by Vivien Vale
“I’ve been feeling the ripples of heartbreak ever since,” I admit.
“Nobody should have to go through something so traumatizing,” Carter states and rubs my shoulders.
“I miss my dad so much,” I blurt out of nowhere, stunning even myself for being so forthright with Carter, someone I barely know.
“He owns a farm. He’s a simple man, but he tells me all the time how proud he is of me for picking myself back up by my bootstraps and pressing on. He’s my biggest fan.”
“He sounds like a great guy.”
I look up at Carter. Internally, it’s hard for me to discern any difference between him and Kody—or any other guy for that matter.
My mind is still adamant that all guys are the equivalent scum that sticks on the bottom of your shoe.
Kody is a terrible human being. My heart wants to believe that Carter and Kody are one and the same, the only difference being that Carter just has a better haircut and a bigger vocabulary.
There’s one teeny tiny problem with that idea, though.
The way I feel tucked up against Carter’s chest makes me feel like a blanket of warmth is enveloping me with safety, a feeling I enjoy. Maybe…maybe he isn’t as bad as Kody?
I glance up at him, suddenly feeling a caressing pull beckoning me.
Carter leans down. Gently, his lips touch mine, and a firework explosion of desire swells inside of me and shoots out of my fingertips.
I’m savoring every moment of his lips pressed against mine—and the hunger is insatiable. The craving is intense. With his mouth on mine, I can’t help it…
I want more.
Carter
Her tongue tastes like strawberry fucking ice cream. Her mouth is so sweet and soft and ripe that I can’t help but suck her lower lip between mine and bite down on it with my sharp, hungry teeth.
Part of me expects her to pull away when I do it. Instead, she only whimpers and kisses me harder, her fingers curling tight around the collar of my shirt as she pulls me in for more.
It’s all the prompting I need. I’ve been a master of restraint around women for longer than I’d like to admit, but when it comes to June, things are different. That contract might yet be unsigned, but I already feel like June is mine.
Mine to have. Mine to kiss.
Mine to do with whatever the fuck I want to.
Mine.
And, in the moment—most importantly—she feels like she’s mine to undress.
I let my fingers curl around her collar in the same way—but instead of pulling her blouse off, I rip it apart. Her buttons fly, and her breasts tumble out, heavy and barely contained by her bra.
They’re the breasts that will feed my children someday, I realize. June might not have accepted that yet, but I know for a fact that it’s true.
Until I’m able to put a baby in her, I’ll just have to sample them myself.
My mouth finds one and my hand the other. They’re the perfect size, fitting nicely into my hand, only spilling out a little on either side.
Instead of bringing my mouth over her tits like a suction cup, I let my tongue twirl around her nipple. It’s small, it’s pink, and it tastes fucking delicious.
My teeth join my tongue and bite onto the small rosebud extrusion on the perfect breast. Instead of complaining, pulling away, or voicing her objection, June presses her hips harder into me. Her hands are entwined behind my neck and pulling me closer.
I’m surprised by her passion. Not that long ago, she seemed hell-bent on maintaining her distance. It’s as if a dam of self-control has burst open.
As I bite a bit harder on her nipple, a tiny moan escapes her lips.
I lift my head to catch her eye. She’s not looking directly at me, but a little to my left.
“You okay, babe?”
It takes her a while to focus on me. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was intoxicated with some kind of sedative, a drug that has rendered her unable to respond or to voice her objection.
Her lips curl up a tiny bit.
“Better than okay,” she whispers, tracing the outline of my lip with her finger. The gesture is laden with unspoken passion.
My cock is rock hard already. It’s trying to burst through the material of my pants.
With a grin, I go back to smothering her body in kisses. First her right nipple, then her left, and then I move down toward her belly button.
Here, I find she’s still wearing her skirt. Tempting as it is to rip it off her, I hook my index finger into the waistband and pull it slowly down toward her feet.
Sensing my intention, she wiggles her bottom side to side and lifts it off at just the right time so it glides out from under her.
My eyes zero in on her pussy. A tiny cream-colored slip is covering her precious honey pot. I’m drawn to it with every part of my being.
With her skirt out of the way, I start kissing her just above the waistband of her slip. Her hips thrust upwards a little to meet me. I chuckle.
“Impatient are we?”
“Carter, please,” she’s panting.
I glance up and see that her breathing is short and shallow.
“I need you. Now.”
But I don’t want to fucking rush this. This is so very different for me. And then again, do I actually really want to fuck her? There’s the tiny detail of an unsigned baby contract.
I mean, if I’m going to fuck her, she’ll be pregnant for sure. With an unsigned contract it’s a risk.
A risk not worth taking.
By now, she’s bucking like a wild unbroken mare, tempting me into action. I oblige and rip her panties off.
Now her pussy lies exposed in front of me. I can see how wet she is already. The juices are practically dripping from her.
My hand slowly moves over her mound and down toward her clit. I push against it and leave my fingers there.
More bucking from the bronco. I’m letting my imagination run wild about the many ways I can tame her. There are so many methods I could use to tame a wild mare like this one.
Her movement displaces my hand. I think the time has come to enter her. Slowly, my index finger pushes into her.
At first, I’m a bit taken aback. It does not slide in all the way. There’s some kind of restriction. A blockage.
I frown.
Gently, I try again, only to be met with the same result.
The realization slowly dawns.
My finger comes out, and I slide back up to be eye level with June.
Her cheeks are flushed, and her eyes are alight with passion.
“June,” I speak softly. I don’t want to frighten her. She needs to know it’s okay. “Are you still a virgin?”
She cringes at my question and brings her hands up to hide her face. Her body is now perfectly still.
“June,” I lean into her face. I kiss her on the forehead between her fingers. “It’s okay, June. There’s nothing to be ashamed of—I just want to know.”
If I’d known, I would have…
What would I have done anyway?
Not picked her, or not barged into the room to comfort her?
Competing, confusing notions are swirling around my head.
What the fuck had this fiancé of hers been doing all this time with her? Had he just held her hand? Why had he fucked some other girl when he had this beautiful cherry in front of him, a fruit so exquisite and ripe for the picking?
“Come on,” I coax her, as her fingers still hide her face. “Let me see your gorgeous eyes.”
Slowly, she lets her fingers glide down her face. Tears roll down her cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” she sobs, and I kiss away those salty tears.
“No need to be sorry,” I reassure her and keep smothering her in kisses.
To make sure she’s totally at ease, my right hand finds her breast and starts massaging and kneading. Eventually, she relaxes.
“I—” she starts before her voice stops suddenly. This time, it’s from a rippl
e of pleasure passing through her. “I didn’t know how to say…it seemed…not sure…”
She’s unable to form a coherent sentence. But that’s okay. I know what she’s trying to say.
I fucking understand.
In hindsight, I should’ve made it one of the questions of the interview, I guess.
“So, tell me June, are you a virgin, or have you fucked someone before today?”
“Mm, no.” June’s voice is tentative, hesitant, yet honest.
“But...” Her voice is still a little shaky. “I’m ready. I’m ready for you.”
Suddenly, she looks even smaller to me than before. Small and vulnerable.
“Mmm,” I murmur and let my hand move toward her pussy.
This time, instead of entering her with my finger, I simply rub against her clit. It’s as if I’ve sent tiny electric shock waves through her body. The merest touch of her clit has her arch her back and thrust her pelvis upward.
She’s electrified.
My own cock is vibrating with anticipation. I ignore it and keep my attention on her clit.
Gently, I let my finger draw small circles over it and then lightly brush backwards and forwards as if I was painter trying to make sure a particularly stubborn spot gets a good coating of paint.
Her body is quivering and tensing. I can tell she’s never experienced anything like this.
This ex-fiancé of hers must have been a total dope. I don’t know how he could hang around June for longer than a day without wanting to fuck her. I’ve only been with her for half a day, and I’m finding it incredibly difficult to exercise restraint.
With her increasing moaning and her fingers digging into my back, I know she’s about to have her first orgasm.
To make sure she gets as much pleasure out of this as possible, I slow my rubbing down gradually—almost to a stop—before I move back in the other direction increasing rhythm and tempo.
This is enough to tip her over the edge and send her on a joy ride of gigantic proportions. Her body tightens, shakes, and then relaxes again.
Looking at her face, I see her cheeks are flushed and her eyes have a faraway look in them.
“What…you…”
In reply to her incomplete sentence, my cock points straight up, and I feel her fingers gently touch it.
Now it’s my turn to be engulfed in electric shockwaves.
This is going to be one of the hardest things I’m going to have to fucking do tonight: not fuck her.
Instead of a reply, I roll on top of her. Nothing wrong with letting my cock at least touch her wet pussy.
I’m confident I can pull away before I do anything stupid.
At least, I think I can.
June
I feel his hands on my bare skin, touching and stroking and teasing me in ways that my body has never known.
I’ve never known a man like this. I’ve never felt this way before.
Back in Wheatfield, a kiss with too much tongue would have felt unchaste and inappropriate. Too fast. Too much.
But I’m not in Wheatfield anymore. If the things Carter is doing to my body right now are too much, then too much is exactly what I want. What I need.
Maybe I’ve always needed this. Maybe I’ve always secretly wanted to feel this way deep down.
Or maybe Carter has awakened something inside me with his lips against mine and his hands roaming my body with such reckless abandon.
My preacher wouldn’t approve, and I wouldn’t want my daddy to know…
But Carter’s touch doesn’t feel wrong. It doesn’t feel sinful or naughty, and it doesn’t make my body feel dirty or impure.
In fact, I feel like every place he touches me—my neck, my collarbone, my hip, the curve of my breast—every one of those places is glowing golden just from feeling the warmth of his bare hands.
I feel more connected to my body than I knew was possible, every nerve I possess singing out at his touch.
I’m beyond thought, beyond question. I know with certainty that I need more. I need all of him.
“I want you.” I say, my voice surprisingly calm, full of conviction.
I lean even closer to him, desperately trying to narrow the gap between us. Every inch, every centimeter feels like the most cavernous of voids.
“I need you. Be with me.” I say, again in that voice that seems not quite my own.
I don’t know this woman, so certain and bold. I have never even suspected her existence. But here she is, bubbling up out of me, somehow awoken by his touch.
He shakes his head, and I swear my heart skips a beat.
“I want to,” he says. “Believe me, I want to.”
“Then what’s the matter?” I ask, fear creeping through me, disturbing the passion.
Back to my old self then.
He looks down the length of my naked body, his eyes seeming to touch me almost as much as his hands do.
“I just can’t.” he says, “There’s a bigger picture here.”
His eyes roam back to my face, halting to lock with my own. Tiny electric sparks fly between us.
“Besides,” he says, voice full of restraint, “this day hasn’t been easy for you. That’s the last thing you need.”
My disappointment is palpable. I can feel it radiating through me, threatening to overwhelm even my most rational thoughts. Where seconds ago there was a raging inferno, there is now but a tiny flicker of a flame. He sure knows how to dampen my spirits.
He doesn’t know what I need. The five-year-old in me is coming to the surface.
How could he? I’m only just figuring it out myself.
I imagine him leaving, strutting out of the room like it’s the easiest thing he’s ever done. And where will he go? No doubt straight into the arms of another woman.
Typical man.
I wonder what their child will look like and realize that I’m not longer thinking about Carter.
My face, shamefully unaccustomed to secrets, must betray me. His face grows serious.
“Hey,” he says with concern in his tone, “don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.”
Leaning in, he kisses me again—slowly at first, kindly. It quickly becomes more.
My body responds to him as if nothing has happened, already trying once again to eliminate the space that opened between us.
He pushes gently on my shoulder, guiding me until I am lying on my back, him half on top of me. His mouth leaves my own, traveling down the length of me with a confidence that speaks volumes about his experience.
First at my neck, his lips brush gently back over my collar bone, kissing their way down to my chest.
My breath catches in my throat as he first takes one nipple into his mouth, then the next. He takes his time, licking and sucking in turn, until I’m fairly squirming with frustration.
Just as I feel I can no longer take it, he again starts to move. In anticipation of what’s to come, I try and thrust my pelvis toward him, making it easy for him, but his strong hands resist my move.
My ribs, my stomach, my hipbones—his mouth explores every inch of me. By the time he’s made his way between my legs, I’m shaking with anticipation.
I feel his breath, hot and inviting, as it washes over me in the instant before his mouth finally reaches its destination.
I gasp as his tongue finds my spot of pleasure.
Hot and wet, it slides over my clit.
He groans, a sound full of frustration, and I find myself wishing desperately for his resolve to break.
His hands find their way to my thighs, pushing them apart, further opening me to him.
I don’t resist. I couldn’t, even if I wanted to.
With every flick of his tongue, I grow more and more entranced. I moan, I cry out, I cling desperately to his hair.
His name finds its way to my tongue, and I moan the word repeatedly, like a chant, almost a prayer.
My body rises up to move in time with him, hips thrusting harder with each passing momen
t.
I begin to go rigid, muscles tensing in the enormity of pleasure.
I feel his hand, wrapped firmly around my thigh, fingers almost digging grooves into my bare skin. I can feel the desire in his touch, the restraint he’s trying so badly to uphold.
“Carter!” I yelp as I reach my orgasm.
My hands, already clinging to his hair, tighten in reflex. My body, already tense, goes completely rigid.
I shout, wordless, voiceless expressions of pure ecstasy as I am utterly carried away in the most intense pleasure I have ever known.
Moments later, I lie, breathing heavily, looking down in amazement at the man before me.
His grin is all I need to know that he’s not quite finished with me after all.
I watch, as he lowers himself back down, that smile never faltering.
At first, he teases my pussy. His face hovers, barely touching me.
A gentle kiss is placed on my clit before he lets his teeth take a little nibble. It’s gentle, as if he’s taste testing.
Then, without warning, his tongue pushes all the way into me. His face is now buried between my legs.
The flame inside of me, barely extinguished from my orgasm a few minutes ago, is turning into a raging inferno.
My mind has turned to mush. I’m unable to think coherently. I’m lost in a world of absolute pleasure.
As his tongue laps at my pussy, I feel it’s mere moments before my next orgasm. Volcano-like, I erupt and come harder than ever before as his tongue moves frantically against me.
As I come, I am completely certain that this is absolutely the most intense orgasm that any human being could have.
It’s a certainty that remains with me for all of five minutes.
Until the next one.
And the one after that.
By the time I again find Carter beside me, my entire body shakes with exhaustion. Never in my life can I remember being so completely worn out.
Or so content.
He pulls me, wordlessly, over to him, my head resting heavily on his chest.
With one hand pressed against my back, he runs the other across my head, fingers raking gently through my hair.
A sound comes from me—half sigh and half purr.
My own hands can’t get enough of him. I let my fingers draw tiny circles on his muscles, reveling in the moment. I can hear his hear beat loud and clear.