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I knew she was a dirty girl deep inside. The question is, why won’t she give into those desires?
“Can I take your plates?” Mary snaps out of her trance and tries to go back to being the perfect hostess. “Or did you want seconds? I still have plenty for you guys to eat,” she offers.
“I bet you do,” I murmur.
“And I didn’t have enough time to make a dessert. It’s too bad because I have this delicious pie recipe that’s been handed down in my family for generations now. It’s so juicy.”
“I do love a juicy pie. Especially with a nice dollop of whip cream on top, I like to take a nice cold spoon and spread it all over before I dive in, you know?”
To my surprise, she doesn’t frown at me or turn away, instead, she meets my gaze, and for the first time, I see the ache of need rise to the surface. Her pink tongue flickers over her ruby-red lip and she pulls in a sharp breath. “Sure, who doesn’t love that.” She gives a weak smile.
Owen watches us closely, doing this little dance. Two steps forward and one back. This girl wants to be spun and twirled and owned on the dance floor. She wants to feel the sparks of excitement electrify her skin and make her feel alive, she just needs to let go. To give in.
“Just the one plate was great.” Owen stands abruptly, breaking through the building tension like an overeager stick tearing through a drum skin. He helps her clear the table off. “Uh, Hardy brought some rum if you’d like him to make some drinks while we clean up?”
“Rum? Isn’t that pretty strong?” She seems to be weighing out the offer.
“Doesn’t have to be, he can make yours weak if you want.”
“All right then.” She beams.
There’s that over-smile again. It’s all part of her little show. The glasses, the perfect hair that I just want to drag my fingers through and mess up, and then the smile. She looks over at me and uncertainty dances in her eyes. I’m fairly certain it’s safe to say she’s never met a guy like me before. I’m guessing all the boys she’s brought home to the parents have been book smart little gents. They’ve probably always laughed at that English Lit party story and tried to wine and dine her the way those spineless schmucks in her books do.
I’m willing to put money on the fact that’s she’s never been properly fucked in her entire life. She’s never met the man who can bend her to his will, let alone over a table, and make her drop the little miss perfect act as she came over and over again.
I let them chat as I grab three glasses and eyeball the shots as I pour us some drinks. I make mine over the rocks, filling my glass with the amber liquid. For Owen, I do the same but add a splash of Coke to the mix. For the lightweight, I do the exact opposite, it’s almost entirely Coke and just a light splash of rum to top it off.
Before long we’re all gathered in the living room. I’ve gotta admit, it’s nice. With a delicious, home-cooked meal in my belly, the fire crackling and a woman that drives me equal parts crazy and to the brink of insanity kind of horny, I’ve gotta admit tonight has been fun.
“So, what about you two? Mary sits too tall on the couch. She’s back to being the too proper Mary Poppins type.
The sweater and skirt she changed into after her walk are a total tease. The way they snugly cling to her body is making all the cells in my brain fire off at the same time. All I want to see is what she wears under such a modest outfit. Does she keep things sweet underneath too? Or does she have a lace thong snugly wedged between her full, perfect ass cheeks? Maybe she’s even naughtier. Maybe she’s not even wearing panties. Maybe she just has her bare, glistening pussy exposed and waiting to be fucked, if only the right guy would show her how to let go.
“What about us?” It comes out harsher than I want. I have to clear my throat and fight the feral animal inside. The one that wants to throw the rest of this rum down my throat and slide my hand up that skirt to see exactly what secrets are hiding beneath.
“How long have you been, I mean, are you guys loggers? Or… is lumberjack a profession?” She looks at me and then to Owen.
“Yeah, lumberjack is a real job.” He nods. “Hardy and I, we grew up in this business. More like lifestyle, really.” He sips his drink.
Mary delicately takes a mouthful of hers and her nose scrunches up.
