AllFreeNovel
Share Us
My face burned like never before, even as the orgasm surged up from my pussy and into every limb. I probably knew whoever just drove by, and I’d just let out a loud shout while a stranger and criminal ate my pussy. What if their window had been down? What if they’d seen?
The sudden shocks that washed over my body told me those thoughts were only helping me along to even more orgasms—and Jason wasn’t letting up down there. If anything, he’d become more aggressive.
The criminal I’d let into my shorts was relentless in pushing me over the threshold of coming over and over again, his tongue doing more in minutes than my own fingers could in an hour. I lost track of how long the flicking and stroking went on, but by the time I finally felt utterly exhausted, I was sitting in the dirt on the ground.
Pushing him gently away from my sopping wet cunt, I hoisted myself up on the step-bar and stared into his eyes.
They were cocky. I was panting, my whole body glistening from what he’d just given me and my denim shorts still around my ankles, and the bastard was just looking right back at me with an easy confidence that made me want to cram him up against my cunt all over again. I’d never felt this relaxed in my life.
Then my heart missed a beat when I remembered that we must have been down there a long time, and my ears pricked at the sound of a car driving down the road around the corner in the distance.
Jason stood up suddenly. I wanted to reach up after him, drag him back down with me, but he pushed my hand down, suddenly alert to whatever was approaching.
Even as he wiped my cum from his face, I saw his hand go to the
back of his belt and stay there, his hawkish eyes glaring out to the road as if he were a sentry looming over me.
“What the fuck, Jason, are you insane?!” I hissed, heart suddenly racing again as I realized he may well be reaching for a weapon. I hadn’t seen what was under his jacket, after all.
He shot me a look for half an instant, and at first I thought there was a threat in it, but then his hand slid back down and he walked around to the other side of the car.
“What’s your name?”
I blinked, dumbfounded, before it dawned on me that I hadn’t even told this guy who I was.
“Heather,” I finally said, “Heather Bradley.”
“Get in the car, Heather,” he ordered in a firm but commanding voice, “and don’t take off too fast, but do it quick.”
I sprang to my feet and pulled my pants up, cursing under my breath. The keys were still in the ignition, so I cranked the engine and took off before Jason even had time to shut the passenger-side door.
By the time we were turning into my driveway, I just saw the front bumper of the sheriff’s car turning onto the street.
* * *
What kind of man did I just let under my roof? The thought couldn’t stop running through my head after we’d hidden the truck in the barn.
He’d been ready to pull a gun on a lawman. He was scruffy, pierced, and tattooed, and he was a moonshiner to boot. And in the span of about fifteen minutes, I’d agreed to hide his contraband and let him do things to me no man had ever done before.
Ain’t the kind of man I raised you to let into your life, I could hear my Pa’s voice in my head. But here we were, sitting in the kitchen and sharing some of the moonshine Jason had promised over dinner.
I put on an air of authority while we were in the house. He might have gotten to me outside, but here, he was in my domain. I had some dignity, after all.
I was at the table, leaning back in my chair with my dinner with my feet kicked up on the table. He sat on the counter, on display up there like a statue. Even though he was across the room, I felt like he was looming over me.
“Surprised you manage this place, all by yourself and all,” he finally spoke after a long silence between the sounds of our eating. “Tough gig, all for a gal like you.”
“Little more to it than just running booze,” I shot back, and he actually met my gaze. I’d expected him to be taken aback by the pushback, but there was something else in his eyes I couldn’t place.
“Little more to moonshining than you’d think, sweetie,” he chuckled, “but I know you aren’t the type to know much about that.”
“Not the type?”
“Running this whole farm all by your lonesome, but nobody’s ever given you the kind of attention I did before? Yeah, you ain’t the type.”
I half-choked on the sip of alcohol I was taking and flushed. “What? What makes ya think that was my—”
He gave me a look that saw through the bluff even I didn’t buy. Settling down, I huffed and attacked my fried chicken again a little more aggressively.
