by Parker Ford
He nudged her through into a large dining room. The window was broken and sheeted in plastic. The room was colder than the others. There was a newel post to the back part of a staircase, but no staircase. Jordan touched it and laughed.
“Clearly at some point they walled that off and separated the room,” Gareth said.
“It’s not that I wouldn’t think of…it’s just…I’m still adjusting,” she sighed.
“I know. But you broke my heart, Jojo.”
She glared at him. “I did not!”
“You calling me a liar?”
“No, of course not. I’m just…” She shook her head again.
When she turned to study a mostly empty built-in bookshelf she heard a sound. But he eye was drawn to some old cookbooks that looked circa 1950. There was a copy of War of the Worlds, Lolita and The Hobbit too. “Well read,” she started to say but Gareth pushed against her back and trapped her hands to the newel post to nowhere. With is free hand he looped his belt through a rung and brought it up and around, then around again. Then forming a loose X he buckled the belt and grinned.
“What the hell are you doing?” she asked, but her pussy, accustomed to his doled out punishments now, let loose a warm rush of arousal.
“Just helping you get your head on straight, darling.”
He reached around her, unbuttoned her jeans and yanked them down. Her maroon boy shorts came down with them and she was bare-ass naked from her waist to her knees. Gareth dropped to his knees, planting his warm lips firmly to her now chilled skin.
“You hurt my feelings,“ he said, but she felt him grin.
Gareth kissed each ass cheek, nibbling one so hard she jumped and banged her hipbone to the wooden post. Then he licked a hot line from up the crack of her ass, dropping a final kiss on her lower back so she shivered.
When the first blow sounded, like a branch breaking in the quiet room, she jumped again but bit her tongue. If she was silent, he’d lose interest and then she knew what he’d do. He’d lose his patience and his intent and he’d fuck her. And Jordan very much wanted that right about now. Now that he’d gotten her going.
But he didn’t lose interest, he landed a blow on her other cheek so that the blood rose hotly under her flesh. Gareth alternated loud palm-whacks along her bottom and then he stopped.
Jordan tried to turn and see but couldn’t manage. She felt his finger trail down her butt crack and it made her pussy flex. “Gareth.”
“Hush.”
He dipped a finger into her pussy and Jordan felt her head fall forward, the air rush out of her lungs. She moaned—almost against her will—and sighed when he added another.
“You’re so wet from hurting my feelings,” he chuckled, still on his knees on the dusty wooden floor.
“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”
He pulled his fingers free of her—they must be dripping, because she was. His hand came down, heavy and stinging, four more times. Left, right…left right…so she bit her lip and tried to keep her breathing steady.
She failed and finally cried out—a sound that was half pleasure and half pain. Then she jumped when Gareth slowly pushed his wet fingers—slick with her pussy juices—against the tight ring of her anus.
“Gareth,” she breathed. Her voice warning and fear and need all at once.
His finger worked the tight ring of muscle harder and finally it relented, letting him pass, gripping around him tight. She moaned and so did he, his teeth pressed hard against the flare of her ass. When he drew back, Gareth soothed the bitten skin with his tongue.
“Tell me something I don’t know. Spare my feelings.”
“Gar—” she broke off when his other finger—palpably wet—pushed into her. “God,” she sighed.
“Tell me.”
He turned her just a little bit so he could keep his fingers where they were, buried deep in her ass, but he could reach the front of her with his mouth. Just the drift of his hot breath over the tops of her bare thighs had her feeling crazy and lusty. He kissed the top of each thigh, dragging his tongue along that fragile flesh. His lips puckered gently on her mound and he gave it a resounding peck. His breath washed over her clitoris, her nether lips, but he never touched it with his mouth.
Jordan heard herself moan loudly and she flinched to realized it had risen up out of her completely inadvertently.
“When I was little, I was in love with you,” she said.
At her new angle, when she looked down she could see him looking up at her with those startling eyes. His finger flexed inside her anus and she gasped.
“How little.”
She shrugged, feeling the bite of his leather belt on her wrists. “Always, really. I had a crush. But when I was about fourteen…fifteen..you know when we first get—” She groaned not wanting to say.
He flexed the fingers in her ass again and kissed her pout a bit closer to her clit, but never actually touching it. Torturing her.
“Get sexual,” he said softly. He pressed his face to the V where her pussy met her thighs and inhaled her.
Jordan’s knees went weak. “Yes,” she breathed.
“That’s when you what?”
“I used to daydream about marrying you,” she blurted. She said it fast and loud and then stood there panting as he stared up at her.
“Why?” he asked.
“Because I loved you and I thought one day I could marry you. But I knew I couldn’t. I knew it was wrong so I kept telling myself I was nuts. And I…” She shook her head.
“Good girl,” he said. He smiled and then pushed his face to her pussy. His tongue traced her outer lips, tasting her, nudging her, working her wetly until she had to sag against the newel post. He sucked her clitoris into his mouth, rolling his tongue over it and shoving his fingers deeper into her ass. Pressing her G-spot from a new position than if they were fucking.
He flicked her clit hard and then sucked it to soothe it until Jordan’s fingers and hands warred with each other to give her something to focus on, because she didn’t want to come just yet. Not yet.
It didn’t work. When he nibbled her clit with his sharp white teeth and then sucked it hard before soothing it with his warm flattened tongue, she lost it. Jordan came—hard—stifling her own cries by pressing her lips together hard.
She felt the spasms and the tightness of her cunt press her flesh against his probing fingers and for a moment, he left them there in her bottom, flexing them to milk out each flicker of her orgasm.
When he finally stood, shoving his jeans down roughly to expose the hard jut of his flushed cock, Jordan was practically vibrating with need. She presented her ass, wrists still bound to the wooden post, and parted her legs so he could get into her. Fast.
“Jesus, little sister,’ he said and gave her cunt opening one perfunctory swipe with the head of his cock before driving in hard and deep.
It was a matter of strokes. He thrust into her a half dozen times before burying his face against the back of her neck and coming. His teeth pressed her skin, his fingers clutched her waist and Jordan felt herself come again—a small baby orgasm, but there it was. Another release.
“You’ll marry me one day, Jojo,” he assured her.
Jordan believed him.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Tom was in the detached garage looking at the section Gareth had sectioned off as a work room. Gareth was in the attic laying flooring over the insulation. The floor had never been anything but some planks laid across exposed beams.
Jordan heard the crunch and pop of gravel from an approaching vehicle. Once upon a time it would have caused anxiety, but now that the small town had become here hometown in her heart—a brand new life for her and Gareth—it only fostered curiosity.
She headed toward the front door, wiping her hands on a towel. The whole house smelled of gingerbread. She’d made a double batch, both for the small party they were having with recently made friends and for the small work party at her new job. She wa
s the official counter girl for a small Mom and Pop convenience store in town.
A small, simple job that made her happy in a new, simple life that made her happy.
“You’re like a freaking Christmas card,” she snorted. When she pulled the front door open, a vintage red Chevy pickup regarded her in the yard.
“Oh, hello,” said a well groomed older blonde. She climbed free of the truck and said, “I was looking for Tom Sweet? Did he finally up and sell the place?”
“No!” Jordan said. “I’m his…I mean, we’re just…” She shook her head. Tom had told her a million times he wanted her to introduce herself as his daughter, but Jordan still felt like she was spilling his secrets and it wasn’t her place.
She heard boot falls and turned to see her father, grinning wildly. “Hey, pretty lady. This is my daughter, Jordan. Jordan this is Linda Joy.”
Jordan nodded, smiled. It had not escaped her notice that her father was grinning and flushed and kept fidgeting. Ah…Linda was the woman he’d told her about. She stifled a laugh.
“Nice to meet you.”
“Daughter!” Linda took the wide wooden steps and kissed Tom’s cheek. He hugged her briefly but let her go fast, like a man fighting his attraction. It made Jordan grin again.
“I was just discovered. My mother left before Tom knew and…well, surprise! It’s a girl.” She smiled.
Linda patted her father’s chest. “That is the neatest thing I’ve ever heard,” she said. And it seemed genuine. The woman opened her arms to Jordan and said, “May I?”
Jordan stepped into the embrace. She hugged Linda and smelled her perfume. Something with spice and honeysuckle. She smelled nice and a woman embracing her was enough to nearly bring tears to her eyes.
It had been a roller coaster. Weeks of them finding a normal kind of niche in the farm house. Then the normalcy had come along. Gareth working the property and earning a paycheck—truly earning it with all the construction—from Tom. And her working shifts at Cartwell’s corner store. And now a woman hugging her, her father watching.
The screen door squeaked and the wind picked up. They were out on the porch. Why? It was freezing. Christmas was coming and winter in Virginia could be bitter.
“Who’s this?” Gareth asked. He smiled but Jordan could see the smile showed too many teeth and under the smile was a wary anger.
“This is Tom’s friend, Linda.”
Tom blushed and Gareth caught the look smirking.
“And this is Jordan’s better half, Gareth,” Tom said. His face never wavered. He simply smiled.
“And it’s freezing,” Jordan said. “Let’s go in. I just made gingerbread. Tom can give you all the gory details over some hot coffee. Sound good?”
There were appreciative murmurs and when she passed Gareth, he settled a possessive hand on her lower back. She leaned into him and he put his arms around her. She wanted him to realize it was okay. Because it was okay.
She heard Linda whisper, “They’re such a cute couple, Tommy.”
Jordan agreed.
The End
ABOUT PARKER FORD
Parker Ford is the author of Uncle Ed’s Lap, Father’s Keeper and Sterling, among other erotic novels. Quite often, she lives on the road with her brilliant, patient husband. When they’re home grilling, gardening and caring for the plethora of wild ‘pets’ on their property are favorite pastimes. Not to mention ‘research’ for her books. For more on Parker visit parkerford13.blogspot.com
If you enjoyed CRY LITTLE SISTER, you might also enjoy:
UNCLE ED’S LAP
By Parker Ford
Fiona volunteers to help her recently widowed uncle get his house in order before starting her freshman year of college. Uncle Ed and aunt Carole are two of her favorite people in the world. While trying to help her grieving uncle, she doesn't expect her school girl crush to turn into a torrid affair, but it does. She doesn't expect him to want her at all, but he does, more than he can handle. And as her uncle struggles with the thoughts of wanting and having his niece in so many ways, Fiona struggles to show him that it's all okay. That she's not a little girl any more.
"Wow. This story is most definitely not for the faint of heart....[T]his story is hot enough to burn the pages, but it also shows that with death you can also have love."-Claudia R., Manic Readers Reviews, 4/5 STARS
"[Parker Ford] writes scorching hot love scenes to compliment the somber tone of a man dealing with his wife's death...She has given her readers a near perfect balance...Who can resist the sexy older alpha male? Those alphas are like a fine wine and only get better with age." -Dakota, Dark Diva Reviews, 4/5 DIVAS
"The writing is vivid, sharp, and precise as emotions (guilt, grief, passion) are examined...Overall, Uncle Ed's Lap kept me engaged...it's exceptional whenever an author is willing to bring taboo subject matter to life, and do it justice." -Patrice F., Joyfully Reviewed
"Parker Ford has mastered the technique of writing sexual tension. It explodes off the pages...The sex was fully described and scorching hot! ... If you want to push the boundaries of your erotic reading experience, Uncle Ed's Lap is an excellent place to start." -LynnMarie, HEA Reviews, 5/5 CUPS
"The writing is smooth and titillating...Parker did a wonderful job incorporating a taboo subject with arousing sexual content with the sometimes-unexpected places a person can find love and comfort...Don't shy away from Uncle Ed's Lap because of the content warning or you will miss out on a wonderful story that will have you sweating with the steamy love scenes and emotionally poignant moments..." -Seriously Reviewed
Warnings: This work contains spanking, voyeurism, anal sex, explicit sex and explicit language.
Excerpt From UNCLE ED’S LAP:
Fantasies were just fantasies. You didn't have to act on them. Right?
I busied myself cleaning the kitchen. Bachelors suck at cleaning. So do young coeds but hey, I was bored and my mother Marie had taught me well. Cleanliness was next to godliness, plus if you threw yourself into it, it could make the afternoon fly in an blink. I ate cucumbers from the garden with homemade ranch sauce uncle had made the night before for dinner. That was all I really had the stomach for. I poured a big glass of lemonade and downed it in four long swallows. Then I started rearranging the cabinets and wiping down the liners. The worst chore I could imagine from my growing up years. Now it seemed to soothe me.
"Wow. I had no idea I would come home to such a tight ship," he said from the doorway. I jumped, a china plate shattering at my feet. A thousand tiny jagged teeth of china scattered around me on the red tile floor. Barefoot and in turquoise shorts instead of jeans, I was pretty much fucked. "Shit, I'm sorry, Fiona." He colored when he said my name aloud and my cunt responded with tightening warmth. "You're bleeding."
I looked at my calf where a thick nearly black rivulet of blood trickled slowly down my leg. "It's no big deal. Just as shard. But I am kind of...stuck." I shrugged, feeling horribly stupid. "I'm so sorry. I can go on ebay and try to replace it. I'm such a klutz!" I felt like I might start sobbing right then from frustration.
"Hey, I scared you. Don't talk about ebay or any of that. Stay there. I'm gonna grab you and take you in the dining room, then I'll clean up this mess."
His work boots crunched over the china shards as he picked me up and carried me out. He set me on the table and put my foot on one of the ladder back chairs. "Let me get the bandages."
I nodded, suddenly feeling little and helpless again. Letting him care for me the way he had when I was a little girl and I'd skin my knee. He caught that far away look when he came in. "You okay? You're not cut anywhere else are you?"
I looked. "Nope. Just there. Not too shabby considering the immense mess I made."
"We made," he amended. "You never would have dropped it if I hadn't startled you." He wiped the cut with a wet cotton ball. Wet with alcohol it seemed because fire bloomed in the cut and I hissed. "Easy, be good," he said, smiling. He blew on the cut to cool the sting. Just like
old times. Only now, the feel of him blowing on my skin made my pussy keep a wet tempo with my heartbeat.
"Ugh," I said.
"Sorry it stings. It will be over in a minute. Promise."
I could only nod.
He squeezed a gem sized squirt of antibiotic lotion on and covered it with a big square bandages. "To keep it all covered," he said. His fingers smoothing the flesh colored cloth covering made me shift on the table. I felt trapped by his presence, the very hugeness of him and my pulse jumped at my throat from a mix of excitement and fear. So close like this I could picture him beating off to me. As close as we were, I could picture his hands pushing my legs apart. I could imagine a million scenarios I shouldn't. "Thanks," I managed.
"You sure you're okay?" He turned my chin so I had to look at him. I nodded and swallowed hard.
"Yeah," I said, thinking inside, God, just kiss me, kiss me already, kiss me and then touch me and we'll pretend it never ever happened, I swear...
It took a second for it to register his hands on my thighs, his long finger splayed out so they pointed like traitors to my pussy. Uncle Ed leaned in, his lips brushed mine so softly it was more like a kiss of wind than a person. I opened my mouth, spread my legs, begging him with my body. More.
I buried my hands in his too shaggy hair--I'd try to make sure I scheduled him a cut--and pulled him in tighter, closing my legs around his hands and scooting forward just a touch. I wouldn't think that I shouldn't do this. I'd think about how good and right it felt. Fuck feeling shamed.
"Fiona, I shouldn't..."
"I know...I do, but..." His fingers slipped over the hot moist V at the crotch of my shorts. I broke off in moan. It was like being burned, electrocuted, smacked so hard the blood seems like acid when it rises to the surface. I wanted his touch so bad that just a fingertip made my mind go red and my heart skip wildly.
"Don't make that sound," he said, but swept another finger along where the first had been. Two fingers running soft patterns over the crotch of my snug shorts. Over my pussy. Fuck. Directly over my clit.
