Page 11 of Long Hard Ride
But there’s nothing that will take my attention from Brooke.
And it’s fucking painful to have her so close to me.
What am I—twenty, thirty steps away from the woman who’s been tormenting my cock since the second she walked down the aisle wearing those little white shorts?
Brookewantsme to fuck her. She hasn’t been wearing those skimpy outfits, but a week ago she flat-out told me she wanted to lose her virginity tome. Under any other circumstances, as long as there was no commitment this would be a no-brainer. Even if she is so much younger than me, we’re two consenting adults—what’s the problem?
For one, this hot little filly is Chuck’s granddaughter. And I’m old enough to know that sex causes complications. No question. Add in the fact that we need to live under the same roof for another four months and you’ve got a thunderstorm of trouble.
My eyes rest on the easel she has set up by the window. I wander over for a better look. The painting isn’t finished. It’s a wash of pink and tangerine sunset colors. She’s started to sketch something in the lower right corner. Is it a cow, a barn? The lines are so faint I’m not sure.
The only thing I know for certain is there is more to Brooke Carlisle than meets the eye. Her talent is off the charts. And despite what Chuck said about her being off the rails and going down the wrong path, I haven’t seen any evidence of that over the last few months.
And now—I run my hands through my hair—I’ve sent her straight into the arms of that dumb fuck Steve.
The thought of him, or any other man, touching her makes my blood boil. What’s happening to me? What the fuck do I care? I should be thinking about work, but the only thing on my mind is Brooke.
I can barely walk because my dick is still the size of a baseball bat, but I head down the hall to the bedroom anyway. The door is open, so I quietly enter.
Moonlight seeps through the window. With her dark hair splayed around her pillow, Brooke is lying on her back with her arm over her face, sleeping peacefully.
Soft breaths escape her plump, pillowy lips. I can almost hear her crying out my name as I’m plowing her, driving my big dick deep, teaching her to rock with me and ride my cock.
She thinks she’s ready for a man like me. But Brooke doesn’t realize that, virgin or not, once she gets a taste of my cock, I’ll make her addicted to it, like a whore on crack. I inhale sharply, feeling fire heat my blood.
Her flimsy nightgown is twisted. One thin strap has slipped off her smooth shoulder, and one of her breasts has escaped. It’s there right in front of my nose, ripe for the plucking and sucking.
I lick my lips, locked on her round, juicy tit. Jesus, I must be a sick fuck, but I can’t take my eyes off my prey. And that’s exactly what I am, a predator, just waiting to pierce her tight little hole with my aching dick and fucking pound her.
Finally, I’m seeing what I’ve been lusting after for all these days, and she’s better than any fantasy. The image I’ve jacked off to for years, without ever knowing her. Her dark pink areola is round and flecked with little bumps, outlining her hard, juicy nipple. Her pointy tips are practically begging to be sucked. Christ, I’m ready to shoot my load all over her.
Every part of me is desperate to climb on top of her, spread her legs wide, and dive inside her tight, slick walls. Have her wake up with her nipple in my mouth and my cock deep in her womb.
Fuck.I step back and remind myself to keep my shit together and get the hell out of here before I do something crazy.
I need to concentrate on something,anything, other than Brooke’s fucking nipple and ripe virgin pussy. I head back down the dark hall to the laundry room and hear the rumble of the dryer. It wouldn’t hurt to wash the load of clothes I left in there before work tomorrow.
I enter the tiny room, and Jesus H. Christ.That woman is going to be the death of me. Once again, she’s left a mound of dirty clothes on top of the washer. Something heavy with a zipper bangs around and around against the metal in the dryer.
Doesn’t she realize I have laundry too? I’ve been washing my own damn clothes since I was seven.
I scoop my load of whites out of the basket and set them next to her small batch of underwear and T-shirts and...shit—how tiny is that pink thong sitting on top of the pile?
It has a frilly little heart design on the front, right over where her pussy would be. My cock twitches at the thought of getting inside her tight little cunt. Fuck, that’s all my cock wants.
I check behind me. I know she’s sleeping, but, shit, what I’m thinking of doing is so base. I can’t get the sight of Brooke’s nipple and her splayed out on her bed, ready to be pounded, out of my mind. I need some goddamn relief.
I glance behind me again, checking the dark hall. Still no lights. She’s sound asleep. I’m alone to do whatever the fuck I want.
I pick up her silky panties, and I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t stop myself. I bring them to my nose and inhale deeply. Her cherry pussy smell is all over them. Fuck. I inhale again, immediately getting harder.
I’m so close to her pussy, the closest I’ve ever been. My mind goes straight to what her sweet little pussy lips must look like with this tiny piece of fabric clinging to her wet slit and up the crack of her smooth round ass. The thought makes me weak.
I lean against the dryer, feeling the vibration of whatever’s banging inside, and inhale the smell of her sweet virgin cunt again. God, I can almost taste her. I could drape those long filly legs of hers around my shoulders, spread her folds with my tongue, and fucking live there.
And why the fuck not? She’d be more than happy to prance around the house in those sheer nightgowns if I’d let her. She made me force her to cover up, when she knew damn well I could see right through to outline of her V and the color of her nipples.
I’m so ready to burst for her, I can’t fucking take it. My cock is about ready to break my zipper. I undo my buckle and shove my pants down around my knees.
