Page 32 of My Ex, the Pumpkin King

“C’mon, Rach. We’ve gotta carve the pumpkins.”

More grumbling is followed by her shifting and straightening out her legs, but that’s all.

“My pumpkin is gonna be bigger than yours.”

That does the trick. She practically jumps out of the bed, throwing her part of the blanket over to my side and knocking my breath away.

“You’re gonna eat those words faster than Mamaw’s pumpkin pie.” She shakes her finger at me, standing over me. Her hair’s sticking up in every direction, her eyes still glossy, but she’s so fucking beautiful when she gets mad at me, and if I wasn’t already out of breath, I would be now. I grab her hand and pull her back into bed, then cover her body with mine.

“Jack, we have to—”

I place my mouth on hers, kissing her deeply. She ceases her protests, returning my kiss enthusiastically, her hands roaming over my back. I trail my mouth down her neck and over her collarbone, and she shivers beneath me, the movements hitting me in all the right places, but I don’t want to think about me right now.

I shift myself and move down her body, lifting her shirt to pepper kisses along her chest and stomach. Her tiny pajama shorts are practically see-through, her wetness already showing through them, and I pull them down to her ankles in one swift movement. She’s bare and gleaming before me, and I can’t wait any longer.

“Jack, you don’t have to—”

My new favorite thing is to interrupt Rachel’s protests with my mouth. This time, I cover her pussy with it, licking and sucking as she gasps. Her body turns to Jell-O, sinking into the bed as I devour every inch of her. I pull her clit into my mouth, sucking purposefully.

“Jack.” She sighs, her hands tangling in my hair.

I alternate sucking and flicking the sensitive spot with my tongue as I slide a finger into her warm wetness. Her body clenches around me as I work her, and fleetingly, I remember the first time we did this—clumsy and green, but still full of passion.

The passion part hasn’t changed, but the other has. Because I know exactly what to do to bring her to the brink without her having to move a muscle, and as her orgasm washes over her, I want to roar triumphantly.

I let her rest for a moment before diving in again.

Thirty minutes later, we’re hurrying up the hill to the pumpkin patch, and she’s glowing brighter than the sun was this morning.

“Rachel, look how lovely you are,” Faye comments as we approach the pumpkin patch. “You must have had a great night’s sleep.”

She smirks at me, but I turn quickly, going to check on my pumpkin. Because yes, we’re carving pumpkins today, but someone’s also coming to measure ours. And I have to make sure Rachel’s pumpkin is bigger than mine. When she suggested we carry on the tradition, I objected. But Junior and Faye encouraged it too, so we all picked one, and now it’s neck and neck. I eye mine suspiciously, mentally willing it to not grow anymore. I’d be okay if it would shrink.

A car pulls up near the ticket booth, and I inhale deeply before making my way back to Rachel and her grandparents.

As the figure gets closer, he seems familiar, and when he’s close enough I can see his face, I know why. Apparently Parker Scott is the fucking judge of this contest.

“If it isn’t my favorite farm family.” Parker gives us all a friendly smile, but I don’t miss how his eyes darken a bit when they land on me. “Hey, Jack.”

I nod in greeting, determined to be cordial. Rachel says she didn’t have feelings for him, and I’m going to trust her. “Parker. How goes it?”

“Good. Busy. Hey, I saw your namesake last weekend.” He chuckles. “Jack the Ass is doing well.”

“Who’s the real ass though, right?” I joke, hoping to lighten the mood.

Parker nods. “My wife and I took our daughter to the zoo. He’s actually her favorite animal there.”

“The donkey is her favorite animal at the zoo?” I laugh, shaking my head. “Well, she’s got unique taste.”

Rachel makes her way over to us, her eyes as wide as saucers, but she seems normal when she greets her friend. Well,arethey still friends? Come to think of it, she only spoke about him in the past tense, and I haven’t seen him here at all since I’ve been working at Sorrell Farms.

“Hey, Parker.”

“Rachel.” He greets her cordially, no hug or anything. “How’ve you been?”

“I’m fine. How’s Nicole? And Emma?”

Something tickles the back of my mind, reminding me that his wife doesn’t want him to be friends with Rachel. She told me that at The Lantern.

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