Icing

It wasn't what she'd expected to be doing at 25, but Amanda was cleaning houses part time and enjoying it. It didn't hurt that the homeowners were single, very hot men.

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The icing on the cake, so to speak, began on a sultry Tuesday morning. It was hot in Southern Florida and Amanda had decided on a casual cropped knit pants and tank to clean the house of a Mr. Frederick Baker. Modern lines, grey and steel, the house was one she loved to look at. It had endless windows along the front which routinely took her hours to clean, but Mr. Baker kept his place neat, so the rest wasn't hard at all.

She'd been cleaning the stove top when she heard it. A low, husky, woken-from-sleep voice from behind her said, "Do you have a French maid outfit?"

With a squeak, she'd turned and thrown her sponge towards...well, the homeowner, lounging in the doorway in an old ratty pair of sweatpants. "Excuse me?" she stammered, blushing.

"With like black stilettos?" he rumbled. He sauntered forward to pick up her sponge from the floor and place it on the counter between them.

"Thanks...I...thanks," she'd stuttered.

"So do you?" he asked, standing in his own kitchen, looking rumpled and lazy.

"Do I what?" she managed, "Have stilettos?" Why would he want her shoes? She was having a hard time thinking past the strong arms, naked chest, and...well, the nice bulge in the front of his pants.

"I need a French maid," he explained, setting both hands on the counter and leaning towards her. He had dark blue eyes, focused on her face. "For something in the master bedroom."

"Oh, no, you do a French maid in the parlor," she answered, then gasped and covered her mouth with both hands. He roared with laughter. She blushed, embarrassed and yet aroused.

"OK," he grinned, "And the kitchen?"

"Scullery maid," she whispered. His grin widened. Her body felt on fire from the hunger in his eyes.

"The son's girlfriend?" he murmured, leaning close and breathing deep, "Who smells like vanilla and lemon..."

"Definitely the master's bedroom," she whispered, biting her bottom lip, "DO you have a son?"

"If I say yes, can I have you?" he growled, his fingers brushing her hair from her eyes.

"Yes..." Her voice was barely there even though her body was screaming it. His eyes promised dark passion and endless pleasure.

He smiled. "My son's name is Carson," he said, "He likes his women perky and athletic." He drew her around the end of the granite counter.

"Well then..." He had big hands, strong fingers. Her hand felt small and delicate in his as he drew her out of the kitchen, to the front hall.

"The son's girlfriend would need seduction," he said, pausing at the stairs, "to convince her to forsake the son for the father..." He lifted her hand and pressed his lips to her palm. He was rewarded by a shudder.

"She'd be reluctant, aware of both the impropriety of being with a married man and the dangers of being caught by the wife...or the son," she answered lightly, falling in with the fantasy. He was offering a passionate daydream come to life.

"The impropriety is on the father's side," he murmured, nibbling on her wrist, his eyes on hers, "The youth of the girl, choosing a woman other than his wife, choosing a woman already chosen by his own son..." He pressed his lips to the side of her elbow as he raised her arm and brought her body close to his. Her eyes were on his as he let go of her arm and placed both hands on her waist.

The heat from his body was intense and matched the heat inside her own. She trembled with anticipation. "And the risk?"

"The risk..." In a sudden move he peeled her tank top over her head. She gasped, her arms automatically crossing over her bare breasts, her nipples hardening in the cool air. Her wide eyes were locked on his as he flung the top aside. "To be seen, naked, sweaty, in the throes of pleasure," he said softly, "A man and a woman together. His body on hers, his cock thrusting, her legs wrapped at his hips, her body bowed, writhing."

Her breath caught. She could see it in her mind, almost feel it. The flush spread over her throat, her shoulders. "Caught."

"The outraged son, the outraged wife, yelling, screaming," he continued, "The man is unable to stop, unable to hold back, the woman screams herself as her pleasure explodes, as the man inside her explodes."

"Yes..." She shivered.

He cupped her cheek in his hand, leaned in. His mouth brushed hers and her lips trembled open. He took it deeper, tasting her, sweet, intoxicating, like an erotic honey. He could only imagine tasting her lower, savoring the sweetness between her thighs. His tongue teased hers and she leaned into his body, her arms sliding around his neck. Bare breasts brushed his chest, then pressed in as he slid his hands to her back and pulled her close.

"I want to be inside you," he growled, pressing his face into the curve of her neck, his tongue caressing her skin. A tang of salt, the undertones of the same sweetness he'd found at her mouth. Down the curve, over the shoulder, he bit her lightly.

"Yes," she whispered. Her blood pounded in her head. Then reality set in, "Wait."

"I'm divorced," he murmured, sliding his hands over her tight ass. "Carson is seven and lives with his mother." He pressed her hips to his, so she could feel the long hard length of his arousal against her belly. "Come upstairs with me, Amanda."

"I don't even know..." Her body burned for his.

"Frederick Taylor," he murmured, "Freddie. Come upstairs..." He scooped her up into his arms. She curled into him as he carried her up the stairs, into the dark hallway, down to the master suite. The master bedroom was filled with light from the floor to ceiling windows. They were frosted for privacy, but the feeling of open space and prying eyes remained.

Freddie set her on the end of the bed, peeling the rest of her clothes down and off her body. He went to his knees before her, sliding his hands up the inside of her legs to part her thighs. She laid back onto bent elbows, her wide eyes bright on his face.

"I'm a chef," he commented, stroking his thumbs on the inside of her thighs, his fingers cupping her ass. "I love flavors..." He bent and licked her thigh. "Textures..." He nuzzled his nose to the small heart of hair above her shaved folds. "And feasting..." His tongue pushed between her swollen lips, to the wetness of her slit.

"That explains the hands..." she managed before her head fell back and she moaned. He lapped at her eagerly and she shuddered. His hands lifted her legs, draped them over his shoulders as he moved closer.

He parted her with his thumbs, exposing more glistening flesh. His tongue moved over her, exploring, rubbing, digging in as he found her clit, teasing her. Her hips rocked as she whimpered and her heels rubbed against his back. She was so sensitive, he thought, nipping lightly with his teeth and smiling as her hips jerked and she gasped. He traced her juices lower, found her opening, the heat, the heart of her.

His tongue slid in and out as she sobbed and writhed. He couldn't stop as he fed on her and his mouth drove her crazy. He gripped her hips, his fingers bruising as he covered her with his mouth, suckling her, and she clutched at him. Her body tensed as he plunged his tongue into her, sucking deeper, and she finally arched with a broken cry as she began to spasm, spilling fresh cream into his mouth, bucking and twisting as pleasure exploded inside her.

Licking his lips, he shifted her limp body further onto the bed, enjoying the flush over her bare skin, savoring the flavor of her orgasm in his mouth. He stripped away his sweatpants, standing over her naked and fully aroused. His penis jutted thick and long, his balls hung heavy with seed. Man. Amanda stared at him as her body tightened again. A strong, virile man.

"I want..." she started, reaching for him. He caught her wrists before she could touch him, pressing her back to the bed as he climbed over her. His knees straddled her hips as he bent his head to press his lips to hers.

"Later." He groaned and kissed her again, his hunger deep and strong.

Amanda arched under his grip. "Now," she demanded. Her mouth watered. She wanted to touch him, to taste him. The pleasure he'd given her already promised to be more. She wanted to share that with him.

"Later." If she touched him now, he'd go off. He couldn't take that chance. He wanted to be inside her now.

Freddie shifted, sliding each knee between her thighs, spreading her open. He could smell her musk and it made his mouth water. "I want you," he growled, sliding his cock back and forth against her low abdomen, teasing them both.

"Take me," she purred. She flexed her hands under his. "I promise not to touch you." She lifted her hips and rocked her body against his cock. "Take me now."

Freddie grinned. He released her hands and slid his fingers over her thighs. "With pleasure, my dear, with pleasure." He lifted her legs, draped them over his, took himself in hand. Leaning forward, his eyes locked on hers, he guided his cock to her opening. His hips shifted as he pushed in, his wide head stretching her as it penetrated. Her eyelids fluttered, closed as she arched up to him. A short thrust, another, deeper into her tight heat.

"Oh my God," she whispered. He gripped her hips and thrust to her core with one hard stroke, burying himself to the hilt. A shudder went through her body and she moaned.

"You...feel...so good," he ground out through clenched teeth as his heartbeat throbbed through every cell of his body. Her pussy was tight around him, her inner muscles quivering up and down the length of his shaft. Unable to hold back, he began to move inside her, sliding his cock back and forth, thrusting with a little jerk of his hips.

Amanda couldn't believe the sensations. Every move he made had waves of pleasure rocking her. The heat of his body, the weight of him, the wet sound of his thrusts, the musky scents of sex, the grunts all swirled around her and made her weak with desire. He lowered his mouth to her breast and she slid a hand into his hair, clutching at him as he suckled her nipple. "Please..."

"Amanda." Her name was a hoarse growl and he tugged her nipple with his teeth, making her body bow off the bed.

"Freddie, please." She sobbed, twisted underneath him. He tugged her other nipple and she cried out, her hands clutching his shoulders. Her hips tilted and he began to thrust harder, driving his entire length into her again and again. She clung to him, hips matching his rhythm, sweat spring out over their skin, slick and hot. His cock plunged, in and out, in and out, and the tension in her body grew and grew.

"Come for me," he hissed, staring down at her dark, dazed eyes. He added a jerk of his hips at the end of each thrust, a bump up to brush her most sensitive spot. Hard, deep, and that little jerk - her eyes widened and rolled as the sensations overwhelmed her.

The scream started low in her belly as everything inside her tightened and clenched. Freddie kept thrusting, stroking, driving her higher. Even as she went over, her cry exploding into the room, he was fucking her hard and fast.

She clamped tight around him as she screamed, her nails digging into his arms as she came. He clenched his jaw with the intense pressure on his throbbing cock. His balls swelled, his groin burning, his eyesight going dim as everything focused on where they joined. When she spasmed, her muscles going limp for a second before she gushed in release, he caught one breath and his body bucked. His cock pulsed, the heat of his groin shooting straight up his shaft, exploding into her core.

She cried out again, the sound lost in his roar of release, as his cock erupted, ejaculating again and again into her. His hands fisted in the sheets as he humped his hips against her, the motion adding a boost to each burst of seed. Amanda caught him as he fell into her, sobbing into his shoulder as his arms circled her and held her close. Her inner muscles milked his penis, drawing every bit of his release out, until they both went limp, sated.

Freddie rolled to his side, cradling her in his arms. He let his head fall back, his eyes closed as he concentrated on breathing, on soaking in the sensations.

Amanda sighed, enjoying the feel of his warm body draped over hers. What a wonderful bonus to this job. She thought about Mr. Cutler, who she'd glimpsed swimming laps at her Thursday cleaning. Freddie shifted, brushing his lips over her shoulder. His cock hardened inside her. She'd think about Thursday on Thursday, Amanda decided.