I expect him to huff, to grab his towel and march away. Annoyed. With me.
But instead he spins me around and lifts my chin with his hand and I close my eyes, not wanting to be soft. Because if I let myself go there, to that place, I’ll start crying. I’ll let him in. And there is a reason I throw myself into work. A reason I don’t date. Because letting people in is the scariest thing in the world.
People can’t hurt you if they don’t know you.
Kutter, though, doesn’t give me a chance to sheath myself in armor, doesn’t give me time to pick up a sword or a shield.
No.
Kutter doesn’t waste a second of our time.
He simply lowers his mouth to mine, and he kisses me.
The kind of kiss I’ve always wanted. Always dreamed of having. A kiss full of longing, a kiss filled with the promise of devotion. A kiss that says I just heard all your excuses but they don’t scare me away. Not even a little. Not one bit.
A kiss that has me wrapping my arms around this near-stranger and kissing him back.
Kutter
Her body presses against mine, and my cock groans against her. Her lips part as our tongues meet, and I can’t help threading my fingers through her long, dark hair.
She whimpers as I caress her, my hands roaming under her shirt, massaging her full tits, and wanting so much more. Everything. All of her. She wants it too.
Her hands press against my chest and I lift her cute ass up to the countertop, standing between her legs, aware of my hard, thick cock between us. She moans as the kiss deepens, as I inhale all of her. She smells like rain showers and starlight and brand-new days. She smells like hope and desire and a future all wrapped up in one curvy little package. She pulls off her top, unclasps her bra.
“Fuck, girl,” I groan, taking in her perfect tits. They are full and round, and meant to be enjoyed. I dip my mouth to her breast, running my tongue over her sweet nipple, my cock groaning with anticipation. God, how I want to run my shaft between these tits, pumping my cock until I come all over her skin. She’d look so fucking good covered in my seed.
Filled with it too.
Desire overtakes me as I imagine her sweet cunt wrapped around my cock. “Fuck, I want you, so damn bad,” I tell her, my breath on her ear. She shivers with pleasure, but I want to make her shake. Writhe. Come together and come undone — all of it. I want her.
“I’m a virgin,” she tells me between kisses. “I mean, I want this — I do… but I wanted to tell you first.”
I pull back. “Yeah?”
“Does that change anything?”
I run a hand over my beard, taking in her holy innocence. “Fuck, girl, it changes everything.”
Her eyebrows lift, her sweet lips part. “How?”
“It makes me want you all the more,” I growl.
She smiles, exhaling her delight. And she wraps her arms around me, ready to be scooped up and pleasured until her sweet virgin hole is taken the way it deserves.
But before we can do any of that, the baby cries. Waking from her sleep, she lets us know her needs.
“Okay,” I say, handing Katie her shirt. “You can have that back. But no bra.” I wink, and she laughs.
“And why is that?” She jumps off the counter, pulling on her shirt as I reach for some sweats so I can be decent in front of the baby.
“Because I need to see those perky little nipples,” I say, reaching from behind her and squeezing her sweet tits. Kissing her neck.
She swats me away, both of us laughing. “The baby!”
In the living room, she lifts the baby from the makeshift bed and I realize she cooked us dinner while I was jerking off in the shower, thinking about her cunt.
“That smells good,” I say, lifting the lid to a pot on the stove. Katie made spaghetti and meatballs. She reaches for the can of formula and prepares a bottle, the baby happy in her arms. “I’ll dish this up for us,” I say.
She smiles her thanks and begins to coo at the baby, offering her the bottle. “You’re right,” she says. “It’s weird not calling her by a name. Any ideas?”
“How about Hope?”
Katie looks up at me. “That’s so fitting.” She shakes her head. “She is perfect. I swear, look at her… those eyes make me melt.”
I place a hand on Katie’s back. “Pretty damn perfect.”
We eat the pasta and she tells me about her job, her boss.
“And what do you do for fun?” I ask.
“Read. Go hiking. Cook. Nothing that exciting.” She wipes her mouth with her napkin. “And what about you? What do you do out here when you’re not working?”