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“Well, no darlin’. It wasn’t me,” he says, chuckling. “Come on in. Have some tea. My wife will want to hear the story.”
“Thank you,” I say. We go inside. Every bit of the house that we can see is decorated with apples. Like apples are everywhere. Green ones, red ones, yellow ones, and even pink ones.
“Who was at the door, Jerry?” a beautiful woman comes around the corner. She looks like a Jazzercise girl from the 80s. Big hair and spandex as far as the eye can see.
“February and Connall,” Connall says, answering for the both of us.
“Well, aren’t you a cute couple?”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“Nonsense with that ma’am stuff. I’m Janice. Come in. I just made some fresh sweet tea.”
“Thank you, ma’am… Janice,” I quickly correctly when she looks at me.
We spend forty-five minutes in the apple orchard with Jarrell and Janice. They were probably the nicest people we’ve met with yet.
“Do you have any children?” Janice asks as she sits down on Jarrell’s lap.
“No,” I say at the same time Connell says, “not yet.”
“Our youngest just started high school in the fall and our oldest just got married.”
“That’s nice. I’d like to have a large family myself,” I say. Connall looks like a deer in the headlights.
“Have not you talked about that yet?” Jarrell asks, laughing.
“No,” I say embarrassed. “We haven’t.” Connall grabs my hand.
“We will,” he says reassuring me.
“So how did y’all meet?” Janice asks.
“Oh, Connall is my boss.”
“Oooh. There’s nothing like a workplace romance. It’s one of my favorite genres.”
“Surprisingly enough, me too,” I say laughing.
One glass of ice tea turns into two, which turns into lunch. I even exchanged numbers with Janice. I promised to keep in touch with her.
We check into the hotel and decide to stay in. We order room service and climb into bed. The hotel provided us with a deck of cards when Connall asked for them. We played Rummy and War for a while until I was ready to lie down. He lets me watch the Food Network until I can’t take it anymore. He’s been steadily stroking his hands on my body for hours now. I turn the TV off and roll on top of him. He pushes my robe open. I’m naked underneath. Ready for him. I’m always ready for him.
“Fuck, babe,” he groans as his hands cup my breasts. He rolls my nipples around his fingers until they are tight buds. I push his robe open and fist his cock. His perfect, perfect cock. “You want to ride my cock?”
“Oh my god, yes. Please let me ride your cock. I need it. I need you,” I breathe.
“You beg so prettily, babe. Are you wet for me?”
“Always.”
“Good girl. Raise up onto your knees.” I do, and he grips his cock, guiding it into my pussy.
“Yesss,” I hiss as I fully seat myself on him. I feel so full this way. So powerful.
I ride him for long minutes until he flips me onto my back and pounds into me. Harder and harder, the headboard hitting the wall. Over and over, he drives into me, leaving me breathless and reaching for more. He owns me body and soul, and I never want that to change. I’m his in every way.
“Take my cock, babe.” He grunts above me. He’s sweating, a drop hits my belly, and instead of being grossed out, it turns me on more. I tighten my legs around his waist and take the railing he gives me. I’m so close to coming. When he strums my clit, I lose my mind.
