Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 75633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“You need a ride now, or what?” he asks, baby blues interrogating me softly.
“We're fine. The night's young, Marshal. And it's not like the next few hours will change anything after we've had one broken condom. Why don't we pick up where we left off before sleeping? I'll do it first thing tomorrow.” I raise an eyebrow, tightening my fingers in his, tempting him.
He looks me up and down. That hunger I love returns. Reaching for my hand, he guides it to his cock, wraps my fingers snug, and squeezes. “Guy I knew in the army always told me to watch out for redheads. Devils, all of them, he said. Never thought I'd ever want to break a fuck record in one night with one.”
Oh, but we do.
The night blurs on in a sex crazed haze. My virgin pussy isn't just broken into womanhood by morning. It's taken, filled, stretched, completed in the best ways.
The last time Marshal bends me over, sinking his bare cock to the hilt in long, deep strokes, I can't stop smiling.
It's different now. This isn't wrong anymore.
It's natural. Comfortable. Right.
We fit together in mysterious ways beyond how well his thrusts light me on fire.
My toes curl, dipped in pleasure, right before he crashes into me again. His cock plunges deep, swells deliciously, and erupts.
I come with no apologies, drawing in his thick, naked heat. Losing myself in Marshal's very essence. He empties into me with a roar, draining his balls, snug against my clit as they pulse out their contents.
The mess he leaves behind when we crash, tangled in each other's arms, is oddly satisfying.
There was always something we couldn't quite work out with words. It's nice to let our bodies do the talking for a change in the primal, secret language only the flesh understands.
I woke up his nanny, and nothing more.
Tonight, we're lovers.
Whatever we become tomorrow, just like he told me, we'll deal.
8
Inspiration (Marshal)
These tractors are a goddamned pain in the ass.
Not the old ones, which were built to survive the third world war, but the new machines with their pretty looks. Prone to breakdowns whenever you need them most. That's why I'm inside this beast's shell, hands in her guts.
Building frustration is the only extra warmth I get in the twenty degree cold.
Normally, I'd have spat out the flashlight pinched in my teeth a few times over, struck by the need to swear like a sailor.
Not today. It's different since I woke up, my dick a little sore and a few faint scratch marks on my back. Red has all the makings of a wildcat in bed for any man who puts in the time to train her.
He clearly isn't me, but fuck, what happened last night was fun. Something I needed for a good long while.
It's drained the poison from my skull, letting me work with a patience and a focus I haven't had for months. Maybe years.
I shine the light higher, find the half-stripped bolt I missed the first time around, and grab my wrench. It isn't long before I've got that bastard off, freeing the parts underneath. Takes half an hour to solve what should be a day long problem.
Thing I've always liked about good sex isn't just the momentary burn. It's the inspiration, the focus, the peace that hits later.
It's almost lunchtime. If I get moving, the owner can even pick up his machine today. Which I'm sure he'll need with a major snow dump in the forecast later this week. Most guys here draft their farming equipment for snow removal off harvest season.
I'm wiping my hands clean on a rag when I hear the loud ka-thunk outside. Either Frankenstein has shown up outside my shop, or it's a vehicle groaning in agony.
I rush out and see a flustered Red in the driver's seat. Her brother's truck. Mia sits behind her, tucked into her hoodie. Her little blue eyes are anxious from the racket.
“Turn it off!” I growl, tapping on the window.
Red kills the engine before she rolls it down. There's a knowing look in her eye behind the concern for the truck's life. “Ugh, sorry. The guy at the garage told me it was good to go. Doesn't sound like it's fixed!”
“Take Mia. I'll open her up and see what I can do.”
“Really? Okay. Thanks, Marshal.” Her smile is different today. It's appreciative, subtle, more secret than before.
I know that look.
It's how a woman lays eyes on a man after he's bent her over and fucked her senseless. After he's owned her. Normally, I don't care, but this? It makes me look the hell away before I get too hard to be useful.
Mia chirps through the open door, helpfully banishing the thoughts. I grab my little girl out of the kiddie seat and pass her to my nanny, planting a kiss on her forehead. “Behave. Daddy needs to get this fixed before you head to town.”