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She heaves out a sigh of relief, and the tension goes out of her legs as her knees drop to the side, unknowingly spreading her pussy lips further apart. She may be hurting and sore, but her pussy glistens wet with her growing arousal.
“But I am going to lick you ‘til you scream my name and cum in my mouth.” Her legs try to snap back together, but I hold them down, pinning her knees to the bed, and give a long, slow lick from her tiny asshole to her clit and back down again. She whimpers, and I stop to check in on her. “Does that hurt?”
She doesn’t say anything, but her hips buck up, chasing my tongue as she palms the back of my head. That’s answer enough for me. I dive back in, gathering her arousal on my tongue, and attack her clit. I focus all of my attention there, knowing she’s too tender to take my tongue or fingers in her cunt.
I keep my eyes locked on her face as I increase the suction on her clit, and my dick jerks in my pants when I see her throw her head back and start chanting, “Daddy, please!” over and over again, driving me wild.
I unbutton and unzip my jeans, pull my stiff cock out and stroke it while I continue eating her until her moans break off. She goes rigid and flexes her hips as her orgasm crashes through her. I don’t stop licking until she goes utterly lax after her orgasm fades.
I kiss her clit one more time tenderly, then work my way up over her torso and breasts until I reach her lips, licking into her mouth like I wanted to with her pussy while I stroke my dick faster. She doesn’t turn her face away, even though I’m covered in her juices. She tugs on my beard and pulls me further down over her like she can’t get enough of me.
“I’m gonna cum, babygirl. You’re going to take Daddy’s cum like a good girl.” My balls seize up, and I press the head of my cock against her entrance, not pushing my way in like I want to since she’s sore, and growl out her name as I release in a heated rush.
We lay there for a few more minutes in our post-orgasm hazes. I want nothing more at this moment than to drag Dolly up to the pillows and take a nap after our shopping expedition and afternoon delight, but we have to get going. I reluctantly stand and pull a very satiated Dolly to her feet.
I kiss her forehead, then spin her around to face the bathroom and slap her ass to get her moving. “Get cleaned up and dressed, babygirl. Time to meet my mama.”
Chapter 21
Dolly
It only takes twenty minutes to get to Wyatt’s mom’s house, and I’m sweating from nerves the whole time despite the colder temperatures outside and my outfit—my new black and white polka dot halter-style dress with a cropped red cardigan. My strappy black sandals are impractical for this type of weather, but I just had to wear them.
Dad never would have let me wear a dress this short, and I adore it, as well as the freedom to choose what I want to wear. Judging by Wyatt’s hungry expression when I walked out of the bathroom after changing, I’d say he loves it, too.
The drive takes us farther away from the town’s edge. The streets narrow to two-lane country roads through the woods, with the houses more spread out and set further back from the road. I grew up in a suburban neighborhood where the neighbors are practically on top of each other, so this seems like a completely different world.
Wyatt makes a turn onto a long, gravel road that leads to an adorable one-story house with painted blue wood siding and a large front porch that extends from one side of the house to the other. There’s a porch swing on one side and a white patio set with blue and yellow pillows on the other. I can see myself relaxing out here with a glass of lemonade while Wyatt plays with and chases a few kids around in the expansive yard.
Wait, no! No kids. I will not think about what he would look like chasing a bunch of toddlers around. Nope!
I force those thoughts from my head when he grabs my hand and pulls me to his side for a quick kiss before we climb the two concrete steps to the porch. After he swings up the screen door, I expect him to knock on the pretty yellow front door, giving me a few more minutes to pull myself together, but he pulls out a key to unlock it.
Wyatt pulls me inside and calls out, “Mama, we’re home!”
A tall, older woman with shockingly white hair and a pleasant smile steps out of a side doorway, drying her hands with a kitchen towel. “Who’s ‘we’?” She spots me half hiding behind Wyatt and stops short in front of us. Her warm brown eyes are kind, and her smile grows wider as she takes me in. “Well, hi there, honey. Who might you be?” She looks to Wyatt, seemingly amused, as he bends to kiss her cheek.
“Hey Mama, this is my fiancée, Dolly. I picked her up on the side of the road.” He tugs me in front of him, hands on my shoulders to hold me in place while I look up in horror.
I can’t believe he just said that!
“I can’t believe you just said that!” Wyatt and his mom start cackling. It’s the only word to describe their full belly laughs as she slaps him good-naturedly on his arm at his joke. I turn to her, still horrified. “We are not getting married, and he did not pick me up on the side of the road.”
Wyatt chuckles. “You’re half right, babygirl. It was a truck stop, not the side of the road. But you’re wrong about the married part.”
I’m about to bolt when his mom looks at me and says, “It’s alright, honey. I know he’s just pulling my leg.” She extends her hand for what I think is a handshake, but she uses it to pull me in and give me a surprise hug. Her lavender sweater set smells faintly of rose perfume and something sweet, and when the hug goes on for longer than usual, I relax in her hold and accept her warmth. When she finally steps back, she does so with a big, conspiratorial smile, then turns and motions to us with her hand. “Come on, y’all. Let’s take this to the kitchen. I just finished putting lunch together, and I want to hear all about you, Dolly, and why my son is looking at you like you hung the moon.”
Wyatt pushes me down the hall covered with framed photographs of him and his family and into a bright and airy kitchen with a large, round kitchen table set right in the middle, loaded with all kinds of food. He pulls out a chair for me and sits in the one next to it, then grabs hold of mine, pulling it ‘til it bumps up against his. His mom sets down a basket of dinner rolls and sits in the chair opposite us, still smiling and watching us with humor in her eyes.
“This looks delicious, Mama, but you didn’t have to go through all this trouble.” Despite his protests, I can practically see the drool gathering at the corners of Wyatt’s mouth.
“‘Course I did. When you told me you were bringing someone special home, I went a little overboard. I made all your favorites—”
“Pulled pork sandwiches with all the fixins,” I finish her sentence quietly, cataloging everything. Lord, help me if I ever decide to try making all of this. I’d be in the kitchen morning, noon, and night trying to put this whole spread together, and that’s only if I don’t burn the kitchen down first.
“So, Dolly, tell me a little about you. Did you two really meet at a truck stop? I know it wasn’t actually on the side of the road.” Wyatt’s mom chuckles a little as she loads up our plates, hers and mine considerably smaller than Wyatt’s.
“Um, well, Mrs. Roberts, you see…” I don’t even know how to begin as I move my fork about the plate and stare down at it instead of at her. I think about Wyatt’s comment about the romantic story we’ll be able to tell our kids and grandkids about how we met. “I sorta kinda ran away from home on my eighteenth birthday and threw myself in front of Wyatt’s truck, and he almost ran me over, and he yelled at me for almost getting myself run over, and I begged and pleaded and gave him my best puppy-dog eyes and convinced him to let me come with him even though he didn’t want me to, and then we sorta did…stuff…and he got mad and called me a whore, so I left, but then he came back and kidnapped me and made me get in his truck, even though I kept trying to kick him in his balls, and it’s been like that every day, and this is only like the fourth day we’ve known each other, and he keeps telling me I’m ‘his’ and we’re going to get married and I’m going to have five of his gigantic babies that will break my, um, down there.”
