by Vivien Vale
With a quivering lip, I nod.
It may not be obvious from my quiet nod, but my insides are burning with desire, and my pussy is positively dripping with want.
His cock is at my opening within seconds of my nod.
Instead of taking his time and easing into me, he pushes hard and fast all the way.
A gasp catches in my throat, and my breathing becomes labored.
When he pulls out again, I try to catch my breath, but this little interlude doesn’t last long.
Carter starts ramming into me harder and faster than a posthole digger into the ground. His hands knead my tits.
The tiny flame flickering inside of me is burning brightly now. Fireworks are going off inside my head and tummy.
But, for the first time, there’s a feeling of sensitivity in the mix. Carter’s massive cock grows to gigantic proportions with each inward thrust. It thickens and grows, the way dough does when yeast is added to it, and you leave to sit and rest.
Each inward thrust knocks the air right out of me.
Instinctively, I struggle against him a little. He seems to misread my signal and grabs me harder. His right hand travels up to my neck, and there it stays.
When I struggle against him, the hand tightens around my neck.
Fear rips through me, as does something else.
Desire.
Oddly, the sensation of having my circulation cut off heightens my sense of pleasure. But I fight it.
I don’t like the way he’s treating me.
Something feels wrong.
As his hands are still around my neck and restricting my breathing, I feel him tense inside of me.
The walls of my pussy are grabbing his cock and massaging it. I’m lost in a parallel universe. This entire experience is so strange to me, I feel as if I’ve left planet Earth and gone somewhere totally different.
A place where pleasure and pain rule in equal measure.
Carter’s face twists and contorts, foretelling the orgasm that’s about to engulf him. As he thrusts for the last time before the dam bursts, his grip tightens.
Fear takes hold of me, immediately followed by my own orgasm.
My body shudders, shakes, and quivers. It feels as if I’ve jumped off a mountain without a parachute, and I’m approaching the ground at a dangerous speed. But, at the last minute, something stops me from smashing into the ground.
I’m breathing hard and fast.
Carter finishes delivering his massive load into me.
He pulls out of me, and I sink to the ground. The world is spinning, and suddenly, I shiver from the cold.
Or maybe it’s not the cold that’s sending shivers through me.
Something doesn’t feel right.
That was not Carter’s normal way of fucking me.
I don’t know what to say about it, or how I feel about it. All I know for sure is that a fierce animal’s been unleashed in Carter.
Carter
I lay June down gently.
I’m ready to take her again, but this time with a little more care.
The floor is sleek and glossy beneath us. June’s chestnut waves cascade across the hardwood as I cradle her in my arms.
One hand caresses the back of her skull. The other holds the small of her back. She spreads her thighs for me, and I move between them instinctively.
Perfect fucking fit.
It doesn’t take long for my cock to come to life again. It seems the mere proximity of June and her pussy is more than enough for that.
I free my hands from beneath her just so I can stroke her beautiful fucking skin. June tilts her head back, gasping as I position my cock against her tight, slick pussy.
My fingers pet her possessively, sliding down her neck, over her breasts—until finally, they reach her stomach.
There’s a small swell between us where our child grows.
I smooth my hands around it for a moment, entranced by what my cum has done to June’s perfect body—her hard, sensitive nipples and her womanly curves.
It’s an improvement, as far as I’m concerned. When I first saw her, I never thought she could be more beautiful.
Seeing her now, I know I was wrong.
The glow I saw around her earlier has intensified. I’m not sure if it’s the pregnancy glow or just her fucking aura.
I’ve heard people bandy the term aura around as though they’re fucking experts when I know they have no fucking idea.
If an aura is the light someone gives off, then June’s aura is fucking golden. When I saw the halo over her earlier, I swear I thought I was going to fuck an angel.
As far as I’m concerned, she is an angel.
My angel.
My body gently rubs against hers.
The wild animal in me, the one that ravished her just a little while ago, is back in its box. I’ve tamed it.
For the time being, at least.
“You know you’re the most beautiful woman in the world, June,” I whisper into her ear.
Her cheeks flush with color.
Now she looks even hotter, which I didn’t think was even possible.
Suddenly, the urgency I was feeling is gone. I want to slow time down. I want to make this moment last as long as possible.
I can still hear the rain beating against the window, but the storm itself seems to have passed. The thunder and lightning have moved on. Maybe they’ve taken the animal inside me with them.
This was not like last time. This time, I want to be gentle, but I still want to make absolutely fucking certain she gets all the pleasure she deserves.
Which is a fucking lot.
My index finger traces an invisible line on her lips. Almost without thinking, my hand moves to her pussy, scoops up her own juices, and then goes back up to her lips.
Tentatively, her tongue pokes out to taste.
Before she can lick my finger clean, I put it in my own mouth.
“Not too sweet…not too salty…just right,” I announce and move my hand back to her pussy.
Her eyes follow my every move.
This time, I don’t give her a taste but take it all myself.
“I think I’ll need to get a better taste of this delicious elixir of life.”
At my words, she giggles.
Her laughter is music to my wounded soul.
Slowly, I let my tongue trace random lines along her chest, breasts, and belly until I reach her pussy.
Here, my tongue zooms in to find her clit. Back and forth I go.
Her moans spur me on. Her earlier resistance is gone…melted away.
As my tongue works its magic on her pussy, I leave my hand on the special space where our baby is growing.
This is where my hand will be spending a lot of time. I can’t wait for her tummy to grow and expand to make room for the new member of our family.
I can’t help but wonder if he or she will look like June or me?
If it’s a girl, I hope it will be the spitting image of her mother. Nothing wrong if it’s a boy who gets some of my looks, but a girl should be all her mother.
June’s quivering a little, and I decide it’s time to stop what I’m doing and shift gears.
Gently, I glide back up and rest my arms on either side of her.
“Do you need a cushion?” I ask, concerned she’s okay.
June shakes her head. “I just need you,” she whispers.
I’m not sure, but I think there’s a tear in her eye.
“You’ve got me right here,” I say and take this opportunity to let my cock slide into her tight pussy.
Slowly and gently, I move all the way in.
“Tell me if it hurts,” I whisper, and June nods.
I have my weight supported on my arms, because I don’t want to squash her belly. I don’t want to hurt her or the baby.
Now I start slowly moving in and out of her, my eyes locked on to hers. If she shows any sign of distress, I’ll pull out immediately.
The internal
struggle starts up once more. The wild animal from earlier is making a cameo. In fact, he’s chomping at the fucking bit, bursting to be let out again.
For June’s sake, there is no goddamn way I’m going to let him come out again.
Fortunately, I think he’s getting the message, because—at least right now—the urge to be tender and gentle with this angel of a woman is overtaking everything.
My position shifts slightly so I can kiss her as I find a comfortable rhythm—something a little speedier than snail’s pace, but not as fast as a V-eight engine.
June seems to be doing okay.
“You let me know if it hurts.”
There’s no response. Maybe her head moved a tiny bit in a nod.
As I move in and out of her tight pussy, I feel her walls grab my cock, as if milking me.
Holy fuck.
The sensation leaves me with a burning desire.
Fire spreads through me.
The intensity increases, and soon, the blaze turns into a raging inferno.
June starts to quiver and shake beneath me. Her body tenses in a way that tells me she’s going to come soon.
The feeling is mutual—my cock is just about ready to release another massive load of cum into her. If she wasn’t pregnant already, I bet she would be after the coming deluge.
With the thought of getting her pregnant and doing this all over again and again, the release comes.
It’s like the valve on a pressure cooker bursting.
As I shoot my massive load into her, it’s like there’s a fucking volcano erupting inside of me, spewing heat and molten lava everywhere.
The eruption is overwhelming, and I have to consciously restrain myself from leaning forward and biting her neck.
Instead of letting the wild animal become a fucking vampire, I simply keep my eyes focused on hers.
When I look into those hazel eyes, I see nothing but honesty and sincerity.
She’s the real fucking deal, and there’s nothing fake about her—unlike Chantal.
Why am I even thinking about the bitch right now? What’s wrong with me?
Instead of just lying on top her, I pull June into my arms. My arms stay underneath, cradling her. June slowly wraps her arms around me, bringing me even closer to her.
We hold each other silently. Words don’t seem necessary. We’re both lost in our own thoughts—and in each other.
I can tell by the way June nuzzles into me that she’s seeking comfort and reassurance. I want to give her those things, but am I even fucking capable of that?
Those nagging doubts from earlier come back to haunt me. What if I really am just like my father?
Am I destined to have bastard children all over the world?
Those are my thoughts, but what is June thinking about right now? I wonder if she’s daydreaming about our baby, or if she’s thinking about her dad and the home she left behind.
Of course, my own thoughts are totally fucking random. There’s so much I need to figure out, it’s not fucking funny.
One thing I’m going to have to learn to deal with—in my own time, and in my own mind —is Lawrence and Chantal.
If there’s really a baby, I’ll need to deal with that, too.
It still seems highly unlikely Chantal is pregnant. The longer I think about it, the more convinced I am that they’ve concocted this story to get to me.
Looks like they succeeded, from the amount I think about it.
“Ready?” I release June out of our embrace.
“For what?”
“To start the day. You know, get ready for work and all that sort of stuff,” I reply and get to my feet.
I hold out my hands toward hers.
With one big pull, I’ve got her on her feet. She sways a little, and protectively, I wrap an arm around her waist.
“Maybe you should stay here?” I suggest.
She shakes her head.
“I’m fine,” she says, and I watch her closely as she walks to the bathroom.
A strange feeling settles in the pit of my stomach—a feeling I can’t shake.
I needed to get ready to face the day.
June
My daddy always said that if you’re looking for something wrong, you’re going to find it. When you’re looking for trouble, you find trouble. If you’re digging for worms, you’ll find worms.
When I reach across the counter to grab my toothbrush, my knuckles graze Carter’s. It’s an accident, but it must have looked intentional.
My heart sinks as he flinches at my touch. I want to let the point of contact linger, but he’s quick to pull his hand away.
But it’s all in my head, I figure. It must be. What we had last night was beautiful. Incredible, even.
So why do I only want to touch him more, and he only wants to create space?
It becomes a twisted little experiment as we get ready for work. When I stretch out my legs to pull on pantyhose, does my body catch his gaze? I straighten his collar—but was that a moment of hesitation in his eyes as I do so, or was it just a trick of the light?
It’s as if all of that furiously passionate energy from last night has coalesced into a defensive cloud of coldness around Carter. A frosty haze that’s determined to keep me away from the man I thought I knew—and him away from me.
At this point, I don’t think it’s out of line for me to wonder just what is going on.
I mean, for the freaking love of Pete, I’ve been wondering that since late last night. Granted, it hasn’t all been an unpleasant ride since then, but this is already getting beyond aggravating.
And we haven’t even left the penthouse yet.
If I thought those few hours last night were bad, there’s a dark fog settling over the landscape of today, and I don’t need the Old Farmer’s Almanac to tell me that the forecast looks foreboding.
The fog I can nearly see—even walking into the office—is not like the aloof, icy cloud I noticed encircling this morning. The feeling is coming from Carter, but I can sense it souring everything today—at least for me.
Carter Abraham didn’t become Carter Abraham solely based on familial luck. This is a man with many rare gifts. While I’ve become very familiar with some of these gifts, there are others which I’m still learning about.
Some of them catch me off guard. For heck’s sake, I bet some of Carter’s powers would catch him off guard if he were to see them from another perspective.
Like my perspective. Like this morning, when his mysterious sour mood just infiltrates the atmosphere of the whole office.
As I’ve been learning in varied and often surprising lessons, Carter Abraham is a true force of nature. Even in this city, I bet that’s rare.
Force of nature or not, I am not appreciating Carter’s cold, prickly way of being this morning. Like almost running away from me to go straight into his office before closing the door.
The truth of Carter’s life hasn’t changed at all since last night—but he’s acting as if the act of telling me was the same as finally telling himself.
What’s stranger is that I’m fine, and he’s taking it so absurdly hard.
Maybe I’m being insensitive, but it doesn’t make a cowlick of horse sense. I’m trying to make heads or tails of it, but this whole experience is starting to feel as bumpy and nauseating as a makeshift thrill ride at the fairgrounds in Wahoo.
In case it wasn’t obvious, I’m not thinking like a city gal at the moment—and I have some Sandhills-sized doubts, it would make the tiniest bit of difference if I were.
But I get to work, the same as I’ve been doing every other day. There’s going to be plenty of—I guess I’ll call it fertilizer—to deal with no matter where I go. Some places have their own unique brands of fertilizer, but most fertilizers are the same whether you’re in Nebraska, New York, or New Orleans.
There’s no point in running around the country, around the world, trying to find some place that’s fertilizer-free every time you get frustr
ated—because it really is everywhere. I haven’t been to too many places, but I’m already convinced of that.
Plus there’s a chance I’ll figure out—or just find out—what’s going on with Carter soon enough.
Plus, I’m pregnant and have the contract. Maybe this will all end up coming full circle to the original plan—a business arrangement.
And nothing more.
Yeah, that would be some fertilizer if it were to happen. But leaping to conclusions is not going to do anything but encourage more anxiety—and the whole anxiety thing was the least fun part of last night.
I could do without going down that road again. This morning was another little experience I don’t care to repeat.
That doesn’t mean the rest of today has to be sh—
Well, fertilizer-y.
“What is it now, June?” All it takes is me walking into his office for Carter to start hissing at me like some brutish jerk of a boss at his secretary.
To be just, I am a secretary, but…
No, I don’t like where this is going, any part of it.
“I just wanted to see if you needed anything, Carter!”
It feels kind of nice to throw his attitude right back in his face like that—and that feeling lasts a nice, solid three second or so until the senseless reality of it all sets in.
Carter pretends to ignore me, looking at some papers on his desk that I don’t think he’s even pretended to look at before. If I’m to believe my own eyes and my own memory—assets which have always worked just dandy for me—those papers have been sitting in the same spot, gathering dust for the last three days.
Shortly after that little yelling session, it feels like I’m in the middle of some weird, awful play that I just had the script for but lost it after yelling that one line. Carter’s still in character, projecting surliness and looking through his desk drawers for nothing, while I’m silent, confused, and falling out of whatever role I barely realized I was playing.
You know what? Forget this stuff.
Forget all of it.
Last night, we had some interesting times indeed. While I don’t regret it for a jiffy, you’d think with all that dark intensity, he would’ve exorcised some of this…whatever it is.
Or, all of it, ideally.
But as the father of my child refuses to step out from under the dark cloud he’s projecting everywhere, I remember that I’ve got my own priorities.
