Chapter Text
Nervously clutching the woven handle of the basket, you check both sides of the street before lightly jogging across. The house ahead looms with mystery and intrigue. It’s been on the market for the past year. No one wanted it, because of the outrageous demanding price and the past owners refusing to bargain. Suddenly one day, the neighborhood watched as the realtor slapped on the red, Sold, sign. Speculation and rumors quickly found themselves in the mouths of everyone on the block. Dinners were spent insinuating who could afford such an extravagant, lavish house. Around every corner you could hear the outlandish stories people formulated. You hadn’t expected your summer home from college to be exciting by any means. Not that you consider frivolous gossip entertaining, but it beats hearing your father go on about his latest golf game. Or having to serve your mother’s bridge club, lemonade and iced tea with perfectly cut sandwiches, while they reminisced about when they had your perfect figure. This version of suburbia reminded you why you hastily escaped to college.
Someone moved into the house three days prior. The movers were in and out and you hadn’t managed to catch a glimpse of the family moving in. No one had actually. On a mission, your mom pushed a gift basket filled with cheeses, an expensive bottle of wine, and some caviar—hoping you could sniff out any information. Not like you had anything better to do. It was pointless trying to argue with her too. Once her mind’s set on something, she’ll never stop. A trait you inherited. Standing on the stoop, you ring the doorbell, patiently waiting for someone to answer. You can see your reflection on the side panel glass. You’re wearing shorts with a plain white crop top. The weather has been insufferable the past couple days and you can already spot sweat stains. Great. What a wonderful first impression. Your mother’s nagging voice infiltrates your thoughts. Ringing the doorbell again to push them away, you resign to the fact that no one’s home.
Remembering there’s a gate leading to the back of house, you decide leaving the gift basket there would be smarter than out in the open. Thankfully the gate reaches your chest and you can unlock it from the other side. It swings open with a force and as you’re entering the threshold, it swings back knocking into your side. You cry out slightly as the pain radiates from your ribs down to your leg. It takes a minute for the pain to subside into a subtle throb. Walking again, you sigh thankfully that your ribs seem in one piece. Feeling something warm trickle down your calf, you spot a trail of blood. This day couldn’t get any worse. You’re too wrapped up in yourself to notice the open garage with a medium sized suv parked. Or, the sounds of soft music floating in the air. You didn’t even properly admire the pool with a built in waterfall and volleyball net in the middle.
Deciding the best place for the gift basket, you set it down on a wooden table next to their grill—one you remembered your dad raving about. It’s just a grill. What’s so special about it? Turning to leave, you realize the entire living room is exposed by a double panel sliding glass door. If you weren’t aware of new owners, you would have never guessed someone just moved in. There’s no evidence of boxes, bubble wrap, or random items thrown over the space. It took you over a week to settle into your new college apartment this year, and you only had to unpack your room and parts of the kitchen. Your roaming eyes land on red hair splayed over the back of an upholstered chair. You cannot really make out what the person’s doing because of the position of the chair. There’s an internal conflict happening. Either you knock on the glass door, interrupting or startling this person, or you leave and tell your mother no one’s home. As you’re contemplating your options, you accidentally walk backwards into a planter, knocking over the clay pot and shattering it. Fucking, hell. You immediately drop to your knees and begin picking up the broken pieces, flustered on what to do with the pile of dirt and flowers. As you’re scrambling hastily, you prick your finger against an edge, drawing blood. Not again. You are not usually the clumsy sort. It must be something in the air or with the stars. You make a mental note to check your astrological app. Wiping the blood on your shorts, you shift on your knees and notice a pair of feet in your eyesight. Creeping your eyes up from the feet to exposed toned legs, your mouth almost waters realizing this person is wearing a silky clad robe that barely covers their thighs. The robe is loosely tied around their waist and exposes their ample breasts that’s practically spilling out of their lacey blue bra. Once your eyes are on the mystery person, you almost start drooling. If you thought their body was to die for, so was the rest of their face. Reddened plump lips enticing you for a kiss, the cutest fucking nose that you imagine would feel heavenly between your legs, and green orbs staring down with an inquisitive look.
Swallowing uncomfortably, both from your intrusive horny thoughts and their stare, you gather yourself and stand up. God, you can imagine how unkempt you look. Blood on your leg, dirt on your knees and hands, and sweat pouring from every crevice. The mystery person arches an eyebrow, indicating they’re waiting for you to explain your presence.
“H-hi. Umm, I live across the street.” You point behind you before realizing it’s a futile gesture. “My mom sent me over with a welcoming gift basket. You didn’t answer the doorbell so I—”
The redhead interrupts. “So you decided to sneak around back and break one of my plants?”
Oh. Her stern, disapproving voice almost buckles your knees. You blink your response. You’re too frightened of saying something stupid. Instead, you present her with the gift basket, pushing it into her arms. She carefully inspects the contents before focusing back on you.
“Your mother has excellent...and expensive tastes.” The woman takes her time raking her eyes over your disheveled body. “What happened to you?”
You follow the path of her eyes and shrug nonchalantly. “Your gate happened. Then the planter, sorry about that. Plus, it’s the hottest day of the summer.”
The woman hums thoughtfully, before walking back towards her house. You’re left standing awkwardly not knowing what to do. She looks over her shoulder, before stepping into the house. “Well? Are you coming in? I cannot let you go back home looking like that, or without properly thanking you for the gift.”
Nodding, you rush to catch up with her, sighing contentedly when the air conditioning hits your skin. You look around the living room a little lost. You’re not entirely sure how to explain it. Someone definitely lives here, but it doesn’t look lived in. It feels a bit staged truthfully. Maybe it’s because she just moved in, or she’s a neat freak or something. Feeling a bit out of place, you decide it’s best not to sit, in fear of ruining her furniture. You watch her disappear into the kitchen then reappear with two glasses of wine and a first aid kit under her arms. She extends the wine glass towards you, but as you’re about to accept it, she retracts it slightly.
“Wait. How old are you?”
You giggle and shake your head. “22. This past April. Do I look younger?” You snag the glass from her hand, tightly gripping the stem.
Rounding the couch, the woman sits on the three seater rather than the chair from early. “I was guessing around then, so not particularly.” She watches you uncomfortably shuffle on your feet, cautiously sipping your wine. “Why don’t you come join me on the couch, hmm? I need to clean that wound on your leg.”
“O-oh, no, it’s okay. I’m fine.” As if on cue, the wound begins bleeding again. You curse internally and reluctantly sit next to her on the couch. You’re prone to verbal diarrhea and foot-in-mouth syndrome. And you’re around the prettiest woman to grace your presence? Yeah, no way this is ending well.
She pats her lap and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “Your leg, kitten.” Blushing profusely at the pet name, you surrender your leg and down a big gulp of wine. The sensation of the skin-to-skin contact along with the wine sends your brain in a hazy cloud. You watch intently as she pours peroxide on a cotton pad and begins cleaning up the dried blood before moving to the open wound. Hissing in pain, you attempt to pull your leg away, but she grabs your calf, holding it in place.
“Tell me about yourself.” She keeps her eyes trained on the wound, but glances up at you momentarily. “I’m Natasha by the way.”
“Natasha...that’s a pretty name.” You cringe. “I’m Y/N. What do you wanna know?” You finish off the rest of your wine, setting the glass on the coffee table.
Natasha’s lips turn up in a coy smile. “What’re you studying in college? Where are you going?”
You relax against the armrest of the couch. “I’m a History major with a minor in Psychology. I have one more semester then I’m done. And I go to the state school since tuition is cheaper. It’s a good two hours away, so I’m not too close to my parents.” Natasha wraps a gauze around the wound then begins cleaning off the dirt on your knees. You avert your gaze when you feel yourself staring too long at her chest. “But, uh, I dunno what else to say. I’m not good at talking about myself.” Your eyes travel around the room once again. You find the chair she was sitting in and spot a—is that a vibrator?Oh gosh.You disturbed her from masturbating. Fuck.
Natasha squeezes your knee, drawing your attention back to her penetrating green eyes. You’re not sure if she noticed you staring at the toy. “How about dating? Anyone in your life? Boyfriend?”
“Ha. No. I’m not into boys...or men. I haven’t dated much in college truthfully. Least nothing serious. They’re all short term, or flings.” You shrug, drawing your knees up to your chest. “School keeps me busy and there’s no one worth the bother. I like being alone.”
“Oh, kitten, no one likes being alone. No matter how much they claim so.” Natasha eyes you over the rim of her wine glass. “I’m alone in this big house. Maybe we can keep each other company. Would you like that?”
Your eyes glance back over to the vibrator then to Natasha. Her tone insinuates something more than just company. Natasha’s lingering look ignites a heat in your abdomen and you can actively feel yourself becoming turned on from the possibility. Tightly squeezing your legs together, you hide part of your face behind your knee, and nod slowly. “I would, yes.”
Natasha’s face lights up with an instant smile. “Good girl. I saw you noticed my little toy over there.” She nods towards the vibrator across from her. “You did interrupt me earlier. Don’t worry about it. I’m not mad. But now that you’re here—maybe you can help Mommy out, hmm?”
You nod once again, dropping your knees from your face, and licking your lips. You’ve never referred to another woman as such, but then again, you’ve never had the pleasure of hooking up with an older woman. You can already tell, you’ll do just about anything, if it means gaining Natasha’s approval. She crooks her finger and you instantly crawl towards her. Sitting back on your heels, a few inches from Natasha, you wait for her next instructions. The redhead smirks, loving how responsive and ready you are. Natasha leans forward, cupping your face between her hands. Her thumbs stroke the apples of your cheeks causing you to lean into the sensation. One of her thumbs eventually finds itself on your bottom lip. She drags it over your lip, forcing you to part your lips from the action. Natasha takes the opportunity to slip her thumb into your mouth. You waste no time, circling your lips around the digit, sucking and swirling your tongue around it.
You watch Natasha’s reactions. Her eyes visibly darken as she pushes the finger deeper, drinking in the sight and sensation. She begins untying her robe with her free hand, letting it slide off her shoulders and pool around her waist. Withdrawing her thumb unexpectedly, you whine at the loss.
“Don’t cry, baby. Your mouth will be occupied once again.” Natasha reaches behind her back and unclasps her bra—showcasing her already hardened nipples. You start leaning forward, but she stops you with a raised hand. A pout forms immediately. “Stop that. I don’t like brats. Or I’ll make you watch as I fuck myself.”
Another pout threatens to form and the idea alone causes tears to form. You quickly sniffle them away. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry, who?”
“I’m sorry, Mommy.” You drop your head. You cannot believe you already fucked up. All you want to do is make her feel good. You’re already being so needy.
Natasha frowns and cups your chin, lifting your gaze to meet hers. “It’s okay, kitten. You’re learning, okay? By the end of summer, you’ll become my best girl. Sounds good?”
Nodding frantically, you lick your lips at the thought. Your eyes fall down to Natasha’s desperately wanting to kiss them and see if they’re as soft as they look. You hear Natasha chuckle and you lift your eyes to meet her eyes.
“Your thoughts are very loud. C’mere.” She pats her lap and you waste no time straddling her thighs, leaving your hands awkwardly resting on your own thighs. Natasha leans forward, pressing one soft kiss along your jawline. The simple act sends a shiver down your spine. She leaves a trail of kisses until reaching your lips. It’s sweet and delicate. You can tell she’s taking her time. Warming you up and easing you into it. You’ve already caught a tiny glimpse into her perverted mind and it’s leaving you wanting more. For now though, you’re content with whatever pace she sets. Her tongue slips into your mouth, deepening the kiss, and you both moan simultaneously. Fuck, she’s going to ruin you for any other woman. The most twisted part? You’re totally okay with it. Your hands twitch on your lap, itching to feel any part of her skin on them. She bites your lip, roughly pulling at it, before releasing it.
You lick at the partial wound. “When can I touch you? I wanna make you feel good. Please?” Your voice visibly softens, not wanting her to think you’re demanding anything. You’re just becoming a little impatient.
“Since you asked so nicely, kitten. Get on your knees and make Mommy feel good.” Natasha reclines back on the couch as you slide down her body–situating yourself between her legs. She widens them in anticipation and you can already smell her arousal.
Your mouth actively salivates. You prop one of her legs over your shoulder, kissing and marvelling at the softness of her skin. Not wanting to make her wait much longer, you rub on her clit over her thinly covered sex. A faint gasp comes from above and you press your finger firmer on the nerve. Continuing kissing on her thigh, you finally reach your destination, settling comfortably, ready to devour your meal.
“Shouldn’t you take my underwear off first?” Natasha mutters as your mouth hovers.
Shaking your head with a playful and innocent smile, you tug roughly at the fabric as an audible tear fills the room, tugging the now loose fabric to the side. Natasha groans in disapproval. “I can pay for that. However you want.”
You keep your eyes trained on her as you take your first taste. Moaning at the taste, you take your time exploring her and what she likes—keeping track of what makes her more audible. Once you feel prepared, you spread her other leg wider with your hand keeping it in place. You lap and tease at her entrance—never quite allowing your tongue to enter. Once your entire taste buds are coated with her taste, your tongue finds her clit and waste no time giving it the attention it deserves. Your free hand snakes up Natasha’s body, finally seeking out her breasts. You roughly tug on a nipple, earning a gracious moan from the woman. Your eyes haven’t left her face once. You want to see how good you’re doing. You need to see every reaction. You drink up every last moan, the way her hand tightens in your hair—almost digging into your scalp. You could spend hours between her legs. You hardly know this woman, but you know she deserves to be praised every second.
Taking your hand from her thigh, you push two fingers inside of her without warning, watching as Natasha tightly shuts her eyes with a silent moan. You take her clit into your mouth, sucking with fervour, as your fingers pump rapidly inside of Natasha. It takes a simultaneous curl of your fingers and pinching her nipple to feel her tighten around your fingers. You slightly pull away from her to plead, “Please, cum for me, Mommy. I’ve been such a good kitten.”
That’s apparently all she needed to hear. As soon as you flatten your tongue on her sensitive bud, Natasha digs her heel into your back, forcing you closer to her cunt. You draw her orgasm out with your fingers as you press soothing kisses on her clit. Maybe it’s the infatuation, but you swear you’ve never seen anyone look as beautiful as she did cumming around your fingers. Natasha milks the last of her orgasm as she bucks against your fingers and lips. You allow her to use you until she’s had her fill. You watch her chest as her breathing returns to normal. You’re tempted to continue burying your fingers inside of her, but from the way she twitches at your kisses, you figure it’s best to wait.
Pulling your fingers out, you return her leg on the couch. Not sure what to do—you remain on your knees. Once Natasha can gather herself, she sits up and brings herself towards you. Another moan almost escapes when she spots her wetness covering your face from nose down. Natasha half-smiles, her lips tugged to the corner. “You did such a good job, kitten. Mommy is so fucking proud of you.”
You smile widely—the praise exactly what you craved to hear. You know you did a good job, but you needed the confirmation. “Thank you, Mommy. Do you feel better?”
“So much better because of my best girl.” Natasha wipes your face clean with her hands. The gesture is small, but intimate. You close your eyes to bask in the feeling. “I have so many plans for us this summer, petal.”