by Kara Hart
He moans loudly as he penetrates further. He conquers every bit of me, like I’m new land to discover. I run my hands against his scars. God, everything he’s done for me… Everything we’ve both done for each other… I feel the emotion run from my throat to my legs. I get way too excited and flip him over.
I ride him like it’s my first time. I place my hands flat against his chest and bend my legs. I sit on that thick cock and make it my bitch. “I could fuck you all day,” he moans. “I want to get dirty with you. I want to pour honey all over your body and eat it off you. I want to tie you up and make you cum every hour, on the hour. I want to find new ways to make you mine every single fucking day.”
“Yes,” I moan with him, feeling my pussy start to tingle. I press my clit against his pelvis and push him deep inside of me. I close my eyes and let the rest of my senses take over. I breathe through my nose and arch my back to get better leverage on him. “Tell me more,” I purr with pleasure.
“I want to lead you around this house on a leash and feed you milk out of a bowl, because you’re my cute little pet.” He smiles.
I open my eyes and smile. “Okay, that’s a bit weird, but it really turns me on.”
He smiles even bigger. “My cute little pet who loves her master. She’ll do anything to please him, won’t you?”
“Oh god, yes!” I groan. And then it comes. The floodgates open. Everything is done for, shaking wildly in my brain. The orgasm pushes forward and it’s unstoppable like a tropical storm during hurricane season. I’m done, falling against his body and shaking, actually shaking against him.
He holds me tightly and grabs my wrists. He looks into my eyes and says, “I’m never going to let you go, woman.”
He fucks me with ease, thrusting as hard and as fast as he can, upward. He starts moaning loudly and I can see the pleasure fill into his brain. It starts with his muscles tensing up and then loosening. Tense and loose. Tense and loose. It repeats until it grows faster and faster, like an itch that has to be scratched.
Finally, the whole of his body grows as hard as a rock. He flips me on my back and tilts me backward. “I’m going to get you so pregnant,” he whispers.
He shoots in me, warm daggers of love. He goes and goes, pouring his life and soul into me. We connect together and he pushes himself deeper. He lets go of my wrists. I throw my arms around him. We are one. Forever.
Our lips crash against each other. We close our eyes. We are in love.
When the feeling dissipates, we open our eyes, still kissing one another. He kisses against my neck and releases. Like a cocky son of a bitch, he winks and jumps out of bed to grab a bowl of strawberries. He comes back to bed and sprawls out, looking as comfortable as ever.
“Strawberry?” he asks, holding it above my mouth.
I curl my tongue around the red fruit and pull it into my mouth, biting the tip. “I love you, Soren,” I say. “Way too much. You know that?”
“I love you too, city girl.” He smiles and kisses me again.
“Call me strawberry,” I tell him. “Forever.”
“I love you too, strawberry,” he says.
“You really mean it?” I look at his scars and know that he does. I’d be stupid not to know it, but I want to hear it from him. I adore hearing it from him.
“I’ll take a million bullets for you. It doesn’t matter how many. I’d gladly give my life to keep you living,” he says it without having to think.
“You’re going to be a good father,” I tell him. It’s the truth. I just have this feeling.
“I hope so,” he says.
“You will,” I assure him. “You’re a fighter. You live for challenges.”
“No,” he laughs. “But I do live for you.”
From California to Colorado, and back to California again. Sometimes love follows the strangest routes. To find love, you really have to find yourself first. Soren and I found that out the hard way, unfortunately. There was the loss of life, the loss of innocence, and the loss of tempers, but I wouldn’t trade anything to go back to where I was back then, before I met him on the side of the highway.
I’ve never been so satisfied with someone. I’ve never felt so at ease and at peace. Sometimes you have to wade through the battlefield to find it.
He’s my man, dammit. That’s never going to change.
Author’s Note
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Continue on to read: Single Dad Boss
Michael
I don’t feel a thing anymore. What’s worse is that I still love you. But I’m not in love with you, Michael. If you want me to stay, I’ll simply be a roommate. Let me go. Just let me go, already.
The words of my ex-wife Susan still reverberate in my mind, like it just happened. I didn’t know what to say or do. I just felt cold. No, I felt numb, like all the energy had been sucked out of my body. I always thought divorce would end with rage, with utter animosity. Instead, it ended with absolute-nothing.
She didn’t want anything from me. I had my house, my money, my car, and my child. Joint custody is what we agreed on. Well, it’s what she wanted anyway. She could have taken all my material possessions. None of that mattered to me. Still, she didn’t want any of that. She just wanted to be away from me.
But why?
That’s the question I keep asking myself. Why? It’s fucking torture following that train of thought. I never knew myself, that’s why. I never realized what it took to be a husband. Hell, we got married young. We didn’t know what we were doing.
Years later, I’ve realized a lot about myself and my spouse. Susan didn’t give me what I wanted, so I didn’t give her what she needed. Now, I’m alone.
The terms of the divorce were simple: Leave her alone, take care of Lisa, and run the business. Only problem is we own the business together. Till death do us part, right? Well, sure. Except for the fact that she hasn’t seen the inside of the shop in years. She got out and she got what she wanted. I won’t fight her on that. I’m too damn tired to fight that woman anymore.
Hanson takes off his glasses and wipes the sweat off his forehead. “You still thinking about that bitch?” he asks me.
“Come on,” I laugh. “Me? No. But don’t call her a bitch, okay?”
“Whatever, man,” he sighs and goes back to sanding the wood.
I’ve owned Vanderbilt Carpentry for over five years now and still, Hanson talks back to me as if I’m not his boss. I can’t deal with the man right now. Besides, we have a new position we’re trying to fill and I need to keep my head clear.
“So, are you ready to do the interviews?” I ask. “We’ve got about a week left before the big jobs start.”
“I’m ready, as always. I still don’t get why you need another hand around here though. You know I can handle myself around the shop. What’s another couple of jobs going to do to me?” he asks.
“It’s a liability,” I tell him. “Plus, I’ve got the kid soon, for like three weeks.”
“Three weeks? You serious?” he asks.
“Yeah, Susan is going to Bimini or something. I don’t know. Her boyfriend is taking her on a romantic getaway. She’s practically rubbing it in my face because I could never afford to do that for her.” I laugh, but it’s hardly funny.
“You mean, she’s using the business money to buy margaritas, while you slave away and give the kid her milk,” he says
.
“It’s just for a little while. I’m using the money too, Hanson. Fuck off.” I smile.
“On what? New Scholastic books for the kid? Dude, you really need to go out with me tomorrow night. I think it’ll be good for you. We’ll hit the bar. Who knows? Maybe you can bag some pussy, for once in your life.”
“I have too much shit to take care of,” I protest.
“Look, I know for a fact women are obsessed with you. You’ve had countless offers from them, like every single time we go out. I shouldn’t even be offering to go with you because it only hurts my chances, but as a friend, I need you to not be so arrogant all the time. Stop turning these women down!”
I laugh and nod my head. It’s true. I’ve never had a hard time with women. I’m a carpenter, I take care of my body, and I’ve got a confidence most men kill for. It’s just that, ever since the divorce, it has all seemed so pointless. “Honestly, there’s just no one that really stands out. They’re all pretty… boring.”
“You don’t have to like their personality to fuck them, you know.” He rolls his eyes and goes back to sanding the stool he’s been working on.
I’m not like that. Sex? Yeah, I live for it. But I’d rather get to know the person before they ride my cock raw. That’s just the way I am. I want a connection. I want to fuck their mind, soul, and body.
I want more than a cold fuck. I want true satisfaction.
Emily Carter
Losing him was like losing everything. Punched in the stomach, a knife in the back… call it what you will. In the end, I knew it was all my fault. That’s why I came here to Kentucky. I needed to get away as fast as I could. I needed a breath of fresh air. Chicago just wasn’t cutting it for me.
I have to admit, I haven’t found my place here yet. I haven’t even found a job, let alone too many friends. Though, I have faith in things that don’t seem all too clear to me yet. A girl has to have some hope. Otherwise, what would I end up with?
Today is, what I hope to be, the last day of my job searching. I’ve applied everywhere. Clothing stores, restaurants, bars, but now I’m taking drastic measures. I click on the link for a part-time entry level position to become a carpenter. I know. It’s not my first pick.
“I’m sorry,” the rest of them told me. “You just don’t have the kind of experience we’re looking for.” But I knew what they were really thinking: “You’re 26 years old and you’ve only had one job in your life? Are you kidding me?”
No, I was never kidding. Dennis Aguilar didn’t like me to work. In fact, he was just happy with me staying home. That meant cleaning, cooking, and never leaving. I had friends before him. I had a life. All of that went away way too fast for me to handle. Eventually, I was just... his.
I tended to his every need and still, I loved him for what he led me to think he was doing for me. All of my bills were taken care of. He bought me nice jewelry, clothes, and even a gym membership. All of these things, however, came with clauses. I had to look a certain way. I had to act a certain way. I even had to talk a certain way. Soon enough, I was just a shell of my old self. Now, I’m trying to pick up the pieces and I’m learning how to let go.
“No experience necessary,” the ad reads. I click on it and call the number within seconds. “Alright,” I tell myself. “Just calm down. You’re not that desperate. If you don’t get the job, it won’t be the end of the world.”
“Vanderbilt Carpentry,” a voice says on the other line. I cough and clear my throat, knowing it’s not the best way to start a conversation.
“Hi, um. Hi,” I say.
“Hello?” the man says. His voice is smooth and clear, with a deep resonance to it. It reminds me of something good, something nostalgic. I clear my throat again and ruin the mood once more.
“Yeah, hi. My name is Emily Carter and I was just responding to the ad online?” I don’t know why I say the words as if it was a question. I’m already butchering this interview and I know it, but I can’t just hang up. I keep my trembling hand steady and take a deep breath. “I’d like to apply.”
“Oh,” the man laughs a little. “Right. Sure, uh, did you read all of the description? There should be an email in it. You can just send us your resumé there if you want.”
“The thing is,” I sigh. “I don’t really have a resumé. I’m actually sort of new in town and—”
“Before you continue, I should probably just say that we’ve got a lot of applicants. If you don’t have a resumé, I’m not sure if it’ll be a great fit. It’s kind of a hard job,” he says. I can tell he doesn’t want to let me down hard, but I can’t help but feel like I’m hanging off the edge of a giant cliff.
“Oh,” I mutter. “It’s just I’m a really hard worker. I’ll do whatever it takes. I promise.”
“I’m sure you will. I mean, if you want, you can still email us with your number and we might call you back,” he says.
I take another deep breath, feeling my hand begin to let go. The weight of everything below is pulling me down into the abyss. “Alright then. Thank you for your time.”
But I don’t hang up. I keep holding the phone to my ear as if someone nearby will reach out and grab my hand to keep me from falling off that cliff.
“Wait,” he says after a few silent seconds. “Listen, you sound nice enough. Why don’t you come in for an interview today?”
“Seriously?” I ask him. “I can come in whenever.”
“Yeah. I guess I shouldn’t be so quick to judge. I’m trying not to be these days. When I started this business, I didn’t really know a thing about carpentry,” he says. “Anyway, come in around two and we’ll see what you got.”
“I won’t disappoint,” I say, possibly sounding too eager.
“I’m sure you won’t,” he says. “See you then.”
I hang up the phone with a big smile on my face, but I know I shouldn’t get my hopes up too high. This is one small chance of many, probably. Still, I can’t help but feel pretty good about the chance to prove myself. I’ve always been a hard worker. Even with Dennis, I did everything for him. People may scoff at me for giving in, but it took a lot of effort on my part to make our home seem normal.
I run to my closet and grab a pair of jeans. I throw them on with a black t-shirt. It’s nothing sexy or anything, but it’s simple. I figure that’s what they probably want over there anyway, someone who looks sturdy and ready. I do fix my hair and spray my perfume, just in case that helps me out in some way.
Clawing at the steering wheel, I turn onto a back road and find myself constantly checking and re-checking my GPS. The clouds thunder above me, and the rain splashes against my windows. “Where the hell am I?” I ask myself. I stop at a house. You have arrived at your destination. “This is it?” I laugh. “A house?”
I mean, in a way, it kind of makes sense. A carpentry shop in a house sort of fits, I guess. Still, I imagined a big warehouse, not a garage. I take a deep breath in and put on my best smile. That’s when I see him. He’s tall, he’s handsome, yet rough, and let’s just say he’s built.
My heart instantly starts beating quick and deep. I stumble back for a second, shoes crunching on the rocks below my feet. “Emily Carter?” he asks me. He walks up smoothly, in his denim and button down t-shirt, and extends a hand for me. “Careful now. I don’t want you to get all muddy. It’s been pouring all morning.”
“Tell me about it,” I laugh. “I could barely see the road.”
“Here, let’s get you inside,” he says. He takes off his jacket and throws it around me. The smell of his cologne enters my nose and I get goose bumps, not from the cold, but from this man. Who is this man and why haven’t I seen him around before?
We run to the garage and jump inside. “Shit!” I laugh, but quickly cover my mouth. “Sorry, I swear I don’t normally curse.”
Another man, with long hair and glasses, pops up from behind a shelf. “You think we fucking care around here?” He laughs.
I look at the tall, handsom
e shop owner and bite my lip. “So, you’re Michael, I’m assuming. And that is?”
“That’s Hanson,” he says. “And you should do your best to ignore him because he doesn’t have any manners.”
Hanson nods his head and smiles. “He thinks that because he’s a married man, he has some kind of authority over me.”
Married man? Really? I look at his hand and there’s his ring. Dammit. How obvious. “No, it’s because I’m your boss,” he says, shaking his head. “Here, I think we should do the interview upstairs, actually.”
“That sounds like a good idea,” I tell him.
“Great, leave me here, all by my lonesome self,” Hanson rolls his eyes and goes back behind the shelf.
Michael leads me upstairs and we walk through the hall. I can’t help but notice that, for a married man, there are not too many family pictures up. However, there are the occasional few of what I assume is his daughter. “She’s cute,” I say.
“What? Oh. Yeah. Lisa. She’s pretty much a teenager now,” he says. “I love her to death.”
“That’s really sweet.” I smile. I don’t know what it is, but a man who sticks by his child is the hottest thing. He could be in the mob for all I care. He loves his daughter. Truth be told, I wish my father was like this guy when I was growing up. A carpenter, family man, who also looks like a million bucks? It’s a rare combo. His wife is a lucky woman.
His Timberlands slosh against the carpet and his firm butt moves in front of me. God, I think to myself. What are you doing? Stop staring. Now.
“Sit down,” he says, when we enter his office. Yes. I’ll do anything you ask.
“So, I’m sorry I have to ask this, but why don’t you have a resumé?” he asks. I stir in my seat. “I just haven’t gotten too many applicants without one. Plus, you don’t look like a derelict or anything. You look pretty trustworthy, to be honest.”