Page 82 of Holding Ground

Emelia rides my face with abandon. I’ll be reliving this moment tomorrow morning, alone in the shower. My cock aches in my jeans, straining against the denim, and my balls ache, wanting nothing more than to be buried inside her.

Emelia cries out over me, trying to pull herself off my face, but I refuse to let her. Using my hands that are around her thighs, I hold her there. She comes with my name on her lips, and I lap up her taste, savoring every drop.

Eventually, I slow my pace, riding out her climax until she’s left sated, panting, above me.

“Holy shit, Elliott.” Her voice is raspy, and she’s still out of breath.

I turn my head and kiss the inside of her thigh with a reverence I’ve only ever felt with her. I shift so I’m back to sitting up, and she leans forward and grips my face hard and kisses me.

While she does, I hurriedly grab the condom from my pocket, then yank it down until I push free. Emelia pulls away and takes the condom from me without saying a word, ripping open the package with her teeth before rolling it over me.

No more than two seconds pass before she’s sinking down on top of me. We both moan at the same time, making the most beautiful sound together.

“Fuck, Em. You feel so good.”

She moves while I work her shirt off over her head, then toss her bra to the side. The silver moonlight bounces off her skin as I run my tongue along the curve of her breast before biting gently. Her hands are back in my hair again, holding me to her chest, and I trail my tongue to her nipple before enclosing my lips around it.

Emelia’s movements grow faster and more frantic the harder I suck, and when I bite down, she cries out, grinding against me. The tingling starts in my lower spine, and I know I’m close, so I reach down between us and strum her clit. Almost immediately, Emelia comes, and the sensation of her inner walls gripping my cock has me following suit.

I rut up into her as best I can, holding myself there as I empty myself into the condom.

She nuzzles into my neck while I stroke her back, and we both regain our breath. When she pulls back, I cup her face.

“Sorry about your leggings.”

She looks at me and laughs. “No, you’re not.”

I grin and shake my head. “No, I’m not.”

CHAPTER

THIRTY-THREE

Elliott

This Saturday is the annual Blueberry Bake-Off, so on Friday evening, Baylor and I head into town to submit her entry. She holds her plate of blueberry muffins with a big smile on her face.

The rule is that adults aren’t allowed to help at all, so I read the directions to her, and she did everything except moving the muffin tray in and out of the oven.

I hold the community center door open for her, and she walks in first. The signage points us toward the back of the room, so I lead her in that direction, where she can check in her entry.

“Hi, Dottie. How are you?” I nod when we reach the check-in table.

Dottie is always one of the judges, as is Deacon. The other three judges rotate between different townspeople every year.

“Better now that you’re here.” She winks, then looks down at Baylor. “This is your first time entering, isn’t it?”

Baylor smiles and nods, setting the plate of muffins on the table in front of her. “I did it all myself. Daddy just put them in the oven and took them out.”

“Well, I look forward to trying them. They look delicious.”

Baylor’s blue eyes twinkle up at Dottie.

“Let’s get you checked in.” Dottie sits down behind the table and pulls out the sheet she needs to fill out in order to officially enter Baylor’s entry into the contest.

The winners won’t be announced until tomorrow around lunchtime, so we’ll come back into town then.

Once Baylor’s entry is all squared away, we head for the exit, but one of her friends from school is coming through the doors with her mom. Baylor squeals when she sees Gabrielle and runs over to her. The girls give each other a big hug.