The Boy Next Door (53 page)

Her body radiated heat and cold, she felt flush and struggled for breath.  She never imagined something could feel so intense or that someone would focus so much attention on such a tiny part of her.  She felt the tremors in her belly, stronger than anything she had had before.  Her thighs parted further, silently begging him for more.  He pressed harder and circled faster, watching her stomach flutter faster.

She felt every muscle in her body go rigid for a moment and then she screamed.  Her hands pulled his face against her and she fought to stay conscious as the waves washed through to her fingers and toes.

When she fell back against the couch panting, he raised himself up to grin at her.

“Inside me…” she whispered.

He scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the other room to lay her down on the bed.

Through hazy eyes, she watched as he removed his own clothes.  His chest was as firm as it had always been and she reached out to run her fingers down the rippled ab muscles.  Her eyes widened as he slid off his shorts and boxers.  His large swollen cock bobbed into view and she wondered if it would fit inside her.  She was not inexperienced but she had never seen anything quite that large.

He knelt over her on the bed and she ran her hands up his length.

He groaned deep in his throat, “Better not do too much of that…”

“I want to touch and feel and taste and everything.  I want all of it at the same time.”

He chuckled, “Might have to be patient, little one.”

She pouted and wrapped her hand around his girth, stroking it softly.

“Dammit, you gotta stop…”

She wriggled on the bed until she was lying in front of him.  She ran her tongue up the sensitive underside, never breaking eye contact.

He twisted at the waist to pull away.  “Lay back down,” he growled.

She flipped back around and spread her legs for him.  He gripped her hips hard and rubbed the tip of his cock against her slippery opening.  They groaned in unison as he slowly slid himself inside.

“Slowly,” she gasped.

He inched his way in, desperately trying to control himself as he felt her warm velvet walls close around his cock.  When he felt his pelvis hit hers, he paused to give her a moment to accommodate him and to give himself a moment to hold back.  He slid out and back in, her hips rising up to meet his.

“Fuck…” she breathed.  “You’re huge…”

He grinned.  She wasn’t just stroking his ego, she truly meant it.

“Faster, Clint, faster” she urged.

He did not need to be told twice and he picked up the pace of his stroking.  They fell into their rhythm, and he knew that her tight little pussy was not going to give him much leeway in his self-control.

“Ashley, I’m not going to…”

“No, wait Clint, not yet, please not yet, don’t stop…”

His voice was hoarse with desire, “Either I stop or I finish…”

She could feel the next climax building inside her with every stroke.  His thick cock stroking places inside her that had never been touched.  Closer and closer with every thrust, she just needed a few more before he lost his load.

“Faster.  Harder.” she gasped out each word.  “Fuck.  Me.”

He grabbed her hips to hold her still and he pounded her with everything he had left.  He grunted loudly as she whimpered.

“I’m going to…”

“Yes, inside me, with me…”

She yelled as the wave burst through her and over her and around her.  He thrust one more time into her and held her in place by the hips.  It was months of torment and desire and need and lust pouring into her body and she took every drop.

He collapsed on top of her and she wrapped her legs around his waist, holding him inside and against her.

“Goddammit.”

She grinned next to his ear.  “Ditto.”

“I gotta have more.”

“Well give me a minute here, big boy.”

“I’m just getting started.”  He propped himself up on one elbow and grinned back at her.

She licked her lower lip slowly.  “I still need to taste.”

For her teasing effort, she was rewarded with a twitch of his soft cock as it rested next to her dripping pussy.

He eventually rolled off of her and they slipped easily into an exhausted sleep.  Several hours later, Ashley woke up and realized he was running his fingers through her tangled hair.

“Hi…” she said sleepily.

“Hey yourself.  You know I meant what I said.  I want more.”

“I just woke up,” she giggled.

“Not just that, more of all of you.”

She rested her cheek against his chest and sighed softly.  “All of you too.”

THE END

The Taken Bride

The layers of Mary’s thick taffeta skirts rustled as she climbed into the carriage.  The journey to the nearby town always exhausted her but there was no other way to obtain the household goods that George demanded.  He had to have his certain type of tea and would get quite upset if there were no lemons for it.

The afternoon was hot and humid, and as the driver started towards home, she tried to ignore the feeling of dirt and grit on her normally silky pale skin.  She wished desperately that it was her bath day but she had to wait a little while longer.  She hoped that she would at least find a moment to use a cool cloth on her legs once she returned to her bedroom.  The humidity in the air had sent her auburn waves into wild curls that refused to stay in their upswept bun.

Last night George had also demanded her other wifely duties, and she succumbed as she had for the last twelve years.  It was hardly enjoyable or even pleasant, but she was in no position to deny him.  Every few months, he berated her for his lack of an heir and he used it as a convenient excuse whenever he felt the urge to violate her body. 

There were so many nights that Mary wished he would just avail himself of the house in town that no respectable man would enter.  But so far she had had no such luck in a reprieve.  His sweaty bald head, clammy hairy belly, and thin limbs turned her stomach but there was no way to avoid the attentions of her husband.

At nearly thirty, with George approaching fifty, Mary was running out of time to produce her husband the blessed son he so badly wanted from her.  She had done everything in her power and was resigned to the fact it was not going to happen.  Mostly she was okay with that. If only George could be more accepting of the situation.

Her life was reasonably routine and bland, including the evenings George had been out to the pub for drinking.  That seemed to be more and more frequent as of late but what could Mary do.  She usually tried to either be asleep or pretend to be asleep when he came home.  Sometimes it deterred his interest and sometimes it did nothing to stop him.

Mary tried to fan herself in the carriage as she rode along the bumpy dirt road.  The poor horses and driver went over one rock so hard, she feared her ample bosoms would pop free of the corseted top of her dress.  She clasped her hands at her chest to make sure she did not suddenly become indecent on the journey through the middle of nowhere.  The heat in the air made it hard to breathe, especially given the cinched waist of the dress she had chosen for the trip.

Mary arrived home just before dinner and frantically tried to tidy herself as well as the house.  The cook had the meal almost ready, for which Mary was exceedingly grateful, but she still had to have everything else prepared and ready just so.  She was not in the mood for an angry George.

The plates of food hit the table just as George arrived home from his meeting with Robert, who lived about half a day away.

“That bloody man is going to be the death of me!” George bellowed as he slammed the door open.  “He still will not grant me purchase of that pond.  What good is owning the land if I do not own the pond that sits on it?  I need the water for the trees and the horses.  It is absurd that he owns the water and I own the land.”

“Good evening George,” Mary said quietly.

“You as well,” he grumbled in her direction.  He was more focused on the food and wine on the table than her.  “Did you get my tea and lemons?”

“Yes, sir.  I returned from town a short while ago.” Mary smoothed a stray auburn curl back into her upswept topknot.

“I hope you did not spend too much of my hard-earned money.”

“But of course not, sir.”  Mary looked up at him through her dark lashes.  His face was not turning quite so many different shades of red so he must not have been too upset with her.

After dinner, George continued to drink the wine while Mary read by candlelight in the sitting room.  She excused herself early for the evening, still wanting to wash down before crawling into her bed.  She was grateful that they slept in different rooms most nights.  It enabled her to get more sleep than if she had to listen to him snoring all night.

Mary carefully removed and laid out her garments, wishing she had the ability to lock the door as she stood naked in the middle of the room.  She soaked the soft cloth in the cool water of the basin and caressed her heated skin.  It helped to get rid of a little of the grime as well as taking away some of the heat of the day.

As she rinsed and wrung out the cloth, the door burst open loudly and George lurched into the room.  No doubt he had finished his bottle of wine and was ready to have his way with her.  There was rarely any point in protesting, let alone when she was caught naked.

George pushed her roughly to the bed and climbed on top of her, forcing her thighs apart.  After several minutes of grunting in her ear and thrusting himself into her body, she felt his seed surge into her and she fought back revulsion.  He rolled off and stumbled back through the still open door to his own bed to sleep it off.

Mary sighed deeply at the state of her life, and now the mess of her bed.  She rose slowly and tried to clean herself off again.  It had been drilled into her that sex was only for married people but she really did not see the attraction anyway.  What on earth would she have gained from George’s attentions prior to marriage?  When she had been younger and still in the market for a husband, her childhood friends told her that she would have her choice of any man.  Her dark red ringlets, deep green eyes, and creamy skin were not bad to look at, but the years of George’s drunken advances had rendered her incapable of seeing beauty in the mirror.

The time seemed to drag on, daily meals and weekly trips to town.  And every few nights, George would stumble in and out of her body in a drunken stupor.  He spent the evening meal cursing to her about Robert, but she did not truly understand the need to own that pond in particular in comparison to all of the other ponds and streams they owned.  But, as George frequently pointed out, what does a woman know about a man’s business such as this?  She was only good for keeping house and producing children, which she was obviously unable to accomplish.

One particular evening George was especially enraged at Robert.  One of the trees on that parcel of land had recently begun bearing fresh ripe apples and George took the fruit as a personal affront to everything that made him a man.

Mary had no idea what apples had to do with anything, but George instructed her to go gather as many as she and the cook could carry.  The next morning, Mary put on one of her more casual dresses, the light cotton type that one wears around the house.  She and the cook trudged down the hillside and around the pond to gather said offensive fruit.

Mary grinned at the short rotund cook trying to jump for the apples.

“Do not laugh, Mum.  It’s harder than it looks.”

Mary, at several inches taller and a number of pounds lighter, was able to reach them more easily.

The cook just shook her head, “I’m doing the best I can but I do not care anyway.  What are we doing out here?”

Mary looked at the shiny red skin of the apple and took a deep bite, chewing thoughtfully.  She offered the cook a bite and the poor sweating girl accepted eagerly.

Out of everyone in the household, the cook was probably the one person Mary spent the most time with, and coincidentally liked the most.  They lay back on the ground next to each other and Mary ran her fingers over the tiny blades of grass.  It felt like the velvet that covered their dining room chairs.

Off in the distance, hoof beats pounded against the ground but the two women paid no attention.  In the countryside, hoof beats were as common as crickets or birds.  The grass almost felt cool beneath them compared to the sweltering blanket of humidity that spread out through the air.

Slowly Mary became more aware of the hoof beats, as though the ground was trembling from them.  Suddenly they stopped.  She opened her eyes and found herself staring up at the underside of a black horse’s jaw.

She scrambled away, terrified of the giant black beast.  The cook crawled in the opposite direction with the same fear on her young face.  From that angle, Mary could not make out the rider, but she was certain no soldier of her husband’s would dare ride up on her in that manner.

“How dare you!  Who do you think you are?” Her indignation blossomed pink on her pale cheeks.

“I am Thomas, and I work for Robert.  You are trespassing, Ma’am.” The voice rumbled like the summer thunderstorms but she was not familiar with the speaker.

“I… My husband… We were just tasting the apples.  I believe they belong to George.  My husband.  But we shall be on our way, sir.” She stuttered through her confusion and fear.

“The young lady here,” he gestured to the cook, “may leave.  You are coming with me.  We do not take lightly to trespassing.  Let alone thievery.”

“What?  Trespassing?  Thievery?  What are you talking about, sir?  This is our land and these are our trees.”

“That apple in your hand does not belong to you or your husband.  It belongs to Robert.”

Mary blinked.  She was being detained for eating an apple?

The voice turned away from her and ordered the cook, “Get back to the house and tell George to expect a notice from Robert.”

The cook blinked and stood frozen.  She looked to Mary and Mary flicked her wrist, shooing her back to their house.  The cook took off like a rabbit with a fox inches behind her.

The booming voice grew closer as the speaker dismounted the horse.

“I cannot imagine what Robert will have to say about this.”

Mary looked up through her lashes and found herself face to face with a very broad chest.  She kept looking up until she saw a face hovering above hers, dark eyes glinting fire and sun-kissed brown waves of hair combed straight back.  Several days of beard growth prickled his chin and cheeks but instead of looking unkempt, it seemed to give him a dashing air.

“I… I did not mean anything.  My husband, George, told me to come collect them.  And cook and I were hungry so we tried one.  We did not mean anything by it.”  Mary had dropped her gaze back down, praying unsuccessfully that her cheeks might return to their normal pale color.

“That is not my concern.  That is between Robert and George so you must come with me until they have resolved it.”

“What?  I cannot come with you. I must be home when George returns.”

“Your cook will explain what has happened.”

His large hands and noticeable biceps easily took Mary by her slender waist and lifted her to the horse.  She tried not to struggle for fear of startling the animal and ending up suddenly back on the ground.  She slid backwards towards the hind end of the horse as the man mounted in front of her.

“You will stay with me while they sort things out.  It would not be seemly for you to stay at the main house.”

The horse trotted along at an easier pace, Mary bouncing around on the back end, trying not to grab on to the man’s tunic for support.  It did not escape Thomas’s notice that every time she was thrown into him, her full bosom bounced against his back.  He tried to focus on controlling his horse through the distraction.

“Ma’am, I do not need you falling off this horse.  Please hold on.”

She slid forward until her breasts pressed against his back and her firm thighs sat on the outside of his.

As she jostled against him, she ran this issue over and over in her head.  George was going to be furious.  And how was she in trouble for eating an apple that clearly grew on her husband’s land?

In about an hour or so, they arrived at a small but well-kept stone house.  He helped her down off the horse, and he led the animal to a nearby cask of water for refreshing.  He had to duck to enter through the doorway, and Mary found it to be only two rooms inside.  The main room contained a stove, a table and eating chairs, and two larger chairs in front of a fireplace.  She assumed the closed door was to the bedroom.

Wait.  What?  I am to be held here in the small space with this man by myself?  What on earth would people say?  What will George say?  He will surely take his belt to me for letting this happen.  There is only one bedroom.  Oh heavens, what have I done?  What have I gotten myself into?  All I did was bite the apple that George told me to gather!

Mary took a deep breath and waited for instructions.

“Ma’am, I suggest you get comfortable here.  Robert has no intention of giving your husband that pond and I know damn well that George has no intention of giving him that parcel of land.  You may be here with me a while.  I hope you are a good cook and a good housekeeper.”

Mary blinked in the dim room.  The dust danced brightly in the strips of sunlight through the slats on the windows, however the light did nothing but cast shadows around this unfamiliar place.

“Now,” Thomas seemed used to giving directions.  “Draw me a bath.  It has been a hot day and I need to cool off.  The well is out back with a bucket, and the tub is in the bedroom.”

“Excuse me?  Draw you a bath?”

“Yes, a’am.  If I am expected to feed and shelter you, then you must earn your keep.  Draw me a bath before you make dinner.”

Mary dug her short nails into her palms but did not protest further.  She was not sure how far this Thomas would take things but he was already being terribly inappropriate with another man’s wife, and seemed to have no qualms about his demand.