by Winter James
“Like this.”
Like tearing my tank top over my head and yanking down my brand-new shorts. Like bending me over on the sofa, hands braced on the back, and pressing my knees apart with one of his big hands. Like stroking two fingers through the hot wet center of me and pushing them inside. Like making me come like that, fingers deep inside me, one hand next to mine on the back of the sofa. Jake kisses down my neck. He’s hungry for me. I’m ravenous for him.
“You want me to slow down, little girl?”
“No. No, no, no.” I chant the words, say them like a prayer, and Jake climbs onto the sofa behind me and thrusts in with one stroke. It forces a cry from my mouth, he’s so big, he’s so big. I’m still learning to fit him inside of me. I’m still wanting everything he has to give. Needing it.
This time, he doesn’t put his hand over my mouth. Let them hear me. If the former cult members don’t like it, they can always find another place to live.
It’s so bad, but I don’t care.
I don’t care about anything but Jake’s deep strokes, his hands holding me still so that I have to take every thick inch of him.
“Come on my cock,” he growls.
“I can’t, I can’t.” All I can do is pant and hold on for dear life.
“It wasn’t optional. Come. Now.”
I swore I’d never take anybody else’s orders again, but Jake doesn’t count. His voice makes my body obey. Pleasure ripples out from where he’s fucking me—yes, I said it—and suffuses all of my nerves, out to my fingertips and farther. The whole world must feel echoes of this pleasure. To me, it’s the entire universe.
Jake comes next. He lets out a desperate groan that gives me another lapping wave of heat and want and yes and then he’s in deep, deeper than before, emptying himself into me with all the abandon I could have imagined from a man like him.
He goes still, resting his head on my shoulder, and for a long time there’s nothing but the sound of his breathing. Shadows from the oak tree outside this cabin wave lazily across the sofa. The refrigerator kicks on, a low and comforting hum.
Jake stirs inside me. “I want more of you.” His breath is warm on my ear, his hands firm on my hips. “I need your pussy, your hands, your mouth.”
I turn my head to kiss him. “Yes. Take it.”
He shudders. “No. Not that. I don’t want you to think of him--”
“Of Leader Michael? No. I don’t think of him. I want a good memory of this.” Shyness sweeps over my cheeks like wildfire. “Besides, I think I want to taste you.”
He groans. “I’m going to hell for this.”
“Take me with you,” I whisper, crawling low until I’m facing his cock.
It’s already pointing up, thick and hard and proud, even though he just came inside me. He’s slick with his own come and water wetness comes from me. I take a tentative lip, and a new salty flavor bursts on my tongue. Uncertain, I face him, and he’s panting hard, breath billowing out of his chest, so hungry that his eyes look like onyx.
That gives me the strength to lean down for another lick. “Put it in your mouth,” he says, his voice low and uneven. “The whole thing, little girl. As much as you can fit.”
It isn’t very much. Not even close to the whole thing, but I open my mouth and take him inside me, deep enough that he bumps the back of my throat and I gag around him. It must feel good because he swears words I don’t even recognize, bucking his hips.
“More,” he demands, and I know I’ve unleashed some devilish part of him.
I push myself down harder, and the gag comes again. A spurt of something salty hits my tongue, and I realize it made him come a little, that feel.
In a flash of wild white wood, the world turns upside down. Then he’s on top of me, inside me, thrusting so deep and hard my teeth clack together. “Later,” he says on a growl, thrusting inside me again and again, making the climax rise in me. “Later I can teach how you to take my whole dick. We have goddamn forever.”
Orgasm washes over me in a heavy fall, and I sob my pleasure. He comes a second later, muttering something about me milking his dick, and I know it won’t be long before he’s hard enough to come again. We never have to stop. Like he said, there’s later. Always later.
We have goddamn forever.
Chapter Eighteen
Jake
The basket dangles lightly from Dove’s fingertips as she walks through the meadow on the opposite side of her property. She’s focused, looking down at the flowers beneath her feet. She bends to pick one up and her dress lifts and swirls around her ankles. When she straightens up she catches me looking.
“Nothing to see here,” she calls. “Just a pregnant woman trying to pick flowers.”
Not just a pregnant woman. The most gorgeous pregnant woman I’ve ever seen, standing in the center of a lush meadow. Her red sundress is a vibrant splash in the middle of all the green. It’s impossible to ignore her, just like it was a year ago. Only now there’s no highway between us. Thank the Lord.
“You want help?” I’ll get up from the picnic blanket right now and carry her around if that’s what she wants.
Dove sticks her tongue out at me. “I have a lot of experience picking flowers.”
“Come here.”
It’s a thrill, even a year later, to call her and watch her come to me. She’s here, in range of my voice and my hands. She hasn’t left my side in a year. I don’t think she ever will. I sure as hell don’t want her to. What would life be without her? It would be its own kind of prison.
Dove takes her time waking over. She picks three more flowers and lays them in her basket, and then she comes to the edge of the picnic blanket. The basket falls to the ground next to me with a gentle thud. And then she’s climbing into my arms, into my lap.
“Oof,” Dove says. “I always think that’s going to be easier.”
“It’ll be easier again soon. At least, that’s what I’ve heard. You’ll have to tell me if I’m right.”
We both look down at the swell of her belly between us. I have never seen a more beautiful sight than Dove, pink and pregnant in a strappy sundress. She won’t wear white dresses now, which made things fun for the guests at our wedding. We got married in this meadow, me in a tux, Dove in a pink dress that made her look like she was in bloom.
And then I tore a house down. It was a honeymoon like none other, ripping apart plaster and wood frame with my bare hands, taking an axe to the goddamn stools used for penance. Making love to my wife under the moonlight in the ruins of the cult.
I slide my hands up under her dress and discover something about her that I didn’t know.
Dove grins at me, blue eyes filled with a mischievous energy.
“Oh,” she says. “By the way, I couldn’t get any of the panties out of the laundry this morning. It was too much work to bend over.”
“I have an idea that doesn’t involve any bending for you.”
“What’s tha—” I run my fingers between her spread legs. She can’t close them when she’s straddling me like this, which makes it my favorite position of the day. Dove tips her head back and moans. Sunlight catches at the base of her throat, and I can’t help putting my thumb there to feel the steady thrum of her pulse beneath her skin.
We brought a blanket all the way out here. I’m going to use it.
I undo my belt while Dove watches, and then I lay back and shift her over me.
“This is a sin,” she whispers, eyes bright.
“Then be a sinner with me.”
I position myself at her entrance and she hovers for as long as she can. It’s not long—not in her condition. The counterweight of her belly makes everything new again, but one thing hasn’t changed—the way Dove lets me take her weight and sinks down into my hands. She trusts me.
And I’m going to reward her for it.
I take her inch by inch. The waiting is torture, but giving her what she wants with every inch she takes is the sweetest torture I’ve ever fe
lt. I make her come twice on the way down, then again when I’m as deep as I can get.
Dove leans back, hands behind her, and holds on.
Maybe she’s right. Maybe it is a sin to fuck your pregnant wife. I’ll take my chances.
For now, I keep things slow and steady. Dove opens her eyes when I come and looks deep into mine. Behind the exhaustion of being at the end of her pregnancy is a fiery light I’ve come to need as much as I need air. Soon, soon, we’ll be sneaking off when the baby’s asleep to fuck each other senseless. But for now I do it gently, and then I lift her onto her feet and hold her tight.
“I have something to show you.”
She looks up at me, a grin curving her perfect lips. “If it’s your dick, then I’ve already seen it.”
“It’s not my dick. It’s better.”
Dove gasps, putting a hand to her mouth. “How could that be? I don’t believe it.”
“Come and find out.”
I lead her down the trail at the other end of the meadow. It climbs up a hill, through the trees. We go slow, holding hands. It’s the kind of shit I never dreamed would happen when I was in prison. Now I know what it’s like to be free. Really free. Who gives a shit about parole meetings when I have Dove?
We reach the top of the hill and Dove stops short, then whirls to face me. It’s a slow whirl. She’s really pregnant. That’s why I had to hurry my ass up when it came to this project.
“You built me a house?”
“I built us a house.”
It’s two stories, painted a blue the color of her eyes, on a crest overlooking the rest of the land she owns. I built her a nursery and three bedrooms, a kitchen and a den. I built a house we can spend the rest of our lives in. Or...a house we can sell when I’m not on parole anymore. I’ve built the three of us a lifetime’s worth of options.
Dove pushes a lock of blonde hair behind her ear and looks over the new house.
“Okay.” Dove folds her hands over her belly. “Do it.”
“Do...what?”
“Carry me inside.”
I pick her up in my arms, same way I did after our wedding, and kiss her. She tastes sweet, like mint and ice water, and I want to keep kissing her for another thousand years or so.
But our new life is waiting, so I take the yard in stride and go up the steps two at a time, no walls to stop me and nothing in my way.
* * *
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