Page 85 of Sweet Escape
He licks a path from my breast to my mouth, nipping at my bottom lip. “Not this time. Not in the barn. I’m not having you get down on your knees out here. Besides, we don’t have time for all that. I’m gonna take you fast and hard before we have a nice lunch. That alright with you?”
All I can do is nod as his fingers glide up the outside of my thighs, pushing my dress above my hips. “Goddamn, Liv. I swear you just get more beautiful by the day. These thick thighs. This ass.” He sounds almost awestruck, and it sets off a constellation of flutters low in my belly. His hands follow his words, gripping and stroking all over my body.
I’ve never felt more desired in my life.
“Can’t wait any longer,” he says. “I need to be inside you.”
“Yes.”
He slides my panties off and shoves them into his pocket, turning me to face the half wall on the side of the stall. “Hold on tight, Pretty Girl.”
He dips lower, lining his already hard cock up at my entrance while his other hand takes my hip in a bruising grip. My pussy is constantly wet for this man so I’m more than ready for him when he slides home with a strangled, “Fuck.”
I moan as he thrusts inside me, taking me fast and hard just as he promised. His hand leaves my hip to circle my clit, bringing me to the brink of release, but he pulls away just before I can get there, bringing the fingers now coated in my wetness to my mouth. “Suck.”
I open my mouth, and he drives them to the back of my throat, gagging me slightly. I can taste myself on him, and I don’t hate it.
“Such a good girl. Someday I wanna stuff both holes at the same time. Would you like that? I could feed you my cock while I fuck you with one of your toys.”
“God, yes. I want that.”
He groans, continuing to fuck into me at a bruising pace. “My dirty girl. Come for me. Wanna feel that sweet cunt squeezing around my cock.”
His words rip the orgasm from my body so violently that the only thing holding me up is Wilder’s arm banding around my shoulders. “Wilder!”
“That’s it. Scream my name. Let everyone know who you belong to. Gonna come inside this sweet pussy, fill you up, and claim you all over again. Keep you full of me for the rest of the day.”
The orgasm goes on so long, I nearly black out from the pleasure. A few more thrusts and Wilder’s release follows. He rests his forehead against my shoulder, clinging to me like he’s afraid I might disappear.
When he pulls out, I feel his cum leaking down my thighs, but he’s right there, two fingers shoving it back inside me. He pulls my panties from his pocket and taps my ankle. “Lift.”One at a time, he slides my underwear back up my legs, keeping his release exactly where he wants it. “Gonna need you to bring me lunch more often,” he says, chest heaving with each ragged breath.
“I think we can make that happen.”
I wrap my arms around his waist and rest my head against his chest, waiting for the air to return to my lungs. His heartbeat synchronizes with my own, a frenetic cadence that betrays the undercurrent of rightness. Two souls intertwined in the wreckage of our pasts; imperfect permanence trapped between us. His calm soothes my chaos like nothing ever has or ever will.
I feel changed, somehow. It’s like he’s rewritten some hidden parts I wasn’t even aware of. It’s heady and wonderful, and everything I didn’t know I needed. I might just get lost in this man—in this feeling—and it’ll be a sweet escape.
Wilder
Little by little, I notice subtle changes around the house, signs of life left behind by the woman who is nothing short of sunshine incarnate. There’s a new yellow shower curtain, matching towels in the bathroom, and a glass toothbrush holder with three toothbrushes tucked inside. There are perfectly labeled canisters with baking ingredients in the pantry, a fancy stand mixer on the counter, and a brand new set of boots by the front door—pink, of course.
Every day she brings me lunch, and every day I find a new way to take her—up against the stall, over the bales of hay, in the back of the truck—over and over. I never tire of being inside of her.
When she’s not at the diner, she spends her mornings in my kitchen,baking up whatever new recipe she finds so she can deliver her cookies and cupcakes to the diner. Most days, my house smells like a bakery, and it wraps around me the moment I step inside from work.
I follow the sounds of laughter down the hallway, stopping outside the guest bedroom where Olivia still sleeps, peeking through the crack in the door. There’s a discarded laundry basket on the bed, as if she started something and never finished. She does it often; it’s one of her many adorable quirks. She has Emmy Lou up on her feet in an airplane pose, and Emmy’s smiling ear to ear.
“I’m flying!” Emmy squeals.
I rub at the spot on my chest where the ache grows steadier by the day. I thought I’d feel guilty watching Olivia fill a role that was meant for someone else, but it’s not like that at all. If anything, it’s only made me look at her through a different lens—a motherly one—and I can’t wait to watch her with our daughter starting over from the very beginning.
The hardwood creaks, and Olivia’s head turns. “Do you have your boarding pass?” she teases.
“Afraid not. I’ve sworn off airplanes,” I say with an amused smirk. “They make me do crazy things.”
“I like your version of crazy.” Our eyes meet, and it’s clear she’s fighting a smile. I quirk a brow in her direction, and she loses the battle, her nose scrunching as she carefully lowers Emmy to the floor. Emmy barrels toward me, leaping into my arms.
“Where are you two jetting off to?” I ask.
