Page 28 of Cookout Carnage
His tongue is on my neck, jaw, then my ear. “Fuck. You smell like sin and saint.” His mouth never leaves me as I hear his shorts unzip and fall to the ground to join my dress. Then he’s standing, licking his lips, and stroking himself. His long thick cock is as luscious as I remember. Damn, that thing is just about perfect. His mouth takes mine in a punishing kiss meant to claim and remind me I’m his. I’ve always been his. And I always want to be.
He reaches down. “We don’t need these.” He rips my thong and tosses it onto the kitchen table, and I reach for his shirt. He throws it, and it hits the sink. His tongue is meeting mine in a war of who wants who more.
He grabs and hitches me around his waist. I toss my legs around his back and lock my ankles. Not the romantic reunion I thought we’d have, but it’s the one we deserve. Each of us mad with desire, clawing at each other and eternity.
I tear my mouth away from his and say, “Are we in this?”
“You. I need to be in you before I blow a nut like a teenager dry humping.”
I’m breathless and panting. “No. Condom.”
“Fuck.” His face flips to almost remorse. But he didn’t understand what I meant.
“Are you in this?” I say again slowly, so he gets the point.
He brushes the hair off my face and cups my cheek. “I’m so insanely in love with you, Juliet. I know we have lots of shit to work through, but you are my forever.”
“Then we don’t need a condom,” I say as I flood with emotion.
“And if?” he says, and I grin at him as calm and peace cascade over me. Suddenly my world opens, and I know I’ll never be alone again.
I whisper it as a statement, not a question, “And if…” He puts his forehead to mine. As we silently agree that this is forever. Come what may. Both of us with tears in our eyes and smiles on our faces. We don’t need a church or rings or some paperwork to know.
And then the sweetness is over as he slams me up against the wall and thrusts into me in one move. “Fuck. So tight. I can’t take this. Jules, you’re perfect.” He groans. It takes my breath away how big he is. He stills to reclaim his stamina and let me open up around him. I do, and he slides in further.
“Fuck. Jules. You feel so good with that dripping wet pussy of yours.” He reaches between us and pinches my clit, and I relax into him. “Open up for me. Let me in. I need to fuck all of you. I need you full of my cock. I need you so filled you can’t fucking do anything but come. Fuck.”
And with that, he slides all the way in. We both groan, and he widens his stance a bit. He thrusts up, and I’m here for the ride. I hold on to his neck, bouncing up and down on his dick. He’s pulling all the way out and slamming back into me as my back takes the brunt of his perfect and carnal fucking.
His noises are loud and aggressive, and I can feel myself about to let go again. “Jon. Jon. Fuck I have to come. I’m coming. Come with me.” He smiles, then his mouth tears into mine. I’m leaning down and looking at this God of fucking who’s all mine. I want him to take me like this every fucking day. Every surface of this kitchen is going to get sullied.
He grunts and moans, then there’s a wild look in his eye as he doubles his speed. I can do nothing but hang on. I scream and let go just as he roars his own release. I feel him twitch and come so hard inside of me. I flop down on him boneless as he finishes himself off by pistoning in and out of me.
“I am so full. It’s all I want. You.”
“Holy shit.” He’s breathing heavily as he peels me off the wall. His giant bulging biceps safely carrying me without any issue. We’re still attached as he grabs water from the fridge.
I hold on and kiss him sweetly. “That was incredible.”
“You have no idea—that was only the beginning.” He carries me to the base of the stairs, and I feel him thickening inside of me.
“Guess we’re not making it to the bedroom just yet.”
****
After round two, which eventually ended up in the bedroom, he throws one of his shirts on me and pulls on some workout shorts. He looks so good. Damn. I love that juicy ass of his. We dine in the kitchen on leftover apple fritters from CK’s and kiss the sugar and glaze off each other. Then he grabs a bag off the counter, and I follow him outside. He stops behind the house and hands it to me.
“Sparklers!” My favorite thing about the Fourth of July. My smile can’t be bigger, and he matches it.
“My apology for the way I greeted you this morning. This day feels like it’s in three parts. Lonely, terrified, and hopeful.”
He walks ahead of me into the inky shadows of his backyard. “Light ’em up, Jules.” I’m already lit from within. I’m glad we’re away from town, but I hear some distant shotguns. Now is the time for the drunk idiots to set off their own fireworks in the town. It’s the sound of thumbs being blown off, but it’s also the sound of home on the Fourth of July.
The humidity just got languid and sensual instead of annoying and sticky.
He bends over to pick up the lighter he dropped, and I want to bite that apple ass. It was often talked about when he played for Dallas. A fan favorite: the tight end with the tight end. Those tight NFL pants hiding nothing. Loved him in that uniform. Although he was hot in the Navy, I couldn’t see past my own heartbreak to appreciate it. Wonder if he still has his dress whites.
I light the end and indulge in the nostalgic childhood smell and the burning nip at my fingernails as I wait in anticipation for the sparkler to ignite. Finally, it roars to life, and I put mine in the scattered sparks to join his in lighting up this small corner of the world. Our eyes connect over the bright light.
