by Carly Keene
She skips to the bathroom, and somewhere along the way I lose my pants again, and my dick decides he’s napped long enough, and we make the shower count, too. We wash each other clean, and at some point I make her bend over against the shower wall, and I lick her luscious pink pussy until she comes again, and she kneels and sucks my cock, her warm mouth and womanly hands caressing until I beg her to stop. She doesn’t stop. She pulls back at the point of no return, and lets me paint her incredible, pillowy tits with my cum, and then she’s very pleased with herself.
We wash her clean again.
I let her wear one of my t-shirts to eat in, and the minute we’ve finished eating, I’m having her for dessert.
I’m going to have to wash the tablecloth, too, but I don’t care. The fact that Willa Hudson’s smokin’ ass is right now perched on top of my tablecloth is going to be a spank-bank image for the rest of my life.
And then? We talk. We fucking talk for hours. And I love it.
CHAPTER NINE
Willa
I was so scared that he was going to kick me out.
Not so much that I thought he was really going to, although there was a terrifying moment when he just shut down in front of me, but that I was going to lose this thing that came out of nowhere, a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow, something priceless. But I felt that panic you’d feel if you lost something precious and irreplaceable.
But he talked. He talked a lot.
About his childhood and his family. His dreams of living in his grandmother’s house, when she would finally decide to sell it and move in with her younger sister. His dreams of having children, of maybe teaching them to do the work he did, to see if they liked it. His dreams of loving someone for his whole life, of trusting her and being whole and real with her.
Our dreams have the same shape. They fit together the way our bodies do, which is perfectly, and while my sanity is still saying, Take your time, now I feel like there is time to do that.
There’s time for us to meet each other’s families.
There’s time for me to arrange a remote-working situation for my job, or to find something else if necessary.
There’s time for us to talk about other solutions.
“I love you,” Mason says.
“We’re gonna make it,” I say back, “because I love you too. And we’re not letting go. Not even when I have to leave.”
“Good,” he says.
And then he stops talking, except to say some really raunchy, arousing things, and throw me over his shoulder (how does he do that without giving himself a hernia?) to take me up the ladder to his bedroom.
I refuse. I picture myself landing on my head on the wood floor, and I flatly refuse. I tell him he can follow me upstairs, but I’m not being carried up a ladder.
“Okay,” he says, and then proceeds to have his hands all over my ass and between my thighs, stroking and fingering as I try to climb the ladder and not faint from sexual pleasure at the same time. The minute we get up to the top, he’s got me bent over the dresser, thighs apart, looking at each other’s eyes in the mirror, while he rubs my clit until my legs shake from my, what, fifth orgasm of the evening? Fifth. And then he’s pressing his cock deep inside my pussy, thrusting against that really good spot, still saying those raunchy sexy things.
Like, “Finger yourself while I fuck you, baby.” And “Feel that cock? You feel my cock. I want you to come on me.” And, “Damn, this is the finest I have ever felt. Smooth. Tight. You fit me, Willa. We just fit.” And, “Oh, yeah, I love your pussy.”
Later we’re snuggled in the bed, talking about how many children we want (I think two; he says he wants enough for a basketball team). I say that we’d better hope to have boys instead of girls who’d be big like me. “More Girl Sasquatches,” I say with a sigh, realizing that if I ever had delusions of giving birth to tiny delicate ballerina cherubs, I shouldn’t be making babies with a big beautiful man like this one.”
He sits up and looks at me. “Girl Sasquatches?”
I wave a hand, no big deal. “I used to get called that. In school.”
“That was shitty,” he says, and it’s cute he’s so mad.
“And my boyfriend said it a couple of times,” I say in a small voice. “I kind of broke up with him over it. He wanted me to be on top, but then he said I would crush him.”
“Asshole,” Mason says, his eyes throwing off those blue sparks. I get a chill. “Damn him. Now you listen up, baby girl—”
“I’m nobody’s baby girl,” I protest.
“Okay, I’ll leave ‘baby’ out,” he says, “but you’re my girl and you’re gonna hear me now. You are not a girl Sasquatch. You are a sexy woman. Repeat it after me.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m a sexy woman.”
“No. Say it better.”
I take a deep breath and try again. “I am a sexy woman.”
“Damn straight! One more time, because you’re sexy as hell! And then prove it to me. You can seduce me again.”
I glare at him, not really mad. “You seduced me.”
Then Mason laughs. “I guess we did it to each other.”
I think about how we couldn’t take our eyes off each other, and how we both just felt like we fit together, and how nothing would do but getting naked. “I guess so.”
“We’ll work it out,” he says, and begins to stroke my breasts again, lingering on my nipples. “I’ll take a vacation. We’ll go visit your family and I can meet them. Then you can have a vacation and come back here, and we’ll see how we can do this. Sound good?” I nod, shivering under his hands. “I think you should ride me again—sexy woman. Now say it.”
“I am a sexy woman.”
“Again.” This time his fingers move to my pussy, and I gasp. A trickle of moisture leaks out. “Fuck, you sexy woman, you’re so wet for me. Say it.”
Somehow it’s easy to be myself now. I say it, bold as I can be. “I’m a sexy woman. I’m sexy as hell, and I’m wet for you, Mason.”
“Oh yeah,” he says, and kisses me hard. I kiss back.
The moon shines in through the windows while we take each other, again and again, because we have a whole life to make together.
Epilogue
Willa, four years later
“Come on, sweetheart, let’s go get Daddy,” I tell my two-year-old daughter, swinging her up into my arms. “Oof, you’re getting heavy.”
She snuggles into my neck, and we go outside to meet the white Peters Electrical truck just as it’s turning into the drive.
“Daddy!” Sarah exclaims, and wiggles to get down.
“No, wait until he’s out of the truck,” I say and clutch her tighter so she doesn’t run in front of the vehicle. “Then we can go get hugs.”
Mason opens the door. He’s filthy with dust and fluff and something black I can’t identify, but I mentally shrug over the laundry and set Sarah on the ground to go to him.
“Daddy Daddy Daddy!” She holds her arms up to him, and he scoops her up.
“Hey, peanut, love you.” They rub their noses together, and I can’t help smiling at the sweetness of it. “You keep your mama busy today?”
“Uh-huh.”
He looks at me and I shrug. “Good thing I didn’t do any conference calls today. My hair was a mess and I just got it brushed about half an hour ago.” One corner of his beautiful mouth turns up, and I know he’s thinking that he likes how I look with my hair messed up.
Sarah pats his arm. “Hot dogs, Daddy.”
“Oh, for dinner? Yum.”
I made hot dogs for the sake of convenience. I didn’t want to spend eight hours making something fancy for dinner, although heaven knows Mason deserves that. I’m just tired these days. It’ll pass.
“How’s my best girl?” Mason asks, reaching for me with the arm that isn’t holding our daughter.
“I’m good. You want to shower before dinner?”
“Oh, no kidding. I’m a mess.” Then he gets a good look at Sa
rah’s playsuit, and cringes. “Oops. Now she’s a mess too.”
“It’s okay. The washing machine works.”
“Good thing,” Mason says, and kisses me. I feel the gentle brush of his beard against my face and smile in the middle of the kiss. “I missed you.”
“Missed you too.” I put both arms around my husband and daughter and squeeze tight.
Once we’re all sitting at the dinner table, clean and hungry, I put the package at Mason’s place. “That’s for you. Open it.”
He raises his eyebrows at me with a sidelong smile. “Mm-hmm. You didn’t go crazy at the antique store, did you?”
We are furnishing this farmhouse—the one that used to belong to his grandmother—with country antiques and vintage fabrics, many of which I’ve found on auction sites or at thrift stores, and sometimes Mason likes to tease me about it.
“I can assure you I didn’t buy that secondhand,” I tell him.
He rips off the paper and stares at the piece of plastic inside the box. “What is this?” He looks up at me, puzzled. “Willa, honey? I don’t know what this is.”
“You don’t remember what it’s for?” I ask. He shakes his hand. Sarah reaches for it, and he gives it to her. “Sarah, baby, don’t eat that.”
“I play wif it.”
“Okay, but not in your mouth.” I can barely keep from smiling, looking at my husband and my daughter. “That’s a pregnancy test, Mason.”
He stares at me. Then he blinks, and I can almost see the change in his face when he finally makes the connection. “It’s positive?”
I nod.
“We’re having another baby?”
I nod.
“Yeeeeehawwww!” Mason leaps up from the table, coming around it to grab me and spin me around the kitchen.
“I know we said we were going to wait,” I explain, through the kisses he’s planting on my face, “but it looks like this baby had other plans.”
“We’ll manage,” he says, still grinning. “We’ll be fine.”
And I know we will. I’ll take a leave of absence from work, and I’ll go back when I can, and I’ll use my remote-working capacity as far as I can. I’ll still spend a week a month doing some on-site coordinating when I go back full-time, but I love those weeks away, because I will always get to come home—to these mountains, and to my mountain man.
After Sarah has bath and we put her to bed, Mason stands in the hall looking at the bedrooms opening off it. “We have a lot of house. We have enough house that we could try for our own basketball team,” he suggests. “It’s a good thing we bought Mamaw’s house from the family.”
I do love this house, and I’m thrilled by the possibility of filling it up with our children. Three more babies after Sarah and this one? That’s a lot. We’re already soaked to the gills in love, and I’m having a hard time imagining this much love multiplied by five children. I don’t know how the world could hold it all—but he’s right, the house can hold a lot of kids.
Mason puts his arms around me. “Want to practice making babies?”
I have to laugh. “We already know how to. Want proof?”
He puts his big capable hand on my belly, and I almost gasp at the way desire goes shooting through my body, making my knees weak. “I know we already know how. But let’s practice some more anyway.”
I lead him to the bedroom and close the door, and then I take off my blue gingham top and jeans, leaving me in just my bra and underwear. For once, they match: blue cotton with lace trim. Because I’m a busy mama and I need comfortable ladypants, but first, I’m Mason’s wife.
He likes blue. He likes me in blue.
He loves me, period. I don’t have to hide who I am, he loves me.
And right now his body is ready to love my body. We kiss as I pull off his clean shirt. He unzips his jeans, letting me tug them down over his hips so that his beautiful big cock springs out, eager for my touch. He’s hot against my belly, and his hands are warm as he unhooks my bra and drops it to the floor.
“You’re so beautiful, Willa,” he says against my neck, kissing down to my full breasts, teasing my nipples with fingers and tongue until I moan. “Are you wet for me? Baby, I want you so bad.” He slides his hands up my thighs, suckling at my nipples, and then he pulls my panties to the side to caress my damp folds. “Fuck. You are wet.”
“I want you too,” I whisper back, getting both my hands on his gorgeous monster and caressing it until he groans out loud and loses patience. My panties hit the floor, and then my back hits the mattress and he’s kneeling between my ankles, bending to put his mouth on me. “Feels so good, Mason,” I whisper, feeling his beard rough against my inner thighs, his tongue silky against my clit.
He knows how to touch me. He brings me to the edge, and then he moves to cover my body with his and slide his rock-hard cock inside my eager pussy.
“You’re mine,” he says into my ear. “My woman. All woman. I love you, Willa.”
“I love you forever, Mason. My mountain man. All mine.”
“All yours.”
We prove it to each other late into the night, and the moonlight falls like a blessing through the window, onto our entwined bodies.
COMING SOON:
Loved by Moonlight
Katie:
I’ve always been a suburban girl, accustomed to a Starbucks on every other corner, without thinking much about it. I do remember visiting my grandparents in West Virginia when I was a kid, and I loved it. Since high school, my summers have been busy and there hasn’t been much opportunity to go back and spend an afternoon in the tire swing, or fish in the pond, or count stars at night.
Until now. My cousin Mason’s getting married, and since his wedding coincides with the beginning of my summer vacation from teaching English to ungrateful middle-school students, I’m taking the opportunity to catch up with my family in Hillbilly-ville. I’m sure I’ll be glad to come back to civilization, where I belong.
But at the wedding, I meet this guy. Micah’s gorgeous. He’s well-traveled, well-read, well-built . . . and I’m tempted to stay and get to know him better.
Micah:
I grew up outside Atlanta, where every suburb just looks like every other one. A visit to the Moonlight Ridge resort gave me a glimpse of real beauty, and a town with quirks all its own, and I took out a loan to open a tavern there, brewing my own ales and making friends. Learning what home should feel like.
I love the Ridge.
And I’m pretty happy until at my friend Mason’s wedding, I meet the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. Katie’s gorgeous, sweet, and fun, and her curves have me aching to hold her. One kiss tells me I need this woman, and one night tells me I’ll need her forever.
I just have to trust that our love is worth changing our lives for.
RELEASING MAY 20! Pre-order HERE.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Carly Keene writes short steamy romance packed full of hot instalove between sexy, assertive men and the fantastic women they fall in love with. A lot of sweetness, plus a lot of steam—a virtual vanilla latte served extra-hot! If you’ve ever wished that Hallmark™ movies showed what happens in the bedroom, Carly’s books are for you. No cheating or cliffhangers, just guaranteed happily-ever-afters.
She’s a small-town girl who lives in Virginia with the love of her life and a crazy goofball dog who thinks he is the world’s greatest hunter (and is totally, totally NOT).
You can connect with Carly on social media at the links below, and at carlykeene.com.
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THANK YOU!!!
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ALSO BY CARLY KEENE
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2 Christmas Presents
3 Christmas Angel Wishes
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3 Maddox
4 Finlay
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Shenanigans & Malarkey Series:
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Moonlight Ridge Collection COMING SOON!