Before I could think, before I could process anything that was happening, my body started responding. My heartbeat picked up, my breathing accelerated, my hands grabbed onto the armrest in his truck. As he smacked me full across the ass, I pressed into him and felt his hardness, the length of him straining against the crotch of his jeans. I wriggled against him, wanting to feel more, needing it.
I tried not to think about it, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it. His hand on me, the pressure of his palm. How his initial act of frustration and annoyance had suddenly turned into intimacy. The low, throaty moan that had escaped from my throat.
His hand had frozen. I’d frozen too, barely breathing. It was as if both of us could still hear my moan, like it was echoing in his truck. And then he’d thrown me away like I repulsed him. The moment was over before it had even begun. He’d driven us back to the ranch, not a word exchanged between us.
We’d barely said a word to each other in the intervening weeks other than a cursory “hello.” And even that was only when he was with the other guys. Even then he wouldn’t really say a full hello, just an infuriating nod underneath the big cowboy hat he always wore. Damn it, I wished the strong silent type didn’t have so much sex appeal.
In a sane universe, I wouldn’t have enjoyed getting spanked. I wouldn’t still be thinking about it, about Declan all the time. I would be out with my perfectly normal, perfectly boring high school boyfriend doing something dumb I found perfectly engrossing.
But this was not a sane universe. Everything had tipped on its axis since Declan had arrived in my life. The only thing left to do was cling on and try to find new footing on this entirely new surface.
And bake banana bread.
Checking on it, I found it was already time to take it out. I set it down on a hot pad and took out the cooling rack. Taking a butter knife, I nestled it gently between the edge of the bread and the pan. It felt loose enough. Small things, routines, calmed me. Baking bread. I did it well, I’d done it for years. I could still do it now.
And now maybe I’d bring a loaf down to Declan? I’d seen his truck parked outside of his cabin. Unusual for a Saturday night, he almost always went out. But tonight he’d stayed home. Like me.
Before I could stop my train of thought, I ran to my room and changed clothes. I didn’t want to overdo it, so I just grabbed a t-shirt and short shorts. As if I could wear anything that would make me not look ridiculously obvious and lamely hopeful, knocking on his door on a Saturday night.
But obsession was a powerful force and it clearly had me in its grip. It was Saturday night, hot and sticky in late June, and I had to see him. Maybe he’d have his shirt off? Dear God, I might not make it. I’d have a heart attack. What an incredible way to go.
At the last minute, I made a thermos of lemonade, too. So dumb, like I was asking him to go on a church picnic. I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t stop my feet from walking out the door.
My heart just about beat out of my chest as I made my way in the darkness down to his cabin. Daddy was out tonight playing poker with some neighbors. The light was on in Declan’s cabin. His truck was still parked there outside. Would we finally have a moment alone, just the two of us?
I heard the moaning a few feet away from his front door. It was a woman and she was really enjoying herself.
“Oh yeah!” she yelled, breathy.
I didn’t hear anything after that. Maybe he was watching TV?
I noticed that the door was ajar. I guessed that was why I could hear things so loud and clear. I inched toward the doorway, the light peeking through. Should I knock?
Without thinking, I put my hand to the door and pushed. It opened slowly, silently, and I saw what was making all that noise.
Declan sat on the couch, shirtless as I’d imagined. He didn’t have his pants on either. He had his eyes closed, his head tilted back as a woman kneeled between his legs and took his cock into her mouth.
“That’s it.” He groaned in pleasure, bringing a hand to the back of her head.
She made a deep purring noise, running her hands up and down his thighs as she sucked. “Mmm.” She enjoyed herself as she took him in deep.
I stood, frozen to the spot, banana bread in one hand, thermos of lemonade tucked under my arm. My jaw must have dropped to the floor. But I didn’t move.
Eyes closed, Declan leaned back with his throat stretched out and a dusting of stubble across his strong jaw. His shoulders were so broad, so defined, his chest a pure wall of muscle. He looked like raw, potent power with his thick thighs spread. A groan came out of his throat.
He cupped the back of the other girl’s head and pushed her down on his hard cock. All male domination, in a deep, throaty voice he told her, “Suck it.” The girl moaned, loving every second of it.
A shudder traveled up through my body. My core tightened and heat pooled deep within, my pussy starting to throb. I’d never seen anything so dirty, so erotic.
Hand on her head, so controlling, he said, “Yes, like that.”
I knew I should turn and run but I couldn’t. I couldn’t move a muscle. I could see his pulse throbbing in his neck, could see his outstretched hand fisting in the couch pillow. His thighs corded with muscle, tense. Her head bobbed up and down, working for him.
I bit my lip and looked up. He was looking straight at me. Frozen, caught, I couldn’t move. His eyes devoured me, scorching me with an intensity I’d never seen before.
“I’m going to come,” he growled, looking straight at me. I couldn’t stop a soft moan from escaping my lips as he threw his head back and groaned while his cock exploded come into the other girl’s mouth.
Then I ran. Holding my ridiculous banana bread and my church picnic thermos of lemonade, I ran as fast as my 18-year-old legs could carry me all the way back to my house up on the hill. I pounded up the porch, slammed the front door behind me and though we never did, I locked it tight. Throwing my undelivered gifts to the floor, I ran up the stairs and down the hall to my bedroom.
But then what did I do? Did I bury my head in my hands and cry like a good girl, promising myself that I was done for good with Declan? Did I learn my lesson?
No. I brought my fevered hands down to my wet, throbbing pussy and discovered my own needs. I’d never seen anything like that.
My fingers worked my slick clit. I wanted to kneel between his legs. I wanted to take his cock full in my mouth, have his hand fisted in my hair and forcing me down on him. I moaned, my fingers moving faster. I wanted him to tilt his head back and call out my name. I wanted his hot come shooting down my throat.
It was the last thought that put me over the edge, sending wave after crashing wave of orgasm shuddering though my sweat-soaked body. I wanted him, I needed him. I hated him.
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