“Oh, you talk so filthy, and it makes me so hot,” she hums, licking my mouth before she slips her tongue inside.
Smacking her ass again, I ride her hard, rocking up into her faster,faster,loving how she whimpers into the kiss. Scout throws herself back as she comes, her knees shooting up as she stuns us both and soaks us with her cum. It’s the hottest thing I have ever seen, so I blow too.
Scout collapses against me, shuddering as I hold her close. Her face burrows in my neck and she mumbles about staying with me. I tell her I’m not about to let her go yet. One of her little satisfied whimpers sounds, so I figure we’re on the same page. We both pass out with sated sighs.
Waking up hours later with the sun just peeking through the clouds, I reach for her. I held her all night, but we never made love again. I can still smell her skin, her strawberry shampoo, and the mix of the two of us on the sheets. Stretching my aching body, I climb out of bed to go find her.
“You cannot be serious,” I hiss as I come up empty.
Kicking myself for letting us get in bed before we talked about what this was, I consider taking a shower. Just the idea of washing her off me makes my chest ache. I wait a few hours, wondering if she just went out to grab breakfast or maybe take a walk in the woods. It’s a beautiful place to go exploring. Giving up hope she is just out becoming one with nature, I suddenly cannot wait to shower, to rid myself of her sweet scent and any memories of last night.
After my shower, I ampissed. Offended even. I think I am owed an explanation. With plans to head to town to confront her, I go out to the truck. I never turn it on, and I never leave the mountain. I sit in the truck’s cab with the keys in the ignition, but I can’t do it. I cannot go to town to beg her to want something she clearly doesn’t. I should have expected this.
Scout is young and beautiful—and despite what I am feeling, she truly owes me nothing. I have no idea if I was the first man she went home with. It stings to even think about it, but it’s not realistic not to consider it. I begged another woman to want me, and I won’t do it again. Scout made a choice by leaving my place, so I can’t go chasing after someone who doesn’t want me.
“Scout wanted to play games,” I whisper to myself with a shake of my head. “I am too damn old for games. I am not playing anything with her.”
Heading back inside, I decide a weekend hiding away at the cabin is not so bad. I make some chili, turn on some old baseball games, and try to forget I was ever fool enough to bring a woman here. Now my home feels different. It feels altered somehow. Even after the shower, I smell her on my skin. I can still taste her. My sheets are still twisted up from how she kept burrowing closer and closer to me.
“Stop thinking about her. Forget it ever happened. That seems to be her plan, I ought to do the same,” I mumble around a bite of hearty chili.
We never should have come here together. Taking her home was a terrible decision. If she wanted to play games, if she wanted a quick fuck, we should have never left the bar. Hooking up was not what I wanted. It was hot; it was the best sex of my life, and I am still wanting more, but not this way. Not where I wake up alone and empty after she has bailed on me.
Part of me thinks I dreamed it all up. That I left the bar without her and spent another night fantasizing about her. About a woman I have no shot with. Grumbling to myself about being so stupid, I go back to bed before night even falls. It is then I am reminded that it was no dream.
Scout is gone—but her panties are not.
“That little minx,” I hiss as I snatch them up from where they lie on my pillow. I missed them earlier and I am glad I did.
Because before I even get settled, I know just what I am going to do. It is sad and a little sick, even depraved, but I am beyond caring. Lying back in bed without a stitch of clothes on, I wrap her panties around my thick cock as I sit back against the oak headboard.
That sweet strawberry scent of hers fills my lungs as I take a deep breath. I stroke the lace of her panties up and down my shaft, remembering how I tore them off her. How I devoured her pretty pink pussy until she soaked my beard with cum. Those needy moans of hers as she fucked my face fill my head and I grunt as I pick up my pace.
“It is so good,” I hum, licking my lips as if I can still taste her sweet cream. “Tastes so good, baby,” I hiss, pumping faster.
Throwing my head back, I can almost feel her. Sitting atop me, those pretty tits swaying as she rode me, taking me deeper and deeper. The way she moaned when I sucked at the peaked buds, the way she cried out when I rubbed at her swollen clit. God, she was hot for me. I grunt as I remember how tight she gripped my cock when she came, sucking every single drop of cum up greedily.
“That’s it, baby, take it all,” I moan, remembering how silky her cunt was on my cock, how we agreed I was fucking her raw. Hell, she could be pregnant with my baby right now. Just thinking it sends searing hot pleasure racing up my spine. “Ah, fuck, I hope you’ve got my baby in you now. You won’t ever be rid of me, honey.”
Thinking about her soft body round with my child, those soft tits growing with milk, and how greedy she will be for cock—for my cock—pushes me over the edge. I come hard, spurting rope after rope of cum into her lace panties. I stroke until it becomes too much, and I untangle her panties from my cock.
Setting them on the bedside table, I let out a broken sigh. Those panties might get me through one more night, her scent on my sheets, the taste of her on my tongue. But it won’t be enough. Not even close. All that will fulfill my hunger for her is to get her back here, in my cabin, in my bed, and fill her with my cock again.
It looks as if I might be up for playing some games after all.
Chapter Six
Scout
Playing games is fun until it stops being fun.
That round of truth or dare with Sebastian is the most fun I have ever had. I want to play more. I have been itching for another round since I left his place yesterday. I left him my panties and a whispered promise to play again soon. I’ve been waiting to see his handsome face and crooked smile all day.
Only it’s getting late time, and he is not here. I am in my head, coming up with a dozen excuses for him. He had to work late at the landing—on a Sunday. Could happen. He got stuck in a storm that did not hit town but kept him on the mountain. But it all leads back to the same fear.
Was what we shared nothing more than a one-round game?
“Call him. Text him, sext him, whatever—itisthe 21stcentury, babes,” Tre reminds me as if I have not agonized over wanting to talk to him.
