by S. L. Scott
“Midday already sounds too soon.” Her smile is mischievous and absolutely enticing. “Come on. I want to show you something.”
“Please tell me you plan on showing me to the bedroom.” She wraps the towel around her, and I sigh in my discontent.
“Absolutely.” She winks, her brave and beautifully confident side returning. This is the Delilah I remember. This is the side of her that I hope remains, even if I’m not around to remind her who she is.
12
Jason
When Delilah mentioned she’d remind me what she can do with her tongue, I admit, my mind recalled the best blow jobs I’ve ever received—all courtesy of her.
Lying in the truck bed under a star-filled sky.
In the cab while driving across county lines after winning a Friday night game.
Once behind the DQ.
So many times in my room, and maybe more in hers.
Our parents never knew how bad we were back in those days. Although it was always so good for us.
What I didn’t expect was her tongue sliding up my neck and taking my earlobe into her mouth. When her tongue grazes over it and she sucks—fuuuck. She has me hard as a rock and ready to fuck. “I can’t take much more of this torture, baby.”
Straddling my lap, she smiles at me. “Is the foreplay too much?”
“No. It’s done its job as you can tell.” Taking her by the hips, I flip her next to me and maneuver over her. Her legs part, welcoming my body as I slide into place. Slipping my hand between us, I ask, “Are you wet for me?” Sweet pink lips form a little O as the shock of my question infiltrates the fine features of her face. My cheek cocks up. “Don’t tell me you don’t like a little dirty talk.”
“I don’t know.” There’s a hint of excitement in her tone.
While running two of my fingers on the inside of her thigh, my gaze rises back to hers. “I want to relearn everything about you. Every inch. Everything that brings you pleasure.” I reach down, running the tips of my fingers through her slickness. I kiss her collarbone as I push in, our bodies beginning a slow dance, coming together and moving apart. My emotions are too wrapped up to pretend this doesn’t mean more than I’ve let on. It does. Being with her does. From that look in her eyes, I believe this means more to her as well. Pulling back, I touch the tips of my fingers to my tongue as she watches under lust-filled eyes. “Tastes like honey, honeysuckle.”
“Kiss me, Jason.”
I lower on the bed and place my hand on her stomach. “With pleasure.” Her eyes go wide when I lick through her wetness. Memories flood my mind and taste buds. She was always so fucking delectable. Her hips begin to wiggle, and I hear her moan. My hair is tugged, but when I stop to look up, her bottom lip is under pressure and her eyes are closed.
Fucking stunning.
I make love to her with my mouth as her sweet sounds of bliss fill my ears. When she comes, she comes hard, her fingers tangle in my hair, and she calls my name as if I’m the one she prays to. I can’t take any more. I’m about to explode. I’m so turned on, I’ve started to hump the mattress beneath me, seeking relief. I come up, sliding my body along hers as I lift myself.
“I have condoms in the nightstand,” she says.
I don’t care how stupid my smile looks at the moment. I reach over and open the drawer. With condoms in hand, I drop them on the bed. “Tell me these aren’t the same ones from back in college.”
She laughs. “No. Newer condoms.”
“How new?” I ask, waggling my eyebrows. Her being prepared is sexy. I’m curious how many towns away she had to drive to buy these.
She slinks down on the bed a bit and covers her face with her hands. Speaking between her fingers, she says, “This afternoon.”
“Oh no. You don’t get to hide your eyes.” I take her wrists and move them to the side with little resistance. I see her vibrant blues, her carefree smile, and when she giggles, I add, “You bought condoms because you were hoping to get lucky?”
“I figured better safe than sorry.”
“So just anyone could have been in my place tonight, or you bought condoms to use with me?”
She rolls her eyes, but the grin gives her away.
Pinning her wrists above her head, I say, “Admit it. You were hoping to have me naked in your bed tonight.” When she laughs again, I push for more. “Come on, Delilah. Tell me how much you wanted to have sex with me.”
“You win,” she says, trying for nonchalance. “I drove thirty minutes out of my way just to score some condoms without judgment or gossip getting around town. All the way to Cleverton.”
“I may not blush like you do, but I’m flattered nonetheless.”
“So much talking, Koster. How about we get to the main attraction?”
I kiss her cheek. “Wow, you get feisty when you get a taste of the good stuff.”
“And by taste, you mean you?”
“Abso-fucking-lutely.”
“Well, get to it. I’m all warmed up, baby. Raring to go. Again.”
Baby. I sure like the sound of that. I chuckle. “Are you now?”
“I am. So ready for more.”
More. I’ll have her begging for more all right. I slide a condom over my erection and hold it proudly. Women aren’t impressed with large dicks. They’re impressed by how they’re used, so I don’t need to wave it around to brag. I just need to make her feel every hard inch, filling her not just for my pleasure but also for hers. I position myself back between her legs and press the tip against her sweet abyss.
My nerves from earlier are buried under the desire I have for her. “More,” I mumble, immersing myself in her heat when I slide slowly inside her. “Fuck,” I exhale the word under a heavy breath. I want to say it’s the sex, the overwhelming sensation of having it again, but that would be a lie. It’s her—wet, tight, angling, moaning. Fuck. Delilah’s heaving chest with perky tits on top, her tongue sliding over her lips, her back arching. “You feel amazing.”
Her nails drag over my shoulders and then her fingers lace behind my neck, pulling me to her. “Kiss me.”
I do.
I kiss her and thrust—tongues and other parts of my body going deep—claiming her in ways I haven’t in years. Our breaths are exchanged, one lifeline sustained by the other. When her hands find my ass, she squeezes. “Faster.”
Harder.
All of her.
I want her next orgasm, and the one after that.
I want to hear my name coming out like a curse word and to mess up that pretty hair.
I want to see her eyes wild with lust and insatiable desire for me.
I want to fuck her again—faster, harder—and then make slow love to her after that, feeling every damn measured movement together.
My forehead drops to the mattress next to hers, and I thrust and feel, relishing in the raw fire burning inside.
“Come with me,” she urges, her body writhing beneath mine in search of her own orgasm.
Like a wave rushing through me, I come, my body and soul dragged under with her when she calls my name like it’s a sin she’s just confessed.
My lips part, and air enters my lungs, filling my chest. The blackness disperses, and the small room with a little lamp shining next to the bed comes into focus. Swallowing is rough because my throat is dry, but my body feels free from the confines I’ve felt for days, months, even years. Then I find peace in the aftermath.
Soft touches and little kisses cover me, and I open my tired eyes to find hers as bright as they were in the sunshine, and her face more beautiful in its sated state. “Hi,” I say.
“Hi,” she breathes, my weight causing her more trouble than she admits.
I smile and roll to the side. “Sorry about that.”
“I liked it. I like feeling you on top of me with your weight holding me down.”
Resting my arm across the top of my head, I peek over at her. “Why do you need to be held down?”
“Feeling this good, this
light means I’ll surely float away.”
It’s interesting how such a simple shared emotion makes me feel better. Or maybe it’s her. The lightness, this peace, is something I desperately craved for the past few years. “C’mere.” I encourage her over on top of me. When she’s settled, her body relaxed and her head resting on my chest, I add, “I feel the same.”
I can’t see her pretty face, but I can feel the smile that graces it, and I can hear the happiness in her voice when she says, “That stunt you pulled this morning, stopping traffic and making demands you had no right to make . . . I’m glad you did.”
Fuck yeah. My smile could probably rival hers. “I am too.”
Her fingers run through the light hair on my chest. “I know I don’t have a right to ask more of you,” she starts, resting her chin on me so I can see her eyes. “But I’d like you to stay the night. No pressure, though.”
I kiss the top of her golden locks. “I have no intention of leaving tonight.”
Her smile lights up the room brighter than the small lamp ever could. “What intentions do you have?”
Repeating her words from earlier, I say, “So much talking. How tired are you?”
“What do you have in mind?”
“To show you exactly what my intentions are.” I move her to the side of me and kiss her until those little mewls begin again, signaling the start of the second round.
The smell of bacon and eggs rouses me from sleep. I reach over to find the bed empty beside me, much to my dismay. I love a hardy breakfast after a night of hot sex, but I’d rather have Delilah waking me up. Maybe with her mouth on me or with my mouth on her.
Fuck.
I’m hard.
I rub over my hard cock, attempting to get it to go down, but I’m not sure that’s possible with her scent all around me.
Flipping the sheets off, I get up to find my clothes clean, dry, and laid out at the end of the mattress. I pull on my underwear, still warm from the dryer. She’s good, too good. Hopefully she washed them because she wanted to and not because she felt obligated. That bullshit about women being barefoot and pregnant and waiting on a man hand and foot doesn’t fly with me. I don’t need my wife to serve me.
My hand stills with my jeans halfway up.
Wife?
Where the fuck did that come from?
I pull them up and head to the bathroom. The word wife didn’t kill my erection like I’d have thought, but my mind is spinning over the words, letting it rumble around, trying to find where it fits. I take a piss and wash my hands, but when I look in the mirror, I see myself in a light I thought I had lost touch with a long time ago. Maybe I can be who I used to be. I wasn’t so bad back then. A little heartbroken. A lot ego-shattered. Losing your girl to your best friend wasn’t something I could control back then, but it’s nothing I should be ashamed of now.
We may not have wanted to talk last night, but we’ll need to soon. I splash my face with cool water and pat it dry before heading downstairs. Passing through the living room, I follow the sounds from the kitchen and find Delilah scrambling eggs.
Her back is to me, which gives me a second to take her in. Her hair is up in a messy bun on top of her head, the delicate lines of her neck visible. She’s in a black tank top that shows off the curve from her waist to her hips, leading my gaze lower to her ass—round enough to fill out that pair of cutoffs that her daddy would never approve of.
As for me? They’ve got my stamp of approval. Bare legs and feet anchor her to a mat with an ugly teapot design. With a hand planted on her side, she tilts her hips as if she’s lost patience for how long it’s taking the eggs to cook.
I ease up behind her. Sliding my hands around her waist, I kiss the back of her exposed neck. Her body tenses at first and then quickly eases. She leans her head back on my shoulder, then kisses my neck. “Good morning,” I say, sliding my hands over the top of the tank until her tits fill them.
The spatula is discarded, and she spins in my arms, weaving her arms around my neck. “Good morning.”
I turn off the stove and move the pan to a cold burner before pressing her ass against the counter next to it. “You smell amazing.”
“That’s the bacon.”
“No. It’s you.”
“I haven’t showered. I’m still dirty from last night.”
With my lips against her neck, I hum. “Yeah, dirty. So dirty. I’m so hungry. For you. Want to go back to the bedroom?” Lifting her, I raise my gaze to meet hers. “Or we could test out that kitchen table like we used to joke about.”
Laughter fills the kitchen, and she languidly gazes into my eyes, something more than lust filling the centers. Like . . . love? The word wife comes back to bounce around the vacant space in my heart Delilah left behind.
“My parents used to have a cup of coffee at that table every morning and eat a meal there every night. They said it was the only time they were guaranteed together with the busyness of their lives.”
“So that’s a yes to the table?” I tease.
“That’s a—”
“What the hell?” Her response is cut short when the screen door opens, and a man’s voice booms. “Jason Koster’s truck is out front.”
13
Jason
“Morning, Billy,” Delilah says as her hands press against me.
I take a step back and let her tend to the eggs in the pan like we weren’t just caught. Looking over my shoulder, I see a goofy wide grin spreading across his face as the screen door slams shut behind him. I shake my head. “Your timing sucks.”
“Good morning to you, too, sunshine.” He sits down at the table, making himself at home like he’s staying a while. “Whatcha cookin’ over there, other than some delicious-smelling bacon and freshly brewed coffee?”
Replying while crossing my arms, I glare at him. “Nothing now. What brings you out to the farm?”
He chuckles and takes off his hat just as Delilah sets a plate in front of him. “I could ask you the same thing.” He smiles up at her. “Thank you.”
She pats his back. “You’re welcome.” When she turns to me, she says, “Hungry for food?”
I catch the food emphasis. “Starved.”
“Sit down and let me feed you.”
“I can make a plate.”
“I’m happy to make it for you, Jason.”
“Thank you.” Sitting across from Billy, who waggles his eyebrows, I give him a harder glare than before. He just laughs and shovels more eggs into his mouth. After drinking some coffee, he says, “Man, your eggs are the best.”
My jaw clenches. I don’t like him talking about her eggs and how they’re the best. I try to shake off my annoyance at how casually he walked into her house, moved around her kitchen, and sat at her table like he’d done it a million times before. She mentioned that Billy had been helping out a lot, but they’re so familiar with each other. Am I setting myself up again for a huge lot of hurt?
She sets a plate in front of me and sits in a chair between us with her own plate. “Thanks, Billy. You’re out here early.”
“I’m heading to Kerbyville to pick up supplies for the week and wanted to check with you to see if you need anything other than the usual.”
Delilah starts to get up, but I touch her knee. “You should eat breakfast while it’s hot. I can help you guys after.”
“Okay. Thanks.” A soft smile plays at the tip of her lips. “Not much to get, but I’ll make a list when we’re done eating.”
After cleaning the kitchen, Delilah and I go back upstairs while Billy heads out to the barn. “How much does Billy help you out here?”
“Don’t get jealous,” she says, poking me in the side when she passes. Sitting in a chair, she pulls on a pair of socks and then steps into her work boots. Heaven almighty. My memory seriously had failed me when it came to this woman. She is no girl at all. With grown-up curves and a sense about her that draws me to her like a moth to a flame, she’s a fantasy come to life, easily o
utshining any centerfold I’ve ever seen.
Rolling in the hay and riding in the saddle take on a whole new filthy and oh, so dirty meaning with the vision standing before me.
“What?” she asks with her hands planted on her hips again.
“You sure do have a lot of sass with that hot ass.”
Shaking those same sexy hips as she passes by me, she says, “You seem like you can handle me.”
I smack her hard on her back end, making her squeal as she turns to me. I pull her by the belt loops until we’re face-to-face, only a breath away. “You know I can. No seeming about it. If you want to be bent over this bed or a hay bale in the barn, then I suggest you keep doing exactly what you’re doing.”
Watching her lick that bottom lip is about to do me in, but then she douses the fire burning inside me. “As tempting as you make hay sound, Billy’s waiting out back.” She takes my hands and lifts up on her toes to kiss me. “Spend the day with me.”
“That’s a hard offer to turn down.”
“Then don’t, and I’ll make sure hard is all you are later on.”
Cupping her jaw, I bring her in for another kiss. This time with purpose and passion, a thank you, ma’am, and I look forward to later kiss. A deal struck and sealed with our lips. “I’m going to hold you to that.”
She nips at my jaw and then kisses the spot. “I’m hoping you’ll hold me to a lot of things later. But first,” she says, walking away, “we’ve got work to do.” I’m still standing there admiring the view when she stops and looks back. “C’mon now. Daylight’s burning.”
“So am I,” I mumble and then laugh. She heads outside, and I sit and put my socks and shoes on. When I’m done, I go into the bathroom and scrounge around until I find a toothbrush. I bust open the package and brush before I head out to help. I feel better just in case we need to kiss at the feed store.
In the cab of Billy’s dad’s truck, they talk upfront. It’s a nice ride, so I get more comfortable in the back seat and stretch my legs out when I decide I should text my mom. She’s not been my keeper for many years, but I know she worries about me.