Page 23 of Claimed By the Hitchhiker

At 11 PM, I’m still wide awake, tossing and turning in bed, moving slowly to avoid waking Damien up. I go over my mental checklist for the hundredth time, attempting to find something I missed or overlooked.

The hours tick away, and my mind circles back to everything that might go wrong tomorrow. What if no one comes? What if no one likes our new name? What if they don’t want to support a new owner? What if my prices are too high? What if…?

Unable to take it anymore, I get up, my bare feet hitting the cold hardwood, tiptoeing to avoid making a single sound. I reach the doorknob and turn it slowly. The door inches open, and I slip through the narrow gap, taking extra care to close the door gently.

After checking Dylan and making sure he’s sound asleep, I make my way to the back porch, the night air cool and refreshing against my skin. I settle on the two-seater wicker chair, arranging the oversized cushion behind my back.

I don’t know how long I sit there, just staring into the distance and enjoying the nocturnal sounds around me, but the screen door opens and the floorboards creak behind me.

“I tried not to wake you.”

“I know, baby girl, but the bed feels empty without you.”

“I love you, you know that, right? I’m thankful for everything you’ve done for me and our little family.”

“I love you too, baby. More than you know.”

He steps behind me, his huge hands running along my arms and resting on my shoulders to give me a massage. I groan at the way tension leaves my body.

“Careful at the sounds you make, Dani.”

I tilt my head back and smile, his eyes already at half-mast. “Not my fault. It feels good.”

“You know what else feels good? My cock in your pussy.”

“The neighbors might see us.”

“Don’t care. They’ve probably already seen us way too many times.”

“Wait. Is that why Mrs. Robinson had a disapproving look on her face the other day when she watched us kiss in the driveway?”

“Maybe. Or maybe she wishes they’re us.”

A few minutes later, I’m bobbing up and down his thick shaft, my nightgown bunched around my waist, my back pressed against his chest, and a quilt over our lower bodies. From far away, maybe we look like a couple just hanging out, with me sitting on his lap.

But my face and my whimpers betray what we’re doing.

The moment we head back to the bedroom, I crash on my pillow and succumb to sleep in seconds.

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