My heart skips a beat, thinking about defiling that pure, virgin body, unprotected. I’d question if she was thinking straight, but her expression is totally sincere.
I crack a smile and lean forward to press my lips to hers.
Her honey is still on my face, so it’s a wet kiss, and it makes it all the sweeter when she sighs into me and moans desperately.
While our lips are together, I put my bulging tip against her soft, ready lips, and she sucks in a sharp breath through her nose and lets her eyes spring open.
Our kiss breaks, and she gives me a quick nod, anticipating my question.
I enter her.
It’s a fluid, easy entry, and I feel every inch of her as my crown parts her lips and delves deeper than my tongue ever went, filling her on all sides until she’s wrapped tight around half of my cock. I told her I would be careful, and I will.
Her face looked overwhelmed, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. She put her hands up and on my sides, letting them move up and down my hardened abs all the way down to my chiseled hips. Her movements are clumsy and graceless, and it’s terribly cute. The poor thing has no idea what to do with herself, faced with such feeling.
I rock back and forth gently at first, sliding out nearly to the tip before pushing back into her. As I do, her eyes go lidded, then closed as she starts to let herself relax and enjoy the feeling.
As for me, my cock feels red-hot and ready to explode at any second, buried deep in her tight womanhood. It is incredible.
Of course I had thought about what she might be like. How could I not? She is fire and bliss all at once, and I never knew I could need someone as badly as I now need her. Months without any real contact, and even longer without the touch of a woman, and Daisy is everything I need.
My cock goes a little deeper with each thrust, and as it does, I bring my hands to Daisy’s breasts and grope them through her dress. I start working the sundress off her while I thrust. She’s a beautifully useless mess under me, completely overwhelmed by what she’s feeling. When finally her chest is bare, I watch as her breasts bounce with every thrust of my hips, her nipples stiff and craving my touch.
My hands roam up over her soft skin, gliding between her breasts before I grasp the right one in my hand. I feel its softness while my thumbs and forefingers play with her nipple. It’s stiff and swollen, and when I touch it, Daisy gasps, and her eyes spring open.
She looks like she’s almost in a dream as I thrust deep into her over and over again. She barely seems aware that her dress has come off, but the sight of me ravishing her body brings out a sigh of joy from her.
I pause to wrap a hand around the back of her neck and kiss her deeply. Our tongues play with each other, going back and forth and enjoying each other’s taste. Everything about Daisy is proving to be delicious in more ways than I expected.
This country girl is full of surprises.
I break the kiss and sit almost upright, bringing her legs with me. I start driving down onto her as I pick up the pace of my thrusting. I take her hips in my hands and use them to help me bring her in nearly all the way down my shaft, my heavy balls hitting her ass as I thrust, and my rhythmic grunting starts to fill the room along with her desperate panting.
She grabs the sheets, and I can tell she’s about to come again. She looks surprised at the feeling, almost embarrassed—does she not even know that she can come more than once? The thought almost makes me smile sadly as I pound into her, legs wrapped over my shoulders, her whole body moving as I start pistoning into her harder and faster.
“Don’t stop,” she gasps, the only thing she’s able to signal to me. “Alexei, don’t stop!” I cup my hand under the small of her back and push her up so that the angle my cock rams into her changes, and I hear her gasp as her whole body goes tense.
The next moment, I feel her wet folds pulse, and I can feel her wetness all over my cock, mixing with the beads of precum that well up at the tip of my thick shaft.
“I told you I would take care of you,” I growl as I keep thrusting into her through the whole orgasm, drawing it out and making every single moment electrifyingly sweet for her. My body ripples with muscle that’s swollen from the workout we’re giving each other, and the burn has never felt sweeter.
I let one of her legs slip from my shoulder to change the angle yet again, fucking her almost sideways as I look down on her exhausted form and realize she can’t take much more.
I will be merciful this time.
I let my bucking get less precise and wilder as I take her like a doll and use her, wildly thrusting into parts of her that nobody has gone before, bringing out feelings that not even Daisy realizes she’s capable of feeling. She gropes at the sheets and bites down on them as I get wilder, and little by little, I feel the tension unlocking deep inside me, every ounce of masculine energy welling up into this moment.
Daisy makes me feel like a man in ways I haven’t felt in a very long time. Living out a quiet farm life is nice, but there’s none of the thrill that kept me going in my old life... until now. Until this sweet country girl fell into my arms and offered me her flower.
Her flower. It’s an American phrase that I thought silly at first, but it seems apt now.
I let my head fall back as my balls tighten, and I don’t hold back from spoiling her pristine little pussy.
Coming inside her with no protection makes it one of the sweetest and most intense orgasms I can ever remember having. My eyes roll back in my head, a growl filling the room as my cock twitches deep within her fertile, young body.
“Oh god!” Daisy cries out as she comes yet again, this time along with me. The first shot of my seed is thick, long, and heavy, and it goes deep inside her, covering her insides. Another comes after it, then another, my whole shaft pulsing with hot energy that Daisy helped bring out of me.
My thick cock empties itself into her while her whole body convulses in her own orgasm, and it feels like it lasts an eternity.
Finally, the pulses stop, and I know I am spent inside her.
I hear our panting, smell our sweat and heady scents in the air, and I look down at her.
Some of my seed rolls down her front from her overflowing pussy, and her blushing face is positively glowing. I crack a smile at her and rub her thighs lovingly.
“God in heaven,” she murmurs in that accent I’m coming to love. “Is it always like this?”
I reach down and pinch her ass.
“That’s up to you,” I growl in a voice still thick with desire. I slowly pull out of her, still stiff, and she whimpers at the feeling. “But me, I am not a man who disappoints.”
I lie down beside her, and she instinctively cuddles into me. There’s still the smell of alcohol on both our breaths, and we look into each other’s glassy eyes as we start to feel the evening’s excitement catching up to us in a wonderful, exhausting way.
“You look thoughtful,” I say softly. “And beautiful, the way your hair falls over your face on the pillow.”
She blushes and turns her head down, laughing, but I grin and wrap an arm around her to pull her into me.
“This is all just a lot, so fast,” she says.
“Too fast?”
“No,” she says, “and that’s what surprises me. I liked that. A lot.” She chews on her lip a moment, then asks, “Can I stay in here tonight? With you?”
I chuckle and hug her tight to me, stroking her hair. “Do you think I’d let you sleep by yourself?” I murmur into her ear.
She lets out a contented sigh, and within minutes, I feel her breathing go into a slow, sleeping rhythm.
I don’t last much longer, falling into the best sleep I’ve had in years soon after.
...and when I open my eyes to the soft light of the morning sun, my bed is empty.
Daisy
The sweet light of dawn comes streaming in through the square window above the kitchen sink, casting the room with a thick pillar of golden sunshine. I yawn and stretch, feeling
warm and cozy in my panties and the oversized t-shirt I lifted from Alexei’s closet to put on, despite the butterflies still flitting around in my stomach.
I am amazed at how relaxed and happy I feel, how glad I am to have given myself up to Alexei last night. When I first woke up in the early, pale hours this morning, I was a little afraid. This is all-new territory for me, and waking up next to a huge, powerful, sleeping giant is not something I ever imagined would happen to me, not even in my sweetest fantasies. Of course, these days I don’t have much time for fantasy. The duties and trappings and minutiae of real life bog me down so much that by the end of a long day I hardly have enough energy left to cook dinner and get ready for bed, much less to dream.
I know what they say, that everyone dreams every night. But I scarcely remember them, and when I do, it’s not something I want to remember. From time to time I have nightmares. About the house burning down. Losing my job. Wrecking the truck. And of course, that most painful reenactment of watching my father pass away. Still, the dreams in which Daddy is still alive are a thousand times worse than the ones in which he dies. Because I always wake up smiling and relieved, until my memories catch up to me and remind me with a jolt of pain that he’s not here, that it is just a dream.
But this morning, I don’t feel that pain quite so sharply as I usually do. I feel refreshed and renewed. It’s like that feeling of lying down on freshly-laundered sheets after a long day at work. Like that first sip of hot brewed coffee when you’re exhausted and weak.
Alexei is like a shot of adrenaline to my heart, but at the same time, he’s like a pillow under my head. He excites me and calms me at the same time. I don’t understand how that can be possible, but here it is. And now I want to return the favor, in however small a way I can manage. That’s why I sneaked out of his bed and tiptoed across the house to the kitchen. I plan on cooking him a big, hearty breakfast. I only hope I can get it done before he wakes up and ruins the surprise.
I walk over to the fridge and softly pull it open, squinting and squatting down to see what ingredients I have to choose from. I have seen in movies and read in magazines that most men are useless in the kitchen. Lord knows my father was. Being raised by him, I grew up eating a lot of boxed macaroni and cheese and chopped-up hot dogs. A lot of takeout from our favorite local restaurant, Maud’s Diner. Pretty much as soon as I was tall enough to reach the stove, I became the chef in the house. I borrowed cookbooks from the tiny community library, photocopying recipes using the printer there. Daddy was uptight about my Internet use back then, but he relented when he realized that most of my Internet time was spent perusing cooking blogs for more ideas. He benefited directly from that, so he gave me a little more freedom.
Nowadays, I consider myself a pretty damn good cook, although I work so much that I hardly have the time or occasion to cook. It’s difficult and a little sad just cooking for one, especially since I still naturally gravitate toward cooking enough for Daddy and myself.
I smile when I realize that Alexei’s refrigerator is much better-stocked than even my own. He has all the accoutrements of a hearty breakfast worthy of an amazingly-powerful body like his, and I plan on pulling out all the stops.
I take out a package of thick-cut bacon— not the grocery store stuff, either. It clearly comes from the local butcher shop. And then I grab some eggs in a ceramic carton. They’re all different shapes and colors, with some tiny feathers still attached to them. This makes me grin, the image of that huge, imposing guy stooping down to care for those silly, clucking birds endlessly entertaining to me. I wonder if he’s given them names. The thought is almost too precious to bear.
Almost as though they could hear my thoughts, I hear a rooster crowing from far away. I clap a hand over my mouth as I start giggling, then force myself to be serious again. I take out a loaf of protein bread and chop up some red potatoes I find in the pantry, along with onions and peppers from the produce rack in the corner. He must be one hell of a cook to have all these fresh ingredients on hand, I think to myself.
I start frying up the bacon, listening to it crackle and sizzle on the hot pan. As it’s cooking, I stand with my hand on my hip, peering out the kitchen window. Outside, I can see a grand expanse of green fields with wooden fences and the occasional fruit tree. If I squint, I can make out a chicken coop to one side. In the distance, I see what looks to be a horse stable, and that makes my heart leap with joy. I have always loved horses, ever since I was a little girl, but Daddy and I never had enough money to rub together to buy one for ourselves.
Besides, our place doesn’t have the acreage. But I grew up riding horses that belonged to our friends and neighbors, and it’s been my dream to have my own horse someday. Well, now that I’m adult with a busy life and a shoestring budget, that little dream has been deferred.
When the bacon is finished, I set it aside to dry and cool while I fry the potatoes, onions, and peppers in the fat, seasoning as I go. I pop two slices of toast into the toaster and start whipping up the eggs. While I stand over the stove, it hits me how blissful and right this feels.
Cooking for a good man, caring for him, making sure he has what he needs. I might as well be a fifties housewife right now. Just hang an apron on me and call me Betty Crocker. Not that I would ever be the kind of girl to just cook and clean and have no life of her own. I’m not a housewife. I’m an independent, hard-working young woman. But sometimes it can feel pretty damn good playing house like this. I love cooking. I love being in the kitchen, but only because it’s what I want, what I like.
Oh, go ahead and tell yourself that, I think to myself wryly. I laugh softly and roll my eyes. There’s no need to overthink this situation. I’m just a happy girl cooking breakfast for a good man who picked me up when I was down and gave me one hell of a great night. Nothing more, nothing less.
Still, there is that small voice in the back of my mind warning me, telling me that I might be stepping out of line here. That I might be allowing my feelings to take over and ignore my better judgment.
I don’t really know this man. We have only spent one night together, and for part of it, I was tipsy. But I can’t rationalize the way I feel when I’m around him. That goes far beyond the realm of scientific explanation. It’s not something I can really put into words. It’s just a feeling, a little spark between us that I hope he can sense, too.
Even if he probably can’t feel it with the same intensity that I do.
He makes me feel safe. Protected. Alexei’s presence gives me confidence and tells me that maybe, just maybe, everything will work out alright. After all, I started out last night climbing out of my own bathroom window and bolting across the yard to escape the wrath of one dangerous man. And by the end of the night, I ended up safe and blissful in the arms of a second dangerous man, only this one seems to truly respect me. At least, I hope he does. That nagging voice smugly sneers that he might have respected me up until the point when I went to bed with him even though we were total strangers.
But I don’t think Alexei thinks that way. He didn’t treat me like some flavorless conquest. He touched me and kissed me and moved me like I was something more. Like I mean something more to him than just a random roll in the hay.
As I’m pouring two glasses of orange juice and plating up our meal, I hear Alexei’s heavy footsteps getting louder and closer. My heart starts pounding and I hastily wash my hands and face in the kitchen sink, drying myself off as he walks into the room. I smile at him, drinking in his intimidating height and strength.
He’s shirtless, wearing just a pair of sweatpants which do nothing at all to hide the noticeable bulge of his cock. His chest and shoulders are so broad and muscular it makes my eyes widen. I mean, I knew what he looked like last night, but there’s something to be said about seeing him in the bright light of day. He looks like he could snap me in half without even trying.
I know that should frighten me, but instead, it just turns me on and makes me feel safer. I wonder if that mea
ns there’s something wrong with me.
Alexei looks around at the impressive breakfast spread on the table, then glances up at me with an amused expression.
“Well, good morning,” he says in that rough, growly voice I’m starting to love so much.
“Good morning.” I reply brightly. “I just thought that after… last night… it might be a good idea for us to get a good, hearty breakfast and replenish all those calories we burned.”
He chuckles as he slowly saunters over to me. He puts his strong arms around me and pulls me close, kissing the top of my head, my cheeks, my neck, my shoulders. Before long I’m sighing and whimpering, limp and soft as putty in his hands.
“You’re one hell of a woman. I cannot think of a single better way to wake up in the morning,” he rumbles, cupping my face as those blue eyes pierce into my soul. “Well, except for what I would have done for you had you not rushed off to give me this delicious surprise.”
I bite my lip, hoping he can’t hear the way my heart is galloping along like a startled doe. I can feel my cheeks flushing pink, every cell in my body responding to his touch with added heat.
“You’re welcome,” I say in a small voice. “We should eat before it gets cold.”
“Agreed,” he replies, letting go of me and taking a seat at the table. I sit down across from him, still tingly and on fire from just being close to him. It’s hitting me now how crazy it was for me to ever think I was attracted to Dean Ashcroft. Hell, even before he showed his true colors and turned into a dangerous, creepy stalker, I never felt even one-tenth of the sparks I feel when I’m with Alexei.
This, I realize, is what true attraction feels like. I can only hope that he feels the same way I do. Judging from the way he looks at me, I think there might be a chance.
“How is it?” I ask, peering at his plate.
He looks up at me with an appreciative nod.
“Fantastic. It’s been a while since I’ve have a good, home-cooked meal.”
I Hired a Hitman Page 5