by Flite, Nora
“I knew where you were,” he said, coming closer.
“You did?”
His eyes glinted playfully. “Of course. I didn't take my attention off of you for a single second today. I saw you walk out here, I thought you must have wanted to be alone, so I waited.”
The fact that he'd watched me all day delighted me. Pushing long strands of my ginger hair from my forehead, I turned towards him. The sunset had turned my hair into a burning red cloud that framed my face. “Conner... I'm sorry about today. When I asked you to do this, I thought it would be less... I don't know. Personal? Weird?” I laughed nervously. “Fuck, this is beyond crazy. I should have told my mom no from the start.”
His hands clasped onto my shoulders, pulling my sweater tighter around me. It was a protective gesture but it didn't stop there. Conner kept pulling until our bodies were pressed tight, his warmth more radiant than the material of my sweater, more welcome than any fabric could ever be. He held me close, winding his arms around the small of my back. There was just enough space between us that I could look up into his fierce, emotional eyes. “You're forgetting yourself, Cherry,” he whispered.
“What?”
“The scene,” he growled, clutching tighter. “You didn't say the safe word so our scene isn't over. Stop pretending this is about what your mom asked, and remember it's about me getting on one knee and asking you to be my wife.”
His words stole the air from my lungs. Was he trying to make me feel better by telling me to pretend my reason for this fake engagement wasn't something to be ashamed of? Or did he just not want to deal with my bad mood? “Conner—”
“If you want to talk logistics, you know what to do.” His fingers tightened on my shoulders. “But until you spit that word out, I'm going to hold up my end of the bargain. Do you understand?”
We locked our eyes on each other. He was giving me an exit—say the safe word, end the game, and walk away.
“Okay. I understand.”
“Good,” he breathed, the heat of his voice stirring the hairs on my neck. He kissed my temple softly. “Sweet Cherry, you have no idea how hard it was to keep my hands off of you all day. When we sat together at the picnic table I was aching to reach under and squeeze your thigh. When you stood up to clear my plate, your ass was in my face and I nearly nipped it through your jeans.”
I trembled as he confessed his desires. “I didn't think potato salad and hot dogs could turn you on so much.”
Snorting, he cupped my chin, lifting my lips towards his until we were kissing in the setting sun. The wind kept tugging at my hair—or maybe it was him. I was too dizzy to know.
I pulled away and gasped for air. “This way, follow me.” Holding his wrist, I ran down the hill, further away from the house. The farm was quiet—no one was working this late. There was a small structure used to store equipment and hay bales. “I used to come in here and read books when I visited as a kid,” I said, pushing Conner through the door, closing it behind us with the bolt in place.
No interruptions.
Yanking at the front of his shirt I pulled open the top buttons, gripping tight so I could bring him to my level and kiss him. Once, twice, I lost count. He swept his arms around my waist, lifting me easily onto a stack of hay. Through the gaps in the walls, the last of the vanishing sun lit up the dust motes, making them look like fireflies.
“Off,” he grunted, peeling my shirt over my head. I lifted his, tracing the muscles on his stomach, following his tattoos like they were a maze I had to solve. His skin tensed from my touch. “You drive me crazy,” he said, looking down at me in amazement. “How do you do it so easy?”
Spreading my legs, I pulled him by his belt until he stood between my knees. My lips trailed across his stomach; I kissed each rib until his fingers were wrapped up in my hair, ending my quest.
Conner didn't bother holding back after that. Pushing me backwards onto the hay, he muffled my groan with a long, tongue lashing kiss. One of his hands sandwiched between our bodies, removing my jeans, my panties, just enough to give him access. The hay was scratching my ass-cheeks but I was too turned on to care. Once I heard the notable foil-rip of the condom wrapper, I gasped, “Wait!”
He stopped moving, staring at me with uncertainty in the near blackness of the barn. We lived in a world of shadows, but we had our sense of touch... of smell... of taste. We were lacking nothing.
Gripping the condom, I took control, fisting the base of his cock so I could hold him steady. He hissed in pleasure while I slid the condom into place. “Okay,” I whispered, breathing loudly. “I just... wanted to do that.”
Conner's skin brushed over mine. Holding my hips, he lifted one of my knees, aiming the tip of his cock at my pussy. He pressed—slow, patient, unyielding. I was lubed up from excitement, he sank inside with nothing hindering him but his own deliberate control.
He wanted me. He also wanted to set the pace.
“Ah!” I crowed, back arching when he was fully inside. One stroke was better than it had any right to be. Conner ground his shaft so deep his balls brushed my sensitive skin. He withdrew—I locked my ankles around his hips, forcing him back inside. His laugh was darker than the shadows around us. It lit my core on fire. I loved when he let his inner animal out.
We fucked without being able to see anything. My eyes could have been shut, I wouldn't have know. “Conner,” I panted, “More, god, more, I'm so close!”
His response was a fierce snarl. Working his huge fingers into my skin, he held my outer thighs and slammed his shaft into me over and over, sending bits of hay into the air. I came hard, but my moans didn't slow him down, he kept pumping away, the muscles of his ass flexing under the heels of my feet.
“Mine,” he declared, his whole body flexing. “Mine, mine, mine!” With a final thrust he jutted his chin upwards. I saw the shape of his face, the outline of him losing control, with the aid of the first stars in the night sky. Their light was faint through the cracks, but it was enough.
When we were done, we rolled sideways off the hay, settling on the soft bits piled on the ground. We clung together; interlocked in every sense of the word.
“Do you remember what you said to me after we first met?” I asked.
He rolled on his elbow to look at me, his eyes warm and still fuzzy from arousal. “What?”
“You said we had chemistry. Like we were special, how we understood each other so naturally. Like we were... fated to be together. I didn't believe it at the time, but now, I think I'm starting to.” His eyebrows crunched tightly together like he was in pain. Was I imagining it because of the poor lighting? “Conner, are you alright?”
“You said you didn't believe in fate.”
“I didn't. Maybe I still don't, I'm not sure.” His reaction was making me self-conscious. “Is it dumb to think some unknown presence in our massive universe nudged us together?”
“No,” he said, looking away. He untangled from me and sat up in the hay. “It's not dumb.”
I shifted so I could hug myself. “Are you sure you're okay?”
“Yeah. I'm fine.” He flashed me a smile that seemed genuine enough. “Let's get back to your family before they come looking for us. Your granddad strikes me as the type that might shoot me if he catches us together before we're officially married.”
We walked back to the house in silence. It was dark enough that I held Conner's elbow so I didn't stumble on the rough slope. He was warm, almost as hot as the orange glow of the lamps lighting up the front porch. Moths and little beetles flew in sharp swirls, bumping into the glass bulbs with constant pings.
“There you are,” my aunt said. She was standing by the screen door with a cigarette between her fingers. She took a drag, the sharp tang of tobacco invading my nose. “Your mom is helping Pappy into bed. He was tired after all the fun.”
“I'll call him tomorrow to say I'm sorry we didn't say goodbye in person,” I said.
“That's nice of you.” She tapped ash into t
he wind. “Conner, I think you made a good impression on everyone, all things considered.”
“Thanks,” he said politely.
“If you want, I can put you in touch with a good printing company for your invitations.”
“Invitations?” I replied, puzzled.
My aunt cocked her head. “Of course. How else would any of us know when your wedding is?”
Her meaning was plain. And just like that, I realized the small lie I'd participated in was about to become a web. To give my mother her happy ending, I needed to keep weaving.
But one small slip... and I'd end up trapping myself.
Chapter 12
The Invitation
“THAT'S TOO PINK.”
Conner squinted at me, the computer light washing his face out. “It's an invitation to a wedding.”
“It doesn't have to be pink.”
“I thought you liked cherries.”
“Cherries are red,” I sighed, leaning back in my chair with a long, exhausted stretch. We'd been designing the invitation to our fake wedding for hours now. “Even if we're only giving these to my grandfather, my aunt, and my mom, they should still look good.” I blinked as a thought hit me. “Should we be inviting anyone from your side, to make this seem more...”
“Real?” he chuckled. “I honestly don't have any family to invite. I wouldn't call myself an orphan, but for all intentions, let's act like I am.”
“I know your mom is gone, I didn't know your dad was, too.”
“He's not dead. They divorced when I was young. Pretty amicable split, really. He moved on and started a new life, new family, new everything. I never saw a reason to chase him down to maintain a relationship he was apparently fine with letting fade.”
“Okay,” I said carefully. “What about friends?”
All the bemusement slipped from his face. “I'm kind of an introvert.” He put his hands on my chair, giving it a firm shove, sending me rolling a few feet away. “Let me take a jab at this invitation,” he said, cracking his knuckles.
I slumped over the arm of my chair. “Fine, go for it. I'm too burnt out to be in total control.”
“Wow. You are tired,” he teased. He moved the computer mouse around, adjusting things I couldn't see. When he started to type, I was impressed at his light, precise key taps. I knew how good he was with his hands—I started to blush as I recalled how perfectly he could stroke my clit and tug my nipples at the same time—but I'd never seen him at a keyboard.
“Conner,” I said, twisting my chair in a lazy circle, “Were you ever a professional typist?”
“A what?”
“A secretary, a CPA, just anything that used a keyboard a bunch?”
He shot me a look. “I don't know anyone who can't type properly.”
“Mn, I know a few who do the two finger chicken peck.” I demonstrated in the air with my fingers.
“Look at this,” he interrupted me. It was obvious he was still avoiding talking about his past job. It drove me crazy—I wanted to know what he'd done. Why keep it secret? And how much money had it made him, since he didn't seem to be working now, but could afford his ritzy apartment downtown and the ring that weighed heavily on my finger?
I rolled my chair closer to stare at the screen. The invitation was simple enough: cream colored with silver letters, a silhouette of a pink tree behind everything. “A cherry blossom tree,” I said, realizing what it was.
He nodded. “Seemed fitting.”
“You put the date as almost a year and a half away?”
He pulled a grim face. “I'm playing it safe. This gives us time to make things right for your mom.”
“Yeah,” I agreed happily, but inside, I'd gone cold. Setting the wedding so far in the future made it clear it was never going to happen. We were just delaying to convince Pappy. That's good, I reminded myself. Why didn't it calm my nerves? “I'll send these to the printers and have them mailed to the three of them.”
“Make sure you choose the nicest, most expensive card stock.”
“I hope a proper invitation lets Mom breathe easier.” I felt like shit the further this lie went. I tried to soothe myself by thinking about how my mom would be able to retire, and really, this lying was only because my aunt had lied in the first place to convince Pappy to give her the entire inheritance.
I was only cleaning up that mess.
“You look grumpy,” Conner said, “Let me feed you.”
“I do like food.” Propping my chin on my fist, I eyeballed him as he stood over me. “Let me put this email together, then you can do me the honor of stuffing my face.”
“Stuffing your face,” he growled low. He brought his mouth close to mine and tugged on my earlobe with his teeth. “That's hot. Say it again.”
“Say what, stuff my face?” I giggled, kissing him while typing on my keyboard. I had one eye on the screen to make sure my email made sense. I wanted to send the file to the printer with my family's addresses so the company could handle delivery—one less step for me—but Conner was distracting me. “Come on, give me a second to pull up their contacts and... oh, that feels gooooood...” I moaned openly as he rolled his warm mouth down my sensitive throat.
“Forget the email,” he whispered. He traced a hand over my stomach, then down, forcing my legs apart in the chair. “Send it later.”
“But it's so close to being done.”
“You're closer,” he rasped.
My eyes shut when he suckled on the bare skin between my neck and shoulder. His fingers pulled my blouse further away, exposing more parts of my skin for his tongue to stroke. I gave one final blurry look at my screen, at the email ready to send with the files attached, my instructions messily typed, and gave up. “Fine,” I groaned, grabbing at his hair. “But you better make this good. I'm not known to pick pleasure over business.”
“Yes Ma'am.” His weight held me down in the chair. He was huge, blocking out the overhead lights as he stole the air from my lungs with kiss after kiss. My desire for him trickled through my veins like freshly poured champagne. I tingled, gasping when his teeth raced down my jaw.
Conner's palms left my shoulders. I reached to get them back, but he was busy undoing the top button of my pants; they were ripped down my legs, my bare ass half-slipping off the edge of the chair.
“Have you ever had sex in your office?” he asked me.
“No,” I said honestly.
His eyes twinkled dangerously. I thanked the stars that it was a Sunday morning, meaning no one was scheduled to come in. I'd also locked the main doors, something I didn't normally do. Subconsciously I'd hoped Conner would make a move on me. It felt good to be right.
Looking down at me, he pulled his belt from the loops of his jeans, lowering them until the bulging front of his dark blue briefs was exposed. It thrilled me to watch him jerk himself through the cotton. His strokes were languid, patient, clearly in no rush to end our private moment.
Gripping my panties, I shimmied them down my thighs. He inhaled, nostrils flaring as he saw my pussy peek between my legs. Holding his gaze steady, I lifted my knees, placing them over the arms of the chair.
“Fuck,” he hissed. He jerked himself faster.
Putting two fingers on my pink vulva, I spread myself wide, loving his feral expression. He was barely holding back. A hot, wicked tremble rolled through my body. “What are you waiting for?” I asked him.
Conner shoved his underwear down, his cock bouncing hungrily into the air. He had a condom on it as smoothly as a samurai sheathing a sword. Squeezing the arms of my office chair, he guided his cock-head into my eager pink walls.
I cried out in delight—then he rolled the chair on its wheels, withdrawing his shaft, slamming back into me to the root. It was a fast motion that left me disoriented. My pussy clung to him, so happy to be stuffed. He fucked me like that for a few minutes—using the wheels to glide me onto his hard cock until my vision blurred.
My knees crushed onto the chair arms whe
n my orgasm tore through my body. “Ah!” I cried, trying to gain some control of our speed, but with my feet in the air, I had none. Conner had full control of our bodies. He fucked me through my climax, hunching over me so his heavy breathing swaddled my brain.
Suddenly he lifted me off the chair. He kicked it out of the way, his cock still inside of me as he set me on my desk. “You feel so perfect,” he growled, kissing my forehead. Bracing himself on me, he wrapped my ankles around his lower back, holding them behind him with one hand as the other viced onto the edge of my desk. Everything shook from his desperate thrusts. A tin cup full of pens spilled to the floor; a stack of envelopes fluttered, making a mess, and I didn't care.
“I'm coming,” he panted, hugging me with both arms. I tasted the salty sweat on his throat, heard him hum through his lungs, his heart, as he shot his seed into me. His shaft pulsed, sending me into another climax.
I'd have to check office sex off my bucket list, now.
I sat up, cringing as something sharp dislodged from my ass. “I need a softer keyboard,” I laughed. A loud, trilling noise filled the air. “Oh, shit, my phone is ringing, hang on.” I twisted side to side in search of my pants he'd discarded. Conner crouched, grabbing my jeans, offering them to me. “My hero,” I chuckled.
“Always and forever.”
A tiny, yummy little wiggle went through my body. I liked that idea... him being my hero... “It's my assistant,” I said, eyeing my phone. “Why is she calling me, it's Sunday.” Frowning warily, I felt my stomach start to sink. I had a bad feeling and I didn't know why. “Aubrey?” I asked into the phone.
“How could you?”
I blinked. “What?”
“How could you do this without telling me first!” she yelled so loudly I pulled the phone from my ear. “I though we were best friends!”
“What are you talking about?”
“You're getting married!”
All of the air went out of the room. A ringing grew in my skull. “How... did you...”