Sinful Ever After (Romance Collection)

by Vivian Wood

  “You sure you’re ready to give me head?” I ask. “It’s been a while since you’ve been with me—”

  Her eyes twinkle a bit, and she pushes herself up. “I think I’ll remember as soon as I taste your pre-cum...”

  She reaches out, brushing her hand along my length. I grit my teeth as pre-cum leaks from the tip of my cock.

  “If you insist,” I say, amused. She presses her free hand against my chest, turning me onto my back. I go willingly, trying not to flutter my eyes closed as she moves down, kissing as she goes.

  When Rachel circles her wet tongue around the head, I can’t breathe for a second.

  “Like this?” she asks, looking up at me. She shifts so that she’s on her knees.

  “That’s… perfect. Jesus, you’re hot when you’re on your knees like that.”

  Swallowing, I look down at her heart-shaped face. Her pouty lips part as I guide my cock to her mouth. The second I touch my cock to her lips, the sensitive head probing the wet heat of her mouth, I have to close my eyes for a moment.

  My dick twitches, and it takes everything in me not to just bury myself in her hot mouth. I imagine how I would do it. How good it would feel just to put my hand in her hair, to let go and fuck her mouth and throat.

  But no. I open my eyes again, breathing hard. She’s looking up at me, her lips on the very tip of my dick, her eyes telling me that she trusts me. I have to remember that.

  “Open your mouth a little, and stick out your tongue,” I encourage her, pressing the blunt head against her lips.

  She does, rolling out the velvety tip of her tongue. It caresses the head of my cock, and sends tiny lightning bolts of electricity down to my feet. My toes curl.

  “Fuuuuuuck,” I whisper. She nudges my hand out of the way, closing her little fist around my cock. I put my hand into her hair as she sinks her mouth down on my dick.

  She starts to work her head forward and back, fucking me oh so slowly. I groan as she picks up the pace a little, closing my eyes and leaning my head back.

  Usually when I’m fucking a girl’s pussy or ass, I’m in a position of complete control. I can stop or slow down as often as I want, which helps me to keep from blowing my load before I’m ready. Even with throat-fucking, I am in control more than I am now.

  And control is something I desperately need to have, especially now. Especially with Rachel.

  I can’t scare her off of going down by grabbing her and fucking her throat. And as much as I’d like to cum in her mouth, I know that I can’t. It’s too much.

  “Fuckkkk,” I hiss. Her mouth feels incredible, it’s going to be hard to restrain myself. “Okay, okay. You have to stop, otherwise I’m going to finish in your mouth.”

  I gently grab her face and push her back. She sits back on her heels, wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand.

  “You taste good,” she says, her eyes scanning my face. She licks her lips. For a second, my eyes are on her mouth, watching her tongue.

  Yeah, I would’ve finished there without a problem.

  “Your mouth is incredible.” I pin her onto her back. “I just didn’t want to cum in there, when there are so many other places that call my name.”

  She giggles for a second. I grab her knees and force them apart, leaning down to kiss her breasts. Then I go straight for her pussy, spreading it with two fingers, and licking her clit.

  Rachel cries out and buries her hands in my hair, her back bowing. I trace figure 0f eights around her clit and dip my tongue into her pussy, loving the scent and taste of her. Just as she gets worked up, her juices flowing, I press her knees up and lick my way around the tiny pucker of her ass.

  “Oooh!” she cries, startled.

  I kiss and lick it for a second, penetrating her ass with the tip of my tongue. Then I break away, kissing her inner thighs, kissing and biting her breasts.

  “I want you to touch yourself again,” I whisper in her ear. “While I’m taking you from behind, I want you to make yourself come.”

  She nods eagerly, and I flip her over. She braces herself on her knees and elbows, showing her pretty pussy and ass to me. I grasp my cock, pressing the head to her entrance.

  “Touch yourself,” I order. She reaches under her body, and starts to play with her clit.

  I plunge inside her, and hear her gasp. It feels so hot and so tight that I have to go slow, otherwise I’ll come right away.

  “Oh my god,” she gasps. “Grayson, your cock feels so good.”

  I grab her hips and use them as leverage while I fuck her, working my cock in and out of her pussy. She begins to tighten her pussy even more as she plays with her clit. I focus, closing my eyes, and try to hit her g-spot every time I thrust.

  Finally she bursts, coming with a shout. I speed up as soon as I feel her begin to spasm, letting myself pound into her like a jackhammer. She cries out my name, which has never sounded better.

  I feel my cock start to twitch and pulse as I drive home again and again. I feel like I’m coming like a fucking fountain, her pussy milking my cock for everything it’s worth.

  “Fuck!” I shout. “God damn, Rachel.”

  I catch myself before I slump face first into her back, diverting my weight to fall beside her instead. She doesn’t move, she lies on her stomach, facing away from me, her breathing ragged.

  I struggle for breath too, but I also feel an overwhelming need to kiss her. I turn her over to face me with one hand, and cup her cheek.

  We lie like that for almost half an hour, enjoying the closeness of each other’s bodies. Neither of us says a word, and we don't need to. The silence is comfortable.

  We are comfortable.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Rachel

  The next day flies by, mostly taken up by Grayson helping Jonah with miscellaneous tasks that need two rangers. I spend the morning cataloging my samples, even though I don't think that anyone will ever look at them. It’s good busy work, which is what I need.

  If only my mind could stay busy as well. Instead, it’s full of misgivings about my decision not to tell Grayson about what I learned during my father’s phone call.

  Mostly that I’ve been officially called back to New York. But also the fact that Civicore plans to frack in the Olympic Peninsula. I honestly can’t say which piece of news is worse.

  When Grayson comes back inside from helping Jonah, all sweaty and dirty, I swear I’ve never been so attracted to him in my whole entire life. That leads to an extended sex session which leaves both of us exhausted. I sleep fitfully, having nightmares in which Clay chases me through my penthouse apartment with a knife.

  I wake the next morning, feeling distinctly alone. The bed beside me is empty. There was no agreement between Grayson and I that we would be sharing a bed every night, but still. I lie in bed and mull over my hurt feelings.

  When Grayson nudges the door open with his foot and comes in, carrying two steaming mugs full of fragrant coffee, I blush. I hadn’t even considered that he might be coming back, much less armed with coffee.

  He hands me my cup, looking at me expectantly. I furrow my brow. “Thanks.”

  I take a sip of coffee. When I look up, he still looks like he’s waiting for something. “What?”

  Grayson tilts his head. “Do you know what day it is?”

  I think for a second. “Is it the fourth of July?”

  He scrunches up his face. “Nope. That already happened. We were deep in the woods, I think.”

  That gives me pause. I try to count the days, but it’s no use. “God, it’s not my birthday, is it?”

  “It is. I thought you would be more excited.” He squints at me, taking a seat beside me on the bed.

  “Crap.” I shake my head, taking another sip of coffee. “I… I can’t believe you remembered, honestly. I stopped celebrating after my 21st birthday. It seems like a waste of energy to celebrate something so pointless.”

  The fact that he did remember makes my heart flutter.

/>   He smiles gently. “What if I told you that I signed you up to volunteer today?”

  “Out here?” I ask, a little surprised. I have no idea what he’s talking about. What kind of volunteer work is out here?

  All I can think of is downing trees or something, but… I don't think that Grayson would have signed me up to volunteer doing that on my birthday. I frown.

  “Yep. We are gonna borrow Jonah’s truck and drive just a little way down the highway. We’re actually due there soon, so you should probably get dressed.”

  “Is this a surprise?” I ask.

  He lifts a shoulder. “Yeah. Until we get there it is.”

  “Hmm.” I sit up, eyeing him. He is dressed like any other day, wearing a faded gray tee shirt and black hiking shorts. “Any clothing recommendations?”

  “Not really.” He takes a sip of his coffee, then stands up. “I’m going to go pull the truck around. You get ready.”

  He catches my free hand, leaning down and kissing me. It seems so simple, the gesture hardly thought out. Innocent. It reminds me of how things used to be between us, back before everything went to hell.

  Afterward, we are both a little bashful. He clears his throat. “See you in a minute,” he says.

  Then he ducks out of the cabin. I hurry to get dressed, noticing that this cabin has a small mirror. I stand before it, frowning a little. My cheeks look a little more hollow. My hair could definitely use a wash. I haven’t bothered with makeup for weeks. Overall, I could be mistaken for someone completely different than the person who first stepped into this forest.

  Is this what 25 looks like?

  Outside, I hear the rumble of the truck’s engine. I leave the mirror behind with a sigh, taking a last sip of my coffee. Then I head outside to find Grayson grinning behind the wheel of an old pickup. He revs the engine and wiggles his eyebrows at me. His expression melts away whatever bad feelings I had before.

  Climbing in the ancient truck and slamming the door behind me, I look to Grayson.

  “Ready?” he asks.

  I nod, smiling at the way he sits in the driver’s seat. His left elbow is out the window, his right arm splayed out along the old bench of the truck. He throws the truck into gear and pulls out. There are no seatbelts in this truck, so I just sit back and try to relax.

  He's trying to surprise me, and I’m trying to let him. It’s really sweet that he makes any effort to evoke any sort of emotion in me. After all that we’ve been through, he still tries.

  And that gives my heart wings.

  I’m a little surprised to find that a little two-lane highway is nearby. It seems quiet and all, but I guess I assumed that roads just didn’t get so far inward into the forest. We bump down the road for about fifteen minutes. I roll the window down on my side of the truck and stick my head out, enjoying the feel of the air against my face.

  Soon Grayson takes a turn off the highway, heading to somewhere that is labeled Wynoochee Valley Farms. I peer at Grayson, puzzled, but he doesn’t seem perturbed. The little lane he pulls down has recently been trimmed back, the greenery all cut in a uniform line about a foot away from either side of the road.

  As I gaze out of the window, I see we are approaching a very large clearing, almost as large as Whiskey Bend’s whole case camp. There are a number of large enclosures of mesh fencing to the left. To the right side there are three mismatched looking RVs, their wheels missing.

  “This is the place we’re supposed to be volunteering?” I wonder out loud.

  We pull up close to the RVs, next to two other ancient trucks. Then I see movement behind the closest mesh enclosure. I squint. Whatever it is seems large, fuzzy, and brown-black. “Is that…”

  “A black bear?” Grayson puts the truck in park. “Yes. Wynoochee Valley Farms is a rehab center for wounded animals.”

  He gets out of the truck, so I do too. Four dogs of different breeds come running up to us just as an older man pops his head out of one of the RVs. At a glance, I guess him to be a Pacific Islander, but his accent is straight up Southern.

  “C’mon back!” the man calls to us. “Y’all are just in time.”

  Petting the German Shepherd who puts his head under my hand, I follow Grayson toward the RVs. He strides right to the middle RV and ducks inside, like he owns this whole place.

  I trail after him up the stairs, emerging into the inside of the bus. The inside has been retrofitted to be a large kitchen. Plastic bowls of every color are spread out across the counter. I raise onto my tiptoes and see that the bowls are full of different stuff. Raw salmon in one, half an uncooked chicken in another. Still others are filled with multicolored berries.

  “Rachel, this is Jim,” Grayson says. “He runs this place.”

  Jim doesn’t even look up from filling the last bowl. “Nice to meet you. I’m just about done here. You came at just the right time. It’s breakfast.”

  Grayson picks up a few bowls and hands them to me. I juggle the bowls, waiting until Jim loads up his arms and carries them out of the RV. Then I follow Grayson uncertainly.

  “We feel them according to size,” Jim calls over his shoulder. “The bears first, then the cougar. Then the smaller animals.”

  The black bear that I saw when I first arrived is waiting pretty impatiently, standing on its hind legs and sniffing the air.

  “I think we will let you feed the bears and the cougar. We want to be able to step inside the pens while we feed the other animals.”

  “Okay,” Jim says distractedly. “You’ve been here often enough. You go on ahead.”

  “Got it,” Grayson responds. He looks at me with a wink. “I think we’ll do the deer first.”

  He heads over to the other side of the clearing, passing foxes playing and several empty-looking pens. A few deer raise their heads when they hear the food bowls rattling. I watch, awestruck, as they timidly come over to the fence.

  “The big bowls of greenery are for the deer,” Grayson says, setting the other bowls down. “Do you have any?”

  I scan the bowls I’m holding and then shake my head. “Nope.”

  “Here.” He thrusts a bowl over the fence. It’s overflowing with clover, lettuce, and greens that look like they just came off of a tree. Setting my other bowls down, I take the one he offers. Then I follow his lead of offering the bowl to the shy deer. A couple are more interested in food than safety, so they venture toward us, sniffing everything first.

  I forget to breathe for a second, staring as one of the does nibbles at my bowl. She is really spectacular, her downy coat light brown with a bright white tail. I reach for Grayson automatically. Not because I am scared, but because I’m amazed.

  God, I can’t honestly believe that he brought me here.

  Soon all of the deer decide that we aren’t dangerous. The small group presses in, trying to get to the food first. One of the deer licks my hand, testing it to see if it can be eaten.

  “Oh my god,” I say with a laugh. I sprinkle the rest of the greenery on the ground, where the deer happily graze on it.

  I glance at Grayson, who is looking at me with some amusement.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Happy birthday, Rachel.”

  My face warms. I’d genuinely forgotten about that until he said something. “Thanks.”

  “You ready to go feed some foxes?” he asks. He tosses the little bit of greenery left in his bowl onto the ground.

  “Yep.” We bend down and pick up the rest of the bowls, heading over to the fox enclosure.

  As we go, I admit to myself that this is a pretty good distraction from my worries. It doesn’t fix anything, but as far as birthdays go, it’s exactly what I needed.

  As I watch Grayson feeding the foxes and being nurturing to the pygmy rabbits, I can’t help but think that he will eventually make a great dad. Not that I will have anything to do with that. I’m going to leave this state in twelve days and never look back.

  Still, some woman doesn’t even realize how lucky s
he will be someday.

  That thought makes me a little sad, but I refuse to dwell on it. I just smile and focus on feeding bunnies and shrews.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Grayson

  As we leave Wynoochee Valley Farms, Rachel snuggles up next to me in the truck. I put my arm around her. The gesture is almost automatic, but it still makes my heart trip in my chest.

  This feeling that I have right now — warm and fuzzy, steady and certain — it’s almost overwhelming. I struggle to name it on the way back to camp. The word I’m looking for to describe this feeling is hiding somewhere in my brain, but it is still on the edges of my awareness. I’ve felt it before, I just don't know exactly what to call it.

  When we get back to the cabin, she wraps her legs around my torso and presses her lips against mine. There is something a little bit desperate about her insistence just now, as if her birthday is reminding her that time marches on and that eventually she’ll be gone again.

  My heart thunders as I taste her. I feel like I’m doused with her scent; it just takes up all the air in the most erotic way. I stand more than a head taller than Rachel, but she makes me feel like I’m on my knees

  Worship. I worship her.

  That’s what I’m feeling right now, although I choose my timing poorly.

  She will leave. Facts are facts. I have to remember that.

  I don't ask questions. I just push that dull thought out of my mind and bury myself in her, tasting the salty skin of her neck and cupping the fullness of her breasts in both hands.

  We fuck silently and quickly. And then when I’m usually spent, she reaches for my cock again, sliding to her knees and putting her mouth to good use. This time when I fist my cock and slide it into her pussy, she’s louder and more vocal than I’m used to. When she’s riding me, she brings my hand up to her throat and makes me squeeze gently.

  That’s more than fine too, except when I see a sheen of tears in her eyes. I still.

  “Are you okay?” I whisper.

  “Yes,” she says, urging me to move. “Just fuck me, please. Please, Gray.”