by Shandi Boyes
With an arch of her back, Regan tilts her pussy forward, giving me unhindered access to the object I am determined to destroy as much as I want to devour. Her change in position gives me an unimpeded view of her beautiful body glistening in the mid-morning sun and tightens the knot low in my gut.
While my hips jackknife on repeat, I shift my gaze to take it all in. The visual is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. My cock commanding every inch of her swollen-with-need pussy as her teeth gnaw on her bottom lip so fiercely lipstick is not required, ensures my campaign to abolish any of her thoughts not associated with me is in full swing.
But that’s not the only truth it exposes. It reveals what I’ve always known. She can play me like a fiddle.
Realizing her ruse has been exposed, Regan murmurs, “I’ve heard jealousy fucking is the best there is. Would have never believed it if you didn’t prove me wrong.”
The cocky glint in her eyes fades when I modify the swivel of my hips. Within minutes, my pump and roll routine has the slickness of her pussy matching the mud coating her back. She purrs my name on repeat, making my existence in this world whole and complete. She might have badgered me into fucking her like a deranged man, but the man claiming her now, the one possessing her like he wanted to five years ago, he’s not commanding every inch of her body because he’s jealous. He’s dominating her in a way any alpha man would. I’m making her mine.
As evidence of Regan’s excitement coats my shaft, her nails scour my back. Although I want to bang my chest and claim victory, not all Regan’s wetness can be attributed to her excitement. For every hoarse cry she emits, spurts of precum shoot from my shaft, adding to the wildly wet conditions.
As my hips piston at an uncontrolled pace, Regan’s nails dig into my back. Her endeavor to hold on to my sweat-slicked body adds to the chaos. We fuck like wild animals, the country setting perfect for our crazy, uncontrolled romp.
“Yes,” Regan moans, spreading her thighs wider. “Fuck me, Alex. Fuck me.”
My hips slam against hers as I struggle to ignore the orgasm demanding my surrender. I pound into her on repeat, loving the cries shredding from her throat as much as my cock loves her tight pussy milking it.
When she arches her back to release a throaty scream, my balls slap her ass. I rock my pelvis faster, bringing her squeals up another two decibels. Not wanting our impromptu gathering interrupted before we’ve found release, I seal my mouth over hers. Our kiss amplifies the insane heat between us, as needy as the frantic cries Regan releases between breaths.
After a few minutes of commanding her mouth as well as I am controlling her pussy, Regan pulls back. “I’m. . . I’m. . .” Her throaty cries are loud and without constraint—as is her pleasure.
I feel her getting tighter, firmer, her voice huskier before she shatters in the most brilliant way. She squeals my name in a breathless purr as her shoulders relax and her eyes glaze over. A shuddering sensation takes over every inch of her body, forfeiting to the madness without an ounce of protest.
I position myself better so I can watch the extravaganza unfold. The slight gap between her lips, the hue on her cheeks, and the perfect arch of her back as her limbs give way to the uproar surging through her is a fascinating sight.
Regan’s orgasm sucks out all her energy, leaving nothing but satisfaction. Aiming to have her once again enslaved to the brilliance of our exchange, I dig my fingers into her hips to adjust them upwards, giving me unrestricted access to her still-quivering pussy and beautiful face. Her pleasure-hazed features have me coming undone. She's beautiful and free, finally rid of the restraint she’s had since the day we met.
With my eyes locked on hers, I continue pounding her, taking every contraction of her pussy as approval for cum to rocket out of my cock. While groaning her name, I give her every drop of my spawn, holding nothing back.
I begin to wonder if you can die from an orgasm when mine continues ripping through my body for the next several minutes. My sack is empty and content, but my cock refuses to surrender. He likes Regan’s heat surrounding him so much, he’s not willing to give it up. Not now. Not ever.
He’s not the only one suffering separation issues. Regan’s second orgasm arrives in such quick succession, they’re virtually conjoined. Sweat dribbles between her breasts as her lips part to suck in much-needed air.
Her angelic face screwed up in the throes of ecstasy hands me the final piece of the puzzle I’ve been working on the past two months. It makes everything clear and resolute.
Regan doesn’t have the ability to destroy me.
She already has.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
I fight to catch my breath when Alex rolls off me. That was amazing. Phenomenal. Better than I could have possibly imagined. And it all happened in a field with animals watching on. I would laugh at the absurdity if every muscle in my body wasn’t aching.
My achy joints have nothing to do with our accident. With the exception of the memories it induced, our car crash was pain-free. All I remember is sailing through the air before waking up strapped in the wreckage. It was what occurred after that caused my greatest pain.
I spilled Luca’s secret.
Although that's mammoth, it isn’t the sole reason remorse is stabbing my chest. Seeing Alex like that, in the same position as Luca, his head hanging just as low. . . god. Tears prick my eyes just at the thought of him being hurt.
I put him in that position. My inability to place myself second put Alex’s life in jeopardy—just as Luca had done to me.
I thought Luca loved me. It wasn’t as profound as I had hoped, but I thought our friendship was the best thing he had of non-monetary value, but the more I evaluate things in the leadup to his death, I realize it wasn’t.
Don’t get me wrong, I was at least in the top three; I just wasn’t his priority. Even with my life in his hands, Luca always held the top spot.
I guess that’s why I’m so pigheaded and strong-willed? I’m doing what Luca did to me for years. I put myself above anyone and anything. I closed myself off. . . until Alex. He sees through the mask I wear to warn others to stay away. He knows the hair, smile, and expensive clothes are just tricks to hide my ugly insides. And despite all that, he still likes what he sees.
I should call him crazy and quit while I am ahead, but who am I to preach sanity? I fucked a man in a field after I ran us off the road in anger. If anyone needs a trip to the psych ward, I doubt it's Alex.
I stop staring at a fluffy white cloud in the sky when Alex asks, “You okay, Rae?” He expresses his question in the same manner he did before I kissed him, except this time, I hear a bit of reservation in his voice.
“I’m good.” The honesty of my reply rings true in my tone. Usually, I’d be scratching at hives by now, the memory of Luca’s accident too great for me to ignore. But the pain isn’t as intense today, the guilt also not as strong. “How about you? Are you okay?”
Alex waits for me to roll over and face him before jerking his chin up. “I’m good. Reek of cow dung, but fine nonetheless.”
I smile, loving the mirth in his tone. He does smell like manure, but more than anything, he smells like me. “I guess we better head back and get you showered. I can’t have you wandering around town smelling like cow poop; the locals might confuse you as one of their own.”
Alex’s shit-eating grin matches mine. I’m glad our roll in the grass didn’t change anything between us. He’s looking at me with as much admiration as the past two days. Thank god.
“I’m sure if your dad has his way, that won’t be an issue.”
Not wanting to lie, I don’t reply.
“Is that. . . ah. Did I cross the line?” Alex asks when I gingerly rise to my knees.
Following the direction of his gaze, I spot the cause of the apprehension in his tone. Cum has dribbled down my thigh to puddle near my knee. With how many brutal pumps his cock made while shooting his seed inside of me, I’m not surprised my pussy isn’t able to keep it
inside. Apparently, I’m not the only one who fell off the orgasm train two months ago. Alex was as backed up as me.
“It’s fine. I had the depo shot a few months ago.”
I swipe at the cum before slinging it on the ground in an extremely unladylike manner. It’s not like I have any other option. It's either use my hand or the shirt Alex is holding out for me. Considering he smells like sex and me mingled together, having him turn up to my house shirtless would spell disaster. The image of him shirtless in a grassy field is a rather enticing visual, but his ability to breathe without aid should be my utmost focus. Dammit!
Alex’s eyes snap to mine when I ask, “You’re clean, right?”
“Do you really need to ask that?” His angry tone should raise my hackles, but my anger seemed to pack up and leave town after our wrestling match in the mud.
“Don’t get snippy with me. I don’t know how many women you’ve fucked in a field with angry bulls looking on.”
A smirk cracks my lips when Alex cranks his neck to assess the cows behind us. None of them are bulls, but I can’t help but tease him. My rile paid dividends when he got jealous. My god—the chatty baker in Ravenshoe was right. Jealousy sex is pure heaven!
“If it makes you feel any better, my test was as recent as last week.”
Alex returns his eyes to mine. “It doesn’t make me feel better,” he grumbles under his breath as he stands to his feet to yank his jeans up his thighs.
They’re even muddier now than they were when he outran alpacas chasing him for their feed. If you overlook the little mishap of our accident, today has been the most extraordinary day, and it's happening on a day I usually hide away from the world. I knew from the moment I met Alex my life was set to change, but I never would have guessed it would be this profound.
Don’t get me wrong; I’m not saying a romp in a field equals a lifetime commitment. But the freedom that came with it, I can’t put a value on it. Every day of the past decade was planned and scrutinized to ensure I was living the life I was supposed to live. Today was the first time I’ve just lived. No rules. No expectations. Just one fucked-in-the-head girl showing a city slicker how things are done in the country.
When Alex hands me my shirt, the deep groove between his brow smooths upon seeing the high arch of my lips. My smile doesn’t linger for long. It drops into a pout when Alex tucks his cock into his jeans before I get the chance to thank it for my back-to-back orgasms. His quick dressing skills also steal my ability to organize another hookup without the blow flies and hay-filled patties.
Worry about being left in the lurch for another two months rolls off my back like water on a duck when Alex mutters, “If you keep looking at me like that, Rae, we’ll never leave this field.”
I give him a sassy wink. “You’ll be worth it.”
After clearing a smidge of dirt from my neck, he hooks his arm around my shoulders, tugs me into his chest, then we begin our two-mile walk home. Although he doesn’t say anything, I know he heard the words I didn’t express. I’d rather wrestle you in a muddy field than cross off the next item on our to do list.
“Come on. Once we face this, we’ll be clear of obstacles. Right?” He sounds as hesitant as I feel.
I’ve given every excuse you can imagine the past eight years to miss the event occurring this afternoon. Once, I even cancelled with the excuse of an ectopic pregnancy. It wasn’t the brightest idea I’ve had. Gossip spread through my hometown like wildfire. Half the old biddies were planning the wedding of the century with the supposed father-to-be, whereas the other half were arranging his funeral. After coming clean to my dad the week following Luca’s memorial, I realized he was on a rampage to discover who had “knocked me up out of wedlock.”
As we move away from an image responsible for both the highest and lowest day of my life, the firmer Alex’s grip on my shoulder becomes. His manly clutch intermingles our scents as well as our roll in the grassy field did. It's an addictive smell—potent enough to bring my thoughts back into positive territory.
I thought the crazy chemistry brewing between Alex and me like a potion in a witch’s cauldron would have disappeared the instant we fucked. I was so wrong. It’s made it more crazy—slightly unhinged.
I guess I shouldn’t be shocked. I came twice—twice! That has never happened before. And excluding Alex’s scrumptious V muscle I’ve sketched into my memory for eternity, it was done without additional stimulation.
That’s unheard of.
I’m not joking. I don’t have a lot of female friends, but the ones I do have wouldn’t hesitate to call it as they see it. No mention of back to back climaxes has ever been discussed at any time during our girly get-togethers. Vibrators. Clit stimulators. Strap-ons to take their husbands for a ride were discussed without a single qualm. A stranger giving you the best fuck you’ve ever had in the most unlikely location on the most unlikely date—nope. Not once.
If I had the means, I would have recorded our romp, as I’m reasonably sure that's the only way my girlfriends will believe me. It was so out-of-this-world fantastic, even I’m having a hard time separating fact from fantasy.
“We did just fuck, right?”
Alex lowers his eyes to mine. Confusion is slashed all over his face. “I guess that’s what two people having unexpected sex is called.”
“Are you regretting it?” I ask, surprised by the unease in his tone.
“No,” he answers without delay.
“Then what’s the deal with the dipping tone and sweaty brow?” I run my finger along his brow to emphasize my question. “I’m shocked you have any liquid left after your effort.”
My underhanded compliment wipes some of the hesitation from his eyes, but it doesn’t wholly erase it. After licking his parched mouth, Alex vows, “I’ll never have any hesitation about you, Rae. Ever.” He waits for me to nod before adding on, “I’m just trying to figure out how we’re going to explain that. . .” He drops his eyes to the wet patch in my crotch. “And this,” I follow his gaze to the big muddy rings circling his knees, “to him.”
His last head nudge launches my stomach into my throat. My dad’s truck is making its way down the track Alex and I traveled nearly an hour ago. The look in his eyes is murderous, and they’re locked on Alex.
“Accidents happen, right?” When Alex halfheartedly nods, I say, “Then that’s what we’ll go with.”
I break away from his side, stealing his chance to reply. I’m not saying our romp was a mistake; I’m merely giving him an out. If he accepts it, I’ll cherish the memories and pray they’re strong enough to bring my self-pleasing mojo back. If he ignores my suggestion, I’m open to extending an olive branch I don’t usually offer. I’ll look at a second, possibly even a third round of action.
I scan the horizon when Alex nips at my heels. For how quickly he closed the distance between us, my need for an olive branch may be required earlier than predicted.
Have you ever tried to fool a man who knows you better than yourself?
I bet it didn’t end well.
Although Alex and I didn’t get busted doing the deed, in my dad’s eyes, we may as well have. Our cattle farm borders a parcel of land stolen from my family decades before I was born. My dad has been in negotiations with the local parish for years to have the title put back in our family’s name. Today his surveyor had an important meeting with the opposing land owners. Even though Alex and I were a good distance from the fences bordering our property, allegedly my pasty skin illuminates in the sunlight—as does Alex’s glowingly white backside.
My father was glad I wasn’t injured in our crash. He didn’t hold the same esteem for Alex. I’ll be eternally grateful my mom came along for the ride when my father caught wind of our adventurous morning, or Luca’s memorial wouldn’t be the only one held on this day every year.
It was interesting watching Alex go toe-to-toe with my father. I knew a man as assertive as Alex wouldn’t back down without a fight, but I never anticipated
his protectiveness either. He didn’t just go to bat for himself; he defended me as well. Nothing he said to my father was different than things I’ve expressed numerous times the past thirteen plus years, but hearing them conveyed by a man who took me to the brink of insanity was a mind-blowing experience. He wasn’t just respecting my integrity; he was honoring our relationship—a relationship I didn’t know existed until he expressed it.
I’m honestly a little lost on how to handle Alex’s confession. My first response was joy—which is utterly ridiculous since I haven’t dated since high school, and even then, I was never interested in a second date. Then I grew worried Alex is keeping something from me. Although I’m fairly certain his dishonesty is more a requirement of his position than his inability to tell the truth, I have enough secrets weighing me down. I can’t handle more baggage.
After gliding my hands down the fan of my black skirt, I turn to face the mirror. I look the same as I did when I attended Luca’s funeral eight years ago, just older and wiser now.
Luca and I shouldn’t have argued. We were adults who should have discussed our concerns in a respectful manner, but as Alex said, accidents do happen. I didn’t set out to hurt Luca the night he was killed. If I knew the consequences of my actions, I would have never gone into our argument so headstrong, but I was young and heartbroken. He was my light—the man I looked up to as much as my father, so seeing him as I did didn’t just break my heart, it shattered my faith in him.
I didn’t care that Luca was gay. I loved him no matter what. But his inability to see the worth in both himself and me fills me with anger. He wanted it all, and when he thought he couldn’t have it, he found the closest exit and opted for it. I’m not angry he killed himself. I’m devastated he didn’t think he could overcome his depression, and that he couldn’t see the impact his life had on many.