Apple-Y Ever After (The Way To A Man's Heart Book 12)

by Frankie Love

  He heads inside to grab the cider and a blanket for us to sit on, and then he insists on taking my hand to help me sit down next to him. He’s such a gentleman – I can see why Lucky seems to think that the two of us don’t have much in common, given that the guys I usually end up with are anything but.

  "You know, Lucky told me a little about you," I remark to him as he opens a bottle of cider and hands it to me. I take a sip, letting the sweet, fragrant bubbles fill my mouth before I swallow.

  "Oh?” he replies, leaning back on the blanket – I can’t help but notice the way his arms look now that he has taken off his jacket, the strength in them, the muscle.

  "Yeah, she said that you’re about the most stable guy in this whole town," I explain. "Got to say, that’s a bit of a novelty for me."

  "Is it, now?" he asks as he takes a sip of his own drink. A drop of it lingers on his lower lip, and it takes all the restraint that I have in me not to lean forward and brush it off with my tongue.

  "Yeah, I’ve been traveling so much I haven’t really been around a stable person in a while," I admit, with a smile. "Turns out most of the people you meet on the road are running away from something."

  "You included?"

  "I don’t know," I admit. "Sometimes, I feel like I am. And sometimes – sometimes, I feel like I’m running toward something. I just don’t know what it is yet."

  "Any ideas?" he asks. I shrug.

  "I’ll let you know when I find it," I reply. Something about the darkness of his eyes, the way the soft, sweet scent of the apples in the trees above us fills my senses, imprints itself onto my memory, and I know that I am not going to be able to forget this moment anytime soon.

  Good thing that I don’t want to, either.

  "Can I ask you something?" he wonders aloud, and I nod.

  "What is it?”

  "Where did you get your name from?" he asks. "Honey. It’s not exactly one you hear often. Or is it just a nickname?”

  "No, it’s my name," I reply, and I grin and shake my head. "My mother chose it for me. All the time that she was pregnant with me, she couldn’t get enough honeycrisp apples, and so she thought that the universe was trying to tell her something."

  "Good thing she wasn’t craving crab apples, huh?" he teases me lightly, and he rises to his feet.

  "Where are you going?" I ask. He holds his hand up, letting me know that he’s going to be right back. I watch as he pulls an apple from one of the trees next to us, and then joins me back on the blanket.

  "Here you go," he murmurs to me, pressing it into my hand. "Your namesake. Honeycrisp."

  I lift it to my mouth and take a bite, the sweet, fresh juices running down my chin and under my dress. His eyes are on me, not moving, not breaking, and I know just what he must be thinking.

  And, before I can say another word, he shifts towards me and plants his lips on my apple-slick mouth.

  Chapter Five

  Hank

  As soon as our mouths meet, it is as though something that we have both been trying to keep in all this time comes rushing out. I pull her towards me, taste the sweetness of the apple on her lips, and I can’t help but growl against her. She feels perfect, every part of her so delicious that I know that I am not going to be able to hold myself back.

  I trace the path the apple juice took over her skin, kissing her chin, her neck, down her collarbone – and then push down the straps of her dress, letting my mouth trace over her breast and down to her nipples. They are already hard, and she gasps and grasps the back of my head as I move on top of her and push her down into the blanket below us.

  It’s a warm night, but the cool air on her skin makes her nipples swell to hardness beneath my mouth at once. God, she’s as gorgeous as I thought she would be – braless and pantyless under this dress, the thought of her as naked as this when we had just been talking is enough to drive me crazy. I know now that the restaurant flaking on us was fate – I can’t focus on anything right now but how much I want her, and I know that this is just the way it was meant to go.

  I push up her dress, move down further, until I am between her legs. She is already glistening with wetness, and I glance up at her to make sure that she really wants this – she is panting hard, and just manages to nod before I plant my mouth against her pussy for the first time.

  She’s sweeter than the apple she was eating, the wetness between her legs like musky honey against my lips. I stroke my tongue so gently over her clit and her whole body tenses up. She reaches down to run her fingers through my hair and make sure that I am not going anywhere.

  As though there is anywhere else in the world I would rather be at this moment. She groans, lifts her hips and presses them to my face, so that I have no choice but to get lost in the sweetness of her pussy.

  And I am determined to give her an orgasm that she is never going to forget.

  I slide my hands beneath her ass and pull her to me, hungry for all that I can have from her, all that I can take. I move my tongue in circles against her clit, over and over again, letting her get used to the sensation of it before I dip lower and push my tongue just a half-inch inside of her.

  She cries out, so loudly that I swear the sound echoes out over the whole orchard – if anyone is still out here, clearing up the stuff from the festival earlier, then they are going to hear us. I don’t care. She seems to respond to my touch as though it is everything that she has been waiting for, and there is no way that I am going to stop now.

  I move back up to her clit, sealing my lips around her and sucking softly as I move my fingers inside of her. She is grinding back against me, moving fast as though she is having a hard time containing herself, and I can tell that she is enjoying every moment of this. How long has it been since someone has pleasured her like this? Whatever her answer to that might be, I know that it has been far too long.

  And that I am not about to let it stretch out that far ever again.

  I move my tongue back and forth, a little more quickly now, as I slowly push my fingers deeper inside of her. I can feel her legs trembling, her thighs beginning to shake as she gets closer and closer to the edge, and I am determined to take her over it – I need to feel her come; I need to feel her sweet, honeyed musk all over me. I want to know that I have been enough for her.

  And finally, I feel it – her body tensing, and then this gasp of pleasure as the pressure releases inside of her. Her pussy gushes with wetness, and I keep my mouth pressed to her clit, not letting up, not willing to pull back, not when she’s so clearly enjoying herself.

  By the time that she pushes my head away and leans down to kiss me again, she is trembling so hard that I have to wrap my arms around her at once – when she sees the wetness all over my face, she gasps.

  "I’m so sorry," she blurts out, and I can see her cheeks flushing a little pink. "I didn’t mean to... It just felt so good..."

  "You have nothing to be sorry for," I assure her. "It’s hot as hell, trust me."

  She smiles, lets her top teeth rest on her bottom lip, and shakes her head.

  "It’s been a long time since anyone made me feel that way," she confesses as she runs her fingers through my hair. Her skin is a little chilly, and I know that I need to get her inside.

  "Come on in," I murmur to her playfully. "And let’s see what else I can get you to feel."

  Chapter Six

  Honey

  I help him pack up the picnic, and he brings me back to his house – honestly, my legs are shaking so hard as I try to walk that it seems a miracle that I don’t just keel over on the spot, but I am sure as hell not going to let him see just how crazy that was for me.

  I have been with men before, of course I have, but there is something about him that feels different. Something... adult, fully grown. I like that. He’s mature, and it’s been a long time since I’ve met a man like that. Most of the men that I come across in this line of work are nothing more than hipster assholes, not afraid to let you know that all they’
re looking for is a piece of ass and to get back on the road.

  He lights a fire for us once we are inside his cozy little farmhouse, and he warms some cider on the stove before we cuddle up on the loveseat together, a blanket thrown over our legs so that I can warm up again. I still can’t believe that I came as hard as I did. But there is something about the pressure of his lips against my skin that feels alchemic, some chemical reaction that turns me into someone else entirely – someone after pleasure, nothing more, nothing less.

  He wraps his arms around me and I lean against his chest and listen to his heartbeat as the fire crackles in front of us. It’s hard to remember the last time that I felt this much at peace. It’s nice. More than nice.

  "I like it here," I tell him softly, and he kisses the top of my head.

  "I’m glad to hear it," he replies, and he traces his fingers over my scalp, making my whole body tingle with desire.

  "You don’t have a home of your own to go back to?" he wonders aloud. "When you’re off the road, I mean?”

  "Not really," I admit. I don’t want to bring the night down with this, but if he is asking about it, then I’m not going to hide it.

  "My dad left when I was young, it was just my mom and me when I was growing up," I explain. "And that was fine for a long time – good, actually. That’s how I liked it. She’s the one who taught me how to bake, she came up with the idea for Honey’s Pies, and she got me off the ground and onto the road. But I always came back to her at the end of it, that’s the part I liked the most..."

  I trail off. Even though it’s a few years old now, it still hurts for me to even think of this.

  "She passed," I confess, my voice soft, still full of hurt and as bruised as it was the day that I found out she’d died. "Heart attack. Very sudden. Quick, actually."

  "Oh, I’m so sorry," he replies, and there is a sincerity to his voice that tells me that he means this. He kisses the top of my head and I lean back against him.

  "And I’ve just been on the road ever since," I explain. "I haven’t wanted to stop again, because wherever I stop, I know that my family’s not going to be there. It’s not going to feel like home, not really. Even somewhere like this, where Lucky lives, it’s still... it doesn’t feel like mine."

  He slides his hand down my arm, laces his fingers with my own.

  "I get that," he murmurs. "It’s... tough. My parents are both in care now. They used to help out with the farm up until a couple of years ago, but it became too much for them. They’re still around, but it’s not the same as it was before. And I know it’s never going to be, either. But I just have to find a way to live with that."

  "It’s so hard," I reply, and I find my voice catching at the back of my throat. If this is the only date that we are going to have, the only night that we are going to spend together, then I don’t want to bring it down by dwelling on all the sadness that we carry around with us. I take another sip of the cider, try to relax.

  And try to ignore the part of me that’s saying, over and over again, that this isn’t the only night that we are going to spend together. That it can’t be. Because there’s no way that I can feel this attached to someone that I just met, and then walk out the door as though nothing has happened.

  There is something here. Something about the smell of the apples in the air and the crispness of fall around me. Something that promises more than I thought I was owed. More than I ever believed that I might be able to claim as my own.

  I turn, slowly, and plant a kiss against his lips; he tastes of the outdoors, of fresh firewood and smoke and all things masculine and dominant. It makes my heart sing, my body responding to him like it has been made for him, for this moment.

  And I know that, if I am going to spend just one night with him like I said, I am not going to be satisfied until I make the most of it. I brush my lips over his cheek and reach his ear, and tell him what he needs to hear.

  "Take me to bed."

  Chapter Seven

  Hank

  I scoop her up into my arms and carry her to my bedroom as soon as I hear those words out of her mouth. I don’t need telling twice. She wants me, I want her, and nothing in the world is going to get in the way of that.

  Nothing at all.

  I lay her down on my bed as though she is the most precious thing in the world, and move on top of her again. She wraps her arms around me and pulls me down to meet her, our tongues finding each other once more as though we have been starved of this for far too long. I sink my fingers into her hips, pushing her down, pinning her there, and she moans against my lips.

  "I need you to fuck me," she begs, her voice edged with so much longing that it damn near sets my heart on fire. I kiss her like I have never kissed anyone before as the two of us strip each other down to nakedness, our clothes nothing more than a distraction and a formality between us and our naked bodies coming together for the first time.

  She gasps as soon as I move against her, our skin coming together like it has been made for this. There seems to be nothing keeping us apart now, no gap between us, nothing holding us away from each other, our bodies blending into one moving part whose only function is to give pleasure, receive pleasure.

  I need to be inside her. I need it more than I have ever needed anything in all my life before, and she is more than willing to give it to me. She plants her feet on the bed, lifts her hips, and reaches for me – I am already hard, and it takes no time at all for me to push inside of her, kneeling on the bed in front of her. She tips her head back and lets out a cry, her eyes bright with want as I thrust deep into her gorgeous pussy for the first time.

  I want to commit all of this to memory. I want to lose myself to the way that it feels, but I also want to remember every detail of it – the freckle just beneath her ear, the way that her lips part to inhale, the way that she slides her hips this way and that against me like she is guiding me as deep inside of her as I can possibly take her.

  I move down on top of her, wrapping my arms around her as she hooks her legs behind my back and pulls me deep inside of her. She is breathing hard, her pussy still soaked from the orgasm that I gave her before, out there in the orchard, and she feels fucking perfect. Her fingers trace lines down my back, over my skin, against me, as though she is carving out her name on the trunk of a tree right there on the spot.

  As though she wants everyone to know that I belong to her.

  I move into her in slow, deep strokes, not wanting to rush this, not wanting to ruin what the two of us are making here. I need her to come again. I need to feel that sweet release around my cock. Her pussy is warm and tight and welcoming, her thighs beginning to clench against my sides as she bucks up to meet me with each and every thrust, and I move hard, harder, harder, until it feels like we are just pushing ourselves into one another.

  We are trying to close the distance between us, trying to make it so that there is nothing here but the way that we feel, the way that we are able to make each other feel. She groans and I slow, needing to coax this out of her, grinding myself into her until I can feel her whole body starting to tense again, and then, finally...

  She moans softly as she comes this time, far less theatrical than before, but the intensity of her orgasm is no less obvious to me. I can feel her pussy muscles clenching around me, and it doesn’t take long till the sheer pressure that she is exerting is enough to take me where I need to go.

  "Fuck," she murmurs in my ear, and I turn my head to meet hers, our lips finding one another again, and her tongue speaks into my mouth as I finally finish inside of her. She grips me tight, fingers digging into my back so hard that I am sure they will leave marks, but I don’t care. I just want to feel her, every part of her.

  I hold myself inside of her for a long time, not willing to let this be over yet, not even close. By the time that I pull back to look at her face once more, I notice that her eyes are shining with something that looks a lot like tears.

  "Are you okay?" I ask her at once,
sliding out of her and caressing her face softly. "Did I hurt you?”

  "No, no, nothing like that," she promises me, and she smiles and shakes her head, wiping away the single tear that has started to leak down her cheek.

  "Then what is it?" I ask. She kisses me again, as though trying to convince me that I don’t need to hear the answer to that.

  "It’s not important," she assures me. I disagree. But I don’t know if I can pull it out of her. I don’t want to ruin what has been an otherwise perfect night by trying to take more from her than she is willing to give.

  So, instead, I just pull her against my chest, and she settles her head against me and closes her eyes. I watch her as she begins to doze off to sleep, and I can’t help but smile. Because I know that she said this was only for one night – but I got the feeling that this is going to turn into something a hell of a lot deeper than that.

  Chapter Eight

  Honey

  By the time that I am back in the van, I have hardly had time to think about what I am doing or where the hell I think I’m going.

  I just know that I need to get out of here. Because if I spend another minute with that man, I am going to fall into something that I don’t think I can handle.

  I know that what I am doing is crazy. One night with him, that was all it was – one night – and I have been so scared by everything that I feel for him that I have fled. I have another day at his little festival to see through, but I packed up my stuff, climbed back into my van, and drove, drove, drove toward my next stop, a couple of hours away.