Distracting Beth

“Gloria!” Curtis yells into the flower shop. “Gloria San…” he stops the moment the older woman walks into the shop front. Looking at the man up and down with a scowl. Curtis’ stance switches a bit, before he looks up at the ceiling with a sigh.

“I need a bouquet,” Gloria squeals. Throwing her head back with so much glee. The wrinkles in her eyes gather towards the corners as she hops from foot to foot. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“It is a very big deal, Curtis. You don’t date. You definitely aren’t romantic with flowers, and when my husband asked you why you never buy them, you told him you were waiting on that girl. Is it ‘that girl’?” Her brow lifts in a question, and Curtis runs his hand down his face.

“Yes.”

“The day has finally come!” She starts to walk around the store, pulling different stems of flowers. “I knew it would. I had faith she would come back to you, and you could tell her that you have been so in love with her, and too chicken shit to say anything.”

“It’s not like that,” Gloria throws her head back, releasing a belly laugh. “This is serious.”

“I’m aware. You’re picky. You have only settled for chasing tail because you were so concerned about this woman coming back into your life to carry your babies.”

“She doesn’t have to have babies.”

“No, she needs to have your babies, there’s a difference. Does she have kids?” Curtis shakes his head no. “How long have you been in love with this girl?”

“A lot longer than I should have,” Gloria stops, and turns towards him. Resting a hand on his cheek, smiling longingly at him. “It’s always been unrequited.”

“If it was unrerquited, she wouldn’t have kissed you.”

“Shouldn’t have happened, we were drinking,” Gloria rolls her eyes before continuing her mission. “And it was nice. But it was too much, too soon, and…”

“Now you’ve got her alone in your house, and you’re about ready to explode,” Gloria looks back at Curtis with a cheeky smile, and his face falls. “You’ve been celibate for how long?”

“Not important,” no one needed to know that small detail. Because no one truly understands exactly how much he has just wanted you. And no one else has ever compared, and then he got tired of trying.

“Too long!” She shouts, and carries her bundle of flowers to her work station. “You’ve spent a decade pining after this girl who was verbally abused by her mother, and has never really had anyone in her corner. I know how much you’ve wanted this.”

“But she doesn’t,” Curtis gives her an awkward smile, but keeps his eyes on her wrinkled hands building the most perfect bouquet of flowers, and it’s still not more beautiful than you. “We’ve been thrust into this weird situation.”

“Thrust is an odd choice of words.”

“Mind out of the gutter, you dirty ole bitty,” Gloria gives a scraggly chuckle, and finishes wrapping up the bouquet. “I don’t think she knows her worth, and I know I have done a shitty job so far with my tough love.”

“Curtis,” his deep blue eyes finally looks into someone that has oddly been like a mother to him. Her husband was an old ranch hand, and he often invited Curtis to their house for dinner. Tried setting him up with a few of her daughters, until he confided in her.

“You are being a bit hard headed because you don’t want to be hurt. But let your walls down, and show her the real you that’s not so hardened from lonely isolation and working on a ranch,” Curtis would love to give Gloria a deadpanned look. Pretend that this isn’t bothering him as much as it actually is. “And if it doesn’t work out.”

“I lose everything.”

“Then it wasn’t meant to be.”

“Yeah,” he says, laying some money on the counter, “I’m not letting that happen. I may be a simple man, but that woman — she was always meant to be with me. Fuck the ranch. It’s only her that matters,” he nods his head towards Gloria, and heads back to his truck.

“That’s my boy,” she sighs. Curtis isn’t a lot of things. He’s not fancy, he’s not over the top. But what he is, is a kind hardworking man. He will give you the world, and all he asks is for your heart and loyalty. He won’t leave you. He doesn’t want to give up the ranch and his life, but he would. For you.

There’s very little that he wouldn’t do for you. Hell, he’s going to take you dancing, something he doesn’t do. But you love it. He’s gotten all dressed up, cleaned up his beard, wearing cologne, and his nice boots for you. He would change everything about him if it would make you happy.

The good thing is he doesn’t think you want him to be changed. He thinks you rather like his rugged and dirty self. But you definitely need to see that not only does he clean up nicely, but that you deserve to be seen all dolled up with him. Someone that you are proud of. And although he gets a pang of jealousy when other men look at you, there’s also this sense of pride.

He saw the look on Yancy’s face when he was carrying you out of the bar. That look of desperate longing, that he couldn’t have you. Wondering if you were going to fuck him or not. He wouldn’t take advantage of you like that. When the inevitable happens, both of you will be stone cold sober. The two of you will worship the other. Just as it was intended.

And he’s going to take his time. He’s going to memorize every dip and curve of your body while he paints you with his tongue and lips. He is going to make you realize that every inch of your perfect body is beautiful and worthy of complete devotion, and almost obsession. And it’s getting harder and harder to turn you down for sex. Until he sees you completely enthralled by him, or if the mood actually strikes right, he won’t allow it. Nope.

He won’t allow you to debase yourself just in order to forget harsh words from your mom. He won’t let you use his body to fill a void left by feeling unloved, and less than. Your mother should have never been a mother, especially not a mother to a girl. That woman was jealous of the fact that you could smile, and it would make people do your bidding. She’s angry that her dad doted on you and Austin.

Generations of less than perfect parenting. Curtis is stopping the cycle. He’d love kids with you, all you had to do is ask. But until you realize that you are perfect as you are, kids will not even be entertained.

But he can see it. Waking up with you asleep on his chest, while the pitter patter of little feet walk across the floors upstairs. He’ll make sure the boys treat their mama with respect, and the little girls can be just as tough and rumble as the boys. He sees those little hands slipping underneath the door.

He even sees all their faces. Three, naturally. Two strapping young lads, and his little princess. Your sidekick. He chuckles, knowing that thinking this far into your futures when you’re not even included in his plans is a bad idea. Bad luck, he’s sure. But he just wants to shower you with so much love that you have always deserved. He wants to drown you in attention and adoration.

“It’s just the first date,” he tells himself. It’s not even an orthodox way of getting to this first date. But the thought of it still made you smile. He knows that you are excited, and you want it just as much as he does.

You’re bored. Groaning, you lean your head back on the couch. Where is he? He said the two of you would leave at five o’clock, and it’s 4:55, and he’s not here. He’s going to be late. It’s just like a man to promise you something, and not show up.

You look down at your phone, disappointed that you thought that he could be different. At the end of the day what mattered to him was clearly just the ranch. Not you. Not your feelings. It’s humiliating that nobody ever sees you past something you could do for them.

Your blink rapidly, trying to stop the impending tears from falling. You won’t cry for a man. You won’t allow a man to ever have that much control over you. Never allow them to see you down. When Curtis inevitably turns up, you’ll ignore him. This doesn’t affect you.

It doesn’t. It means nothing. You sniffle. It’s allergies. It’s being back in this God forsaken place. All it does is bring up all this unwanted emotional baggage that you don’t want to deal with. It’s not Curtis that has you feeling like shit. No. It’s your mom. Fuck her. And fuck Curtis, too.

You’ll resort to just fucking him. At least you can get something out of this. You’ve waited long enough. And then — you’ll just walk away. Fuck this ranch, too. Fuck. It. All.

You sit up straight, wiping at your under eyes when someone knocks on the door. They knock again, but louder. “Curtis isn’t here. You can go away.”

“Red!” You look back down at your phone again. Five on the dot. “Red, you wanna answer the door?”

You sling the door wide open, planning to glare at him, and then you just stop. You allow your eyes to look up and down his body. He’s wearing good jeans, and even a nice button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up his arm, and showing off the few tattoos he has smattered on his forearms.

“Why are your eyes red?” He looks good. He smells good. Oddly expensive considering how Curtis normally smells like sunshine, sweat, hay, and horses. Extremely masculine, and not as disgusting as one might think. He cleans up nice. Even a pretty watch.

“Red?” You glance up at him. “Your eyes.”

“I just sneezed,” his brow furrows, and his head tilts. Looking a bit dog-like.

“I,” Curtis fidgets, and you finally stop gawking at him, noticing the beautiful bouquet of flowers in his hands. Now your eyes are watery for different reasons. “I b-brough you f-flowers,” he takes a deep breath, and hands them to you awkwardly. “Baby, don’t cry.”

Immediately he steps through the door, crowding you with his manliness, and actual tears break through your lashes. Every part about him overstimulates you. His scent, his height, the way his good boots quickly click on the floor, the way his calloused hands brush over your cheek as he brushes away the tears. And that word. Baby.

You’ve been touched over and over again. Women in college with you called you disgusting names because of the men that have touched you. But it’s in this moment that you realize that you’re still touch starved. Starved for a gentle touch, and soft voice to ease you out of your head. You don’t have to tell Curtis your deep rooted issues. He just knows. He’s lived it.

“Baby,” his Adam’s apple bobs as he gulps. This manly man is being so gentle with you that it hurts. You fear if you enjoy this too much that he will be taken away from you, and you want him more than you have ever wanted anything. Those walls that you spent years building, he is destroying with one goddamn word.

“Red.”

“S-s-stop. Hold,” he starts to retreat, but you grab his hand, keeping it softly on your face. “I thought — I thought you weren’t coming.”

“I wanted to pick you up,” dammit. You will not cry in front of this man. “I just feel we were skipping over some good parts here. The man coming to pick the woman up from her house. I didn’t want to just leave the house like we’re some established couple.”

“And you brought me flowers,” Curtis tries to hide the grin that is threatening to pull his lips completely up. Damn this hot as fuck man that has a sweet soul. “I was talking myself out of how you don’t mean anything to me.”

“Yeah?” He says, that grin fading quickly. His eyes look down in a true sadness. He cares what you think of him. “What did you determine?”

“How much that it actually would hurt me if you didn’t show up,” he peeks back up at you. “I think I care too much about you. About — what you think when it comes to me,” Curtis’ tongue dips out of his mouth, and he pulls his bottom lip in. Biting on the tender flesh. He reaches over to set the beautiful flowers on the counter before he places a hand on the wall and over your head.

You feel so small looking up at him. Mouth agape and trying to catch your breath. He’s so close. His eyes drift down your body, lingering on your chest before he looks all the way down. Appreciating every inch of you, especially the parts you have exposed. His hand that isn’t planted on the wall above you goes to your hip, and he pulls you closer to him, and you whimper. It is completely involuntary, but it makes Curtis pitch his hips forward.

He rights himself by putting a foot in between your own. He bends his knee slightly, and it is almost right at your core. You’re going to suffocate before the night is over. “I think an awful lot about you, baby,” you squeak at that pet name again, and his lips perk up on the side. Cheeky bastard. He knows what that name is doing to you.

“Think about me how?”

“This a pure first date.”

You have visions of the most lewd and salacious ways that he could be thinking about you. The curious part of you wants to know everything. How does he envision you? Does he touch himself when he has those thoughts?

“How are you thinking about me right now?” He clicks his tongue against his teeth. Tsking you. “Be explicit,” you look up at him through your lashes. And you are dying to know everything.

Curtis groans, looking down at his leg, and then back to you. Feeling like that’s a cue, you squat down, touching your core against his thick muscular thigh. The sound that releases from his throat sounds like a man starving for touch, even more than you are. “Don’t start. We got dinner reservations.”

“Then tell me.”

Bending over, he puts his mouth right at the shell of your ear. His voice is pained and whispered, “I briefly,” he breathes, pulling back enough to see you slowly grind over his thigh, "Envisioned you just like this. So desperate for me that you make yourself get off on my thigh.”

“Then what?” you know that you are playing with fire, and you don’t care.

“After you come on my leg, I throw you over my shoulder, and take us to that damn couch, so I can fuck into you, and then watch you bounce on my cock. As good as fucking from behind feels, I never want to take my eyes off you. I just want to stare at you enjoying yourself.”

“Curtis.”

“Baby, if we don’t leave now, I’ll have you sore for a week,” he clears his throat before standing up straight. Putting both his hands on your hip. “And you deserve to be treated like a queen. Don’t pout. I’m not going to fuck you…yet.”

And yet is a promise you will just have to deal with for now. No matter how much it aches. He gives you an easy wink before grabbing onto your hand, “You ready for our first date?”

“Yeah,” you’ve been ready for many years.

You had not expected for Curtis to bring you to the town dance hall. It had few updates since you left, but it is still lively on the dance floor, and the food is yummy. Most people didn’t come for the food, so there are very few tables hence the reason for reservations. The majority of the people came for the live music and good times.

Curtis is clearly reluctant to dance. Choosing to watch you frolic around with a girl you got along with in high school even if you weren’t friends. Your mom didn’t approve of her family. Her mother still works in housekeeping, and her father is a ranch hand. She grew up to be a teacher, and already a mother of two, and happily divorced, and happily remarried. Cheyenne was always nice to you, and didn’t even hesitate to start dancing with you.

It didn’t hurt that her new husband Cliff and Curtis worked at the ranch together. You’re hoping Cliff is the reason that you and Chey are dancing, and not you and Curtis. He did look like he needed to have a conversation with Cliff, and you just wanted to move to the music.

There’s freedom on the dance floor. Even more freedom when you realize you’re not obligated to go anywhere, but back home with Curtis. You giggle to yourself realizing just how wonderful this feels, even if Curtis is somewhat bailing on your date. It’s fine. And Chey has a lot more energy than you.

“I’m going to go get a drink,” you scream into her ear. She gives you a nod, “Then I’m going to bring Curtis out here.”

“That man doesn’t dance,” for all she knows, Curtis and you are just friends. Business partners. Acquaintances. “He seriously doesn’t dance for anyone.”

“Is that so?” You eye her up before turning around, heading to the table that occupies Curtis and Cliff. The tables are pushed back from the speakers, and have the ability to not have the music so loud. Getting over to the table, and you saddle on up in between Curtis’ spread legs. Playfully you put your hands on his thighs.

The way he looks up at you knocks the air right out of your lungs. His hands touch you at your knees, and they skim up your sides, not stopping until they get to your hips. “Oh,” Chey exclaims before crashing into her husband’s lap. “So it’s like that.”

“Red, what cha doing?”

“I’m thirsty,” he removes one hand to reach over to your beer, and hands it to you. You take a long pull from the cup before handing it back to him. Smiling so sweetly.

“What else do you want, darling?" That word does not sound as sweet, but it’s also not making him look quite as gone for you. Maybe it’s a safe nickname in public. “I know you didn’t just plant yourself in between my legs for a drink of cheap beer. What do you need, baby?”

You can hear Cheyenne giggling, but you don’t know if it's at the show in front of her, or the fact Cliff is kissing behind her ear. “You brought me here, and you’re not going to dance?”

“I don’t dance.”

“Not even for me,” you pout playfully, but he roughly pulls you into him. Putting his mouth behind your ear, and he inhales you.

“The next slow song, I’ll…” his voice stops as a slow country song starts playing. “Okay, let’s head out to the dance floor, baby,” you look over at Chey whose mouth is wide open as Curtis leads you out onto the floor. Yet another time of Curtis claiming you, and also proving that you’re different from any other woman he’s ever had at his side.

He’s doing things he doesn’t normally do. He’s showing you off, instead of hiding behind closed doors. He wants the world to know who you belong to. And it doesn’t feel so bad having him drag you out onto the dance floor. Dodging the different people slowing down, and pulling in close to one another.

Curtis twirls you around, before wrapping you tight against his body. His arm firmly around your back. Definitely too close to dance. But close enough to hear him, and feel his breath. Watching his pretty smile in the flashing lights. Physically close, but it’s the intimacy that is striking you harder.

“You dragged me out here, and you’re not going to talk?” His mouth is right next to your ear, and the rumble of his voice goes right to your core.

“I’m just enjoying the view,” smiling up at him, you stop rocking back and forth to stand on your tippy toes. Kissing him right beside his mouth. You move too quickly away from him, but catch his movement to chase your mouth. It’s not all in your head, no matter how much you try to convince yourself it is. You don’t want to think about how things you like disappear. You want to enjoy this, no matter how short it could be.

“So you still think I’m sexy?”

“I think you’re sexier,” Curtis has the biggest smirk as he grips onto your hips tighter. He digs his fingers into your soft curves, pulling you more into him. “I feel like you’re trying to consume me.”

“There’s a guy behind you,” he sighs, letting the two of you drift in a different direction, “I don’t like him staring at your ass.”

“Curtis, people stare at asses.”

“Not yours,” the grip of his hands soften, and slide lower. Too low, and they cup your buttcheeks. “Nobody needs to be staring at you like they want to eat you.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because you’re mine,” your brow cocks up immediately. “Only I get to stare at your ass like that. Does this make you uncomfortable?” You shake your head no. The last thing you want is for him to remove his hands off you. This feral idea that he is claiming you, yet again, in front of other men that only see you as a piece of meat just makes you feel weak in the knees.

“I’m such a caveman.”

“Just don’t tell me what to do,” you give him a warning. “I don’t mind you — claiming me. Don’t make it toxic. But I want people to know. Even if it’s not real,” that voice of doubt will forever haunt you. You don’t want to let it win, or even let it control you.

Curtis’ eyes roam over your face as he brings his mouth closer to your neck. He lets his pillowy soft lips tickle your neck. He ghosts his lips over your skin, peppering open mouth kisses on your sensitive column. “It’s very real, Red.”

He jerks you flush against him, and you whimper as his bulging hard on presses against your stomach. “I’m not giving you sex tonight. I’m gonna make you work for my body.”

“Asshole,” you giggle, trying to worm your hand down his stomach, but he grabs ahold of you.

“But I am going to worship you when we get home,” your eyes close at the sound of that. “I want to kiss every inch of your skin. Every dip and curve. I want to pick you up and throw you on the bed, and peel these painted on jeans off your legs, strip your shirt and bra off, and then rip those panties off you. And then,” he presses his forehead against yours, and he inhales deeply. Memorizing the way your heat alters that sweet florally perfume.

“Then?” you gulp, staring up at him.

“I’m going to place my head between your thighs, and I’m going to make you come over and over again on my mouth,” you chuckle, shaking your head. “You doubt me?”

“Nobody has ever made me come from oral,” something flashes in Curtis’ eyes, and he glances down at his watch. “But I’ve gotten very good at faking orgasms.”

“Mmm,” Curtis growls, and is immediately turning. He leads you through the throng of people. Slightly pushing anyone out of the way as he trudges to wherever he’s going.

“Where are we going?”

“Home,” butterflies. You’ve never had a place that felt like home. A place that you wanted to go to feel safe and secure.

“Why?” You giggle, trying to slow him down. He gives a wave over to Cliff and Chey. Thankfully, all you brought was yourself, and your ID. “Curtis!” He doesn’t stop when he makes it through the door. And apparently your legs aren’t going fast enough for him, and he scoops you up. Placing your belly on his shoulder as he carries you through the parking lot.

He doesn’t grunt, or make any sounds with your added weight. This is a man. He is all muscle and hard lines. Each hard piece of him was carved with grueling work. He’s used to tossing things around, and now it’s going to be you. “Curtis?”

He places you into the seat of the truck before he jogs to the other side. Throwing the truck into gear, and he backs out of his spot too easily. God, a hot man knowing how to control a vehicle is ridiculously sexy. The fact he’s on a race to get you home just to feast on you makes you swish around. Pressing your thighs closer together.

“Don’t you ever fake an orgasm with me, okay?”

“Okay.”

“You will not hurt my feelings. But I want you to always be satisfied. If you don’t enjoy something, fine. But I need you to know. I really enjoy eating pussy.”

“Great. Tell me exactly whose pussy have you been eating?”

He rolls his eyes, and turns to scowl at you. “None for a very long time. And I’m starving. So you’re going to lay on your back, and let me have fun.”

“Sounds like a plan to me. I take it we’re not taking things slow.”

“We’re taking my dick slow. But I need you to realize just how desperate I am for you. How much I have been envisioning the taste of your cunt. And I hope that you have stayed hydrated today,” his tongue clicks simultaneously with a wink, and he looks back out the window.

“Did you just…?”

“Yes, Red. I did a clicking wink with you.”

“Why should I have stayed hydrated,” he looks towards you, and you look damn near adorable worrying away at your lip. You nervously look out your side of the window, and he stops the car in the middle of the road. “Are you crazy?”

“C’mere,” Curtis’ hand slaps on your thigh before he drags you across the bench seat, and right next to him. “You’re too far away from me.”

“You’re needy.”

“Sure am. Needy for you,” your mouth opens, and it closes quickly. “You better keep that closed when you’re right beside me. And yeah, it’s because you’re too close, and it makes me wonder what my dick will look like between your pretty lips.”

“We can.”

“Nope. This is about worshiping you. But don’t tempt me,” you settle back, making yourself comfortable. It feels nice with his added warmth. It could be the hottest day in the year, and you think you’d still be trying to get closer to him. “Did you ever miss it here?”

Curtis’ voice sounds raw, terrified to hear your answer. It’s not even one you have to think too hard about, “No,” his breath shutters, and his body seems to deflate, “It was only you that I missed.”

“You don’t have to butter me up. I’ll still eat you.”

“I’m not. I think it’s safe to say you and I have always had an odd connection. Some of us were just too scared to do anything because he was afraid of what his best friend would think if you started fucking his little sister.”

“I’d do more than just fuck you.”

“Oh yeah?” You lean to the side, and kiss his neck. Feeling a rumble rattle through his body, you smile as you sit back on the seat. “And just what else would you do with me?”

“Own you. Consume every ounce of your soul and pleasure. I will bring tears to your eyes as we make love for the first time. And I’ll devour you,” home. It can’t get here fast enough. You’re left twitching and moving around in your seat. You can’t say anything to that. You’ve never made love. Never did anything, but fucked. And it felt good. It just never lasted.

His right hand rests on your leg, but makes work moving up and down your supple skin. A torturous countdown of how many seconds it takes to get home. Up. One. Down. Two. Up. Three. Down. Four. Up. Five. Down. Six. It’s all you can do to stay sane. All these promises, and all his control, while you’re melting in this seat. But this is something you could grow used to.

Something that you could grow old with. And that terrifies you. If you let him in, you give him the power that you have refused to give anyone else. Simply put, you allow him to hurt you, to break you completely down into nothing. The power to destroy what little resolve that you have left.

But the thought of not experiencing someone truly loving you terrifies you more. So if you’re going to give him you, you’re going to fully dive right into this moment, and with this man. Giving him the ability to do what you have always wanted from him. What you’ve always craved and needed. You’re going to let him destroy you in pleasure and hopefully love. Not an obligation or a duty to keep something in the family, but because it’s what he wants to do.

His truck comes to a slow roll into the driveway, and without even another word, he slings it into park, and hops out of the truck. You think for only a split second he’s changed his mind until his hands reach in to find your body, and he drags you out of his truck. An arm under your legs, while the other supports your back, he carries you bridal style into the house, while you’re left to roam his chest with your hand.

Even if tonight is all that you get, you’ve had him.

Curtis kicks the door close, and his stride quickens. Carrying you all the way to the bedroom before tossing you onto the bed. He toes off his boots, and reaches behind him to pull off his shirt. His gaze sets on you while he pulls his belt undone, and before you can even think, you try and get this stupid dress off you.

“Uh uh,” he tsks. Yanking his pants down, he stalks to the bed. “I enjoy opening my own presents, Red. C’mere. Scoot your ass to the edge of the bed,” gulping, you follow instructions, too eager. “There’s my good girl,” your eyes glaze over as you stare up at him owlishly. His hands reach towards you, and pulls one worn out boot off before the other. Throwing them both carelessly in the room.

Those thick calloused hands rub over your thighs before his lips attach to your skin. Curtis keeps his eyes directly on you as he kisses his way up your legs. Alternating between each leg painfully slowly before he drags your dress up. His eyes leave yours, and he looks between your spread thighs. Licking his lips at the prettiest pair of itty bitty panties he’s ever seen.

He doesn’t have to wonder if you want this. Your thighs are soaked with your arousal, and your cunt is pulsing through that sheer thong. “You’re already shivering,” instead of your nickname, he whispers your real name. He fully plants himself on his knees before he lifts you up to a sitting position, and attacks your mouth with his own.

This kiss is full of tension. A kiss that you have fought for, for days. He can’t even contain his own neediness as he licks along your lips, and you grant him the access to taste your tongue. He swirls his tongue around yours, and sucks on the muscle. Keeping you just occupied enough for him to reach to the bottom of your dress, and he pulls away long enough to rip the confinement off, and then he’s back.

His hips thrust into air, needing a form of friction that he’s denying himself, and only to pleasure you. To make sure that you realize that you’re first in this equation. That there is nothing that he won’t do to ensure that you are pleasured. His hands grope and prod at your ample chest, and he pulls away from your mouth to kiss and nip along your neck. Chest heaving you reach a hand to his swollen cock, but he flicks you away.

You can appreciate his need to pleasure you, but you want to feel. You want to know that he’s just as turned on as you. Reaching behind your body, he uses one hand to undo your bra, and he slings into the floor. Leaning back, he admires you. His own chest rising and falling with so much heat that you know you’re not imagining things.

“Fuck, look at you, Red. All for me. This is all for me, right?”

“Y-y-yeah,” he leans forward, using himself to lean you back into the bed before he kisses down your body. He sucks a nipple into his mouth, while his hand tweaks the other, and too quickly he continues his course down your body. You rarely let men go down on you. You don’t want them looking too long at your body, but with Curtis, you can’t even think straight. You don’t have a thought in your mind, but wanting his mouth firmly planted on your heat.

He doesn’t stop to remove your panties, no, he desperately kisses over the ruined sheer fabric. Like he couldn’t wait the few seconds it would take to remove the thong. Like he would die without knowing what you taste like. His tongue flattens over your core, and your back arches off the bed.

God, you want him on your bare flesh. You need him there. Need him to suck on your clit, and fuck you with his fingers. You. Need. Him. “Curtis,” he chuckles, and the vibrations make your toes clench. “Stop playing around.”

“Such a needy little thing. You gonna be my sweet little slut?”

“Yes!” At this moment, there is nothing you wouldn’t do for him. “Please just touch me.”

You miss him taking a deep inhale before slowly letting the air out of his lungs. You miss him biting at his lip because the second that his fingers touch that thin material at your hips, your eyes close softly. He isn’t playing. In your moment of thankful pleasure, you don’t see his blue eyes go soft as he peels you out of those panties. You don’t see his breathing stutter as he stares at you naked in his bed. Spread open, and begging for him.

You could never know the years he has spent dreaming of there being a time that you would be in his bed. Pleasuring you, pleasuring him, pleasuring each other. But more importantly, loving. He is one that never thought he was good enough for you, and it’s why he stayed away. You deserved some rich man that would spoil you. But maybe his love is enough for you. That you didn’t require all these materialistic things that your mother wanted for you. That you solely just wanted him.

And he’s tired of pretending that you aren’t everything that he’s ever wanted. Sassy attitude that doesn’t take shit from no one. A woman that claims she doesn’t need love, but gets all soft when he mentions it. Someone that claims that sex is only for pleasure, when he’s barely touched you, and you are putty in his hands. Curves that need to be openly touched. Worshiped. Not only are you perfect, but so is your body. Everything about you is his biggest fantasy.

And now you’re spread out before him like a meal he has always wanted. “Eyes on me, sweetheart,” you’re anything but sweet. But you sure do obey him without any questions. Wrecked before he’s even begun. He lifts up your legs, and rests them on his shoulders. Curtis’ dips lower between your spread legs, giving you not much to look at but his eyes that are blown wide with lust, and a predatory grin that a wolf would be envious of.

He licks one stripe through your slit, and you swear you could come undone from that alone. “Mmm,” he licks his lips, letting you see all of him before leaning forward, and devouring you. He licks, nips, and sucks at your bundle of nerves with no decorum. The noises he makes loudly and proudly, just like a man starved. Like a man that hasn’t had anything to drink in months, and his only survival is your juices.

Your body thanks him in kind. Leaking onto the bed, and he just slurps up every drop of honey that your body gives him. Your body meets his every move as it rocks up over and over again. Such a pretty sight. Curtis wears your thighs like earmuffs all the while he has some crazed look on his face at just how delectable you taste. You could drown him, and suffocate him, and he would die from the taste of your pussy every day of the year.

This is how he wants to spend his life, worshiping at the altar of your delicious cunt. Everyday he needs to taste you. Every day he needs to know that your body gets completely soaked just thinking about his mouth on you. You let out a shrill scream when he pushes three fingers into you. Not even hesitating for your body to adjust to the thick intrusion because you can handle it. Your walls are slicked up and accommodate him perfectly.

You writhe and pick up your own pace, not even realizing that he has stilled. He just kitten licks and sucks on your swollen clit. You do the rest of the work, fucking yourself on his fingers. Both of you are just as desperate for the other, and this is the moment that every single wall has been shattered, and you both know just how much you have needed the other.

Nothing has ever been so perfect. Nothing has ever made him feel more complete than that sounds coming off your kiss swollen lips. Bucking your hips in a need to get off more than you ever had before. Your tits bounce with every move you make, and his free hand cups one, and pinches the nipple. Your walls flutter around his fingers, and he smirks at your comment earlier. He’s about to get you off on his mouth, when nobody else ever has. And not just getting you off, you are dying for release.

This perfect view. This immaculate sight of your body rippling with every move of your hips. Your eyes clench close, and your mouth opens to a silent scream, pace quickening until the sound of his name tears off your lips in the most pornographic way. Your cunt holds his fingers in a vice grip as they pulse around his digits.

Your breath hasn’t even regulated before Curtis crawls up your body. He settles his weight onto you, and he thrusts into you. Boxer briefs still cover his body, but he’s just as needy to get off, and you let him take. Let him demand a release without friction. Simulating fucking has never been so hot, and then his soaked beard and mouth find yours and you kiss him with no abandon. Gripping onto his back, and scratching down his spine and you swallow every wanton moan and groan that flows off his lips.

Nothing has ever been more hot than Curtis needing something that he is refusing himself so much. You would gladly let him spear you with his cock, but all the while whatever this is, is so fucking hot. You will long for the day that you can have him, but you will never forget the day that Curtis wet humped onto your sated body. You are relaxed and willing him to just get off. Let his cum add to the mess between your legs.

“Curtis,” you whimper through the kissing. “Baby, let go,” and instantly he spews against your pussy, and you gasp as he leans back. You don’t know what passes between the two of you as you watch his mouth fall open and moans of his release fan across your face, but you want to experience this again. He is beautiful. Perfect even.

The two of you stare at each other panting, and you don’t even want to break the spell. You want to make a joke about next time just sticking it in, but you can’t. There’s an odd understanding that happens between the two of you. Too much information and feelings, and also not enough. But this moment will forever be engrained in your mind. And this bed will never be the same.

“I should, should get a washcloth to clean you.”

“I don’t want you to leave.”

“Me neither.”

“This one time — don’t,” Curtis releases a quick breath of air, but nods his head. So many unsaid words pass between you. It’s too much. Feelings are too much and racing in between you. You’ll worry about what this all means tomorrow. Or maybe it means nothing. Maybe it just means that you’re done fighting. Why fight when there is this to gain from giving up. You’ve fought too long, and this prize is too precious.

As if knowing you’ve given up, he lays his head on your chest, and you sigh. This entanglement will be the way you fall asleep. And you hope that this is the way you fall asleep every night. For the rest of your life. Entangled in him.

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