did tell you to take a day off, after all." For the first time, I noticed that he had on pajama pants and a tee. He stood up and slipped his tee over his head, but left the tank he had on underneath and sat on the end of the bed. "Look, you're still sitting in bed under the covers. If you want to go back to bed for a little bit, that's fine. I could lay down with you and let you get a few more hours of sleep before breakfast."

I hesitated at the thought of him being in my bed after having just met him. We were both adults, and he had to have known what was on my mind since he quickly followed with, "I'll leave you to sleep. I promise. No funny business."

"Okay... Thanks." He slid into bed next to me and started flipping through channels. It had been years since I'd been in bed with a man. My ex and I had broken up a long while back, and I'd forgotten how comforting a man's presence could be. I quickly slipped into slumber and didn't wake until three more hours had passed.

Daniel's arm was wrapped around me, his hand under my side, and his head in my neck. The sensation of his sleeping breath sent signals through my skin that I hadn't felt in ages. I shuddered and inched away from him. He woke when I stirred and pulled my shoulder toward him.

"Feel better?" he asked with a well-meaning smile.

"Yes, actually." I grinned and laid back down. I stretched and looked back at him, returning the warmth in his eyes for as long as I could before closing my eyes in the bliss of my temporarily empty schedule. Then his lips grazed my neck and then my chin and then my lips. Just a few simple kisses were enough to send me into sensory overload after not having touched a man other than to shake a hand or give a hug in a few years. I was gasping for air a his lips traveled across my collarbone. He kneaded my arms and shoulders in his hands, forcing stimulation with just the right pressure. The kisses came slowly, but far from tentative, and his lips parted to savor my skin. I felt myself letting go of my anchors to this world - the one where the sky is blue and I wouldn't dare let him touch me like this.

Moving to lay with his full weight on top of me, he pried my legs apart to make room for his sizable frame. Each time I resisted, he pulled my hands away, and a wrestling match ensued. Struggling beneath him to close my legs and turn away from his kisses went on for what felt like hours as he worked hard to break down my resistance. Reaching beneath my thighs, he managed too often to slip a finger past my panties and into my soaking pussy, causing me to jump at the sensation. A look of excitement washed over him, and embarrassment set in as I shrank at his discovery. He grinned at me, and I couldn't help but think it was partially because he knew I was embarrassed. I felt small and out of control, and he read it as a green light.

He rolled us both over, arms locked around my waist, and pulled me on top of him. I tried sliding off of him, getting up, and simply scooting further down to his thighs, but he had a vice-like grip on my hips, knowing I must've been getting increasingly uncomfortable sitting on his stiffening dick. He watched me squirm and struggle with a disapproving look plastered on my face as he gripped my thighs and ground his hips up into mine. When he finally let me up, the crotch of his pants were soaked, and he was more emboldened than ever to pursue me. His lips were so intent, his hands so large and entreating, that eventually they wore away what little decency I had left, and a moan escaped my throat against my will. He made it clear he had no intention of allowing me to close my legs or give me a reason to open my eyes and come to my senses. His lips, tongue and teeth never left my skin, and as he decided to lay against my right side, his left hand snaked its way around my neck from behind; his right fought to keep my left leg up high up on his waist.

Laying on my right leg and pinning my left against him with his right bicep, he searched confidently for my swollen pussy, and upon finding it, proceeded to shove his fingers in and out. It was a sensation unlike any other man had given me. His breath was warm. His tongue was soft. His lips were like butter on my neck and chin, and here he was, fingering me all the while. His hand was swimming in my fluids, and although I've always been prone to wetness, I could feel my own juices spreading across my right thigh as I listened to the sloppy sound of one and then two fingers slipping easily in and out, accessing his hard earned hole.

Pulling. He was tugging - drawing out my energy as my pelvis began to rock. I was panting and moaning and gasping for air when suddenly an orgasm burst from deep within me. Mouth agape, my eyes popped open in shock to find him gazing at me with a grin, biting his lip and telling me to cum. He kept going, gripping my neck and chin and tilting my head back to kiss my collarbone and suck on my nipples. I couldn't stop. I couldn't believe he'd made me cum, and he was taking a third from me by the time I realized I was panting his name breathlessly, pleading for him to stop.

He didn't stop kissing me, but began working on making the head of his dick fit past the opening he'd just worked over with his large fingers. It was far too big, and he was determined to get it in. Alternating between working with the head of his dick and slipping his fingers in and out, he succeeded in keeping me wet and receptive. When he finally managed to push it in part of the way, I woke from my trance with a start. I hadn't realized it would be so uncomfortable, and I whimpered for him to pull out. He kissed me and told me how badly he wanted me, and grabbed and pulled my ass toward him as he spoke. I was quiet besides whimpering as I winced in pain, but he worked slowly and deliberately, kissing, licking, groping and sucking until he was able to slide his dick all the way in. He let out a groan, tilted his head back and, growled, "Ohhh, YES!"