Fat Cat Liar

“I thought you liked getting hand jobs in the woods,” she whispers, slipping her thumb inside my boxers and flicking the tip of my cock.

I grind my teeth and grip the steering wheel until my knuckles turn white. She continues to play, her mouth moving against my throat with words I can’t hear over the sound of the engine and the ringing in my ears. As soon as we’re close enough to the cabin, I slam on the brakes, whip open the wind guards, and haul her to me, forcing her arms and legs to curve around my body.

The second we’re inside, I back her into the wall and try to calm the overpowering need flowing through my veins. My forehead rests against hers, my eyes closed and chest heaving. She tangles her hands in my hair, tugging gently.

“Sweetie, look at me.”

“Give me a second.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, I need a second to reel it in.”

“Why?”

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

“Look at me,” she repeats softly.

I do as she asks and am instantly paralyzed by the glimmering green eyes that speak directly to my soul. This is it—the last piece of unspoken truths. She’s ready to give herself back to me.

“I love you.”

“I know.” She replies faintly.

“Tell me you’re mine.”

“I think you already know that.”

“I need to hear it.”

“Lawson, I’m yours.”

I close the small distance between us and brush my lips across hers tenderly. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”

I cross the room, lowering her to the bed, and gently uncoil her arms and legs, sinking to the floor. I slide her boots and socks off, slide my hands up her calves, along her thighs, and hook my fingers under the waistband of her pants. Slowly, I slip them down until they are past her knees, and she kicks until they fall. My hands travel back up until they reach her hips, and I press her to sit up. She rises, pulling her shirt over her head, leaving her before me in only her bright red satin bra and panties.

I barely have time to appreciate the vision before my eyes are drawn to her stomach. On instinct, my hands slide to caress the bump.

“So fucking sexy, so fucking beautiful,” I say more to myself than to her.

“You may be a bit obsessed.”

She’s right. Since the day in the doctor’s office, when I got my first glimpse of her slightly expanded flesh, I became fascinated and haven’t hid it.

I kiss lightly around the area before moving lower. My fingers hook into the sides of the thin satin strings and yank, tearing her panties from her body. My lips trail down her inner thigh to her ankle, feeling goosebumps in my wake. Her legs tremble when I make my ascent up the other side, and her knees fall apart, completely exposing herself to me.

“So fucking beautiful,” I repeat, my eyes now focused on her pussy.

My tongue darts out, gliding through her folds and twirling at her entrance. Her gasp fills the room, and she falls back to the bed, giving me full access. I take my time, devouring the taste of her that I’ve craved for so long. My dick pulses, aching to be free.

Her muscles clutch and release as my tongue delves deeper inside. Her hips buck, a raspy cry escaping, spurring me on. I take my time, speeding up and slowing down, sucking, licking, and nibbling on her tender flesh until she begins to chant incoherently. Her ankles lock around my neck, her wetness coating my mouth.

“Please,” she begs, writhing, indicating she’s close.

“Always,” I growl, giving in to her, pulling her clit between my lips in the way that drives her insane.

Her hips and back arch of the bed, and she shouts, clamping her legs tighter. My tongue dives back in time to feel her convulsing as she flies apart, grinding into my face. I stay planted, savoring the moment of having her tip over the brink below me.