by S. C. Adams
I’m happy to see her walking through my front door again. She leaves her shoes and purse by the door and sits on the couch, clearly waiting for me to decide on which course we are going to take.
I sit down next to her, taking her hand and kissing it. She grins and blushes.
“What are we doing first, milady?” I ask.
She leans in and gives me a hug. We embrace and hold each other for several seconds, melting in each other’s arms.
“I missed you,” she says quietly.
I let her go, moving her hair from her eyes so that I can look into them while I proclaim my feelings.
“Jillian, I think I’m falling in love with you.”
She is beaming, gasping and laughing to herself. “Wow.”
“I’m not telling you this to put pressure on you,” I say. “I want you to know where I’m at. You deserve the truth.”
“You’re falling for me?”
“Of course, I am! How the hell could I not?”
She looks away for many moments, leaving me alone and vulnerable.
“Now I feel stupid,” I say, trying to save face. “I’m already about to ruin it. We don’t need—”
“I feel the same way, Mason,” says Jillian. “I’m falling for you, too.”
We each laugh happily at these monumental revelations. We initially go in for a hug, but we stop. I put my hand on the side of her face and kiss her, holding our lips firmly pressed together for as long as we are able.
It isn’t long before our hands begin to wander like they often do. As my hands are massaging her firm ass, she is caressing my stomach and eagerly gliding her hands toward my thick boner. The desire is building between us at such a rate that I worry the couch might become collateral damage in a lovemaking frenzy.
37
Jillian
He leads us from the couch to his bedroom, confident and ready to make up for lost time. I’ve brought another toy with me in my purse, but I don’t have the will to pause for any reason. I’m ready to feel my love’s hard cock buried deep in my wet pussy.
He closes the door to his room, despite us being alone in the house and far from civilization. I fall onto the bed, quickly ripping off my clothes as he strips off his own like he does it professionally. I can feel myself growing wet already. I haven’t felt that needy since I last had him inside me.
First, we give each other oral at the same time. I lay on top of him, sucking on his fat, juicy dick; meanwhile, I grind my wet pussy into his face, while his tongue and lips are working wonders on my clit and opening. He feasts on my sex with such hunger and commitment that I worry I might not ever get off his face.
We both like 69-ing better than we anticipate we will. Feeling his warmth against my wetness while I lick and suck on his dick is enough to make me shudder consistently. I moan into his flesh, drooling down his shaft whenever he gives my pussy a particularly good lashing with his tongue.
Once my dam bursts, so does his mighty cannon. I scream with my mouth full, coming fast onto his mouth while his thick dick fires a sweet shot of cum down my throat like I’m dying of thirst. I hold onto the base of his dick, stroking out every last bit of ammunition into my mouth.
He flips me over, reloading to fire again. He plays with himself, stroking his big dick while he watches me squirming on the bed from my climax. I rest my hand on my cunt, gently massaging it while I watch him preparing his weapon for me again.
Once he is good and hard for me, he climbs on top of me and eases that fat shaft inside. Oh god, he’s enormous and seems to get bigger each time. But right now, he gives it to me nice and slow. He fucks me to drive me crazy. I’m already ready for him to drive into me harder. He does it slowly at first to be sweet, but even once he knows I want it faster, he still maintains slow, even thrusting while he fucks me.
I want it to last forever, but I’m ready for him to make me cum again. I grab onto him, holding him steady while I switch our positions. I roll us over and pin him down on the bed.
I ride his cock hard and fast, burying him deep, pumping his gun so I can feel it firing again. I want to feel him shoot his load up into me while I ride him. I want to see his face while I drain his balls.
He doesn’t allow me to have the pleasure of such a view right away. When he is close, he pushes me off of him and gets to his feet. He takes my hand and guides me over to the wall by his door. He presses my back against the wall, kissing and fondling me as he keeps me in place.
He grabs onto my legs, lifting my left one up to spread me apart just enough to fit in. He shoves his dick inside me and slammed into me, going faster and more intensely than I’ve ever seen or felt when standing up. He grabs onto my hair and pulls hard, drilling faster the more I coat his cock with my juices.
He keeps my back against the wall until he’s ready to shuffle. He pulls out and turns me around, taking my hands and placing them up above my head and against the wall. I feel like I’m being arrested, and he’s going to punish me. He pushes my head down, grabs onto my sides, and pulls my ass toward him. I bend over for him nice and low, and he thanks me by putting his throbbing dick where it belongs.
It feels incredible to submit to him, giving him the power and getting the benefits of his skilled sexual energy. He keeps one hand attached to my dangling breasts and one hand firmly rested on my ass as he dominates me from behind. Occasionally, he will give me a nice spanking, slapping my ass hard and swiftly enough to make it sting. He pinches and squeezes my nipples under his big fingers, making them so hard with his touch.
He moves us from against the wall back to the bed, where he lays me down on the edge of it—one of our favorite positions. This way, he can ride hard and fast enough to give me a bountiful burst of his nectar.
From the moment his tip touches my cunt, he also keeps at least two fingers attentively on my soaked clitoris. That, with his powerful thrusting, sends me into another place. There is pain, but it is such a good pain. I yell out in pleasure and succumb to him, climaxing hard and wide, spraying some of my juices onto his bed.
My pussy becomes so sensitive after this climax. I try to get him to stop, but even with the ticklish, raw sensation that comes from being so well spent, I am unable to insist genuinely. He can tell I am enjoying him too much, and he is eager to hear me yell for him again.
“You fucking like that?” he asks with a deep, husky voice.
“Oh God, yes,” I say loudly. “You might have to stop. It’s too much.”
“That means we need to keep going, baby,” he says. “We’re pushing boundaries and crossing thresholds. We can’t stop now.”
I am exhausted, but I can’t argue with his logic. I’ve never had it this good before, and I want to know how unbelievably good it can get.
Our hot, steamy sex goes well into the night, lasting hours and likely keeping the surrounding wildlife in the mountains from sleeping. He roars like a lion whenever he finishes, relieved and triumphant. I scream for so long and so loudly that I worry our disturbance might not only wake the animals, but the people of Wrightwood.
I lose track of how many orgasms I achieve while in Mason’s bedroom that night—I’m not sure when one ends and another begins. We push the boundaries to the limits our bodies can withstand.
I am the luckiest girl in California.
38
Mason
I wake up in bed with Jillian cuddled up to me, her hands draped over my chest, her head nestled into my shoulder.
It’s starting to get light outside, but we haven’t been asleep for long. We had sex for so long that time became irrelevant. All that mattered was us—our bodies, our hearts, our souls, and our love. This home is our home, and we understand each other.
I look at her, watching her sleep so peacefully. I want to know what she is dreaming about. I wish we could dream together so that I might share in her brain waves, many of which are sexual, according to her.
I absentmindedly begin stroking her hair. I keep replaying the ev
ents of last night in my head, keeping it securely placed in my memory forever. It’s still so weird to have the future mother of my child there in bed with me. Calling it surreal is a disservice. I am the luckiest man in California.
Once it’s light enough outside, Jillian starts to stir. Eventually, her eyes open all the way when she sees that my eyes are open.
“Hi,” she says groggily.
“It’s still early,” I say quietly. “No need to get up yet.”
“I’m not.” She groans. “Mmph. Why are you up?”
“Woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep,” I answer. “I woke up with the most beautiful woman in America snuggled up with me in bed. I wanted to savor it.”
She smiles, lightly smacking me on the chest. “Just America?”
“Okay, the most beautiful woman in the world,” I correct.
“Liar,” she says, covering her face to block out the sun.
She wraps her arms around my neck, snuggling up closer to me. I wrap her in a warm embrace, and we hold each other with our eyes closed. We cuddle for many minutes, listening to the beating of each other’s hearts.
“Even the rhythm your heart makes is amazing,” I say.
She snickers. “Yours is awesome, too.”
“You know,” I begin. “If I pressured you yesterday into saying you loved me, you should know I’m all right with you taking it back.”
“What?”
“I feel like I kind of put you on the spot,” I elaborate. “I told you I was falling for you. You’re here in my house. I’m worried maybe you said it too because I sort of put you in an awkward position.”
“Mason, I told you I was falling for you because I meant it,” says Jillian. “I don’t say things I don’t mean. You believe me, right?”
“I do,” I say. “I’m glad that you said it again, though. Thanks.”
“Anytime, pal.” She laughs. “No. I’m happy. I’m so happy that I finally know. You’re my man. I’m so glad you want to be with me. I had convinced myself you didn’t love me.”
“I think I’ve loved you for a while,” I say. “I can’t believe all the time we missed.”
“During those three weeks, or all the time before we even met?” she asks.
“Both!” I answer. “Why didn’t you move to L.A. before I moved to Wrightwood? We could’ve looked for a house together.”
“We could’ve built a house together,” she amends. “We’d look and explore the mountains looking for our perfect spot. I love it where we are, but what if there was a place around here by a creek or a river. Or a waterfall!”
“We could still do that, you know,” I say matter-of-factly. “My house here will probably double in value in a year or two. We can go hiking through the mountains looking for our perfect spot. Then we’ll build the house, sell my place here, and make a ton of dough so this baby can live in comfort.”
“That sounds perfect,” she says. “I really like your house, though.”
“I do, too. We don’t have to move.”
“We’re talking like you’d be okay living together already.” She laughs.
“I am,” I say seriously.
Her eyes open wider. “For real?”
“Sure.” I shrug. “I’ve wanted you here every day since we parted. I feel blessed sharing my bed with you. To share more with you would be incredible.”
“Get out,” she says doubtfully. “What are you on? You would really be okay with me living with you?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
She ponders for a short while before replying with, “Good point.”
“I want to be able to take care of my woman,” I tell her. “You can stay here as long as you want, Jillian. You could stay until your maternity gig starts. Or you could stay here and commute. How long is your gig for?”
“I don’t know,” she answers. “Probably a month or two.”
“I want to be there with you every step of the way,” I say. “I want to be attentive to my child and my baby’s mother.”
“I want you with me, too. You’d go to Lamaze classes with me?”
“If you tell me how to do it, and what the hell to do, I’ll go,” I say lightly. “Again though, no pressure. Don’t say you’ll live with me only because I suggested it.”
“Mason, I told you I loved you because it’s true!” she reiterates.
“You never told me you loved me,” I point out. “You said you were falling for me. That’s a little bit different.”
“Well, I do love you.”
“I love you, too,” I say with joy, pulling her in for a kiss.
“No man has ever made me feel the way you do,” she says. “What did I ever do to get so lucky?”
“You’re not that lucky,” I quip. “You got pregnant after hooking up only once with a condom.”
She smacks my chest. “Why you gotta ruin the moment?”
“As long as you’re with me, I need nothing else,” I say.
“You’re so sweet,” she says. “I keep expecting to wake up from this dream. I can’t believe I get to call you mine.”
“Call me whatever you want, baby,” I say suggestively.
She runs her hands up and down my arms, squeezing them.
“Are you feeling my biceps?” I ask.
“I’m feeling all your muscles, sexy man,” she replies.
“Sorry you lost the job at K-Plus,” I tell her. “Well, sort of lost it. I know how much you loved modeling for them.”
“Yeah, it’s okay,” she says. “The new gig will start soon, and after maternity leave, I’ll go right back to normal. They’re good people. I doubt they’re totally done with me yet.”
“Well, you could’ve had work now, but instead, you’re pregnant from my very potent sperm,” I point out. “I feel bad. It’s partially my fault.”
“Maybe, but I’m not mad at you or anything,” she assures me. “It happens. I’m not dwelling on it.”
“I love you,” I say again.
“I love you too,” she reciprocates. “Do you have to work today?”
“I’ve got an operations manager that handles the actual deliveries now, so no,” I reply. “I’m on call, but I don’t get calls that often.”
“You should try and spread Dunn Deliveries over to L.A.,” she suggests. “You’d make a fortune.”
“Nah, I think I’d get killed,” I observe. “GrubHub and Postmates kind of have the L.A. market cornered as far as deliveries go.”
“That sucks because there are a lot of places you could deliver from that would probably do business with you.”
“You’re very right,” I agree. “I don’t think I’d see a profit in L.A. for at least a few years, though. I don’t think I could afford to live here in this house.”
“Oh, that’s even worse,” she backtracks.
“Besides, I’m kind of thinking about exiting the delivery business anyway,” I admit. “If I got to do what I really wanted, then I could probably sell Dunn Deliveries or liquidate it.”
“What do you want to do?”
“I’d like to open a small café here in town,” I say.
“No kidding!” she says, smiling. “What kind?”
“Just a regular, quaint place that serves a variety of meals all day,” I answer. “I wanted to wait and open it when I’d saved enough money from my business. Real estate in town isn’t cheap, and I’d want savings while I’m spending lots of money establishing a new café.”
“That’s so cool!” she says. “Do you like cooking or baking? Did you want a café because you have a major passion for food?”
“I do like food, but I mostly like running a business,” I reply. “I like cafés I think they have a charm that a lot of restaurants don’t seem to have these days.”
“We’ll get our dream home later,” she says with definiteness. “Open your café, make some money, and then we’ll build our house together—the baby can help, too.”
“Right.” I laugh. “Hey, did
you find out if it’s a boy or a girl yet?”
“No, I won’t know that for another month at least,” she answers.
“I’ll bet it’s a boy,” I predict.
“What makes you think that?”
“Call it a hunch. I’ll bet it’s a healthy baby boy, and I’ll bet we name him something epic-sounding like Augustus or Socrates.”
“I have names in mind,” she says.
“Oh yeah? Let’s hear them!”
“No, I’m afraid you’ll hate them,” she says, hiding her face in the covers.
“If I’m going to hate them, I might as well hear them now, right?” I say, pulling the covers off her face. “Why wait and make me wonder for something silly?”
“Well,” she says meekly. “If it’s a girl, I like the name Isabella.”
“I like that name, too!” I say genuinely. “I like it a lot. Isabella. Isabella Fellows. I like it.”
“What would you name your kid?”
“I’m not sure,” I admit. “I usually go to the epic names, or something basic that always works like Jack and John or Sarah. I’ll have to think.”
“I like Sarah,” she says.
“What about if it’s a boy? What name did you have in mind for him?”
“I don’t want to say. It’s a good name though, trust me.”
“I like the name Trey for a boy, too, not sure why,” I comment.
“Hmm,” she says. “Well, we’ve got time to figure it out. And you know you don’t have to sell Dunn Deliveries just because you open up a café. You’re running Dunn Deliveries right now—here, while you’re in bed. You can be on call for that and work the café for most of your time. No reason to sell it if you ask me.”
“That’s an excellent point,” I observe. “You’re already making awesome life choices for me. When can you move in? Tomorrow?”