by Grace Rawson
As soon as I see his hard member, I drop down on my knees. I take him in my hands and begin licking. My other hand cups his balls gently. I eagerly taste Ryan like I would never get another chance again.
I alternate between sucking and licking, changing the rhythm as soon as he starts enjoying it. I want to keep him guessing and build up tension.
I feel moisture dripping between my thighs. I’m so excited. I want him to touch me.
As if reading my thoughts, Ryan pulls me upwards. Our lips meet. He kisses me passionately as he rips off my clothes.
He pushes me back down onto the couch. I spread my legs wide open, and he takes full view of me.
“I’ve wanted to taste you so bad, my sexy Lexi.” Ryan whispers in my ears as he makes his way between my legs and went to town licking my pussy.
“Oooh. That feels so good,” I moan.
He keeps at it. I wrap my legs around him as I watch his head bob back in forth.
“Keep going,” I say.
His hands reach up to caress both my breasts. He glides his expert tongue up and down, in and out as I climaxed all over his face. Ryan pulls his head out between my thighs and kisses me as I tasted my own juices.
“Turn around,” he groans. I happily oblige, fully exposing myself to him.
He penetrates me from behind. I moan again as I feel all of him inside me. Ryan carefully pumps into me, slow and hard. His hands reach over to tease my sensitive nipples while he gently kisses my neck.
“This was all I was able to think about when I was away from you,” Ryan gently bites my ear.
“You don’t know how badly I wanted to feel you again,” he says as he pumps harder now.
“Oh yes, baby,” I moan again. His last pump is long and hard as he reaches climax.
We both wrap ourselves in each other’s arms. Even though no words are exchanged in that moment, we both don’t want to let go for fear the other would slip away.
“How did you find me anyways,” I finally ask. The question was in the back of my mind ever since I saw him standing in my garage.
“Well, I am a Navy SEAL,” he boasts. I roll my eyes and grin.
“And you can pretty much search for anything on the internet these days,” Ryan adds.
We both giggled like high school kids in each other’s arms. This is definitely what I’ve been needing all along.
THE END
Bonus Story 6 of 6
Love The Outlaw
It was close to dark. Noah climbed down from his horse, lashing the reins around the wooden post at the edge of the wide dirt road. He took a moment to kick the dust from his boots and tuck the end of his shirt into his pants. This was the last house in the area and he wanted to look as respectable as possible. None of the other families were looking to hire a hand, especially one new to the area who had a scar visible along his neck and down into the collar of his shirt. Whoever lived in this house was his last chance of making a living in this town and truly putting the darkness of his past behind him.
Ranger thrashed, rearing back slightly and pulling against the reins. Noah grabbed the reins and held them firmly with one hand, and stroked the horse’s neck soothingly with the other.
“Shhh,” he murmured, “Calm down, boy. What's wrong?”
The horse thrashed again and Noah was reaching up to stroke the top of his head when he heard a muffled scream coming from the house. The small home stood back from the road, but the sound was loud enough to get Noah's immediate attention. A moment later another scream, louder and higher-pitched than the first, pierced through the quiet calm of the night, seeming to cut through the thickly humid air to reach his ears.
Noah released the reins, jumped out of the saddle, and took off running toward the unmistakable sound of a woman screaming. Her pleas reached a fevered pitch as Noah's feet pounded into the ground, kicking up dirt as he pushed toward the house as fast as he could go. As he grew closer he could hear a man's voice joining the woman's. The deep, growling voice sounded slurred, but the fury behind it was clear. There was another scream and the loud crash of furniture just as Noah made it to the porch.
He reached for the handle, but the door was locked. Without pausing to knock, Noah stepped back and directed a forceful kick to the middle of the door. The wood splintered beneath his boot and he pushed it out of the way so he could enter the house. A shirtless man stood in the middle of the room looming over something on the floor. He turned toward the sound of the door crashing in and Noah saw a form on the floor shifting.
“Who the hell are you?” the man shouted, taking a step toward Noah.
Ignoring his question, Noah pushed further into the room until he could see what was at the man's feet. It was the destroyed remnants of a table, a woman lying amidst the shards of wood. He couldn't see her face, but watched as her body writhed in pain and shuddered with sobs. Noah was reaching down toward her when he felt a massive hand grab him by the back of his shirt and yank him backwards.
“What are you doing in my house?” the man demanded.
“What did you do to her?” Noah asked, pulling out of the man's grip.
“What I do with my wife is none of your concern. Get out of my house.”
The man shoved Noah roughly toward the door, and Noah saw the woman sit up slightly to reach toward her husband.
“Caleb, stop,” she whimpered.
Caleb stepped back toward her and cracked the back of his hand across her cheekbone. The woman crumpled back onto the remnants of the table, covering her face with her hands and crying with greater intensity. Rage boiled in Noah's belly and he surged forward. His fist connected with the side of Caleb's head and the drunk man spun around, punching back ferociously. Noah tasted blood, and could barely focus through the fury building inside him.
Noah punched again. He hit, and heard a sickening crunching sound from Caleb's nose. Caleb stumbled across the room. His hand slammed down onto the top of chest against the wall, and came back up holding a small gun.
“Oh, God. Please, no, Caleb,” the woman begged, gripping the pieces of wood around her as if trying to pull herself to her feet.
“Shut up, woman!” Caleb shouted, sending saliva through the air.
Fearless from adrenaline and anger, Noah rushed forward and grabbed the gun with both hands. Though Caleb was slightly larger than Noah, Caleb’s drunken state made him unstable. In the struggle that followed, Noah fought to maintain control of the gun while attempting to force Caleb away. He tried to look over at the woman on the ground, but Caleb fought back with an intensity that forced Noah to keep his attention on the fight and the weapon between them. The look in Caleb's eyes was like a frenzied animal, and his teeth were clenched so hard that Noah could see the veins in his neck throbbing.
A single shot splintered the air around them. The woman screamed again, scrambling backwards over the broken table to cower closer to the fireplace. Noah drew in a breath and stepped back away from Caleb, looking down at the blood splattered across his chest. He lifted his eyes to Caleb's just as the man dropped to his knees and fell forward, clutching the wound. Blood seeped out from between his fingers, pouring across his pale skin and pooling onto the wooden floor beneath him.
Gurgling sounds rose from Caleb for a few seconds. Then he fell quiet. Noah stared down at him and let the gun fall from his fingertips onto the floor beside the dead man. He could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears and the harsh, trembling sobs coming from the woman across the room.
Stepping around Caleb, Noah crossed to the woman. Curled protectively in on herself, she lay on the floor with her arms covering her head. Noah touched her arm and she recoiled. He crouched down and rested his hand on her arm again.
“It's alright,” he said as calmly as he could, “You're safe now.”
After a moment, the woman turned her head to look up at him. Even through the tears were still pouring down her cheeks, her pale, blue eyes were startlingly beautiful. She launched herself into his arms,
clinging to Noah as if terrified that Caleb was going to get up again.
“Help me,” she whispered desperately.
Noah wrapped his arms around her and rocked her gently like a child, patting her back and he murmured quieting sounds.
“You're safe,” he repeated, “He's gone. He'll never hurt you again.”
***
Emma pulled out of the strange man's arms as his words sank in.
“You killed him,” she gasped.
Panic shot through her even as the tension she had held in her muscles every day since she married Caleb began to fade. The man released her, but stayed crouched down close enough that she could look directly into his face. He looked calm, but there was something behind his eyes like the first dark clouds of a storm rolling into the sky.
“Are you hurt?” he asked as if choosing to ignore her statement.
Emma barely knew what it meant to not be in pain or terror and for a moment didn't know how to respond to his question. She forced herself to evaluate her body, allowing an awareness she had taught herself to ignore during her years with Caleb. A deep ache radiated from her hip where she hit the ground and she could feel bruises forming on her arms, torso, and cheek. Sharp pains in her back told her that when Caleb had thrown her through the table, pieces of the wood had torn through her dress and cut into her skin.
“I'll be alright,” she said quietly. They were the same words she always used to comfort herself when Caleb beat her.
The young man placed a gentle hand beneath her cheek and turned her face to look back at him. She saw his honey-colored eyes sweep across her and then felt his thumb brush over her cheek to wipe away a tear.
“I have to leave,” he said. Emma felt the panic sharpen in her chest.
“No,” she said, “I can't stay here,” she said frantically.
“I can't be found here when the sheriff comes to take your husband. If I am, I'll be arrested for murder. I have to go.”
“What am I supposed to do?” Emma asked desperately, watching as he climbed to his feet.
“Tell them the truth. Tell them he was mistreating you and that an intruder shot him.”
He turned to the door and Emma climbed to her feet, reaching out to grab the back of his shirt.
“Where are you going?”
“I don't know,” he said, something dark flashing in his eyes, “There aren't many places for me to go.”
“Take me with you,” she said.
He gave her a strange look and tried to step away, but she held fast to his shirt.
“Please,” she said softly, “Please let me go with you. I can't be in this house with him for another minute, even dead, and I can't stay once they find him. What if they suspect me? I'll be an outcast. I can’t stay here!”
The man looked at her with sympathy in his hard eyes, as though to apologize. He turned away. Desperately, she grabbed his arm to stop him. He turned and looked at her, and she met his eyes pleadingly.
“Please,” she whispered.
Emma could see the change in the man's eyes before his shoulders dropped slightly.
“Get what you need. You have two minutes before I leave.”
“Thank you.”
Emma released the man's shirt and rushed across the room to grab Caleb's old leather satchel. She dumped what was inside the satchel onto the floor, and shoved what little clothing she could inside. Adding her mother's locket from her jewelry box, Emma buckled the satchel and glanced around the space a final time. She knew deep in her heart that as soon as she stepped out of that door she would never see this house again, but she felt ready to leave it all behind.
The man reached for the satchel and Emma handed it to him. She stepped around Caleb's body and braved a look down at him. For the first time she gazed at her husband without fear in her heart. One hand lay flat in the blood beside him and Emma's eyes fell on the gold band around one finger. She had a sudden notion to take it with her; it was valuable after all. She leaned down and tugged the wedding band off of his finger, shuddering at the feeling of the still-warm blood against her skin as she let his hand fall back to the floor.
Emma stood and withdrew her handkerchief from the pocket of her apron. She wiped the blood off of the ring with the handkerchief, then placed both back into her pocket. She stepped over Caleb and moved toward the door, having no more need to look at him. The stranger stood on the porch, his beautiful face barely visible in the moonlight, and she stepped forward out of the house. Crossing through the broken door and into the humid night, it felt like she was stepping out of her shattered life and into something that was dark and unknown, but more open and free than she had ever known.
She paused on the porch long enough to fill her lungs with the fresh air, breathing out the scent of the ashes in the fireplace and the sting of Caleb's blood. Ahead of her, the man was fastening her satchel to the side of his horse. Emma stepped down off of the porch and ran toward him, suddenly breathless with the desire to get away from the house.
“You can ride, I'll walk,” he offered, but Emma shook her head at him.
“We can take the wagon,” she said, keeping her voice low, as if fearful that whatever waited in the night beyond would hear her.
The man looked at her quizzically. Emma gathered her skirts away from her feet to run toward the barn several yards away from the house. She could hear the man following her, and when she threw the heavy latch on the barn door, he stepped up beside her to help her pull the door open. Moonlight illuminated the inside of the barn faintly, revealing the shape of the small covered wagon in the corner. It had been there for more than a year, but she was sure it was in good enough condition to get them away.
Without a word, the man moved to the stalls on the side of the barn and took out the two horses. He released the door for the cow stall and let it stand open.
“She'll wander away and someone will find her,” he said.
Emma felt warmth fill her chest at his concern for the animal and watched as he hooked the horses up to the wagon and forced them forward. She followed behind as he drove the wagon out of the barn and toward his horse, where he jumped down, tied his own horse to the back of the wagon, and then climbed back onto the front bench. He looked down at her and Emma scrambled up beside him, and then through the flap into the covered part of the wagon.
She sat up on her knees and stuck her head back through the entrance to the back of the wagon to look at him.
“I'm Emma,” she said.
“Noah,” he said, wrapping his hands tighter around the reins.
“Thank you, Noah.”
Emma sank back into the wagon and felt it lurch beneath her as Noah snapped the reins and drove forward away from the house and into the night.
***
Emma didn't know how long they had been riding when the bounce of the wagon stopping woke her from a deep, dreamless sleep. She had stretched across a pile of quilts and let the rocking of the wagon lull her away from the fear and the horror she left behind. For the first few minutes she rested there, she could picture Caleb's blood soaking into the floor, but soon the movement of the wagon and the rhythmic sound of the horses' hooves on the ground washed away the image, and the world disappeared into welcome darkness.
Even before she opened her eyes she could sense the glow of early sunlight coming through the canvas stretched taut over the curved wooden hoops that made it look like she was lying in some great ribcage. She lay there with her eyes closed for several long seconds, reluctant to open them, worried that when she did she would discover that she had somehow dreamt it all. She feared that when her eyes opened she would be in the wagon on her way from her home in the East with Caleb on the bench in front and the years of torturous marriage were still ahead of her.
“Emma, are you awake?”
The sound of Noah's voice coming through the arched opening of the wagon was one of the most beautiful things she had ever heard. Those simple words, as uncomfortably as they were spoke
n, meant that her rescue had not been a dream. Caleb really was gone and she would never have to face him again. Finally braving to open her eyes, Emma saw the silhouette of Noah's body against the canvas cover and slid a little closer to it.
“Good morning, Noah. I'm awake.”
“Good morning,” he returned gruffly, “We are near a river. I thought you might want to clean up a bit before breakfast.”
Emma looked down at herself and for the first time noticed the tears in her dress and the streaks of blood across her skirt from where she had knelt down beside Caleb. Ashes, dust, and dried blood coated her hands and she could feel tendrils of her hair clinging to her face and neck where they had fallen from the knot secured to the back of her head. She suddenly felt embarrassed that Noah had seen her looking like that. He had swept in and rescued her from what felt like the grip of death, but now that the danger was behind her, she didn't want this beautiful man to see her at her worst any longer.
Gathering a few items from the wagon, Emma climbed out and scurried toward the river. She found a place hidden from the wagon by a knot of trees and carefully undressed. The torn bodice of her dress stuck to the shallow cuts in her back where the shards of the table had bitten into her skin. Painfully, she pulled it away. Finally she released her hair and let it tumble around her shoulders before stepping into the water.
The river was cold as it swirled over her skin, soothing her wounds and filling her with a refreshed sense of life and energy. She unwrapped a cake of soap and stroked it across her skin and through her hair, luxuriating in the feeling of it cleansing her and taking away the final physical reminders of Caleb. When she finally felt clean, she stepped carefully out of the water, dried herself, and dressed in a fresh dress.
She returned to the wagon and saw Noah setting up a fire for breakfast. She removed the handkerchief and Caleb’s ring from her old dress, then placed that in a bag in the wagon so she could tear it up for rags later. Then she joined Noah by the fire.
