by Vivien Vale
When he’s finished, he leaves his cock where it is, inside my mouth, as I let my tongue wrap around it to make sure I get every last drop of cum.
Eventually, he pulls out of me. I feel him pull me up until I’m level with his face.
“That was fucking amazing,” he murmurs and kisses the tip of my nose.
“I’m not finished yet,” I whisper and slide onto him.
My pussy is so wet it’s ready for that massive cock of his.
I want him inside of me now.
Up and down, I glide on his cock with my pussy until I can feel his cock harden again. I knew it wouldn’t take him long.
When it’s hard as a rock, I lift off him and watch his cock bounce upwards. Slowly, I lower my waiting pussy onto his cock.
I wince a little as he stretches my ever so tight pussy with his massive cock.
When he’s all the way inside of me, I just stay there. I can feel his big hands grab my hips.
And then I start riding him like he’s a wild bronco that needs taming. I can feel my tits bounce up and down and Ford’s strong hands around my hips.
His cock feels fucking fantastic inside of me.
“Yes, oh yes, fuck me…” I’m nearly screaming at Ford.
I can feel his hands leave my hips and wrap around my tits. Then he pulls me toward him until my tits are bouncing up and down in his face. He catches one with his teeth and starts sucking hard.
“Oh Ford…yes…yes…I…” my words get stuck in my throat.
Inside, hot molten lava spreads through me. I feel as if I’m erupting from the inside.
I throw my head back and hear myself yell. I’m not even sure what I’m yelling. It may be that I’m howling at the stars and the moon.
And then my climax starts. The tingling deep within me spreads outward and increases in intensity. Heat, electric pulses, and fireworks all mix together in an almighty crescendo.
I don’t think Ford is far behind me with his own orgasm.
The walls of my pussy grab Ford’s cock as it glides in and out of me, grabbing onto it tighter and tighter as if not wanting to let it go.
And then his body stiffens before I can feel him shoot his load into me.
When he’s finished, I collapse on top of him.
His finger runs up and down the middle of my spine.
“So you still want me to go home?”
The question is totally unexpected, and it makes me laugh.
“I never said you should go home.”
He brushes my hair out of my face and kisses me.
This is perfect—almost too perfect.
I put my head against his chest and listen to his heartbeat.
“But if I did say that,” I mumble and feel my eyelids grow heavy. “I change my mind. I think you should stay.”
22
Ford
It feels fucking awesome to lay here and watch Adelaide sleep.
So far, I’ve resisted the temptation to stroke her pale cheek with my index finger. I don’t want to wake her. She works so hard; she deserves a bit of rest.
But as the desert wakes up, I think it may be time for both of us to make a move. After all, this is the wild. Anything might happen.
Who knows, if we stay here any longer, we might end up being someone’s breakfast.
“Hey, sleepyhead,” I say and lean toward her to kiss the tip of her nose gently.
She stirs and opens her eyes.
“Hey.” She sounds groggy.
“You okay?”
I’m a little worried last night might’ve been too much for my Adelaide.
Listen to me, I’m already thinking of her in terms of mine. I mean, anyone would think we’d been dating or fucking for the last six months.
“Fine.”
Her eyes have a dreamy expression, and I hate to rush her. But my gut tells me to get a move on—and I always listen to my gut.
“So you’re okay to get a move on?”
I watch her look around. She seems to be getting her bearings.
“I think we’ll need to walk.”
If I thought she was going to make a scene and be a prima donna about it, I would have misjudged her.
“Well, what are we waiting for?”
As she stretches and peels out from under the blanket, I stare at her intently.
“Ehm,” I start and stop.
“Say, Ford, have you got anything for breakfast, or are you all out?”
The way she’s smiling at me melts my insides.
Breakfast.
Fuck. How could I forget the most important meal of the day?
At home, I’d always make sure I had breakfast.
Maybe it’s the afterglow. I’m okay to get through the day on it.
And boy is it a fucking huge afterglow. I mean, last night was just pure fucking perfection. If I was poetic, I reckon I’d be able to write a poem or a song.
But I’m not poetic.
“Tea and biscuit?”
I turn to Adelaide.
To my utter amazement, she’s managed to turn her morning hair into something half decent.
“Sounds great.”
She’s smiling.
My insides melt away with the way she’s looking at me.
“Give me five, and I’ll get the fire going.”
I feel her eyes on me as I move about our makeshift camp. It leaves me feeling unsettled.
And then she’s next to me, and I feel her arms wrap around me.
“Good morning.”
She stands on her tiptoes, and I feel her mouth on mine.
Instinctively, I pull her toward me and reciprocate.
“Ford,” she says and pulls away. “Look out!”
I follow her hand.
My re-stoked fire has scattered, and the flame seems to be lapping at my leg.
Quickly, I stomp on the ground.
“Never leave a fire unattended,” I grumble and let her go.
Adelaide chuckles.
“It wouldn’t look very good if we set the area on fire, would it?”
She has a point.
“Okay. Don’t distract me while I’m cooking breakfast.”
“Cooking? That’s a bit of an overstatement, don’t you think?”
I shrug.
“Hey, babe, I’m just telling it the way it is.”
Eventually, I hand her a cup of tea.
The way she brings it to her lips and savors the first taste is a feast for my eyes, her expression telling so much.
“You make a good cuppa,” she says and raises her mug in my direction. “And supply the most delicious dry biscuits.”
“How true.”
She bows her head in acknowledgment, and then we burst out laughing.
When we’re nourished, we set off.
At first, we walk side-by-side, arms touching as they swing in rhythm with our steps.
After a while, I grab her hand.
She doesn’t pull away. I notice the little sideway glance she throws in my direction. I squeeze her hand.
We walk in comfortable silence.
It seems that neither of us needs to talk. If I was worried about the morning after, I shouldn’t have been.
She seems okay.
Actually, she seems more than fucking okay. I think she’s on the same high as I am.
“You need a break? Or you’re okay to keep walking?”
“If you need a break, you can just say so. I won’t think any less of you, Ford.”
This is what I love about her—her cheekiness.
Holy shit—had I just thought of her in terms of love?
What the fuck am I doing?
“I’m fine, thanks,” I reply and give her hand a squeeze before bringing it up to my face and giving it a kiss.
“I don’t think it’s much farther, anyway,” Adelaide says and shoots me a sideways glance again. “Plus, I think we need to keep moving. It’s already hot—and only going to get hotter. The sooner we get back, t
he better.”
I nod. Wise words.
Not only was Adelaide as hot as anything, she was also smart, resourceful, and very fucking brave.
“Dactari!” I hear a lone voice shout before more join in.
We’ve reached the perimeter of the village, and the locals are coming toward us.
“We just fixed truck for you,” one of them says and points at the rust bucket that wouldn’t start the previous night.
Useless fucking vehicle—although I suppose I should be grateful for it.
I mean, if I stop myself, no point going down the path of ‘what if’.
I learned a long time ago that there’s no point in dwelling on the ‘what if’ theory.
I hear Adelaide give directions on where to find the dead leopard and motorbike. Several of the villagers run to the truck and head out.
“I’m going to freshen up and get to work.”
Without a word, I watch Adelaide head to her hut.
“Oh, and Ford,” she says and turns back toward me. “There’ll be a feast tonight to celebrate our return and your brave act.”
Brave act. I roll my eyes.
I did what anyone would’ve done.
When night approaches, I watch the villagers get ready for the festivities.
With one last perimeter check, I go over to the village gathering.
Someone hands me something. I take a whiff of it. It doesn’t smell like anything I’ve smelled before, nor does it look like anything I’ve seen before.
“It’s uki.” Adelaide appears by my side.
“Uki?”
She nods. “Local beer made from honey.”
With a frown, I take a sip.
Not bad.
“Come on, let’s sit down.”
She pulls me toward the head of the long table where two spots are saved—one for her, and one for me.
The festivities are in full swing already.
There’s singing, eating, and drinking.
“What have you got?” I ask, pointing at Adelaide’s drink.
Her eyes glint. “Palm wine.”
Palm wine.
I didn’t know they made palm wine or beer from honey.
With a satisfied sigh, I lean back in my seat and zone out. All around me, people are having a good time. Stories are being told.
I catch snippets of the story of ‘Mother Earth, the Elephant, and Man’s Destiny’.
When a villager elder sits across from me, I look up.
His eyes are upon me. They’re dark brown. The way he’s looking at me sends a shiver down my spine.
“You know the story of strongman?”
For some reason, my throat suddenly feels all dry, and I shake my head.
He nods.
“Trees in our country house spirits. Each tree has own spirit.”
My eyebrows furrow.
Involuntarily, I lean forward to make sure I catch everything this man has to say.
“Most spirits are good spirits. But you cannot own spirit. Spirit must always be free. One day, strongman sits at the bottom of a flame tree. Beautiful spirit comes down to talk to him. Strongman falls in love with spirit. He wants spirit to come with him. But spirit says tree is my home, I must stay with tree. Strongman does not listen. He takes spirit. Spirit becomes very unhappy.”
For some reason, I’m on the edge of my seat. I’m not quite sure why this man’s telling me this story, but then again, deep down, I feel he’s trying to tell me something.
“Strongman not a man of nature. He a man of weapon, violence, and darkness. Not a bad man, but different to spirit.”
“What happened?”
The old man shrugs.
“Spirit tried to leave new life. She was not made for four walls, city life, and no nature. But it was too late. The new life had sucked too much life from her, and she perished.”
“And strongman?”
Part of me doesn’t want to know. The story’s got nothing to do with Adelaide and me.
It can’t. I mean, she’s not a spirit.
“Strongman realized his mistake too late. He tried to take spirit back, but it was no good. She was gone.”
He’s silent.
Okay, so I get it. The story’s symbolic.
Fuck.
“Did strongman die as well?”
The old man shakes his head.
“No. Strongman went back to city life.”
I wouldn’t do that to Adelaide.
But of course, there are other reasons I’m no good for her—reasons that go deeper than the story I just heard.
Before I can say something else, the villager has disappeared. It’s as if he’s vaporized.
I shake my head.
Was the honey beer messing with my head?
Fuck, no.
Truth is, I’m just no fucking good for Adelaide, and the sooner I accept that, the better.
23
Ford
God, I feel fucking awesome.
We’re headed back to the hut. That story is still bothering me some. It hit too close to home.
I shake off the ominous feeling still resonating within me even after the story ended.
In the hut, I look at Adelaide.
“You mind if we push the cots together?” I ask.
“Why would we do that?”
I smirk at her.
“Because I’ve had my hands all over that sexy body of yours and would like to keep it near me in the night, in case I get the urge to reacquaint myself with it.”
She blushes and gives a sweet smile of pleasure.
“Oh, I see.” She considers my request for what seems like forever. “Okay,” she concedes eventually.
I go to retrieve my cot. It gives a thunk as I lay it on the floor and a slight screech as I slide it right up alongside hers.
Yeah, this is going to work out perfectly. Although, with her lying within arm’s reach with those delectable curves, this may not be the smartest plan if I want to ever get any decent sleep.
And there’s still the story that haunts me and throws a shadow over what so far has been fucking awesome.
The sleep deprivation will be worth it.
Besides, the closer she is, the more effective I’ll be in protecting her.
You know—what I’m actually here to do: my damn job.
Story or no story.
I sigh silently to myself.
We both go through our own routines of getting ready for bed. We change into pajamas and brush our teeth.
I check to make sure the hut is secured before getting into my cot, and she briefly logs her day into her journal.
Soon, we’re both lying down in the pitch-black hut with only the sounds of nature outside the windows tearing up the silence.
Bugs buzz through the air and chirp as they sing to each other.
At one point, I hear the faint sounds of lions chuffing in the distant. It’s barely audible, so I know we’re safe.
Oddly enough, the noise is very soothing. It’s completely different from the nightly noise that fills the city back home.
There, the noise at night is grating and loud.
Even though I’m exhausted, I’m having a hard time falling asleep.
Soon, I hear Adelaide’s breathing change into the light breathing of someone who has fallen into a deep sleep.
It’s a lullaby of some sorts for me.
A lullaby that eventually lulls me to sleep.
The next moment, I jolt and wake up from a nightmare.
I’m drenched in sweat, and I’m breathing as if I just ran a marathon.
Fuck.
I’ve had that same bloody nightmare several times, and each time, I wake up right as I pull the trigger.
It’s more of a memory than a dream.
A memory that has been stuck with me for years.
It’s the memory of my first mission out in the field for the CIA. I had a target and thought I was prepared mentally for what that entailed.
I take in a deep breath to help calm my racing heart.
I roll towards Adelaide, hoping her presence would calm me down and bring me firmly back to the present.
The cot shifts. I underestimate the distance between me and her.
A gap between the two cots forms, and I fall to the floor with a large thump.
“Son of a bitch,” I growl.
I see her face come into view above me as she leans over the cot.
She giggles.
“Oh, how the mighty have fallen,” she replies through her giggling. “The floor more comfortable there for you, Ford?”
I grunt as I sit up.
“Not funny, Adelaide.”
“I would disagree with you there. You should’ve seen yourself.”
“I don’t need to see myself. I was the one who ended up on the floor.”
She ignores me and continues to talk. “Arms flailing and your face all scrunched up in anger as if it’s the cot’s fault.”
She’s laughing in hysterics and reenacting the scene now.
I glare at her.
“Thump! Ahhh! Son of a bitch!” she says in a deep voice, mimicking me as she flails her arms around like a damn jellyfish.
I stand up fully and look down at her.
“Are you done yet?” I ask her.
“I guess so, Mr. Grumpy Pants.”
Jesus, did she really just call me that?
I ignore her. I roughly push the cot back toward hers and plop my ass back in bed, my back facing her.
I hear her let loose a random giggle here and there until she finally falls back asleep.
With her asleep, I let her breathing wash over me again until I drift to sleep alongside her.
The next day, I go through my daily check of the village to make sure everything is alright and that there are no threats.
As I walk around, some of the women make me stop, wanting to talk.
“Hello ya mume,” they all state before telling me the news around the village.
I don’t know what the hell they’re calling me, but I just go with it.
As I continue, more and more of the women are calling me by the same name.
I become curious on what it means.
I look for Adelaide once I’ve finished my rounds.
She’s checking a patient who has a rash.