Cherished:The Mountain Man's Babies(7)By: Frankie Love
My come shoots into her warm mouth, and she moans, swallowing me, sucking me still, as if she wants every last salty taste of me.
I'll give her what she wants.
Now and forever.
I swallow what he gives me, and I don't care if the church condemns me—right now what I just shared with James is the holiest exchange of love in this world.
But then he lowers me to my back, slips off my skirt, then my panties, bringing the wet pair to his nose, inhaling my womanhood, and I know I've yet to experience the holiest of holy.
"Oh, love," James says, running his hand over my skin, parting my knees, touching me as if I'm the most precious thing he’s ever touched. "Your pussy is perfection."
I smile, not embarrassed or ashamed—my best friend is looking at me, loving everything he sees, and it makes me whimper under his hand. As he touches me, I see his cock growing large again, and my belly is already full of his baby gravy, but I want more.
"You like it?" I ask, marveling at the fact that James is going to be my first. I've dreamt of this, but never actually imagined it for myself. Why should I get what I want after holding back for so long? But James doesn't seem angry at me for holding back from him for so long, he is patient in ways I don't understand. James came and found me before it was too late, and now we can be together—come what may.
"Your pussy is untouched, so nice and tight. Your pussy was made for my cock, love, you know that, right?”
I smile again, trying to reconcile the way I view myself with the way James sees me now. I spread my legs wider for him, wanting him to take all I have to offer.
"I died and went to heaven, love," he tells me, his hand stroking my slit, and when he touches me, my entire body shivers with anticipation, my heart flutters, and my bottom lifts, as if gravitating toward the place his hand is, wanting him to be closer, wanting him inside me.
"Don't make me wait, James," I say, wrapping my arms around his neck, drawing him to me. My legs wrap around him, and when he inches himself into me, I call out in pleasure. My body is starved for attention, and his body is the only thing to satisfy my cravings. Cravings I didn't even know were mine for the taking.
He pushes in me, and I wince as he fills me up, pressing past the place that has made me a virgin. "Am I hurting you?" he asks, his elbows on either side of me.
I shake my head imperceptibly. "No, it's okay, I don't want you to stop," I moan, meaning it. It hurts, but not in a painful way, in a searing, my body is filled perfectly, never let me go way. A way I need. A way I want.
A way that is ours.
He is in me now, and his lips are on mine. He kisses me as he makes love to me. This man that I've wanted forever has come and claimed me. And we don't know what tomorrow will bring, but that is going to be okay. As he rocks inside of me, my pussy throbs, my clit is exposed and greedy, rubbing against him and taking all the pleasure offered.
My body is alive, and when he thrusts deeper into me, my legs shake, my thighs tremble, and I come. I come against and for him and with him. He comes in me too, filling me with his creamy release, the release made for me. The release we share.
I want it again and again and I want it forever.
I will have it.
But before he even stops rocking against me, before my body steadies itself, soaking up all he gave me, we hear a rustle in the trees. Branches snapping.
We stop moving, hearing the footsteps, the hollers, the calls.
Someone is looking for me.
Several someones are looking for me.
"Cherish, where are you, woman?"
James locks eyes with me. Wordlessly, we move quickly, pulling on pants and buttoning shirts and sliding on shoes, and the people are moving faster through the thicket.
And then they are here, a group of men, my father and husband to be, Luke too, and James’s father. Everyone looks at him, then me, anger on their faces, fear in my heart. But I am dressed and James is dressed and there is nothing to prove.
But that doesn't matter. Not to these men. Men who are motivated by a God I don't understand, a God who has forsaken me and left me more times than I can count.
"What in God's name is going on out here?" my father yells.
George, the man I am meant to marry, moves closer to me as if sniffing the air. He asks the question that would put James in the grave if he chose to be honest.