Page 8 of Delectable Soul

The entire time I’m in the shower, I think of the myriad of ways I can ruin my date. Was this even a date? Maybe he just wanted to be friends? What if things are awkward after the wet dream I had last night? What if he doesn’t show, and I sit there forever waiting? He could realize how awkward I am and decide he wants nothing to do with me. Or he could realize how depressed and lonely I am.I’m sure that'll be a major turn on for him.Every guy wants an awkward, weird, twenty-three year old widow who isn’t over her dead husband and has rapidly declining mental health.

I style my hair in long, loose waves and wear minimal make-up–just enough that my dark circles disappear and I looknatural. Enough to cover my imperfections, while allowing me to still look human. I rarely feel human these days, but still want to look the part. The forecast predicts a cool, crisp fall day, so I wear jeans, an emerald green tunic sweater, combat boots, and a black beanie. I’ll wear a coat over it all, in case the temperature drops. After packing my backpack with snacks, drinks, a blanket, my book, and my notepad and pen, I check the time. I only have a half hour to walk to the oak tree.

As I travel through the woods, I think back to my childhood. The trees are still just as thick and tall as they were back then. They grow in clusters, close enough to whisper their woodland secrets to each other, almost creating a maze. I would spend hours hiking through them, searching for imaginary faeries and folk creatures. The canopy of leaves above blocks out some of the sunlight, giving the woods a mysterious edge. I zip up my coat and continue to walk the worn pathway to the giant oak tree. By the time I arrive, Hunter already has a plaid blanket laid out with a picnic basket and pillows.

“Hunter, you went all out!” I exclaim, gesturing to the setup. I put my backpack down before sitting next to him on the blanket. “I brought some snacks and drinks and another blanket in case we get cold.”

“I wanted this to be nice. I realized after I asked you that reading in the woods may not be the most glamorous date, so I packed us a picnic basket for an early dinner and brought some pillows to relax on.” His smile disarms me, and I realize that he saiddate. My nerves take over, and I stare into the blanket, trying my hardest not to spiral into self doubt. I could ruin everything by saying the wrong thing. He could realize that I’m a depressed, pathetic shell of the woman I once was–that I’m a complete waste of his time.Why do I have to be so awkward?

Hunter tips my chin up with his fingers, locking eyes with me. His dark green eyes comfort me in a familiar way, sinking into my soul and making me feel more grounded. Some of the panic I felt earlier disappears as I focus on their gold and hazel flecks.

“Why were you looking at the ground? I want to see your beautiful face,” he croons.

I am not going to cry like a hormonal tween because a man calls me beautiful. That would officially ruin this date. A tear slips free, and he wipes it away with his thumb. I think of how Daire used to do the exact same thing, and realize that not telling Hunter about my past will be more difficult than I thought. I may as well tell him now so he doesn’t waste his time with me.

“I’m usually awkward, but more so now because my husband died about six months ago. The past half year has been challenging. I’ve been stuck in a really dark place, and I’m just starting to reconnect with the world again, if that makes sense? I wasn’t going to tell you because I didn’t want you to judge me, but I want to start this off on the right foot. Any potential relationship we may have, whether it’s as friends or more, should be based on honesty,” I confess.

He sits there for a few moments, and I wonder if I have royally screwed this up until he wraps his strong, muscular arms around me, bringing me into a comforting hug. I squeeze him back, and then let him hold me, enjoying the closeness. It’s been a while since a man, other than Granda, hugged me.

“Don’t think I’m a creep, but I already knew,” he says as we continue to embrace. “I remember your name from the articles that I read. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. Or you can—whatever makes you comfortable. I’m here to listen to whatever you have to say.”

I didn’t know how badly I needed to hear him say that. After being whispered about and judged for months, it feels vindicating to have someone understand how I feel and offer to support me.

“That’s the nicest thing anyone has said to me in a long time. Thank you.”

He sits against the oak tree and insists I sit between his legs with my head on his chest while we silently read, so I don’t have to hunch over or lay on the blanket. We share the book as he reads over my shoulder. We lose ourselves for hours, alternating between reading together and talking about whatever comes to mind. Something about this feels so natural. He feels like a long lost friend who just gets me–someone I’ve known for years.

We get to a spicy chapter, and he tightens his hold on me, squeezing my back against his chest. Even through my sweater and coat, I can feel his length hardening. He starts to read the scene aloud.

“‘I tilted my chin up, kissing the open patch of skin. He grabbed my legs, hoisting me up so I had to wrap them around his waist. His lips met mine in a long, seductive kiss that made my toes curl. I felt like I was melting against him,’” he reads.

I shiver in his arms as he reads on, quoting the incubus I imagined him one-upping in my dream last night. “‘I hate that your dream was cut short. I wanted to bend you over the back of that couch and ruin you, so you would never dream about anyone other than me ever again.’”

He moves his hand to the waistband of my jeans, and toys with the top button. I inhale sharply as his touch burns my skin. Hearing his deep, raspy brogue read smut makes desire flash through my system and pool between my thighs. His nose runs along my ear, and he licks a line of fire down my neck.

“Were you thinking about me taking control and dominating you before you went to bed, Fiadh?” he whispers in my ear. “Did you dream of me doing wicked things to you in your bed?”

“Yes,” I moan as he kisses my neck and nips at my earlobe. “I want to know what that would feel like.” The last bit slips out of my lips unwarranted, but I can’t bring myself to regret it.

He unzips my coat, running his other hand under my shirt and rubbing my nipple under my bralette. It stiffens and he groans, grinding his hard dick into my back. I break free of his hold and turn around, kneeling over him so I can kiss him. His lips are soft, just like I dreamed they would be. I bite his bottom lip, toying with it, but not for long. He takes over, weaving his hands through my hair and pulling me closer to him as he tips my head up. The painful sting radiates through my scalp, but instead of setting off my internal alarms, it makes me ravenous for him. I relish the pain, crave it. His tongue slips into my mouth, and he commands my full attention, forcing the ever-turning wheels in my mind to grind to a halt. For once, I’m not sad or anxious. I don’t feel like the world has ended.

“You’re making it really hard to behave myself,” he warns as he grabs my arse under my jeans, digging his fingers into my flesh as I moan like a whore. “If we’re not careful, I’m going to do some ungentlemanly things and devour you whole in the middle of the woods.”

At this moment, I decide to throw caution to the wind. I don’t care that I barely know him or that Daire died only six months ago. Hunter draws me in like a magnet, the force between us undeniably pulling me closer. I desperately want to collide with him.

“No one said you had to be good,” I rasp.

He chuckles, and it sends shockwaves through my entire body. Something about his devilish laughter sounds familiar, but before I have the chance to place it, he tips me onto my back and removes my coat and shirt. I take my boots off as he unbuttons my jeans, pulling them off and smiling at the black lacy panties underneath.

“As beautiful as they are, they need to go,” he says as he rips my panties off and pockets them.

I lay naked and spread before him in the cold autumn wind. A gust of frigid air blows against my bare cunt, making me shiver. He takes me in, eyes roaming from my hair to my toes. He quickly removes his clothes and spreads my legs to kneel in between them. He runs his tongue down my slit, groaning as he licks his lips. Parting my folds, he tongues at my clit, alternating between short flicks and long strokes. Each movement sends jolts of pleasure through my body until I’m bucking beneath him.

I look into his eyes and his pupils are blown, standing out against the feral, unhinged look on his face. He dips to my entrance, and he hums in appreciation before spearing me with his tongue. He eats me like a starving, rabid man. Like no matter how much he consumes, it will never be enough for him to feel full. A bubbling sensation builds inside me, threatening to tip me over into orgasm. He pulls away, replacing his tongue with two of his fingers inside me, hitting a tender spot that makes me bow off the floor. I feel wetness coat my inner thighs as I detonate, riding his fingers until he pulls them out and shoves them in my mouth.

“Taste how sweet your greedy little cunt is, Fiadh. I told you not to tempt me, that I’d do awful things to you in these woods.” He pushes his fingers further down my throat, making me gag as he smirks at me. “I’m going to put you on your hands and knees, and you’ll be my little cock-slut, begging for me to make you come again until you can barely stand. I’ll fuck you right into the dirt–so hard that you’ll ache for days, and every time you feel a twinge of pain, you’ll remember how you got ruined in the same spot you read fairytales in as a child.”

His dirty talk ruins me, sets something free inside me I didn’t know was caged. My own arousal tastes sweet and salty in my mouth. The heady combination of his filthy words and his fingers hitting the back of my throat have me salivating for more. I want to feel him so deep inside me that he breaks me into a million pieces before putting me back together again. He maneuvers me onto my hands and knees, grabbing my hips before he slams into me in one smooth thrust. An animalistic grunt tears from his mouth as a pained moan escapes mine. The pain is exquisite–I can finally feel something again. He hammers into me relentlessly, and with each slide of his cock, I feel an overwhelming sensation pushing me closer to a limit I wasn’t aware I had. My moans echo through the forest before his hand collars my throat, bringing me up so my back is flush with his chest.

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