by Mj Fields
“It’s hard to for you to allow yourself to be proud of your accomplishments. That’s sad, you know.”
I nod and swallow back uninvited feelings.
“No more of that, Bridge. You’re a beautiful woman with a kind heart. Don’t ever forget that. Wear it like a badge.” He turns me to face him. “You tired?”
I yawn in response, and then we both laugh.
“Do I have you to myself tomorrow?”
“If you want me, yes.”
“Good.”
Chapter Ten
Sunday morning, I wake early to a rare treat. He’s asleep.
My head isn’t on his chest; it’s on his arm, and his hand is lightly fisted in my still damp hair. The stark-white sheet is draped over his hip, one knee is bent outward, and his opposite foot is under mine, his ankle seeming to hold mine.
He looks so peaceful, almost angelic. I fight an inner struggle to watch him this way for as long as I possibly can, or to treat him as he has me the past two mornings. I swallow back desire and smile to myself when realization hits that it would actually be my treat.
After several minutes of watching him, I can no longer deny myself. I cautiously reach over with a featherlight touch and trace the outline of his flaccid yet still exceptionally sized cock with my fingertip as it rests against his thigh. He shifts slightly and sighs.
When he is peacefully relaxed again, I watch him for a few moments before glancing down at his now slightly larger cock.
My mouth waters as I reach over and caress just the tip, watching him grow, tenting the sheet. Desire pools in my core as I inch the sheet down, exposing him.
I lightly grip his shaft and begin slowly stroking him up and down. His mouth opens slightly as his hand relaxes, releasing my hair, and I feel his warm breath against my cheek.
Licking my lips, I scoot down and trace his tip with my tongue, tasting his flesh. He moans and stretches, widening his legs and exposing his large sac. I can’t help licking the smooth skin and continuing all the way up.
Pre-cum beads on the tip of his cock, and I swirl my tongue around it, moaning as I taste him.
He takes a deep breath, and I look up as his eyes flutter open.
“Good fucking morning, beauty …” he groans as I suck the tip hard.
His fists tighten the sheets as I suck down, nearly taking all of him in my mouth. Then he reaches between my legs and runs two fingers between my sensitive and soaked lips. He sits up as I stroke him, moaning my pleasure and allowing him to fall out of my mouth.
“Morn—”
He grips my leg and pulls it over his body. Then he grips my hips as he lies back, taking me with him, and buries his face between my legs.
He licks me fiercely and pushes a finger inside me. “Don’t stop sucking my cock, beauty.”
I cry out as his fingers curl up and he sucks on my clit. “I … I …”
“Suck,” he demands.
Mouth wide open from crying out, I take him in it, stroking, sucking, and moaning. I cup his beautiful balls in my hand and gently roll them.
“Fuck yes,” he snarls, thrusting his hips, feeding me more of his cock than I think I can handle, but his pleasure-filled groans and the flick of his tongue across my clit pushes me further.
“Eat that cock,” he hisses, thrusting his fingers in and out, faster and faster until I come. Then he guides me forward and kneels behind me, rubbing his crown up and down my soaked pussy. “I’m taking you this way.”
“Please,” I beg.
He thrusts into me, and my breath is lost. The ache gives way to pleasure.
He hisses when he begins to slide in and out of me more easily.
“That’s it. So fucking good. Christ, you’re beautiful from behind.” I feel his thumb press against my ass.
“I’ve … I’ve … I’ve …” I stop when I feel another orgasm begin to roll through my body.
“Fuck, I want this ass,” he growls. “Tonight, it’s mine.”
“Yes!”, I cry out. “God, yes!”
Face down in the mattress, I’m a puddle of desire, but he’s not finished.
He slows his pace as he reaches between us, rubbing up my body until his hand rests on my collarbone. Then he pulls me up, still fucking me slowly.
He turns my face and rubs his lips across mine. “I’m addicted to your smell, your touch, your taste.”
“Oh God,” I whimper.
“Taste how fucking good you are.” He parts his lips and seeks out my tongue with his.
I lick his lips as he murmurs, “I’m not ready to say goodbye, Bridge.” He seats himself fully inside me.
“Then don’t!” I cry.
His words are a roar as he sits back and pushes his legs out, sweeping mine out so I’m sitting on him with my back to his chest.
“So. Full.”
“Fuck yes, you are,” he groans as he cups my breast with one hand and rubs circles around my clit with the other.
Overwhelmed … Stimulation overload.
I feel my body being brought to new heights. Fear mixes with pleasure, and I cry out as he rubs me up and down faster, harder and bounces me up and down on him.
“I’m … I’m …”
“Come for me. Come for us. Come.”
Never in my life have I come so hard, so hard I am wet and so are the sheets. My body trembles almost uncontrollably.
“Soaked,” he hisses. “So fucking hot and wet,” he growls. “Gonna come.”
He pushes me gently forward and pulls out. I feel his warm liquid coat my back. Then he guides me to my side and pulls the blanket over me as he pulls my back against his chest.
“You’re trembling.”
“What … happened?”
He chuckles as he kisses the back of my head. “You just fucked up our lives.”
“What?” I gasp.
“In the most perfect way.”
When I wake up, I’m alone. I hear him whistling along to Forever by Kiss and smell bacon.
I roll over and cringe when I feel the wet sheets. Then I sit up and feel … sore.
I push off the bed and see a fresh set of sheets on the cherry wood bureau, so I strip his bed and sigh with relief when I see the mattress cover.
I take the armful of sheets, the mattress cover, and the blanket into the bathroom and drop them on the floor. I open the cabinet under the sink and grab a cloth and some cleaning solution.
After scrubbing the mattress, even though it’s not wet, I open the windows to allow the breeze to dry it and air out the room that smells of sex.
In the shower, I hold a washcloth over my aching center and stand under the warm water, trying to wake myself up. I tip my head back, allowing the water to wash over me, and open my eyes.
He’s standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame, wearing white board shorts, arms crossed over his bare chest, with a content smile on his face. When he glances down and sees me holding a washcloth against my body, concern flashes in his beautiful eyes as he looks up into mine.
When I shut off the water and slide the door open, he quickly pushes off the doorway and grabs a towel, holding it out for me.
While wrapping me up, he asks, “Did I hurt you?”
“It’s an ache that, even though slightly embarrassing, was caused by a moment I will never forget.”
He turns me toward him and kisses my forehead reverently. “Hottest moment of my life. Most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” He steps back, adjusts himself, and then takes my shoulders. “I’ll let you rest, but that has to happen again.”
“Fiend,” I joke.
“Junky,” he corrects, and I can’t help smiling.
He looks down at his crotch and groans then looks at me. “This is your fault.”
“I could help you out.” I lick my lips.
He winks. “Fiend.”
“Addict,” I correct.
He takes my hand, and I follow him into the bedroom where he lets go of my hand, grabs a white tank t
op—a wife beater—and tosses it to me. “No bra today.”
I smile inside because it’s like Sunday after church—a no bra zone. It’s me, Natasha, romantic comedies or dramas, sweatpants, the couch, and a crockpot full of stew.
I pull it over my head and, from across the room, he flings a pair of my panties at me, smiling so enchantingly.
This man …
Sitting across from him at the kitchen island, I hear the ringing of my phone that’s still upstairs.
“Shoot,” I mutter and begin to stand.
He pushes off the counter and says, “Eat. You’re going to need your strength.”
He takes the stairs two at a time and comes back with a pair of sweatpants in one hand and my phone in the other. He bends down, holding them as I step into them, and then he hurries to the accordion door and holds it open as I run out the door.
When I get far enough away, I sit on a rock, my back to the ocean, and FaceTime Natasha back.
“Oh, my goodness, you’re glowing! Spill it. I want all the details.”
I laugh and give her a very PG version of the night we danced at the oceanside bar as she gushes.
After our conversation, I begin walking back to the house and see him leaning against the fence, messy waves blowing in the breeze, aviator glasses on, drinking a cup of coffee and looking like he hasn’t a care in the world.
If I would allow myself to picture the perfect life, this very possibly may be it.
He opens the wooden gate as I approach, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
I grin. His smile is contagious.
“What?” I ask.
“You look so peaceful, beautiful and carefree. Your tits bouncing slightly, those navy sweatpants riding low. Your hair, your face, your relaxed manner, your fucking smile. Everything.” He covers his left pec with one hand. “You’re every man’s dream, and it blows that tomorrow—”
I step forward and rest my hands on his hips. “Can we not do that?”
“Do what?”
“Walking up here, I was thinking the same about you. These past few days have been—”
“Everything,” he says as I say, “The best.”
He sets his mug on the fencepost and pulls me against him. Resting his chin on my head, he sighs. “I woke up to a blowjob.”
I smile as I press a kiss to his beautiful, tanned skin.
“Two things blow my fucking mind about that.”
I kiss him again. “What two things?”
“I don’t sleep soundly. And someone touching me in my sleep would normally not end well for them.”
I look up at him, and he kisses my forehead and whispers, “Mind. Blown. I’m not ready to give that up.”
“I know. Neither am I. But the reality is we’re—”
“Shh … Just for today, let’s stick with the story, okay?”
I nod as I rub my hand up and down his back.
“When do you have to leave?”
“I was thinking tomorrow morning.”
He nods. “Okay.”
I want to ask him why we are sticking to the story. Why, when this clearly feels right, it needs to end. But the realities in the answer are obvious. He’s young and beautiful and has a full life ahead of him. I’m not young, and I would never give up what I have for any man who would ask me to do so.
“So, I was thinking we could pull the old bikes out of the garage and go for a ride.”
I look up and nod. “Let’s.”
“This is ridiculous,” I say for the hundredth time, but I laugh instead of pout this time.
He looks back at me. “You look free, Bridge.”
“I look like a forty-year-old woman who has no business being out in public without a bra on!”
He turns his bike around and circles around me, which causes me to lose control.
The fall is literally in slow motion, and I must look like a baby trying to stand on its own for the first time.
Lying on the hard-packed sandy path, I have one arm covering my face as my body shakes in silent laughter.
“Fuck,” I hear him say before I hear his bike fall.
I feel him lift the one I was riding off me and toss it aside. Then he pulls my arm back. “Are you …?” He stops when he sees I’m laughing and puts his hands on opposite sides of my head, leaning in to kiss me harder than I fell.
Still laughing, I nod. “Perfectly fine.”
He presses his lips against mine, and I feel him slip his hand up the front of the tank top. He pinches my nipple and cups my breast. “If you had a bra on, I wouldn’t be able to do this as easily.”
I arch my back and press into his grasp as I open my mouth for him, allowing his tongue inside to taste mine.
I hear laughter in the distance as he kisses down my neck.
“People—”
“Suck,” he groans, and I laugh as he pushes himself up off me, extends his hand, and pulls me up.
When we pick up our bikes, he chuckles. “Broken chain. How’s yours?”
I look it over. “Perfect.”
“Just like you.”
“Yours is only broken because you thought you were saving me.” I shrug as we begin pushing our bikes back in the direction we came from.
Lightning strikes in the distance, and I jump in reaction. Storm clouds appear from out of nowhere and rain starts coming down.
“You afraid of storms?” he asks.
“I don’t particularly love them,” I answer as we begin walking faster.
When thunder booms as we pass a bench, my heart skips a beat.
God, why am I so nervous? I wonder to myself as I start moving even faster.
Lightning strikes again, and the rain picks up.
I feel a hand on my shoulder stop me and turn.
“Where’s your bike?” I ask, looking around.
He takes mine away and straddles the seat. “Climb on the handlebars.”
“No way.” I shake my head, but then the thunder booms so loud it rattles me to the bones.
“Get your pretty ass on the handlebars,” he stresses.
“I saw a boy with two teeth through his lower lip because—”
“Bridge, trust me to keep you safe.” He narrows his eyes.
“How about you ride. I’ll …” I stop when lightning crashes somewhere closer.
“Now,” he says, more seriously.
“Fine, but if you crash and my teeth get knocked out …” I grumble, and he smirks. “It’s not funny at all!”
Laughing, he says, “Get on the damn bike.”
Gripping the base of the handlebars, I’m terrified. He begins to peddle, while I do my best not to thrash, but it’s apparently not well hidden. He laughs from behind me, and I want to jump off.
When another bolt of lightning strikes close by, I feel his chest against my back and close my eyes. The rain doesn’t slow, and I certainly don’t open my eyes, yet his control doesn’t seem disadvantaged by the conditions caused by it. He pedals faster.
When he slows for a passing car, I open my eyes and glance up at him. He looks so focused.
When we are closer to his place, I lean against his chest, lax and totally befuddled by it.
As soon as he brakes by the garage, I hop off, turn to him, and throw my hands in the air like I just won a marathon.
He drops the bike, takes one step to close the gap between us, grabs my face, and uses his thumbs to tilt it up. He looks me over in such a way that is more life-altering than this morning.
Then he presses his lips to mine tenderly as he wraps an arm around my waist and lifts me off my feet. I thread my fingertips through his hair as he lifts me higher, then hurries us into the garage.
I swing my feet just enough to see just how far he has swept me off them. I can’t even touch the ground.
Chapter Eleven
My back hits the entry wall as soon as he kicks the interior door shut. Then he shoves his knee between my legs and pulls his mouth away from me.
“Arms up.”
I lift my arms, and he pulls the soaking wet shirt over my head. He quickly bows his head and sucks my nipple into my mouth.
“Yes …” I moan, arching my back against his touch as he pushes his hand down my sweatpants and plunges a finger inside me.
Horns blow from somewhere outside, and then we hear a yipping sound.
He pulls his mouth away and snarls, “Fuck!”
Pulling his hand out of my pants, he leans in as if he’s going to kiss me again when we hear another horn blow.
“Go.” I close my eyes. “I’ll get a shirt and meet you out there.”
He runs out the door, and I run up the stairs.
I grab a bra, a tee-shirt, and a pair of shorts out of the drawer that he put my clothes in, presumably while I was sleeping the first day we came here. Then I notice the bedding I stripped this morning is still on the floor. I can’t help sighing.
I dress quickly and run down the stairs.
When I grab the door handle, I hear him laughing.
“Listen here, you little cockblocker.”
I open the door and hold my hand to my chest when I see the … dog in his arms. “He’s okay?” I reach out and take him as he laughs.
“How the hell would I even know?”
I hear a phone ring, and Joe points an annoyed finger at the dog. “Now you’ve done it.” He hurries to the counter where his phone sits and holds up a finger.
“Hey, Maisie.” He pauses, and I see him smile. “He’s fine. I’ll bring him over. Give me two minutes.” He laughs. “I think you keep letting him out because you want to see me.” His eyebrows turn in slightly in concern. “I know. We all get confused sometimes. See you in a bit.”
He ends the call and shoves his phone into his pocket. “I’m gonna run next door. Might be a few minutes. She gets chatty.”
I hold the dog out for him, and he takes him.
“Why don’t you order something for lunch and—”
