Page 3 of Home in the Country
I can’t. I’ve swallowed my tongue and can only stare at the utter perfection of her body. She’s better than I imagined.
“Your turn.”
“What?” I rasp as her hands move to my belt.
“I want you naked.”
“Anything you want.”
She smiles against my lips as she works my jeans open and then moves down my body, bringing the denim and my boxer briefs with her.
I thank God we already kicked our shoes off because I can’t imagine having to fumble with those too right now.
My cock springs free and slaps against my stomach, causing a sly grin to cross her lips.
“Someone’s happy to see me,” she purrs as she pulls a condom from the front pocket of my pants.
“You have no idea,” I groan. Her touch is gentle as she rolls it down my length, butholy hellit feels incredible.
Fallon places one hand on my chest and then pushes me back against the blanket before grabbing my button-down shirt and putting it on. It swims on her, but I can’t help but love seein’ her in something that’s mine.
“Please, Princess.” My hands grip her face, and I pull her mouth to mine. I may not have any experience with sex, but I’m a hell of a kisser.
She pants and whimpers against my lips before she’s sitting up and sliding down my cock.
I remember everything and nothing after that as her hot, tight pussy swallows me down and my hips buck up to meet hers.
It’s the most incredible experience of my life, and this is only the beginning for us.
1
FALLON
PRESENT DAY
Ican feel the exhaustion kick in as the miles tick down toward our new home. My childhood home, as it were. The windshield wipers keeping up a steady rhythm, the music turned low, and Briggs sleeping soundly in the back make it almost peaceful.
Almost.
Only ten more minutes until—pop! The car swerves, and I do my best not to overcorrect as I navigate to the side of the road. With my heart in my throat, I pull my cell phone from my purse with shaking hands.
We do not need a flat tire. Do. Not.
But this is my life.
Punching in the number for roadside assistance, I walk through the thousand prompts while waiting for them to tell me it will be hours before they can help us.
Briggs snores softly in the back seat. The kid is a world-class sleeper.
“Thank you for calling roadside assistance, how can I help you today?” The woman’s chipper voice on the other end of the line grates my nerves.
“Hi, we have a flat tire, and we’re on the side of the road about ten minutes outside of Clementine Creek.”
Tap tap tap tap.
The keyboard on her end is getting a workout, and I hold my breath for some good news.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, where did you say you are?”
