Big Man(13)

His grin widens, and that animal lust in his eyes goes darker, wild. “I underestimated you, City Girl.”

“I told you,” I manage to pant, also grinning, and I’m sure the look in my eyes right now is just as hungry. “I’m just as country as you, big man. So fuck me like I am.”

He pulls all the way out of my pussy, then drives back into me, his full length now. I scream and dig my nails into his back, pleasure and pain tearing through me in equal measure. He cups my ass with both his big, rough hands and lifts my hips off the bed, holds me in the air between his legs as he starts to fuck me fully, though still slow at first, his hard shaft stretching my pussy, stuffing me whole.

I grip his shoulders with my hands, nails out, and tighten my thighs around his waist. With every thrust, he makes me cry out louder, makes my body ache for release.

I glance down to see his cock thrusting in and out of me, and feel the slap of his balls against my ass cheeks with every fuck. The sensation is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. We’ve pushed straight through any pain there was before—it’s all pleasure now. The feeling of being completely full, stuffed so full I can barely take it. The walls of my pussy ache where they strain to hold his thick cock, and it drives me wild.

He picks up the pace, lifting my whole lower half off the bed now, and I arch my hips with him, thrusting against him. His cock drags against my inner walls and I groan every time his head grazes past my G-spot, the pressure mounting so high it makes my pulse beat at the edges of my vision.

“You like that, Sasha?” he pants through a hard smile, his eyes still full of that same hunger, that same lust.

“Fuck yes.” I grind my hips up against his as he pounds into me, moving faster now, harder. It drives me wild, after so much build-up, so much unreleased tension.

“You want more?” His voice is a growl, barely contained. He’s holding back, I can tell. But I don’t want him to. I want to see what this Country Man is made of.

“Fuck yes,” I repeat, my own voice a growl too. “Give it to me, Country Man. Fuck me as hard as you can.”

He speeds up, fucking me harder, faster. I’m stretched out wide enough to take him now, and it doesn’t hurt at all—it only drives me more wild as his thick cock fills every inch of me completely.

It doesn’t take long before I’m nearing the brink, my breath coming hard and fast, my hips bucking in time with his.

“You want to come for me?” he asks, low and fast. “You want to come on my big cock?”

“Make me come, Grant. Make me come with your cock.”

He leans back and unhooks my legs from around his waist. Flings them over his shoulders to angle his thrusts so the head of his cock drags down the front inner wall of my pussy. I cry aloud at that, unable to stop my body from twisting against the sheets. I lose my grip on his shoulders and fist the sheets instead, trying to thrust back against him. But all I can manage to do is hang on as that fat cock of his drives me straight up to the brink of orgasm.

When it hits me, I scream so loud it would wake half the neighbors if I were back in New York City. But I’m not in the city—I’m in the country, getting fucked like I’ve never been fucked before, and out here, there’s no one to hear me for miles.

Thank fuck.

Grant keeps going, pounding into me as the orgasm fades. I recover enough to pull him back down against me, wrap my arms tight around his waist and pin him against me as I thrust up in time with him.

He speeds up, and his voice is throaty when he pulls me hard against his chest to growl against my ear, “I’m going to come. I’m going to fill your pussy with my cum, Sasha.”

“Come in me, Grant,” I gasp, pulling him closer, tight against me, his hard muscles slick with sweat, his body hard everywhere I’m soft. “Fuck yes. Fill me up,” I moan.

His hands tighten almost painfully on my hips, and with a few last thrusts, he groans my name and comes hard, still pumping into me as he finishes. I thrust up against him and tighten my pussy muscles, contracting around him to milk every last drop of hot, wet, cum from his thick cock. He moans when I squeeze him, so I do it again, and he growls, pulling me so hard against him that I can hardly breathe for a second.

When he finishes thrusting, he lies along my body, our sweat mingling. I can feel his pulse in my chest, and it echoes my own, both racing hard as hell.

He draws back just far enough to look between us, and slowly, slowly draws his cock out of me. He’s still huge, even now, and I gasp with a faint pang as he pulls out of me—I loved the feeling of having him inside me, feeling so full.

There’s a hot rush as his cum trickles out, mingled with my own juices, and rushes down my thigh. I gasp softly, and Grant grins, glancing from that back to me.

“That’s the only way to fuck,” he says. “Raw and real.”

My pussy aches—a bone deep ache that I fucking love. It’s the feeling of having been thoroughly fucked, harder than I’ve ever been fucked before. I feel satisfied, in a way I’ve never known.

“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.