AllFreeNovel
Share Us
At the last second, I turned around, driving back past the road, staring down it as if I could see past the darkness, through the dilapidated, peeling walls, and into the house. What was she doing? What was she wearing? Had she cleaned herself up from earlier, or had she stayed in her wet panties?
Reaching down, I adjusted myself, my cock throbbing against my leg. After dropping her off, I rushed home and let my cock free. But I had some self-control. I didn't jack off, even though I was desperate to.
I couldn't stop thinking about the feel of her pussy spasming around my fingers, the smell of her sweet perfume, the sounds of her little moans and whimpers as she came apart. The way she looked up at me with those big blue eyes, the dips and curves of her body, the way her skin tasted as I sucked roughly on it.
All day, I'd replayed what happened; every detail burned into my mind. I just needed to see her again, taste her somewhere else.
I brought my fingers to my nose, and not for the first time today, inhaled the scent still lingering there. I needed to bury myself inside her, feel her pussy around my cock this time instead of my fingers.
Turning the car around, I drove past the dirt road again, my car moving at a snail's pace. Was she taking those pictures I'd asked for? Was she touching her pussy while she thought about me? Was she trying to make herself come the same way I'd made her?
My hand drifted to my lap, and I adjusted myself, squeezing the hardness beneath my jeans. What would she do if I drove down this road and barged into her house, bent her over the nearest surface, and slammed my cock inside her? Would she fight me, or would she just let it happen? Something told me she'd be into it—that she'd push her hips back with each thrust, giving as good as she got.
Reaching for my phone, I unlocked it and brought up her name. She hadn't texted me all day, though I hadn't texted her either. Tapping on the screen, I wrote only one word.
Pictures?
I hit send and ignored the anticipation that immediately welled inside me. Tossing my phone onto the seat beside me, I flipped the car around once more. Headlights blinded me, and I squinted, lifting my hand to shield my eyes.
"Fucker," I muttered, glaring daggers at the massive truck. I felt my face fall, my mouth drop open, as the truck turned down the dirt road. It sped along, massive clouds of dust kicking up under the tires.
What the fuck?
I drove a ways down and found a secluded side road. Parking, I snatched my phone up.
Nothing.
Groaning, I threw my head back against the headrest and squeezed my eyes shut. Who was in the truck? Was she ignoring me? But that couldn’t be right; she’d enjoyed herself earlier—she’d enjoyed herself all over my fingers.
I twisted my lips to the side as I stared out at the secluded road. Turning left, I’d end up driving past her house again. Turning right, I’d head home. I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to know she was okay—no, that wasn’t it. I wanted to know who the fuck was in that truck.
If her parents were dead, it couldn’t be them. Perhaps a grandparent or sibling? She hadn’t mentioned anyone else when she was crying the other day. But I hadn’t really asked, either.
I chewed my lip until I felt the skin rip and blood pool in my mouth. “Fuck it,” I muttered, pulling out of my hiding spot and turning left. My palms were slick against the steering wheel, my foot like a lead brick on the pedal.
I drove past the dirt road, my gaze fixed on the house at the end. The truck was parked haphazardly out front, like whoever it belonged to was comfortable and used to parking there. Night was quickly creeping in, and I needed to make a decision—stay or go. Stay or go.
But stay and do what? I couldn't barge into the house. I couldn't demand she tell me who was in that truck.
Turning around, I drove past the road again, unable to shake the feeling that something was off. She was hiding something. I tapped my fingers against the wheel as I turned ahead, staring at the long stretch of road before me, my heart in my throat. I should just go home. I should pretend like I hadn't seen that truck, like I didn't know someone was currently with her.
Was it a man? What were they doing?
The thought of her on her back, her legs spread wide for someone else, made me grind my teeth together until it felt like they were going to crack. I flipped the car around, my hands shaking as I pulled off onto the side of the road, driving into the thicket of trees surrounding her house.
My heart raced as I shoved the car door open and crept through the trees. The light from inside taunted me, drawing me closer until I found myself standing at a window.
I balled my hands into fists at my sides, watching as she washed dishes. A man, taller than her, but shorter than me, wiry with narrow shoulders and a scraggly beard, sipped on a beer from the kitchen table. His legs were spread wide, taking up as much space as he could as he stared ahead at the TV flickering light all over the small room.
My stomach turned to knots as I watched her. She was stiff, her shoulders bunched, and her head lowered. Was there more to the reason she'd been crying? Was he a part of it?
What had she said about knowing what it was like to stay out of obligation?
I turned my gaze to the man, my nails digging into my palms as I burned every detail about him into my memory. His lips moved as he said something; the sound totally inaudible to me, but her laugh wasn't. She tossed a look over her shoulder at him, a soft smile on her face. Her eyes were bright, her expression gentle. Everything about them screamed familiar. Screamed that they'd done this a million times before.
She wasn't...tense. She wasn't stressed. She wasn't any of those things.
She was happy. She was laughing. She was...she was with him.
