Big Man

Fuck. I shouldn’t do this. He might wake up at any moment. But I can’t help myself. Between his words earlier and how frustrated I got myself this afternoon, working out in the fields trying—and failing—not to think about how hard he’d fuck me, how good it would feel. Between that and his ministrations later, after I got sick, and how fucking sexy he looks all the damn time, and how he defended me in town when that Aaron creep came onto me…

I can’t help myself. He’s lying right here next to me having a dirty fantasy of his own, and I can’t help picturing the same thing.

I slip my hand under the hem of my shorts. Straight down the front of my tight little panties.

Fuck. I’m already wet.

I part my lips with two fingers, tracing the edges of my pussy. I imagine this is Grant’s hand, Grant touching me, feeling me, exploring. Scared of the big country man and his huge cock? His voice echoes in my mind. That cocksure grin of his. He’s Trouble with a capital T, and I know it.

That only makes me want him all the more.

He’d spread my legs and lean down along my body, that rough beard of his scratching my belly as he licked and sucked and bit his way down from my bellybutton, all the way to my mound. I swirl my fingers across my mound, my lips, grazing my clit and stifling a faint gasp as I do. I picture him yanking my panties down, grinning up at me before he leans down to kiss my pussy lips, one at a time, then running his tongue along them, slow, teasing.

He’d want to work me up first. He’d have to, to get me ready to take that big cock of his.

I press my fingers between my pussy lips, imagining his thick, rough fingers there instead. I push two fingers into my pussy at once, to imitate his thick girth. But his fingers would be even thicker, rougher. He’d waste no time curling them against my inner wall, going right for the G-spot, because he doesn’t fuck around. I imagine the hungry look in his eyes from earlier, the way he’d stare up at me as he finger-fucked me, slowly at first, then building up momentum.

I imagine this, and I shift in the bed, eyes still focused on his sexy half-naked body, his sharp muscles, the curve of his jaw, the size of his hands. I reach out and curl my free hand in the sheets just inches from his, feeling the blaze of his warmth against my skin, even with a few inches of bed still between my hand and his.

I imagine those fingers inside me, even as I stroke myself faster, bring myself closer to climax. I’ve been able to stay quiet so far, but as I near my peak, it gets harder. My mouth falls open and my hips buck a little, as hard as I try to keep them still. I inhale sharply, still stroking, faster, faster, so close to the edge, so close… I can’t quite help the soft gasp that escapes me.

At that sound, Grant rolls over to face me.

I startle and pull my fingers out of my pussy. But his eyes are wide open, and my hand is still down the front of my pants, and he’s smirking at me, one eyebrow raised.

“Don’t stop on my account,” he says, his voice low and sexy as fuck, even though the sound is startling in the otherwise silent room.

“I…” I bite my lip and slide my hand out of my pants, trying to wipe my fingers along the sheets. “It’s not…”

“You must be so close now.” Grant shifts closer. There’s barely an inch of space between us. We’re nose-to-nose, almost touching. His eyes bore into mine. “It’s got to ache to stop when you’re that close.”

“I wasn’t…” I swallow hard and blink, unable to deny it. Unable to confirm it either. I’m stunned, pinned in place by those dark blazing eyes of his.

Without warning, he reaches down and cups me. I gasp, the warm, strong heat of his hands so much hotter than I imagined. Like everything else about him, his hands are big. And warm, and rough…

He squeezes a little tighter, his fingers pressing against my pussy through the fabric of my shorts and my panties. I can feel the damp even through both layers, and so can he, to judge by the smirk on his face. “Isn’t it driving you wild, Sasha?” He rotates his palm a little, grinding it against my mound, and I buck up into him with a moan, unable to help myself.

With his other hand, he catches my free hand, the one I’d been using to touch myself. He lifts it to his lips, trails the flat blade of his tongue across my fingers, and groans slightly with pleasure, his eyes fluttering closed. “Fuck, you taste as good as you smell,” he murmurs.