Small Town Big Man

by Penny Wylder

  Turning the wheel, my elbow brushes her chest and I can feel the softness of her tit. The cab is small, and I don't have much room to maneuver with this girl squished against me. My dick is thickening as every turn equals a swipe across her tit, and I'm not sure if she's doing this on purpose or if she's just too drunk to notice.

  Pulling up the long dirt road to my cabin, the truck bounces and bucks over the dips and holes. Hitting a large dip, the girl's hand jumps into my lap, landing on my cock.

  Clearing my throat loudly, I wait for her to pull away, but she doesn't.

  “Look—,” I start to say as I pull her hand off my dick. Looking down at her, her head rocks on her shoulders, and her eyes are closed.

  She's sleeping. . .

  Softly, I place her hand in her lap. Her head falls against my shoulder, but I don't move it. I like having her there, it feels. . . Nice.

  Her hair smells like lilacs, and it smells so good I inhale another deep breath. My nose is hovering over her head, and my hands itch to wrap around her shoulder. My cock jerks in my pants as she lets out a little coo under her breath as she exhales.

  I want to fuck her right here. My dick hurts, it's painfully pushing against my zipper as my eyes keep drifting to her chest. Her tits look so perfect, so plump and lickable. I could run my tongue all over her body, tasting her, enjoying every inch of her.

  Nope. Not happening. Pushing this urge away to take her, I force my eyes back on the road.

  My cabin comes into view, and I'm able to let out the breath I've been holding in. Throwing the car into park, the girl suddenly sits up straight, her eyes wide open as she yawns.

  “Are we here?”

  “Yup, this is my place.” Tugging on my jeans, I try to adjust my dick.

  “It's pretty dark out here,” she says as she opens her door and jumps to the ground, still on pretty unsteady feet.

  “Well, we are out in the middle of the woods, plus my power is out right now.” She follows me as I walk to the door. Flipping through my keys, I find the right one and open the door.

  The girl walks right past me as the door swings open, making a straight line for the fridge. She tears open the door and sticks her head inside like she lives here. It’s like I have my own little sexy Goldilocks.

  Closing the door behind me, I light the lantern on the table beside me, and walk to the island in the center of the kitchen, setting it down.

  She's mumbling to herself as she rummages around, and I can make out only a word or two at a time. “Where. . . This might. . . mumble mumble. No, not. . . mumble mumble. Ah, here we go.”

  With a block of cheese in her hand, she starts to pull open cupboards. “Cup? Where are your cups?”

  “Upper right,” I say, pointing.

  She grabs a glass from the cupboard and fills it with water from the sink. “Salt?”

  “On the stove.” Quirking an eyebrow, I have no idea what she's doing.

  Her body shifts, twisting to the stove with both the cheese and water. Setting the cup down, she starts to pour salt into the water. After six or seven shakes, she downs the entire glass and follows it with a big bite of cheese.

  What the hell?

  Chuckling to myself, I continue to watch the strangest thing I've ever seen. And yet, I can't help but smile, weird as it is, I'm genuinely laughing and smiling, and that hasn't happened in years.

  It feels good to be laughing like this. The smile on my face is real, it's not forced or fake or half-assed to make people feel comfortable or just to fit in. I’m watching this strange girl in my kitchen, I don’t know anything about her, and it’s so absurd I can’t help but let the laugh just bubble out of me.

  She fills the cup again and downs it, then bites the cheese, fills it again and eats more cheese. She does this three times before letting out a loud gush of air, then puts the cup in the sink and the cheese back in the fridge. She leans against the counter and gets a serious look on her face.

  “There, that's better. Want to make out now?” Launching herself at me, I catch her by the elbows and hold her at arm’s length.

  “Whoa, slow down there.”

  She's drunk, really, really drunk. It wouldn't be right to do this, not with her like this. No matter how much my cock is begging to be inside her, to feel her heat, to suck on her tits and taste her pussy, I just can't stoop to that level.

  I won't do that to her. I won't let her wake up feeling ashamed and taken advantage of. I'm not that guy. I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror if I knew I’d been with her when she wasn’t completely sober. No matter how fantastic is could be, and looking at her body, I know it would be a night to remember. But no. I’d never cross that line.

  Taking a long step back to put some distance between us, she takes a big step in, her lids lowering seductively.

  “What do you mean “slow down”? You brought me home with you, don't you want to fuck me?” Her hands fall to her hips, and as she takes another step, she wobbles, almost losing her balance. “Hm? Don't you want this anymore?”

  Anymore? What is she talking about?

  “Look, it's not that I don't, but you're drunk.” My hands are out and up, and I'm continuing to walk backwards as she closes in on me.

  “Of course you want to fuck, all men want to fuck. Shit, men will fuck anything that moves, right?” Wriggling her hips, she smirks. “I'm moving, so come and get it.”

  “No, no, no, why don't we maybe sit and relax? Hm? How about that? We can talk.”

  Her hands slip up her sides and she cups her breasts. “Why don't you want to fuck me anymore? You used to, you used to want me.”

  Wait. . . Who is she talking about? This conversation doesn’t seem to be about us.

  “Why doesn't he love me anymore?” Her voice teeters and her eyes start to glaze over like she's about to cry. “Why wasn't I enough for him?” She starts to sniffle, and I expect to her burst out crying. But she doesn't, she glances around us and arches a brow. “Why is it so dark in here?”

  “The power is out.” I know I already told her this, but she's under the influence and clearly things aren’t processing for her.

  “And why is it so cold?” she asks, rubbing the outside of her arms.

  “Let me start a fire.” I'm relieved her mind is now in the present, and that’s she’s moved on from wherever it was she’d jumped to a few minutes before.

  Grabbing a few logs of wood, I crouch down next to the fireplace and arrange them. I strike the match to light some kindling, placing it strategically between the logs and blowing a bit, stoking it until the logs catch and I get a good fire going. When I turn around, she’s seated on the couch and her face is ablaze from the light of the flames, staring, as if mesmerized by the fire. Sitting down next to her, I cup my hands between my legs and give her a soft smile.

  “There, that will take the chill out of the air in here. The power should be back up soon, but for now, this is what I got.”

  “I'm sorry,” she says, turning to look at me.

  I'm struck by her beauty. The way the flames illuminate her skin, how her green eyes flicker with gold and yellow as the fire starts to roar. Her cheeks are rosy, and her mouth is glistening as she nibbles on her bottom lip.

  My dick twitches, and I have to clear my throat as I try to adjust myself without her noticing. “Don't apologize, you don't need to.”

  “Thanks.” Her eyes flick back to the fire as she rubs the tops of her thighs with her open palms. “Can I ask you do something for me?”

  “Sure, what do you need?”

  “Can you just hold me for a little bit? I know we're not going to have sex, and that's fine, but could you do that? I just need to feel like I'm worth something again.”

  Holding out my arm, I give her nod. “Come on in, that's something I can do.”

  She snuggles up close, pressing her body right up against mine. My heart starts to pound with her so close. She fits perfectly into the crook of my arm, as if she was made for it.
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  And it feels good. It feels perfect.

  Her arm drapes over my stomach as she buries her face in my chest. I can smell her hair again, and it smells so good. I'm tempted to run my fingers through her hair, to play with it, touch it, feel it slip through my fingers.

  Clinging to my ribs, she pulls her knees up and closes any gaps between us. The way she wraps herself around me makes me want to protect her and keep her safe. It fills me with a sense of purpose, a sense of need and want and. . . worth.

  “Hey,” I say softly, “I never got your name.” She doesn’t say anything, just makes a satisfied little hum, and I look down at her face and find her fast asleep.

  Relaxing deeper into the couch, my eyes start to get heavy as I watch the fire burn. Her weight at my side feels grounding, the warmth of her body is like the most luxurious blanket. I take a minute to study her face now that her eyes are closed, and she looks as close to an angel as anyone I’ve ever seen. With a smile on my face and a warmth in my gut, I lay my head back and for the first time in ages. . .

  I feel whole.

  3

  Laney

  My eyes are heavy and dry as I try to open them. But it's fucking hard. I finally crack them a little, and they snap shut again all on their own.

  There's a small beam of light that burns my pupils as I get them to stay open. The sun is casting long shadows around the room, and as I try to stretch out, I realize I'm wedged in place by a thick, heavy arm.

  What the hell. . .Whose bed is this and how the hell did I end up here? My brain starts working a mile a minute. Little flashes from last night explode in my head. I drank. A lot. The creep at the bar. Standing in the freezing cold. The guy who brushed me off to eat his soup in peace. Oh. My God. Crying. So much crying.

  What did I do?

  Taking a couple deep breaths, I look back over my shoulder, and I see the grouchy man from the corner of the bar asleep next to me in bed. He looks different in the daylight, minus my drunk goggles and with a much clearer head.

  Wow, he's sexy as hell.

  His hair is tousled, the sharp lines of his jaw and chin are covered in a well-groomed beard. He's shirtless, and I can see thick, black lines painting the arm that's over my body.

  The air outside this cocoon is cool, making the tip of my nose cold. But it's warm in his arms, and under these heavy blankets. I want to stay right where I am, there's a sense of comfort being engulfed by this man, even if I can’t remember his name.

  Then it hits me, the intense pressure of my bladder as it screams for relief. I try to push it off by adjusting my hips a little. It doesn't work, the motion only makes my body scream louder.

  I can't wait.

  I gently try to lift his arm off me, and if it weren’t for the urgent need to run to the bathroom, I’d be tempted to trace my finger over every line on his skin and watch the hairs stand up as I felt his strong muscles. Slinking out from under his arm, my feet hit the cold floor as I stand up. Hugging myself, a chill runs down my body from the icy cold air. I can see my breath as I exhale.

  Man it's cold in here. Rubbing my arms, trying to warm up, I shiver as I tip toe down the staircase from the loft. I definitely don’t remember walking up these stairs last night. I wander around downstairs, open a closet door, and then another, before I try a door at the end of the hallway, and luck out. A bathroom. Yes! I flip the light switch, and nothing happens.

  Shit, the power is out.

  Peeing in the dimly lit room, I take the chance to look myself over in the small mirror above the sink. I don't look half bad considering the heavy drinking, and the onslaught of tears that embarrassingly took over last night.

  This guy must think I'm an emotional mess.

  Cleaning the black smudges off my cheeks from my mascara, I use the mouthwash he has on the sink counter. My head actually feels pretty good despite all the whiskey I consumed.

  Cheese trick wins again!

  Smiling to myself, my gaze shifts to the window. It's not a typical window, it's round, with swooping iron frames that hold a mosaic of glass. There's bright greens and blues, yellows and reds.

  It’s gorgeous.

  Reaching out, I run the tips of my fingers over the glass, unable to stop myself from touching it. It's beautiful; so intricate. Checking out the rest of the bathroom, I'm blown away by the detail in the woodwork. It's everywhere. Intricate swirls and shapes all burned into the surface of the cabinets.

  This must have taken forever to do.

  I wander out of the bathroom and look through the rest of the house. My fingertips glide pleasantly, tracing the designs in the crafted walls. I feel like I'm in some sort of fairy den. It's magical, whimsical, and as I step back into the main room, all I can see is the same steady handiwork.

  Natural wood streamlines the design, from the giant beams that crisscross the ceiling, to the long planks that create the chilled floor under my feet. It's like this place was carved from one giant tree, rather than built.

  Huge glass windows that run from floor to ceiling are creating a looking glass for me into a snowy world. It's like I'm in a snow globe that's been shaken. The trees outside are weighed down by the snow, yet still perfect, and the sky is the perfect shade of blue, the kind you see in paintings. It's hard to see where the road ends and the woods begin with the blanket of snow.

  This place is breathtaking.

  There's sound coming from up in the loft, and I tip-toe back up the stairs to see the man now stirring under the blankets. Smiling to myself, another shiver runs through my body making my muscles tighten. It's cold, but I know where it's warm.

  Slipping back under the blankets, I snuggle back up to this bear sized man. His arm moves easily, giving me room to slide even closer to his warmth. Forming my body to his, my ass pushes back into him, and I can feel his morning wood.

  He's hard, pushing back against me and it's turning me on. Rocking my ass slowly, I rub against his erection, hoping to rouse him. There's something about this place, about this man, about this moment that is just turning me on.

  I don't just want to snuggle for warmth, I want to make heat of our own.

  My hips are rolling, and my pussy is growing wet. I feel him move slightly, his face nuzzling into my hair as his hand cups my belly. His hips start to rock with mine, forcing his cock firmly against my ass. I can feel his chest against my back rising and falling as his breath quickens.

  Glancing over my shoulder, his eyes are open, and he has this look of uncertainty in his stare.

  “Please,” I say, my voice a whisper. I can hear the desperation in my tone, and I hate it. But I want him, no—I need him. “Please,” I say again, pressing back against his cock.

  “Are you sure?” he asks, his voice gravely with sleep, and I hope, desire. Nodding, I pull my bottom lip into my mouth, and nibble it gently. “And you're sober, right?”

  “Sober as a nun in church.” Taking his hand, I lift it to my lips and run the pads of his fingers across my mouth. His skin is rough, scratching against my lips, but I like it. It sends a tremble through my body. He works with his hands, that’s clear. They’re used, coarse, not soft and smooth. I pop his finger into my mouth and suck gently, running my tongue around his fingertip. As I’d hoped, it makes him think of me sucking something else and he digs his fingers into my hip and grabs my ass back, pulling it more firmly against his erection.

  “Take me,” I say, sucking his finger harder. “I need you.”

  My tongue swirls across the tip and his eyes light up with small flames. Growling, he moves his face forward, kissing me hard and fierce. With bruising passion his tongue sweeps across my lips, and pushes through, licking and tasting.

  Yes! I need this!

  Moaning into the kiss, I part my lips wider, licking back. His hand sweeps across the back of my head and he digs his fingers into my scalp. Tearing at my roots, he pulls my head in closer.

  Another growl causes his lips to rumble as he bites my bottom lip and plucks it wi
th his teeth. His eyes grow dark, the blue now a shaded pool as he slips his hand down my side and starts to pull my skirt up over my hips.

  We never break our kiss, our lips stay sealed, and our eyes frozen on each other. Like a wild beast, he tears my panties down, splitting them at the seam like they're made of paper, and tossing them behind my back as his body continues to rub against mine.

  Yes, this is exactly what I need. A man to take control. A man to give me what I want, not take what he needs.

  Rolling over to face him, I run my fingers down his chest, tracing each nipple with my fingertips and then down his belly, past his navel until I reach his pants. I’m still in my clothes from last night, but he’s wearing a pair of flannel pajama pants. I slip my hand under the elastic waist band and grab hold of his cock. It’s thick, and when I wrap my hand around it, the tips of my fingers barely touch each other.

  He lets out a husky groan as I start to stroke him up and down, swirling my thumb around the sensitive head. His hips jerk forward as I hit the base, forcing his cock deeper into my hand. Bucking slightly, he fucks my hand back, his eyes glazing over with delirious need. With every stroke he pants out a small grunt, and then the precum is dripping from the head. It makes my hands slick and he starts fucking my hand faster.

  His hand reaches between my legs, and when he feels how wet I am he moans and claims my mouth again. His fingers slip over me before finally settling on my clit, where he repeats a delicious pattern of figure eights, ever so lightly dancing over the swelling bud. He kisses me gain, pushing my head back onto the pillow, so now I’m on my back and he has better access to my pussy. He puts two fingers inside me, and I swear, my pussy clamps down on them like a vise. I’ve never wanted someone more than I want him right now. His thumb continues to play with my clit, and I’m having a hard time paying attention to his cock in my hand because I can feel an orgasm starting to build. God, it’s been a while.

  His lips kiss down my jaw line, flutter back up to my ear, and I feel his hot breath on me when he says, “I want to fuck you.” But he doesn’t move. He just keeps his mouth right there, his hand between my legs. And with every thrust of his fingers in my pussy, and every swirl of his thumb over my slick clit, he keeps murmuring to me. “You’re going to feel so good when I’m deep inside you. You’re so fucking wet and hot. I’m going to take my time. I’m going to make you feel so good. Do you like this?” All I can do is moan, my head moving from side to side on the pillow. Between his deft fingers and his dirty talk, I feel like I’m floating above my body. The arousal coursing through me is making my body hum. I feel like I’m vibrating from the tips of my toes to the top of my head. Fuck, even my teeth are chattering with the buildup.