by B. B. Hamel
He stands after a moment, spitting into his palm and stroking himself with it. I feel his cock press against my gaping and dripping pussy as he grabs my hips and slowly pushes himself inside of me.
I groan, head tipped back, his hand back in my hair. He doesn’t press himself fully inside, not yet at least. It feels so fucking good and hurts as the same time, but that pain makes it so much sweeter. It’s a sweet ache and I want more as I wiggle my hips again and arch my back. I grip the tree and push my ass out as he pulls my hair, his other hand on my hips.
Slowly he starts to fuck me. I wiggle my hips and move back and he presses his cock in deeper. I can feel him spreading me wide, ripping me apart, and I love that glorious, pleasing ache that fills my whole core. I rock my hips back again and slide along his shaft, breath coming in ragged moans.
He slaps my ass and thrusts harder, hand tight in my hair, pulling my head back. I turn over my shoulder to look at him as he reaches up my shirt with his free hand to tease my breasts. I watch him slide his cock completely inside and back out, thrusting in long hard jerks. I move my ass and work my lower back, rolling myself along him. I’m dripping wet, absolutely soaked, and he sinks inside like it’s nothing.
I’m panting, moaning, gasping his name. I’m mindless, faceless, timeless. I’m just a body in this moment as he fucks me, fills me, thrusts inside me. I needed this more than I guessed.
“How badly do you want me to fill your tight little pussy up, wifey?” he whispers in my ear, his lips and cheeks rough against mine. “How badly do you want to come on this fat cock?”
“God, Jace,” I gasp. “Please. Whatever you want, I’ll give you.”
His laugh is throaty and deep as he thrusts harder. “I want you to give me everything. I don’t think I’m asking too much.”
“Everything,” I repeat. “You can have it all.”
“Good girl. That’s my good wife.”
He fucks me harder now, like an animal, thrusting and grunting into me. I’m moaning right along with him, working my ass, my whole body screaming in pleasure as his hands grip my hips. I dig my fingers into the bark of the tree, barely even aware of what I’m doing. He’s not stopping, not slowing, not bothering to worry about anything but fucking me deep and rough and hard, making me say his name, making me scream.
He pulls my hair again, slaps my ass again, and I know I’m close. He reaches around to rub my clit as he grinds his cock into me, working his hips in circles as I move my ass up and down his shaft riding him and needing every incredibly thick inch. I’m panting now, gasping, barely able to breathe as pleasure assaults me everywhere. Maybe it’s the altitude but I feel like I’m lightheaded, dizzy with pleasure, and he’s not holding back, not stopping.
I can feel the orgasm slowly overtake me. “That’s my wife,” he whispers. “Come on my fat cock, wife.”
I groan his name, head tipped back, and it finally bursts through me. I come hard, bearing down on him, moving my hips the whole time and he doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t give me any relief at all. He fucks me rough through it as the world shrinks into a tiny pinprick around me, buzzing at the edges of my eyes, my peripheral vision just a tunnel of pleasure and intensity. I’m afraid I’ll fall but I don’t as the orgasm slowly passes and I regain myself, bliss ringing in my ears.
“Oh, fuck,” he groans. “I think that was the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”
He fucks me harder, hands on my hips, slapping my ass. I move my hips back against him, working my spine and pussy along his big dick, wanting him to come almost as badly as I wanted myself to come.
He groans and I feel him spurt deep into my pussy, hot cum filling me. I gasp and groan as I grind my hips against him. He whispers my name as he finishes deep inside my pussy and it sends shivers of pleasure cascading down my spine.
He pulls himself out and leans up against the tree next to me, massive cock still partially stiff. I lean up against his strong body and his wraps his arms around me, holding me tight.
“I don’t hate nature anymore,” he says softly, and we both laugh at the stupid joke.
I didn’t expect this, not even when he kissed me. But it felt too good to deny, too intense and incredible to pretend like it wasn’t something special. I don’t know what I’m going to do about this marriage thing, or what I’ll do about the crew, but I don’t care right now.
All I need in this second, as the forest slowly turns from dusk to night, are his arms wrapped around my body, hugging me close.
17
Jace
I feel like their fucking mother, and they’re both older than I am.
Calvin and Eric both look surly. They’re staring at the floor, eyes downcast and repentant. Eric’s knee fidgets and bounces over and over as Calvin runs his hands over his bald head almost obsessively.
“Do you guys know why we’re having this talk?” I ask, relishing this moment. It’s not every day I get to chastise grown-ass men and have them actually listen to me.
“Yeah, we know,” Calvin grumbles.
“We’re sorry,” Eric adds.
I glare at them. “You’re just sorry? Oh, wow, I feel so much better now.”
We’re in public, in the middle of the Denver Airport. Piper’s off with Grant buying something to eat, and she left me this job, which she really didn’t want to do. I happily took her up on it, since I knew it’d be fun to treat these two idiots like the children they are.
“We know we messed up,” Calvin says. “In our defense, we had a lot of that whisky Grant makes.”
“A lot,” Eric echoes.
“It wasn’t the whisky,” I snap. “You think that was the only time you two were a problem so far?”
They shut up again, staring at the floor. I cross my arms and glower down at them, secretly thrilled by it all.
“Look, Piper wanted to fire one of you, okay? I talked her out of it.”
Both their eyes snap up to me. “She wanted to… fire us?” Calvin asks.
“Yep,” I confirm. “You two have been such a fucking pain in the ass.”
“We’ve been doing good work,” Eric says. “She was going to fire us over… that disagreement?”
“You fucking fought,” I say.
“Still, our work has been solid. I’ve seen Eric’s roll, he’s doing a good job.”
“Same with Calvin,” Eric adds. “I mean, we’re the best in the business. And she wants to fire us?”
I can hear the note of indignation creeping into his tone. “Watch it,” I say. “You’re only here because of me.”
“Still,” Eric grumbles, looking down again.
Calvin sighs and stretches his lean legs out in front of him. “So I take it we have one more chance?”
“If you so much as step out of line, you’re both gone,” I say. “I’m serious. I don’t care if we go over-budget and off-schedule, I’m not tolerating this shit on my show.”
Eric looks up and at Calvin. “I can be civil if he can.”
“I can be civil,” Calvin confirms.
“Good. Ignore each other, do whatever you have to do, I don’t care. But show up, do the work, and don’t bicker. Got it?”
“Got it,” they say in unison.
“Good. I won’t be able to talk her out of it again.” I shake my head and walk away as the two guys go silent and do their best to pretend like the other doesn’t exist.
I sigh and wander over to a pretzel place. I buy a big, salty, greasy fucking pretzel and break pieces off, tossing it into my mouth. It’s buttery and delicious and I know I shouldn’t be eating this fucking junk, especially considering eating is part of my job now, but fucking hell. I can’t help myself.
It’s my victory pretzel.
Those two morons are cowed. I don’t think they’ll step out of line again, and if they do, I’ll fire them myself. I can’t handle more drama between those idiots, not because it’s difficult, but because it’s so fucking boring.
I stifle a yawn and si
t on a bench near the gate. I catch a young girl nearby taking a picture of me with her cellphone, and inwardly groan. Now the whole fucking internet will talk about how I was sitting on a bench all alone eating a crappy airport pretzel, and isn’t that just so sad, and blah blah blah. I’m sick of the noise and I mostly just tune out the internet but I hate when they take my shit out of context.
Whatever. I eat my pretzel and I bask in the glory of embarrassing those two morons.
And of the memory of Piper’s body, pressed up against that tree, her moans hot in my ear.
That happened two days ago. I haven’t had time to talk to her about it, or to try and get another taste. We’ve been running around, shooting film all day and night, squeezing the Colorado trip into a shortened schedule so that we can fly out to LA and get some more footage. We pushed off the issue of Calvin and Eric until now, basically because Piper wasn’t completely sure, but I think she just needed to cool off a bit.
Grant and Piper come wandering back not too long later. I wander over as our plane is ready and we all file on, stuffing ourselves back into coach. I’m next to Piper who has the aisle seat, and Grant is snoring peacefully next to me, basically asleep as soon as his butt hits the seat.
Piper pretends to be really into a paperback as the plane takes off, and I let her ignore me. I put my headphones on and listen to a podcast, this thing about ayahuasca ceremonies. I did ayahuasca once and it wasn’t all that great, mostly just hallucinations and puking for a few hours.
Halfway through the flight though, I get bored and shove my headphones back into my bag. Piper’s awake and staring ahead of her like she’s trying to figure out an important math problem in her head or something. I lean close and study her face for a second.
“What’s going on?” I ask her.
She looks over and recoils. “Jesus. Why are you so close to me?”
I grin and lean back. “Just checking to see if you were still alive. You spaced out big time there.”
“I’m just waiting for this flight to be over.”
“What, don’t like being close to me?”
Something flickers across her face. “Uh, no,” she says.
I glance past her. Eric and Calvin are sitting in the seats across from us, although they’re both leaning as far from each other as possible.
“I talked to the idiots,” I say.
“And?”
“One step out of line and they’re both gone.”
She nods. “Good. Okay. Think that’ll work?”
“I think so.”
“I hope so. We can’t afford to lose them, like you said.”
“I know.” I sigh a little bit. “I never thought this show would have so much drama.”
“There’s always drama on set,” she says vaguely. “Especially with a production like this where we’re traveling all over.”
“Just in the States. Imagine if we went all over the world?”
“I’d rather not.” She sighs a little bit. “I’m stressed enough as it is, I can’t imagine nobody speaking my language.”
“We’d have to get interpreters, local fixers, all that stuff.”
“Nightmare, headache, nightmare.” She forces a little smile at me. “At least we’re not doing that.”
“Not yet.” I reach out and pat her thigh but she flinches. I frown at her a little bit, surprised by her reaction. It was a friendly gesture, not entirely inappropriate even if we hadn’t fucked recently, and yet she just reacted like my hand is covered in spiders.
“What’s wrong with you?” I ask her.
“Nothing’s wrong with me.” She glares a little bit, a spark of her old self. “Just because I don’t want to be touched.”
“Don’t want to be touched?” I raise an eyebrow. “Who said I was touching you?”
“You just did.”
“Hardly. If I really wanted to touch you, wifey, you’d know it.”
She bites her lower lip. “Look, Jace. We should talk.”
I sigh and smile at the same time, a bitter little feeling coming over me as I lean back in my chair. “I was waiting for this.”
“What happened was great,” she says, pushing ahead.
“But we should just remain coworkers,” I finish for her.
She nods tightly, eyes glancing past me and at Grant, making sure that he’s still asleep. She leans in and speaks lower. “We can’t do what we did… you know.”
“You don’t want me to fuck you in the woods anymore?” I ask, grinning.
She winces. “Keep your voice down.”
“Oh, now you want to be quiet. You weren’t so quiet out there in the woods that night. Remember how you moaned my name?” I lean closer to her, our faces inches apart. “Remember how you begged as I made you come?”
“I remember,” she says. “But we can’t do it again.” Her voice is harsh and fervent and low.
“Okay,” I say in response.
She pauses, surprised. “Okay?”
“I can’t make you fuck me,” I whisper softly, forcing her to lean in closer to hear me. “You don’t want my big cock, that’s fine.”
She blinks a little bit. “Okay. Okay, good.”
“But don’t misunderstand me.” I hold her gaze, face serious. “You’re still mine. All fucking mine. You’re my property, my legal property.”
“I don’t think it works that way anymore,” she says, “and that’s horribly misogynistic.”
I wave that away, smirking at her. I know I’m being a dick, but I want to rile her up. “Whatever. The point is, we’re still married. You want that annulment? You have to work for it.”
She gapes at me. “You’re… blackmailing me?”
“Nope,” I say. “Just stating some facts.”
“So, if I want to get out of this insane fake marriage, I have to have sex with you?”
I feign surprise. “Those aren’t my words.”
She groans and sits back, making a disgusted face. “Whatever. You heard what I said. I’m done, okay?”
“Okay,” I answer, grinning at her. She’s pissed and I can’t blame her. I just said some fucked-up shit about owning her and insinuated that I’ll be blackmailing her for sex now. Not my finest moment but I achieved what I wanted to achieve.
Now she’s thinking about fucking me, and she’s annoyed as hell.
“Excuse me,” I say, unbuckling my seatbelt. “I’m going to the bathroom.” I lean over her and meet her eye. “And if you were smart, you’d join me,” I whisper.
She shakes her head and doesn’t meet my gaze. “Go to hell.”
“You’re loss. I hear it feels incredible, getting your pussy sucked and licked this high up. I bet you’d black out after coming hard.”
She’s turning slightly red as I slide past her, making sure I brush my body against hers. She glares but I just grin and walk away, back toward the bathrooms.
I don’t have to take a piss, I just wanted to get away from her. I’m angry with myself, and to be totally frank, I’m disappointed. I didn’t think we’d become lovers and date and marry and have babies and all that shit, but I did hope we’d get to fuck some more. I like spending time with her, I like talking to her and laughing with her and finding out about her life. And I love her tight little body as she takes my big dick between her legs.
I’m disappointed because I’m starting to care and that freaks me the fuck out. I know I keep having this stupid fantasy where the marriage stays real and she’s mine forever but I didn’t know I actually… well, that I actually fucking wanted it.
I thought it was just a fun idea. Totally theoretical, not real. I’d keep her as my little wife, fuck her on the side, do all that stuff, whatever. Now though, this disappointment is so bitter, I’m starting to think I wasn’t joking with myself. I wasn’t being theoretical.
My need for her, my want for her, it’s entirely practical. It’s as real as it gets. I stand in the bathroom and look in the mirror, and I barely recognize the guy looking
back. I’m clean and I think I’m falling for this fucking girl, which makes no sense. I’m the addict, the heartbreaker, the asshole. Instead, I’m the serious television star, the clean guy, the idiot with puppy love in his eyes.
I barely know what to think. But as I head back out toward my seat, I know one thing for sure.
This feeling is real, and I think she shares it.
18
Piper
I hate that conversation I had with Jace on the plane. I hate the look he gave me, like he didn’t give a shit, like it wasn’t bothering him. I hate his bullshit about blackmailing me and all that crap. I hate what all this is doing to me, and most of all, I hate that I can’t just have what I want.
Maybe I’m stupid, maybe I’m dramatic, I don’t know. I want Jace, even though I know he’s a mess. Ex-addict, full time asshole, TV personality, exactly the kind of guy I should stay away from. He hurt me once, broke my heart a little bit, and it’s insane of me to even think about letting him back in a second time.
And yet here I am, married to the bastard, and I’m thinking about doing that exact thing.
“What’s this pretty lady’s name?”
“Jezebel.”
“Oh, hi there, little Jezzie.” Jace runs a hand along her hair, rubbing her butt and making her wiggle. “Oh, you like that? You like when I scratch your butt?”
I glance at Grant and he just shrugs, grinning. Jace digs his nails into the cute white dog’s fluffy fur, scratching her butt and making her writhe around. He laughs and stands up, looking back at the white-haired woman in an official Animal Shelter polo.
“Jezebel’s a good girl,” the woman says. I think her name’s Ann, but I can’t be sure. I haven’t exactly been on top of my game for this shoot.
We landed in LA and immediately checked into the hotel. Everyone went to sleep pretty early, since we had this shoot first thing. We’re at a local animal shelter, one of those fancy no-kill shelters that tries their best to do good and mostly succeeds.