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I angle my thrusts and find her G-spot, sending her into her first orgasm.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, Archer,” she chants as her pussy chokes the life out of my cock.
“That’s it, god, Delilah, love feeling you come all over my thick dick, baby.”
“Yes, yes, don’t stop, ohmygod…”
I hammer into her and send her up and over again. Delilah buries her face in the side of my neck and screams out her second orgasm.
But I don’t stop.
My hips snap against hers, my muscles tensing and flexing and ready to unleash my giant load inside her unprotected pussy. Jesus, I love knowing we’re making a baby if we haven’t already. I want nothing more than to see Delilah round with my kid.
I fuck her faster, needing my seed to paint her womb right this goddamn second. Delilah bucks her hips, taking me so deep inside of her. She tenses and shakes in my arms, her sexy little whimpers letting me know she’s close. My lips find hers and we devour each other, needing this intimacy.
“Come for me, beautiful. Come on my big cock like a good girl,” I grit out.
Her legs tighten around my waist, her fingers pull at my hair, her pussy throbs around me, and then Delilah cries out and comes with her whole fucking body as I hold her up and spear my cock into her with rough, jerky thrusts, nearing my end.
Delilah kisses me right as I burst inside of her, swallowing down my guttural moans. I press my full weight into her soft, welcoming body, holding her against the wall as we pulse and throb together.
Finally, I pull out of Delilah and set her feet back on the ground. She slumps against the wall and then looks up at me with such satisfaction and admiration. I’ll never get tired of her looking at me like that.
“That was perfect. You were perfect,” I tell her while smoothing some of her hair behind her ear.
“You’re not so bad yourself, mister,” she says with a grin.
I can’t help myself. I take her lips in a heated kiss, letting her know without words how much she means to me and that we have a lifetime of moments like this ahead of us.
9
DELILAH
Iflip the open sign in my window to closed, even though it’s only four. I’m closing early today to run through inventory and restock. Normally, I wouldn’t mind staying late to get the job done. My shop is at least four times as big as my tiny apartment, so any reason to hang out here longer would have been tempting in the past. But now, I just want to be done so I can see Archer.
The last few days have been like a fairytale. We’ve gotten into a bit of a routine, where Archer stops by my shop every time he can think of the flimsiest excuse just to give me a kiss or tell me he can’t wait to spend more time with me. When we’re done with work, Archer helps me out with cleaning and closing up Blushing Blooms, and then…
My face heats as I think of all the deliciously dirty things we’ve done. It’s not all sex, though. We’ve shared little pieces of ourselves over midnight snacks, movie nights, and cuddling up in each other’s arms after making love.
Though I’ve shared more of myself with Archer than anyone else in my life, I still haven’t told him everything. He doesn’t know about my embarrassing past, how my own mother left because couldn’t even stand to be around me. She used to tell me it was my fault my father took off, too, and for years, I believed her. I still do, sometimes. It had to at least partially be my fault, right?
I take a deep breath, clearing my head of those thoughts. There’s no use in getting caught up in the past. I came out here to start my life over with Blushing Blooms, and that’s exactly what I’ve done.
I finally finish organizing the seed packet display, one of my least favorite activities, and decide to tackle the new shipment of glazed pots. I found a local artist who makes incredible ceramic pots, but unfortunately, there aren't any drainage holes in the bottom. This is an absolute must for indoor plants that will be watered regularly.
My solution was to find a special kind of drill bit that works on ceramic. If I turn the pot upside down and put it in a sink full of water, I’m able to drill a hole or three in the bottom of the ceramic. The water helps absorb some of the vibration from the drill, thus cutting down on the accidental cracking and breaking of the pot.
It's time-consuming, but fulfilling work. I love admiring the hand-sculpted pieces along with the painted patterns and different kinds of glaze to give an array of effects when light bounces off of them.
Gathering new pots and the correct drill bit and drill into a large box, I set everything down on the counter next to the sink. First things first, plug the drain and fill the sink with water. My stomach drops when I hear the same chugging and sputtering sound from before.
“No, no, no,” I whisper to myself before fiddling with both the cold water and hot water knobs. I don’t know what I was thinking. Maybe one temperature worked over the other. Then again, the fact that I think that is probably indicative of how inept my plumbing skills are.
Still, Archer showed me how to do a few things, like check for leaks, tighten the bolts and screws holding everything together, and how to replace sections of pipe if needed. I should be able to figure this out on my own. I can’t count on Archer to come in and save the day every time I need help.
Besides, Archer and his crew left earlier in the day to go on a supply run themselves. More lumber or something from some special place the client insisted on. He’s probably still out of town, and I’m not about to distract him from his job just so he can come clean up my mess.
I cross my arms over my chest and glare at the sink for picking today of all days to be difficult. “You won’t get the best of me,” I inform the inanimate object. It simply sits there in defiance, daring me to give it my best shot.
