by Rye Hart
“I don’t think you’re going to have to.” I ground my hips up against him, and he moaned kissing me down my neck, over my breasts and only stopping to lift up his t-shirt that I’d borrowed for the work day.
“I’ll just take this back now if you don’t mind.” I giggled as he pulled the shirt up over my head and tossed it over his shoulder. Then I arched my back upward as he nudged his hands behind me to unhook my bra. He slowly slipped the cups free and wasted no time tossing it to the floor.
“You’re making a mess,” I teased.
“I have a woman to do all that domestic shit for me now, I’ve decided to be a pig.” He gave me a playful grin, and I knew he was just teasing me. He was much neater that I was, and I only hoped I’d live up to his standards or that he’d have lots of patience with me.
“Oh yeah?” I ground my hips as he slipped his finger into my waistband and tugged down my shorts and panties both leaving me naked.
“Yeah, she’s super sexy, makes me so horny.” He bit his lip to keep from grinning, and his eyes smoldered as he stepped back and pulled off his shirt. Then he hurried to remove his holey jeans, which he’d never looked hotter in.
“No, leave them,” I said as they fell even looser around his hips now that they were open. He wasn’t wearing anything under them, and so he stepped close and rubbed his cock against my folds, dragging his head through my wetness.
“You’re getting to be a dirty girl. I don’t know what I’m going to do with you. Tell me what you want.”
I let loose a soft giggle and grabbed hold of his belt loops urging him forward. “I want you to fuck me.” I ground against him and a moment later felt the girth of his thick erection spreading me, splitting me apart with its heat. I moaned and pumped my hips to settle around him, still not quite used to his size, though he’d sworn I should be by now. We’d done it all, a few times now, and every single time, that first intrusion was tender, but as we got going, the pleasure overtook me and made it all worth it.
I tugged the loops tight as he pounded me deeply, his head hitting my depths and grazing my most sensitive spot along the way. I angled my hips and let him work that spot. I whimpered a plea, begging him not to stop. “Please, right there, baby.”
“Feels good huh, baby? You feel so good around my cock. I’m going to fill that tight little snatch.” He hissed the words through his teeth as he pounded his hips, gripping my ass with both hands. I let loose of the loops, and he pulled away before he could get me turned over, I slipped down to tug him closer, my face right at his crotch.
“I want to taste it.”
He gave me a smoldering smile. “You are a dirty girl. I like it.” I made him choke on the last word as my mouth closed around his head. I pulled tight on it and then gripped his base with as much pressure as I began to stroke him. With my other hand, I tugged and kneaded his sac, tonguing his tip in hopes for a taste. It drove him wild too, like always and he threw back his head and started to rock his hips. I relaxed my throat and took and deep breath, taking him past my tonsils and beyond. He pulled back a bit, to rest his head on my tongue, and shook his head.
“You’re going to make me come in that pretty throat. Is that what you want?” I glanced up at him with watery eyes and pulled off, wiping my mouth.
I turned and faced the bed, bending over to offer myself to him. “Good choice,” he whispered in my ear as he leaned over me. “Oh yeah, this is what I wanted to see.”
His words gave me chills as his breath kissed my neck and then he was plunging back into my soaking channel. “Harder, please,” I breathed, and he sped up his pace, my breasts bouncing so fast they slapped together creating a soft sound. He slung his arm beneath me and brushed a finger against my swollen bud, and before I could process a response, my pleasure took over, knocking my knees together and curling my bare toes.
“Fuck yeah, baby. Come for me. Come all over my cock.” He thrust relentlessly, and soon his own moans joined mine, ripping from his throat . His cock twitched deep inside me, and I felt his cum soaking me, and I milked him for all he had. Every last drop.
He continued his thrusts a moment more and then stilled, pulling out and I clenched to keep as much of his seed in place as possible, though some of it trickled down my thighs before I could stop it.
I spun around and lay back on the bed, and he lay beside me drawing lazy circles on my shoulder. “You’re so amazing. I love our new place, and I love you.”
He smiled and kissed my shoulder. “I love you too.”
“Everything is perfect.” Even though we’d talked about marriage, we had both agreed there was no sense in rushing it, but that was the only thing that could have made it any better.
“We better get back to work so we can actually sleep in this bed tonight.” He gave me a nudge, and I got up to go to the bathroom and clean myself up so I could get back to work.
I walked out in my robe. He was already dressed in a pair of boxer briefs. “Here, baby. Do something with this box. I’m not even sure what it is, but I’m sure it’s some of your stuff.” He pushed the box toward me, and it was light.
“It’s empty,” I said, glancing to the side for some kind of label. There in his writing, it said bedroom in bold letters with a little note scribbled beneath it. Open me.
I narrowed my eyes and figured he was giving me a housewarming gift and feeling a little bad that I hadn’t thought to do the same. I had thought our big bed was our welcome gift, but despite my guilt, I couldn’t wait to see what he had bought me.
Inside, the box was filled with white tissue paper. I pulled it out a piece at a time, tossing it to the floor. He gathered it and wadded it into balls as I made my way through it. There at the bottom, wrapped with more tissue paper was a tiny velvet box. He reached and took it. My eyes widened as he dropped to his knees.
“Everything is perfect, but for this one thing, Rachel. Will you marry me?”
Warm tears spilled onto my cheeks as I collapsed to my knees with him and he gathered me up into his arms as I said, “Yes.”
After a moment, his voice had softened, and he whispered sweetly in my ear, “I love you.”
“I love you too. I thought you wanted to wait.”
“We’ve spent too long waiting.” He brushed my loose strands away from my face.
I took his hand and kissed it, then held it to my heart. “It was worth it, Duncan. Every minute.”
The End
ROCK HARD DADDY
A Single Dad & A Virgin Romance
CHAPTER ONE – CHLOE JONES
Three months after I graduated from college, I decided that Peter Clarke was an asshole, and for that reason, I hated him with every damn cell in my being. As was expected of the valedictorian, Peter’s speech was grand and filled with triumphant words. In a confident and jubilant tone, he assured me—and our entire graduating class—that the world was ours for the taking and, therefore, we could do anything, have anything and be anything we desired. Like a dumbass, I believed him, and therein lies my problem with the guy.
Stupid Peter.
It turns out that Peter was full of shit, and the world was not mine for the taking. In fact, the world didn’t give a crap about me. Despite my outrageously expensive degree in Hotel Management, and 4.0 GPA, I am now left jobless, penniless, and left wanting to crawl under a rock and die.
The economic downfall meant that my degree, which cost enough to virtually pay off a house in Tuscany, didn’t mean jack shit in the real world. If only I had the power to predict the future - I would now be in my gorgeous Tuscan villa, in the arms of my hot Italian boyfriend, sipping a glass of red. At least that was my logic. Of course, that suggests I somehow would have gotten over my obsessive infatuation with my childhood crush, Conner Wilkes. In case, I haven’t already painted a picture of the pitiable and unrealistic fantasy world I’ve been living, my child hood crush also happens to be my Dad’s best friend. We’ll get to back Conner soon enough; for now I’ve got some more ventin
g left in my system.
If only Peter was here now so I could tell him flawed his logic truly was. None of the hundreds of hotels I sent my application to bothered to even call me back for an interview. It was embarrassing and left me no other choice than to collect my crap and return to the small Tennessee town I grew up - with my tail tucked between my legs.
Stupid, stupid Peter.
Life sucked, and I hated it, but amidst all of the frustration, there was one good thing about being back home. Dad.
“Bumblebee,” Dad cried as soon as I walked through the gate at the airport.
A broad, face-splitting grin formed on my lips at the sight of my father. I know most girls say that their Dad is the best, but mine actually was. He and my mother had both been twenty-one when they had me, so in a way, the three of us grew up together. Thanks to them, I had an almost perfect childhood filled with fun, forts, and smores for dinner. Unfortunately, the two of them grew apart, but our closeness remained intact.
“Daddy,” I said as I ran toward him and wrapped my arms around his neck. He smelled like grass, leather, and home.
We hugged for a solid minute. Then, he pulled away to look at me.
“Let me check the status.”
Those words were familiar and instantly made me grow a little taller in my spine as I stood in front of him. Not caring that we were surrounded by curious strangers, Dad cupped his square jaw with his right hand and tapped his index fingers on his lips as he looked at me through mock stern eyes that made me chuckle.
Like he used to do when I was a kid, he placed a hand on the top of my head, fidgeted with my long blonde hair and poked me in the belly. “The hair is longer. You still look exactly like your mom, but I don’t think you grew this time.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m twenty-two, Dad. I haven’t grown in like five years.”
“It’s a shame,” he said with a sigh. “I liked when you were still growin’, kiddo.”
“Yeah, I know,” I replied with a smile.
He’d been saying that for five years, and it always tugged at my heart. I had never worked up the courage to ask him if he said that because he missed me as a child or because he missed mom and how our family was back then. Hearing those words always made me feel for him and wish he could find a way to get over the divorce and move on with his life - like mom did.
“Now it’s your turn,” I informed, changing the subject. Dad stood a little taller as I looked at him. Imitating him, I nodded and tapped my index finger over my lips. “The hair is a little grayer, the beard is a little longer, but you still look like Dad. Also, you may be starting to shrink.”
His deep laugh echoed around us, and the sound warmed my heart. He bumped his shoulder against mine and grabbed my suitcases.
“How did you get to be such a smart ass?” he asked.
“It’s inherited,” I deadpanned as I followed him toward the airport’s parking lot.
As we walked toward his truck, he asked for updates, and I gave him the low down. Since we talked all the time, I didn’t have much important news to give, so I just filled him in on my newfound hatred toward Peter Clarke and my overall disappointment in adulthood. In my annoyed excitement, I also ended up babbling about how much going back to my childhood room and small-town life would suck after two years of living in Italy and four in New York City.
“Don’t be unfair, Chloe,” he admonished me while placing my luggage on the back of his brand-new Ram. “You’ve always loved living at the ranch. Can six years of living away really change your mind like that?”
Taken back by the sternness in his voice, I turned to look at him and saw hurt in his hazel eyes as he made his way to the driver’s side. The reaction shouldn’t have surprised me as much as it did. Mom told him basically the same thing right before she left for a corporate job across the ocean.
Although she loved us and admired Dad for building a very successful—and profitable—horse-breeding empire from the ground up, the small-town life he loved so much eventually became too monotonous to keep her interest. He was heartbroken when she left him and relocated the two of us to Rome. Deep down, I knew he feared I would one day disappear into the cement and smog of a big city just like she did.
Feeling like a jerk, I followed him into the truck. Even though his face was strained and he refused to look at me, I reached for his hand and focused my eyes on him.
“It didn’t change my mind. I still love it here,” I assured him with all the honesty I could muster. When he finally turned his eyes to me again, I added, “I’m just frustrated and feeling like a complete loser. I guess I always assumed that by the time I was twenty-two and graduated I would have accomplished something. But here I am, back at my Dad’s house with no job, no income, and totally screwed.”
The sadness that had previously been in Dad’s eyes morphed into indignation.
He started as he looked away from me and cranked up the engine. “Not making it in New York—or anywhere else, for that matter—has nothing to do with being good enough. You're incredible, and I’m not saying that because you’re my kid. I’m saying that because it’s true.”
Trying not to smile like a little girl at those words was damn near impossible. However, before I had a chance to comment or thank him for lifting my spirits, Dad added, “As for accomplishing somethin’, you finished college with a 4.0 GPA. That’s more than a lot of people can say.”
“Dad, you know I love you and appreciate your efforts to lift me up, but your accolades won’t pay the bills. I still don’t have a job.”
“Not for long.” My brows pulled together with curiosity as we entered the highway. A wide grin curled on Dad’s lips as he continued. “Conner came over to the house last weekend, and we were talkin’ about you finally coming back home and looking for jobs. He said that since Quinn’s passing, Blackwater hasn’t had a good administrator and he’s in serious need of professional help. You know how Conner is – a pro with horses and tools, but a hot mess with papers and computers.”
As Dad laughed at the expense of his best friend, my heart started to beat so fast I was sure it was plotting an escape from my ribcage. Blackwater Ranch & Resort was the reason I originally chose Hotel Management as my major, and Conner Wilkes was the reason I loved that place so much.
Growing up, my Dad worked for the same ranch as Conner and since the first day they met they were stuck to each other like glue. Even though they had a four year age difference, it was as if they were always meant to be best friends. They had the same interest in horseback riding, sports, and women. They were both complete players, with their fair share of conquests over the years.
My Dad settled down early and got married to mom at age twenty I was born one year later. Conner had been only sixteen at the time so naturally he treated me like his baby sister. Despite being my father’s best friend, Conner was young enough to keep me from seeing him as an uncle like most kids do with their parents’ friends. To me, he was always Conner—the cool older friend who took me to summer fairs, concerts and taught me how to find the constellations in the sky. As we grew up, he became less of a friend to me and more like a hot crush.
For years, I worshiped the ground he stepped on, while he continued to look at me as just a cool kid. On my sixteen birthday, Conner took me out to my first concert to see Cold Play. It was a memorable night for many reasons, but mostly because I experienced my first orgasm that night alone in my bed. Since then, I always thought about Conner when I had the urge touch myself.
It bothered me that I could never get close to Conner like I wanted. It was frustrating, and then, when he started dating Quinn, it became excruciating. Conner always had a bad boy image and everyone who knew him could tell that Quinn was different from the girls he usually dated. She was sweet, funny, and a keeper. She was the kind of girl a guy marries, and he did. He married Quinn and I had my first ever heartbreak.
Soon after, they had a baby and I asked mom to take me to Rome with her just so I
could be away from the two of them. It took me a while, but the distance allowed me to finally forget him—or at least stop wishing for a future with him. Even with so many miles apart, his memory pulled at me from time to time. I hated that I couldn’t get over him, or have a normal relationship with another guy. I had Conner to blame for being a twenty-two-year-old virgin. It was almost embarrassing, but as much as I tried to move on, no guy could ever come close to Conner. Pathetic, I know.
When I heard about Quinn’s tragic accident, my heart broke for Conner, and it made me feel like a complete jerk for ignoring him for so many years. I had been a selfish brat, and it left me five thousand miles away when he needed a friend the most.
The sound of my Dad’s fingers snapping in front of my face pulled me from my reverie.
“You okay sport?”
“Oh yeah. Sorry Dad, I guess I’m still kind of exhausted from the flight. I appreciate you for thinking of me. I guess it doesn’t sound like such a bad idea.”
Maybe this chance to help Conner would finally make up for my errors in the past. I couldn’t tell if it was the jet lag or high altitude from the flight, but I suddenly felt encouraged to take this opportunity and make the best of it. I turned sideways on my seat and grilled my Dad for details about the job. Finally, I was actually glad to be home.
CHAPTER TWO – CONNER WILKES
Like most Saturday mornings, I woke up with a major headache and absolutely no idea of where I was. I opened my eyes just a little to try and locate myself and winced at the clarity slipping in from around a set of curtains. Silently, I cursed aging.
Although I looked better than most twenty-five-year-olds, I could no longer drink like them. Five shots of whiskey were enough to fog up my brain to the point where I had to put some actual effort into remembering things. It was annoying as fuck, but I refused to cut back and drink like the thirty-eight-year-old I was. In my mind that was giving up which didn’t mesh with me.
