Wargasm

by Sosie Frost

  “Right. We’re just fucking.” The word tasted bitter. “Why ruin a good thing?”

  Micah’s temper flared, a little firecracker who sparked but never burst. Letting loose might have been good for her. Helped her to undignify herself and tumble off her golden pedestal.

  “What’s wrong with the arrangement we have now?” she asked. “What is so bad about me breaking the rules this one time? I never once done anything like this, cowboy. Never slept with a stranger. Never had hookups. Never let a relationship interfere with my job before.”

  “Never lived a day in your pre-planned life.”

  Micah simmered, ready to pop. “I needed to plan my life, Jules. When I cut ties with my father, I had nothing. No money. No place to live. Nowhere to go. The only thing I could do was keep my life organized, so I could focus on my education and my career. And it worked.” Her words turned into a hiss. “Until you. I had my life planned, Julian Payne, until I met you.”

  I grinned. “Sorry to be such an inconvenience.”

  “Fucking you isn’t an inconvenience. It’s sex. Good sex. But that’s all it is. We agreed, Julian.”

  Father to her child, but little more than a one-night stand. At least I knew my value. “You’re right. And I’m glad to help. I’m here to bend you over whenever you need a little boost. Hump the stress right out of you.”

  It insulted her.

  Good.

  Micah flinched. “What did you expect? We’d get through the festival and then…what?”

  “That’s the difference between us, princess. I didn’t plan for anything. I know I’m gonna be there—for you, for the baby, for whatever you need.”

  “It’s more complicated than that.”

  No. It was crystal-fucking-clear to the son of a bitch who’d already realized what he wanted.

  “Then what do we do?” I asked. “Finish the fair. I get my barn. We pretend like nothing ever happened? What do you want?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Bullshit. “Be honest. Why am I even here tonight?”

  “Don’t.”

  “You wanted me to fuck you.”

  Micah spoke through clenched teeth. “Think I’ve changed my mind.”

  “Liar.” I chuckled. “Hide that pussy all you want, but your nipples are boring a hole through your shirt.”

  She yelped, pulling the blanket to her chin. “Don’t you have any tact?”

  “Don’t you want to fuck?” I asked. “I know you’re probably soaking wet, just hoping I rip that blanket away and fuck you senseless on that couch.”

  “You’re such a prick.”

  “I’m also right.”

  “Fine.” Micah dropped the blanket herself. “Here’s the truth. I want nothing more than to crawl into bed and fuck until morning. Today has been one of the worst days of my life. Between the ground bees attacking the marching band, the lemonade stand explosion, and the bagged goldfish genocide at the ducky pond game, I just needed something to go right for me. I invited you over because I wanted…I’d hoped…”

  “That I’d rut you like I did yesterday in the tent?”

  Micah surrendered, enraged and squirming. “Yes.”

  “You sure? Better check your schedule and make sure you’re free to take my cock.”

  “Shut up and fuck me.”

  I scowled. “Foreplay is your middle name, princess.”

  “Do you want foreplay?” Micah shimmied out of the t-shirt and challenged me, naked and beautiful and frustrating and enthralling. “Or do you want me? Choice is yours, cowboy.”

  Not a hard choice. Micah tread a thin line between seduction and aggravation. I’d either get screwed, or I’d have the fuck of my life.

  No sense wasting the opportunity. Micah was a gorgeous, desperate, pain in my ass with a honey-coated slit and tits begging for my mouth. The little brat reduced me to a goddamned animal, but she was only honest when I mounted her in lust.

  She teased me. She tormented me. She needed me. She pushed me away. She was my worst nightmare and my biggest fantasy, making my days miserable and my nights unforgettable.

  So why wouldn’t I fuck her?

  Why wouldn’t I take her?

  Why wouldn’t I ruin my life for her?

  Because I knew what would happen the instant I took her in my arms.

  And I was so goddamned in love with the prissy little princess that I’d have done anything—even broken my own fucking heart—if it meant giving her even an ounce of pleasure.

  “Here I am doing you a goddamned favor.” I kicked off my boots and removed my shirt “You’re not even grateful.”

  “You haven’t done anything yet, cowboy.”

  My cock—a raging beast pulsing for a chance to punish the little vixen—excited Micah. I pulled her close and ground the hardness into her hip. She gasped, but I’d get no secret smiles from her tonight. No giggles. No softness. No moment when she’d share my breathing, my gaze, my heartbeat.

  Micah offered me her body, but she hid everything real. Her thoughts and fears, desires and dreams.

  It really was just sex to her.

  And I was the dumb bastard stupid enough to want more.

  “You’re the only woman in the world who makes fucking feel like work,” I said. “That’s a rare talent.”

  “Oh, I’m a regular nine-to-five. Do it good, and you might get a bonus.”

  I dumped her onto the couch. “After this, I deserve a break. I could use the time away from you.”

  She protested, but her legs parted as I dove for that slit. Hot. Wet. Waiting. Micah was an ice queen who’d melt my goddamned fingers as I threaded them inside of her.

  “Don’t get my hopes up, cowboy.” Her breathing shuddered as I laced my fingers over her slit, slamming each stroke a little too hard into her clit. “A day without you? There’s an event that deserves fireworks.”

  “Just say the word, princess. No one likes a tease.”

  Micah arched, her pussy clenching on my fingers. “You’re such a prick.”

  “You’re the one begging for it.”

  “I don’t hear you complaining.”

  My cock ached as I unzipped my jeans. Micah dared to challenge me, grabbing my length and pumping it hard. I pushed her down, falling over her curves. Her legs spread, instinctively wrapping around me. She held her breath. I kissed the gasp into her.

  With a callous thrust, I buried myself in that sweet, maddeningly-tight pussy. My body seized in delicious agony.

  Christ, she was tight.

  And hot.

  And enveloped me in a silken perfection that drove the air from my lungs and the blood to my cock.

  Her head fell back with a satisfied hiss. That wasn’t good enough. I wanted her screaming my name, begging for more, moaning every honest truth she’d deny once our bodies were spent and exhausted.

  I thrust deep into her. Once. Twice. And we tumbled together into the rough, angry, meaningless fucking that had tortured us for weeks.

  “This what you wanted?” My words clipped, dragged into a harsh groan as her heat consumed my every breath and thought and rational impulse. “You wanted me?”

  Micah denied me even when impaled with nine inches of solid proof. “I wanted to feel good.”

  “Just say it, princess. You needed me. You needed this cock. You needed what only I could give you.”

  She bit her lip. Tried to fight the pleasure. Too bad I knew what the little minx liked, what would make her arch and beg and surrender to me. I tightened my hold on her, forcing our bodies closer and my cock deeper.

  Her fingernails dug into my shoulders. Her eyes never left mine.

  “You’re the one chasing me,” she whispered.

  “So why can’t I get rid of you now?”

  My cock pounded against her perfect tightness. Every inch drove us both to that inescapable, uncompromising insanity. A shared oblivion we’d hate and love and desire. I panted, breathing rough, body slick with sweat.

 
I stilled, holding her hips in place. Leaving myself completely imbedded inside of her.

  The question burned through me. “Why can’t I stop thinking about you?”

  Micah arched and thrust her hips to meet mine.

  I seized her lips in a kiss that turned to a ravenous bite. “Why can’t I stop dreaming about you?”

  Her fingernails clawed at my arms, my back, my neck. She tensed over me, milking my cock, quivering in an unrelenting orgasm that stole her voice, her strength, her rage.

  I quickened my pace, punishing myself with pleasure.

  The orgasm broke my mind, my back, my resolve.

  I jetted into her, again and again, never once stopping the brutal, desperate thrusts.

  “Why can’t I stop fucking you?”

  We both knew the answer to those questions.

  And that was why we stayed silent.

  That was why we kept fucking.

  That was why we wrapped ourselves in each other, chased away the truth with frantic kisses, and surrendered to the pleasure until we were both too exhausted to realize how badly we’d fucked up.

  This would never be just sex.

  Not when sex with Micah was so much more.

  16

  Micah

  Vibrant flashes of orange burst in the sky, muted by the damp cloud cover. Bright reds, whites, and blues blurred against the heavy mist. The hazy sparkles entertained the crowds, watching as the closing ceremonies of the 2018 Sawyer County Fair concluded with a grand applause to the first responders and the safe evacuation of all thirty elementary school kids from the science fair.

  The final day of my fair—ruined.

  My fireworks—cancelled.

  My job…

  Hell, what job? After tonight’s disaster…the whole week’s disaster…I’d be lucky to get a cup of coffee on Monday before the council and the entire town ran me out of Butterpond.

  With the fireworks a bust—washed out by the torrential downpour that had flooded the grounds—the final hours of the county fair welcomed only a few brave souls willing to paddle their way to the stage for a now acoustic concert featuring polka kings Bupkis and Marvelous Myron’s One-Man Polka Band.

  The fire raged on, consuming the show tent, the science experiments, and the last hope of the evening to entertain those who remained. Unfortunately, the volunteer fire department’s twenty-year rig had gotten stuck in the mud near the entrance of the fairgrounds. Chief Thomas and Sheriff Samson shared a funnel cake and controlled the burn from a cordoned-off area.

  I’d expected Julian, but not the lemonade he handed me or the oversized umbrella he tucked in my hand as the rain began once again. The pat-a-tat-tat clinked along the metal bleachers, and he sat close, taking shelter under the umbrella, shoulder-to-shoulder.

  The lemonade was sweet, sour, and just cool enough to settle a queasy stomach. It tasted even better after being hand-delivered by the only man who could simultaneously raise my blood pressure and flutter my heart. I sipped and offered him a hit. He declined with a wave and watched the fire.

  “It was a volcano.”

  I glanced at him, the first words he’d spoken to me since last night’s fight and mind-blowing sex. Nothing like fucking in stony silence, cuddling under the miserable hum of the ceiling fan, and pretending to be asleep while he showered and left the apartment with a slam of the door.

  Julian didn’t look at me. “Clayton Delaney, age eleven. Thought the baking soda was too simple for his model volcano. Used lighter fluid instead.” His knee nudged mine. “Mount St. Helen’d the entire back row of projects. Aiden Jacob’s solar system? Lost everything from the sun to Mars. Halley Granwala’s tomato plants? Creamed into soup. And Janey Tripoli’s scale-model human digestive system?” He cleared his throat. “Let’s just say the silk-sewn intestines were strung along the tables, and for about fifteen minutes, Sheriff Samson treated the volcano as a mass casualty event.”

  I plunked my head into my hands. “Oh God.”

  “Mrs. Bradley’s six grade class did evacuate in an orderly fashion, and, as a reward, the carnies let them ride The Scrambler four times in a row. Of course, Mr. Harris had filled them with soft pretzels before they all boarded the ride…”

  “They didn’t…”

  “Some of them made it to the porta-potties, but, without the blue juice…”

  “At least it’s raining,” I said. “I hope someone double checked to make sure all the kids are still accounted for.”

  “Why?”

  “After a thunderstorm, a fire, and a volcano explosion, I can’t afford to have any kids kidnapped by the carnies, or the Widow Barlow will never let the county hear the end of it.”

  Julian shrugged. “I’m pretty sure the carnies only took my brother, Quint.”

  “So, she was right?”

  “At least he’s out of my hair.”

  I kicked a stray pebble away from my feet and hoped the flash on the horizon was the fire truck and not a bolt of lightning. Not sure how much worse my luck could get.

  “I just…” I sniffled. Not tears. Not yet. Just a result of the singed, burnt plastic stench wafting through the air. “I didn’t want a perfect fair.”

  Julian nodded. “I know.”

  “I wanted something to go right.”

  He stretched his legs out, ignoring the rain. “The food was good.”

  “I guess.”

  “Raised a lot of money for charity.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I got to spend time with you.”

  My breathing hitched. I swallowed the hope and choked on my own insecurity. “You mean…you got to fuck me?”

  He paused. Hesitation or guilt? “Yeah. That’s it.”

  I should have stood. Headed inside. Spoken with the fire and police chiefs and helped to organize the dismantling of the fair. But most of the vendors had packed up early when the rain had started. The bands had left. The people had traveled home. For the first time in months, I had nothing to do.

  It gave me too much time to think. Too much time to worry about a life plan that had just burnt to a crisp along with thirty elementary school science projects. Too much time to enjoy Julian’s warmth and imagine a stolen moment where I could sit near him, touch him, rest my head on his shoulder…

  Confess everything to him.

  “I really wanted my fireworks.” It was as much honesty as I could summon. “No one would have remembered anything but the fireworks. I could have turned it all around with twenty-minutes of bright lights and music.” I sighed. “Pretty silly, huh?”

  “No.”

  “Sure, it is. Thinking one stupid thing would resolve every problem?”

  Julian smirked. “Like thinking a new barn will turn a patch of overgrown weeds into a functioning farm?”

  Exhaustion masked his usual charm. My stomach pitted. I didn’t dare share his smile.

  What the hell was I supposed to about his barn? If the fair had gone well, I might have had a choice. But with my job on the line and his application on my desk, I was out of options.

  Either I gave him the barn and packed up my things.

  Or I kept my job and destroyed any chance at…

  Forgiveness? A future? A family?

  “You really need the barn, don’t you?” I asked.

  “We all need it.”

  The lemonade soured in my stomach. “And what happens after you build it?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Problems solved?”

  His jaw clenched. “Which ones? The veteran brother who would gnaw off his remaining leg to escape the farm? The ex-minister who has isolated himself from everyone and everything? The family screw-up hellbent on destroying his future like he fucked up his past? The youngest who hates himself more than anyone else?”

  “They look up to you,” I said.

  He snorted. “Yeah, right.”

  “I’ve never met someone who cared so much about family.” I wished the honesty hadn’t scraped m
y voice. “You’re keeping everyone together. Protecting them. Providing for them. And I know they care about the farm too.”

  “Doesn’t feel like it.”

  “Your family only fights because they’re afraid of all the love they might lose,” I said. “It’s not like my parents—all the screaming and resentment and accusations. Your family is scared. But when people have a real reason to love each other, it’s worth the heartache to protect the future. It isn’t hate in your family, Jules. It’s just uncertainty. No one knows what to do, and everyone is afraid of getting hurt.”

  He stared straight ahead. “So, why won’t they let me help?”

  “Maybe they’re afraid to let you close?”

  “What do I have to do to prove myself?”

  Were we still talking about the farm? “I know it doesn’t feel like it, but you’re the one man holding them together, Jules.”

  “Not for much longer.” He sighed. “The more time we spend at the house—the more I push for the farm—the worse everything gets. They want to sell. I’m the last hold-out.”

  “Tell that to my father. He might make a better offer.”

  The thought destroyed him. Julian stood, ignoring the rain. “I’m not selling.”

  Which made everything so much harder. “I know.”

  “The farm means everything to me. If I can get it operational, I can fix everything. The family. Our business.” He rubbed his jaw. “My own fucking life.”

  I clutched the umbrella as the skies opened and the rain pelted down in thick drops. “You don’t need to be fixed…” I smirked. “Though a good neutering might have prevented our current situation.”

  He didn’t share the joke. His eyes flashed, dark and solemn. “I’m the worst of us all, princess.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Why not?”

  Was he serious? “Because you’re you. Julian Payne. The town loves you. The women want you. Your family needs you. I…”

  I quieted. A long moment passed. The smoke cleared, and the fire truck flicked off its lights. The clanking of vendor trailers and the carnie’s dismantling of rides echoed across the field, but hidden on the bleachers, in our own shadows and misery, we were alone.