Total pages in book: 168
Estimated words: 159420 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 797(@200wpm)___ 638(@250wpm)___ 531(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 159420 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 797(@200wpm)___ 638(@250wpm)___ 531(@300wpm)
We don’t have any other option.
It’s been an hour since we came back from the woods. I rode with him like I always do, on his lap, wrapped around his body, safe and secure. And just like he kept doing at the woods, he’d kiss my forehead, my cheek every few seconds while we made our way back to the main house. He helped me get down from the horse, but instead of letting me walk up to the house, he carried me there. He carried me over the threshold and into the shower. Since these days we always shower together, I knew he’d stand under the water with me, dwarfing the stall with his presence, suffocating the air and making me feel even safer. But he didn’t. He drew me a bath. And the entire time he was preparing things for it, he kept me plastered to his body. He even took my clothes off himself before he put me in the water, and then he washed me.
Naked and on display, he knelt by the bathtub and bathed me. His hands were so gentle as they soaped me up, taking extra care in the areas I’d scraped from being on my hands and knees on the ground, and his stare was so tender as he made sure not a single place on my body was neglected. Once done, he carefully dried me with the towel before wrapping me in one. Usually before we go to sleep, he watches me put the lotion on my legs and braid my hair, which more often than not results in him jerking off over me and painting my skin with his cum. But today, on top of everything else, he did those things himself too.
He set me down on the closed toilet seat and knelt again to lotion up my legs, all gently and tenderly like before. Then he combed my hair with careful strokes and braided it for me. And he did it exactly the way I do. Meaning he wasn’t just watching; he was also learning. Then he took a quick shower of his own while I was brushing my teeth. He put his old jeans back on before carrying me bridal-style over to the barn, still wrapped in the towel.
Now, as I watch him moving around the barn, getting ready for bed, putting on a fresh pair of pants—I already have my nightie on—I do know that I need to be brave and tell him. Giving him his fantasy today was only the first part of the plan. The other one is this.
I climb out of bed just as he snaps one of the drawers shut and blurt out, “Use me.”
He isn’t wearing a shirt because he doesn’t wear one to bed, and that little fact makes me want to cry and jump for joy at the same time. Up until a few days ago, he wouldn’t let me see him bare-chested, and now he doesn’t even think about it. Meaning, whatever happens between us in the future, I’ve at least given him a safe space with me. Though I will say it’s not doing me any favors right now because I can clearly see the muscles of his back twitching. I can see them going tense, alerting me that already this isn’t off to a good start.
Plus, I didn’t say it right. I should’ve been clearer about what I meant. So when he turns around to face me, his features set to neutral, I pace my slamming heart and begin. “I… I know.”
“Know what?”
I squirm under his direct gaze. “That you aren’t making progress.”
At this, I detect a tiny bit of movement, his jaw clenching, and nerves swarm my belly like buzzing bees.
“I overheard you talking. On the phone.” Then I hasten to explain, “It wasn’t my intention to do that. I promise. But last night, I went to sleep before you because I was so… tired and something woke me up. Not completely, but… I heard you talking.”
Last night was the only night since we came together that I didn’t sing for him. And it was because he exhausted me. Truly. He worked me over hard, and when I say hard, I mean really hard. More than he did in the woods an hour ago. Usually when we have sex, he makes me come once or at the most twice, but then he lets me recuperate before starting something again. Last night, though, he wouldn’t let me rest. Not for hours. He ate me out until I was a shaking mess and gushed over his tongue; made me suck him off the hard way, while I was still coming down from the high, while playing with my fluttering pussy and giving me another hard orgasm after my first one. I thought that would be enough and we’d go to sleep for a bit. But even though he came down my throat, somehow he was still hard and hungry. He fucked my pussy and didn’t stop until I came not once but twice. At which point, I told him, begged him, to stop and let me breathe, to breathe himself, but his response was to go down on me and eat me again until I came for the fifth time in a row, becoming a writhing, sweaty, sensitive, and sore mess, and promptly passed out. Or I think I passed out, because the next thing I knew it was dark and he was talking on the phone in hushed tones.