Big Man

“Fuck yeah it is,” I whisper, the loudest I can make my voice go now, my throat raw from the screams earlier.

Grant catches my eye and smiles. For a moment, I think I catch something else in it. Something more than just lust.

Then he lies back in bed beside me. I stretch out too, staring at the ceiling for a quiet moment until he reaches across to pull me against his side. I roll over and let him spoon me, his big, strong arms comforting, safe and secure.

I fall asleep with my head pillowed on his bicep, feeling the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest against my back, and all I can feel in that moment is completely and utterly content.

7

Sasha Bluebell

I wake up alone. That doesn’t seem strange at all—it’s pretty normal for me, actually, par for the course. Until I stretch, and my whole body screams in aching protest, and I remember what the hell actually happened last night.

Fuck.

I roll over and check the bed beside me. It’s empty. Cold. But right there on my side of the bed is a wet little puddle, the evidence of what we did last night. It’s mostly dried now, but I can’t help staring at it, wondering if I’m a complete idiot. I’m on birth control of course, but what was I thinking? I barely know Grant. I don’t know if I should be fucking him—how did he put it?

A shiver runs down my spine at the memory. Raw.

But it feels better that way, I have to admit. It felt right having him inside me, nothing between us. Feeling his hot cum fill me up.

I rub my temples and sit up. My ass and my pussy protest with an aching throb. Yep, he was true to his word. He definitely fucked me so hard that I’m going to have trouble walking today, let alone finishing yard work.

Not that I’m complaining. I’ll take that ache any day. When I clench my pussy, the pressure makes me feel as though he’s still inside me. It’s the echo of the sensation of his wide girth filling me up, and I fucking love it, I can’t lie.

I roll out of bed and sleepily reach for my suitcase. I should probably unpack it, I think, before I remember with a faint pang that I’ll be leaving again in just four days now anyway, so what’s the point?

Four days. Can we really get this farm back in shape in less than a week?

What do I do if we can’t? Ask for more time off work? My boss would let me, but… Do I really want to spend more time here than I need to? More time in this crappy little town that I couldn’t wait to escape as a kid, and that I can’t wait to get out of all over again as an adult?

Hell no. I’m just going to have to step up my game. Work as hard as I’m playing.

But something about the thought of leaving makes my chest feel funny now. Before, all I wanted to do was run. Now… I don’t know.

I shake my head. I’m just being ridiculous. One good fuck and I want to hang out in this Podunk place longer? What am I thinking?

I grab a change of clothes and pad out to the shower. The house is empty, silent, even though the roosters outside are only shrieking about dawn just now. Grant wakes up early, even for a country man.

In the bathroom, I squint at my reflection. My hair is an absolute mess, and I still smell like a mix of sweat and sex after last night. But there’s an undeniable shine in my eyes, color in my cheeks. The look of a girl who’s recently had the fuck of her life.

I exchange a grin with the girl in the mirror and turn the water on hot. As I soap up, I brush my fingertips over my mound, and suppress a gasp. Yeah, definitely sore. But that lovely, deep, aching kind of sore that reminds me all over again how fucking fantastic last night felt.

I can’t stop picturing Grant above me in bed, his body arched over mine. The way he grabbed me and picked me up off the bed like I was weightless. The way he claimed me, fucked me hard and possessively, and came inside me, no shame about it. Just like the big rough and ready Country Man he is.

My heart starts beating faster, and I have to slide a hand between my legs just from thinking too hard about last night, a curl of pleasant memories tingling in my brain.

I stroke my clit, but even the lightest touch makes it flare red-hot. So I tease my fingertips across my mound, pressing just hard enough to turn my clit on without pushing too hard or getting sore.