by Amber Burns
“I want you behind me Michel,” she groaned.
He quickly moved behind her, and just as quickly shoved himself into her wet sex, burying himself in the warmth. Annabelle straightened in front of him, standing on her knees to hold on to the head board so that her back stretched up in front of him, she knew he liked the sight. He ran his hands down her spine and elicited delicious shivers from her, along with soft moans.
“Shh, she will hear us,” he said softly, his breath in her neck.
When Annabelle could not contain her sounds, he reached around to cover her mouth with a hand, crying out in surprise when she bit his fingers. It was not malicious, just a sharp and playful nip. Michel placed his free hand in the middle of her back and moved faster, and she clung to the headboard to stay upright.
She felt her orgasm building, the friction of his hard cock rubbing against just the right spot in that upright position, and the pressure of his hand on her mouth arousing her. She liked the mild feeling of helplessness, paired with his hand on her back, spanning almost the width of her waist, making her feel small next to him. She breathed hard, and stars formed in her vision as she closed her eyes. She bit down hard into his fingers as her back hollowed in front of him, the muscles contracting as she came. She heard him groan as she clenched down on him, and felt the pulsing in his member as he let go and spilled himself into her.
After they had both collapsed onto the sheets and caught their breath for a moment, Michel stood and put on a pair of shorts, then opened the doors that led out onto the porch straight from the bedroom. Annabelle joined him in the doorway. The lights were still out, and the night was pitch-black with nothing but the crescent moon to light the beach and landscape. As their ears adjusted, they both heard Lorraine’s voice in the dark, she was talking on a cellular phone.
“Yeah Brody, he is stinkin’ well-off. He has a house, has bought a farm, and is plannin’ a fancy, big wedding. They invited me. I am staying in the house with him and the fiancé.”
She went quiet to listen to the other person.
“I think I can get a good amount out of him if I keep playing the role of woe-be-gone momma. I’m good at it, yeah. He is feeling sorry for me and will give me what I ask…”
At this point Michel turned from the door and walked back inside, Annabelle had felt the muscles in his back stiffen before he had left and followed him, closing the door. They slipped under the sheets, and she curled against his side. He sighed.
“I knew it, I wanted to believe differently, but I knew it deep down inside,” he said softly.
Annabelle stroked the hair from his face.
“I am sorry my love, I wanted to see the best in her too.”
They fell asleep eventually, but Michel was restless, and eventually Annabelle felt him leave the bed, and she knew he was going to sit on the beach. She left him, he needed space to think.
Lorraine walked into the lounge the next morning with a timid smile on her face, completely unaware that both Annabelle and Michel had heard her conversation with ‘Brody’. She seemed surprised to see them both sitting on the couch in the lounge already, and on the coffee table in front of Michel sat an envelope, and Annabelle had set out three cups of take-out coffee.
“Sit,” said Michel, harshly.
She frowned and sat on the edge of the chair facing the couple. Michel glared at her.
“Who’s Brody?” he asked, watching as the color drained from her face,
“He, um, how…” she faltered, falling over her words.
Annabelle interjected at that point.
“Lorraine, I highly advise honesty, we both overheard your phone call last night.”
Annabell watched as the other woman picked up a cup of coffee and exhaled harshly.
“I met him a few days after your father died, we are… Friends, you could call it.”
Annabelle drank her own coffee too, her one hand resting on Michel’s leg. When Michel spoke, the calm and measured tone of his voice was more terrifying than any amount of screaming and cursing could have been.
“Lorraine, I was willing to see the best in you, give you a roof over your head, and invite you to my wedding. After years of not knowing you, of you writing me off as a son, I wanted you in my life again, but you were here simply to get whatever you could because I was ‘stinking rich’ as you said to Brody.”
He picked up the envelope.
“This is enough cash to get a taxi to a station, buy a bus ticket, and go back to where you came from, I want you to leave and never come back to me again. Don’t contact me, or Annabelle, don’t phone, write, or arrive on my doorstep ever again.”
With finality he stood and walked out of the lounge into their main bedroom.
Annabelle watched as Lorraine sat, dumbstruck, and then said, “Go, even I wanted to see good in the mother of such a good man, but there is none. Leave.”
Lorraine stood, and a few minutes later left the house with her small bag. She stood ar the street until a taxi arrived, and looking back toward the house before getting into it once before climbing into the large yellow car.
15
Moving from the coast to the farm was a stressful undertaking, and for a few days both of them were snappy and short-tempered. The moving truck came and went, and they had to drive both their cars up. Her father had at last decided he would come, and his house had flown off the market, sold to a young couple who bought both it and Annabelle’s land as a parcel. He’d used the same moving truck as them to transport his few things, and when the day arrived to drive up in convoy, all three cars were parked outside Michel’s house.
Annabelle handed her dad a cup of coffee and package of muffins, cookies and sandwiches. She had prepared the same for them, and by nine in the morning they were on the road. Annabelle turned on the music, and sang along to Bruce Springsteen while she followed Michel’s car at a comfortable speed.
They arrived at the house hours later, tired, sweaty from the heat in the cars, and ready for a rest. Michel was the first to jump out of his car, and to their surprise, Art and Eva were there. They were welcomed into the kitchen, and all sat down at the table. Michel had negotiated buying the house with a lot of the furniture and appliances, so there was a kettle and coffee machine. Eva had placed a plate of cookies and mugs of coffee on the table, and though they had their own drive ahead, they sat and had coffee with Michel, Annabelle and Roy.
When they finally departed, Annabelle set about helping her dad to get himself settled as much as he could, and when the moving truck pulled in shortly before dark, his were the first goods unloaded. Both Anna and Michel worked without rest for a good three hours getting his bed ready and only then got their own place marginally sorted out.
They were too tired to speak to each other, let alone even think of anything physical, and shortly before Michel was overcome with sleep he patted Annabelle’s back.
“How about we christen the house tomorrow okay?”
She could barely raise her head, and mumbled her assent, “Sure…” Then fell soundly asleep.
Unpacking the moving truck was an easy task, and once they had removed the few large items, things went smoothly. Annabelle sorted through linen and unpacked clothing while Michel unpacked the kitchen. When they were done at midday, they went for a walk around the property, both stopping in front of the large barn.
“Mich… Have you ever, you know, wanted to have a ‘roll in the hay’?” Annabelle asked with a grin making air quotes around her innuendo.
Michel noted how she blushed pink when she looked at him. A naughty twinkle in his eyes answered her question. He suddenly bent forward, grabbed her, tossed her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, and ran into the barn with her protesting loudly.
“Michel! Put me down you savage!” She squealed and giggled.
With a firm smack to her bottom, and a “Hush woman, you’ll alert your father!” He carried her up to the loft and dropped her squealing in a pile of fresh hay.
He leaned over her and pulled her t-shirt over her head, lay her back down on the prickly, yet soft hay, then stood to pull off his own clothing. Annabelle leaned back on her elbows, watching Michel as he undressed. She watched the muscles of his chest ripple, and when he turned, the strong muscles in his back. He had trimmed down a lot, and had the beautiful triangular physique, the broad shoulders and narrow hips. She bit her lip when she caught sight of the curvature of his ass, the whole package was quite a sight, from his floppy dark hair, tattooed back and forearms, to the back and chest muscles. It was enough to reduce any woman to a puddle. When he lowered himself to unbutton her jeans, she giggled again.
“I feel like a naughty school girl,” she exclaimed breathlessly when he tossed the fabric aside.
Michel tickled her mercilessly, “You look like one too!”
Annabelle squirmed under him, “Mercy! Oh mercy please! Stop tickling me, I can’t breathe.”
Michel stopped tickling her and took her lips with his, kissing her with a bruising strength, and opening her mouth with his, tasting their coffee from about an hour ago on her tongue, together with cookies.
“You’re delicious, I could just devour you, whole.”
She moaned into his mouth as he pushed her legs apart, finding her sex with his fingers, stroking her, parting her soft lips with his rough hand. She moved her hips as he found her clitoris, grinding herself against him. She could feel the wetness on his fingers, her wetness, and the evidence that she wanted him. In the time they had been together she had learned things about her body Malcolm had never shown her.
Now she felt his hard, probing cock at the opening of her sex, and moved to let him slide into her, groaning involuntarily. He was a big man and every time was still a stretch as her body took him in. Annabelle moved her hips as he thrusted, meeting his pelvis, the friction perfect. Michel had moved his hand under the small of her back and held her hips tilted.
Her orgasm washed over her so quickly, it sent shivers down her spine, she was so surprised she raked her nails down Michel’s back. He hollowed his back, and cried out in sudden shock at the pain.
“Oh, ow!”
But didn’t stop. In fact, something primal in him seemed to unhinge, and he lifted her legs, pinning them over her left shoulder. The position made things very intense for Annabelle, and she had to bite back her cries as he pounded harshly into her, the hay now feeling as though it cut into her skin.
Against all odds, and amidst the pain of the hay on her back and the discomfort of the position, Annabelle felt another orgasm building deep in her pelvis. She reached for Michel, and held tightly onto his upper arms. When she came this time, it ripped through her so intensely her lower back ached, and she felt liquid run down her legs, and rush between them. Michel groaned and let out a hard gasp when her muscles tightened and his arms gave way as he came. He let go of her legs, and she turned on her side.
“Why is there so much wetness?” She asked, looking down.
“You just had a very, very intense orgasm,” he said, his eyes closed as he lay in the hay next to her, “Sometimes girls ejaculate too.”
They dressed and strolled lazily back to the house, both laughing and blushing when they ran into her dad halfway back to the house. Roy simply smiled and raised an eyebrow at the two of them, then slowly meandered off toward the empty paddocks. All the big animals had been moved, sold no doubt, and only a handful of chickens, and a flock of geese remained.
The first dinner Annabelle cooked on the farm was a chicken Art had left for them, slaughtered and freshly cleaned in the refrigerator. She roasted it and made potatoes and rice, and the three of them ate together in the large kitchen, comfortably gathered around the table as though they always belonged there. Annabelle couldn’t help but love Michel even more in this environment, with his tousled hair, flannel shirt, and worn jeans. It warmed her to see him happy, and she was relieved that he was away from bad influence, drugs and bad people. She could keep him safe, even if it meant saving him from himself.
Once settled, Annabelle started delving into wedding preparations almost immediately, measuring the barn and sending invitations to only two of her mother’s friends and a handful of colleagues she doubted would make the drive up here anyway.
She had baked apple pies the week they arrived on the farm, taking them to the neighbors, and now wrote out invitations for the three couples who lived near them. It had turned out that they lived in a cluster of houses owned by relatively young people, and she thought sharing the wedding might be a good bonding opportunity. Michel did too, and set about finding picnic tables to place around the barn for their casual reception lunch.
Art and Eva arrived three days before, and the place was a happy buzz of activity. Annabelle had a lot of fun doing things herself, even though this would never have been the kind of wedding she’d have had with Malcolm. Everything was turning out perfect for her, relaxed and stress free. She got to kiss Michel in passing, and they stole moments alone wherever they could, much to the delight of the older couple, and at night when they went for walks around the property, disappearing for hours at a time, all they got was an indulgent smile upon their return.
Annabelle did not know that Eva was surprising her with a cake, and kept trying to order one, much to the other woman’s chagrin. She was also unaware of the sneaky decorating of the barn the night before the wedding, when they ensconced her in a luxurious bath in the master suite, and then left her with a masseuse for two hours. Bunting was hung from the barn rafters, and fresh flowers, red roses, carnations, and babies-breath was set out. Speakers were rigged for music, and a set up put in so that guests could play music from their own playlists.
The pastor who would perform the ceremony arrived, and was staying with her father in the guest cottage. All the friends Annabelle had invited had shown up, proving her doubts wrong. They had RSVP’d to her father though, and all of this was a surprise.
Annabelle was expecting a quiet, small ceremony when she went to sleep that night.
*********************
It was a mad few days, and even more so trying to keep things from Annabelle and not arouse her suspicion. I had made damn sure people arrived only after she was well and truly occupied with being pampered on the opposite end of the house, and at that they stayed mostly with Roy, who luckily had a lot of space. There were also beds set up in the barn loft, thank heavens for warm weather and guests as keen to surprise Anna as I was.
My biggest undertaking was the purchase of the wedding present I wanted to give her, well, us I suppose. I took Art with me to go and look at horses on a local farm, Friesians to be specific. They were beautiful, big and docile animals with beautiful personalities. The two I had my eyes on were already friends, if you could call horses such things. The one was a grey mare, and the other a black as night stallion. The perfect pair, as I knew Anna would take one look at him and fall in love.
Art inspected the animals thoroughly, and also called a vet to check them over. I was scared their breeder would be offended, but this was all standard practice apparently. When they were pronounced fit, we negotiated a price, and even though I was horrified, I bought them.
Next it was off to get tack and saddles fitted, all this being done while anarchy was happening at home mind you. They horses were measured, and the shop promised to deliver to my house. Art fetched the animals and brought them home the night before the wedding, placing them in a paddock furthest from the house.
When I walked into the house to go and have a shower, and fall into bed exhausted, all I wanted to do was hold Annabelle. I was however met in the passage by Eva with a bundle of blankets and pillows, and handed my toiletry kit.
“You can’t see your bride before the wedding day, it’s bad luck,” she said, smiling sweetly.
I opened my mouth to protest, but she beat me to it.
“Plus, you smell like horse, what is she going to think?”
I couldn’t argue, so I sh
rugged, walked off to the guest bathroom and showered, and slept on the couch, too tired to care, it was comfortable.
16
Annabelle stood facing the mirror in the master bedroom of the house, her hands on her waist. She took a few deep breaths to steady her heartbeat, and tried to calm the doubts she was suddenly having about getting married.
“Michel is a good man. He loves me and will protect me no matter what,” she said these things softly to herself.
As she did this, the door to her bedroom opened with a soft creak and Eva walked in. They had become strange friends since the sale of the property and the move. Annabelle felt a warmth from Eva, a motherly affection that seemed to come quite naturally. The woman now came to stand behind Annabelle, and put her hands on her shoulders. As Annabelle lifted her gaze, she smiled at Eva.
“I am so nervous.” she giggled.
