Page 60 of Careless Hope

I responded instinctively, my own hands coming up to cradle her face, thumbs brushing the soft skin of her cheeks. She tasted like wildflowers and sheer audacity, an intoxicating mix that made me want to forget everything but the moment we were tangled up in.

“Caroline . . . ” I murmured against her lips, the name feeling both familiar and thrillingly new as it rolled off my tongue.

“Shh,” she whispered back, a gentle reprimand that only served to stoke the hunger rising within me.

My heart hammered against my ribs like a drum, each beat echoing the rhythm of our joined breaths. I felt the weight of years spent roaming without direction, of laughter and late nights that now seemed hollow compared to the depth of what I was beginning to feel.

Kissing Caroline, I could almost see it: a path forward that wove through the fields and fences, a journey that might just lead to more. More responsibility, more purpose . . . more of this heart-quickening connection that seemed to be rewriting everything I thought I knew about myself.

As we broke apart to catch our breath, Caroline’s smile was a beacon in the half-light of the room. In her eyes, I saw a reflection of my own desire, and then as if by an unknown force, weboth moved, rising up off the couch and grabbing hold of each other again.

The hardwood floor creaked beneath our feet as we navigated through the dimly lit hallway, our shadows dancing against the walls like mischievous spirits egging us on. Caroline’s hands roamed over my shoulders, then down my back, her touch igniting trails of fire on my skin. The scent of her—like fresh-cut peaches and wildflowers—filled me with a longing that was both foreign and familiar.

“Bedroom’s this way,” I murmured, my voice barely more than a ragged whisper. I led her past the relics of my life—the rodeo trophies, the family photos that lined the walls—each one a marker of where I’d been and a quiet reminder of the man I was expected to be.

Caroline’s laughter, light and free, cut through the stillness of the house. It was a sound that seemed too lively for these old rooms, heavy with the weight of generations. But it was a sound I wanted to hear again and again—a melody that could maybe, just maybe, become part of this place’s new soundtrack.

We reached the door to my bedroom, and I pushed it open, allowing us to spill into the sanctuary I’d always considered mine alone. Now, with Caroline here, the space transformed before my eyes. The bed, once just a place to crash after long days working the ranch, beckoned like an oasis promising sweet relief.

With a gentle nudge, I guided her onto the bed, the mattress yielding to her weight. My fingers found the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head with a fluid motion that spoke of both eagerness and reverence. She mirrored my actions, her deft hands making quick work of the buttons on my flannel, revealing the black t-shirt that clung to muscles.

Our clothes fell away, discarded remnants of who we were outside this room. Here, in the moonlit space, we were justWalker and Caroline—two people discovering the rhythm of each other’s desires.

“Lay down,” she commanded, her voice raspy and filled with lust.

I didn’t need to be told twice, so I hopped on the bed and reclined, my cock front and center as it stood erect. She tossed me a condom and I put it on, wrapping my hand around my dick and giving it lazy strokes. I watched Caroline climb on the bed, crawling over me, her eyes dark and her tits bouncing with each movement.

This might kill me. This entire night might be my last and I was surprisingly okay with that.

She settled herself over me, her knees on either side of my hips, then took me in her hand and guided me to her entrance. She didn’t take me in yet, oh no, this siren wetted the tip of my cock by swirling her hips in a little figure-eight. She moved one hand to her breast, teasing her nipple between her fingers. If I could never come again, but watch this sight for the rest of my life, I’d still be a happy man.

But Caroline was about to put me out of my mercy. She brought her other hand to my shoulder and used it to balance as she slowly, excruciatingly slowly, sank down on my cock. Inch by glorious inch, until she took all of me and was fully seated.

“Fuck, baby,” I growled.

She smirked, then started to move. And damn did she move.

She began a slow, deliberate rhythm, grinding into me, making my cock throb inside her. I could feel every inch of her body against mine, her hips undulating against me in a way I had never felt before.

“Caroline, baby,” I whispered, my voice raspy from desire. “You’re gonna kill me.”

I knew I wouldn’t last long like this, not with how she was moving.

She gave me a seductive smile, her eyes gleaming with lust. “Maybe that’s the point,” she said, and then she started to pick up the pace, adjusting her body so that she could bounce on my cock, taking me deep with a punishing, pounding rhythm.

Caroline’s breath hitched with each movement, her confidence blooming.

“Faster,” I pleaded, my voice hoarse. “Harder.”

She obeyed, increasing the intensity of her thrusts. My heart raced, my breath came in gasps.

“Like this?” she asked, a note of triumph threading through her voice as she followed my lead.

“Exactly like that,” I encouraged, pride swelling in my chest at her eagerness to learn, to explore. The hesitation that once shadowed her every move had melted away, leaving in its place a woman who knew what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to reach for it.

I reached up, my hands touching every inch of her that I could. Caressing her arms, her waist, her tits, wrapping around to grab her ass and use it to help guide her frenzied movements.

Her soft moans were sweeter than any melody, and I found myself lost in the sound. My hands continued to roamed over her, memorizing the slope of her back, the dip of her waist. With every touch, I whispered praises, watching as a flush of pleasure painted her cheeks the color of the fiery sunsets that bled into the horizon beyond my window.

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