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“Good night,” he says, kissing me again.
And we sleep soundly, but three times in the night I have to slip him into my mouth, just to prove to myself that we are real. That I finally got my man.
thirty
WE’RE BOTH JUNKIES FOR EACH OTHER.
Hudson
Six Months Later.
“You know,” I muse, tossing the last bag of feed into the bed of the truck. “You could just have the party on the lawn, where we had Ev’s reception.”
From the sidewalk, where she’s been watching me load the truck with hungry eyes, Dolly scoffs. “Hudson, no way! He wants to turn five near the creek, so the party will be near said creek!”
“I don’t love the idea of you down there by the water in your state,” I say, pulling off my gloves and tossing them in the bed of the truck. I step onto the sidewalk and pull my very pregnant wife intomy arms.
As it would seem, Dolly is very fertile. The first time I came inside her, she got pregnant. And I still don’t know how I feel about fate and signs and all that shit, but I do know this: my life finally feels like the life I wanted. And that’s because of her. Bear started occasionally calling her Mama when we told him about the baby in her belly, and we don’t push it. Though it’s only been six months, I can hardly remember my life before her.
Truly.
We got married under the oak tree a week after we got together. Everly and Deuce stood with me, and her sisters stood with her. The only person to question our timeline, and the only guest at our wedding that I wasn’t thrilled to have there, was Trace.
But because I don’t let womanizing reality TV show stars weigh on my psyche, we brushed it aside. In fact, I’d hoped we could brush him aside, too, but now that Ink Time is open and thriving, Trace seems to hang around a ton.
I wipe sweat from my brow as I circle the pickup, opening her door. I take her hand and slip the other beneath her ass, helping her inside. “Then you can’t say no to Deuce and Trace helping set up.”
In the last six months, Gray Farms has had a surge. Nothing in my operation has changed, yet when Bluebell learned I took Dolly as my wife, well, things boomed. Everly claims it’s because people are drawn to love, and I’m not thinking too hard about it. I’m enjoying the fact that I’ve been able to buy another whole herd of milking cows, repair Dolly’s old barn, and build a new edition onto our place.
All that extra work means I’m a bit busier, so Deuce and Trace are helping with Bear’s fifth birthday partysetup while I repair the feeding ring on the east side of the property.
Now that Bear is in kindergarten, I find that I’m taking a few mid-morning breaks from working the land to come tend to my wife.
She calls my cell from the house, and I ride my horse back, finding her waiting barefoot on the porch, her blonde hair wild, her eyes full of need. As soon as the front door closes behind me, sweaty from work or not, she’s on her knees, humming around my cock as she suckles. She needs a few minutes like this throughout the day, or else she gets frantic and shaky with how much she needs me.
I feel the same about her. I understand and share that unbridled passion she possesses. I called her last week when I was out in the coop, changing out the flooring. She didn’t answer and by the time I raced back to the house to check on her, I realized I was hard and aching, throbbing to plunge inside of her.
I guess we’re both junkies for each other, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Fine,” she says, allowing me to tug the seat belt over her belly gently, clipping it at her hip. I join her in the truck, and love how she reaches for my hand across the middle seat. Before we knew she was pregnant, she loved sitting in the middle seat when Bear wasn’t with us. She’d hold my cock and drag her nails over my denim-clad balls, and by the time we got home she’d be so worked up, the seat of the truck would be wet and I could hardly get her inside before she’d be tearing into me, rooting around for my cock.
“They can help but if Trace says a word about Ivy, I’ll punch him,” she says, speaking to the tumultuous andpainful relationship between Ivy and her mentor. Trace is a handful, and I take Ivy’s side because Dolly does, and we’re a team.
When we get back to the house, Dolly asks me to rub her feet.
“Dol,” I warn, knowing my wife very well.
“I’m pregnant.” She pouts, sinking into the couch while wiggling her toes. “Please, Huddy.”
I have no problem rubbing her feet. But I know my wife. It’s never harmless. It’s always packed full of sinful intentions. And while I’d love to come in her mouth right now, I know I’ve got just a few hours of daylight left.
“I gotta finish the coop today, baby,” I tell her, sitting on the coffee table across from her, gathering her foot in my lap. “Just the foot rub,” I warn, but already, her other foot is sliding over the ridge of my hard-on.
“If you only wanted to rub my feet, why are you hard?” She smiles as she asks this, tugging the straps on her tank top down to reveal her larger, darker areolas and her fuller breasts.
“Ahh,” she breathes. “Freedom.” As the pregnancy moves forward, she’s getting more and more uncomfortable. Her nipples, she says, are so sensitive, she doesn’t even want her clothes touching them if possible.
But having my beautiful young little bred wife walking around barefoot with her tits out? Groaning, I shake my head, reaching down to unzip my fly. I can’t fight this, I can’t fight her. I never can.
