Tasting Candy: Over 60 Erotic Pregnancy Stories

I broke away from his gaze as I saw his face go still, and I kicked at the ground a little as I continued, “With a disturbance like that, I reckon the sheriff’s on his way already.”

The stranger stepped away, running a hand through his hair as he looked around, cursing under his breath. “Fuck, you sure about that?” He turned back to me with sudden suspicion and fired, “If you’re just trying to get me rattled—”

“I’d be doing a good job of it,” I found myself bold enough to laugh back, and before his face could go completely red I held up a hand and added, “but seriously, I dunno what’s the matter with your truck, but if you don’t want to spend the night in the county jail, mister…”

“Jason,” he half-growled, approaching me expectantly as I spoke.

“Jason. I don’t reckon I can fix up whatever’s wrong with your ride in this short a time, but you don’t have much more than ten minute

s to disappear.”

He looked dumbfounded, and he put his hands behind his head, letting out a long, unhappy breath as he leaned against the truck.

I could read his thoughts on his face: do I believe the bitch and leave all my product behind, or do I not believe her and risk getting caught?

I figured that was the gist, anyway. Folks like him weren’t too polite even under the best of circumstances, and this one was already on edge.

Then his eyes got a fiery glint in them and he turned to me again, giving me a quick once-over.

“Hey, you are from that farm up the road, aren’t you?”

I cocked an eyebrow and put a hand on my hip, watching him warily, but nodding.

“Bet one of your barns has some room in it, huh?” Suddenly there was a boyish grin on his face, and mine flushed with anger at his suggestion.

“Now if you think,” I started angrily, wagging a finger, “if you think for one second I’m gonna let you park your booze-mobile on my land, you’ve got another thing comin’, stranger. ‘Sides, your truck ain’t goin’ nowhere, moonshine or no.”

“No, but you’ve got a truck.”

I was shocked by how forward he was being, glaring at him with both hands on my hips as he strode towards me with that wolfish look in his eye. What was he thinking, that I’d just let him stroll in and set up an operation on my land?

“Come on, now,” he lowered his already gravelly voice almost to a whisper, “what, the rest of the farmhands too righteous for that kind of thing? We could load all the booze onto your truck and park it somewhere quiet, nobody’d be the wiser.”

“No, it’s just me there.”

I don’t know why I told that to a stranger, much less a guy like this. I’d expected a ravenous glint in his eye at the discovery, but his expression just made it seem like he either already knew or didn’t care.

“Really? Just you, all by yourself?” He tsked and shook his head, “Must get awfully lonely—by yourself so far out in the country that a stranger’s car breaking down is enough to get you moving.”

I crinkled my nose at the condescending comment and crossed my arms. I opened my mouth to say something back, but instead I just turned and started marching back to my truck.

I didn’t need that kind of attitude from some city boy with the law on his tail.

“I’ll eat your pussy.”

I stopped. I blinked. I turned around slowly.

He was just standing there, all smoky green eyes, dusty jacket, and a face covered in stubble. I hadn’t even registered that I’d heard him right when I realized that my face was probably not looking as disgusted as I wanted it to. My mouth was just barely agape, and even as I looked at him as if he hadn’t spoken English, my cheeks were flushed red.

“Huh?” was all I managed.

“You took a look under my hood,” he said, striding towards me casually, knowing he’d struck a chord from the time he saw my face, “now let me take a look under yours.”

“Mister, uh…”

“Jason.” He had come close to me without my realizing. “It’s Jason Brewer.”

“Yeah,” I nodded. “I-I don’t…”