4. Rutger
Chapter 4
Rutger
I get Tess into my pickup, and I think about keeping her there.
Forever.
It’s been too long already, and I’ve been watching her the entire time. Last night, I spent the entire night at her window, peering into the darkness, making sure she was safe and happy, but it wasn’t enough. I almost broke her door down and claimed her right there and then, but talked myself out of it.
Don’t scare her away , I told myself, even though I knew if she ever tried to run, I’d chase her down and bring her back. And if she wouldn’t stay, I’d make her.
I’ve got chains.
I like the sight of her bouncing around in my passenger seat. The suspension’s shot. It’s not an easy ride. Her tits bounce and her butt comes off the seat. Every time she lands, it’s a little closer to me, so I start aiming for the potholes in the road.
I like her closer to me. I like her tits moving around. It’s better than any cartoon I’ve ever watched.
In an enclosed space like this, I can smell her hair and that flowery, fruity scent she gives off. My mouth waters. My cock gets longer and harder. It’s hurting to be closer to her again, but it’s a good kind of hurt. The kind that makes me forget to keep my eyes on the road.
“I really appreciate the ride,” she says, her colorful fingernails glinting in the sun as she holds on to the dashboard as I hit a deep hole toward the side of the road, jerking the steering wheel to the left to see what that does to her tits.
It does fun things. They bounce and sway, and I almost burst in my pants again. I want to play with them for the rest of my life.
I grunt in acknowledgment, darting my eyes from the road to her lips. I keep flexing my hands over the steering wheel, rolling my fingers, tensing my knuckles. I want to grab her thighs and take her for a real ride on top of my cock.
“I didn’t really want to go into town,” she explains. “But it’s my kitten. Frida Kahlo. I don’t have any proper kitty food for her, and I worry she’ll get sick.”
Her whole face lights up when she talks about her cat. I know what love looks like, seeing that, but I want to see it when she talks about me.
But I’m not cute. Or fluffy. And I don’t understand women. Not at all.
I’m reminded of why I stayed away for two days, wondering if she was just playing with me like others do. If what happened outside her cabin was some kind of joke. I watched her every minute since that I wasn’t sleeping, I just didn’t let her see. Conflict pulls at my insides, not knowing anything about these feelings she gives me or if she feels anything the same.
When I don’t answer, she gives me a confused look. “You saw my kitten when we met, do you remember?”
Again, I grunt. The memory of that little bundle of fluff with its claws out is still fresh in my mind.
Truth is, I’m scared of cats. I’ve kept away from them since I was a kid and didn’t know how to pet them. The last one I tried to touch, I got scratched. Never tried again.
I won’t tell that to Tess.
“So Phil was just taking me to the grocery store to get kitten food.”
This time, what comes out of me is a growl. Not a grunt. I don’t like her saying his name or reminding me that he was taking her anywhere. I’m the only one that gets to have my name on her lips and her ass in my car.
I’m viciously angry—at Phil, at myself. At her for going along with it instead of coming to me.
How dare he try to take care of my woman?
That’s my job.
I should have known she needed help, and that’s my fault. One more thing that shows me I’m not good enough for her. I need to do better. But if Phil tries to help her again, I’ll be tearing limbs off something other than trees.
“I haven’t seen you in a minute,” Tess says shyly. “I hope you’ve been doing well.” She smiles, but her words sound tense, like she’s trying hard to be nice. “Not getting stuck on any more fences, right?”
Desire snarls huge in my chest, like I haven’t jerked off thinking about her body against mine multiple times a day since then. I wake up with an erection. I milk myself in the morning, in the shower, after the shower… Always thinking it’s her wrapped around my cock.
“Been busy,” I mumble. Busy obsessing about you.
I could have spent that time figuring out my problems. Finding a lawyer I trust to tell me what Lindsay’s lease says. Deciding if I should sign it. Seeing what all the bad tax letters mean that I keep getting.
But now all my time belongs to Tess.
I want to strap her to a trunk and put myself in between her thighs, and force my dick all the way inside her. Until my balls slap her ass. Until she’s coming and gushing all over my dick. Probably crying too, but I will soothe her with my mouth after. I don’t know if that’s what people do, but it’s what I want to do.
But I can’t do that. She deserves better than to be ravaged by an illiterate recluse that looks like the cousin of Bigfoot.
Every time she poses for one of the classes, I’m watching. I watch Lindsay rearranging Tess’s body and imagine it’s my hands, my mouth, making contact with that deliciously smooth skin. I growl and grumble at the artists looking at her barely dressed. I obsess over the way the light cups the underside of her breasts. The soft pinkness of her shoulders. The rolls on her back settling softly atop one another, like she’s all the best parts of a woman stacked together.
And once everyone’s done, I go in and steal the art some of them leave behind like diamonds discarded unknowingly. They’re drawing on cheap flimsy paper like it doesn’t matter.
But, it does. Every drawing should be in a museum.
So I take it all myself. For my personal museum.
I plaster them on my ceiling, on the walls. Her sketches are the first thing I see when I wake up in the morning. The first thing I see before I pass out with my dick in my hand.
Now my cabin is a temple and the only goddess I know is Tess.
Some of the drawings are good, but none of them capture how beautiful she actually is. They don’t get how her curves are even wilder than the forest. How her hair flows and twists like the river. Or those sexy toenails she paints like all the flower petals in the meadow.
“Your fingernails are nice,” I twist the words from my lips, forcing them out through my trepidation, my eyes locking back on the road, afraid I’ll see her shake her head or laugh at my simple compliment.
“Really?” Instead, her voice chirps like a happy bird. She holds her hands in front of her to look. Right now she’s done something with polka dots on each nail. “Thank you. I really like them too.”
Nice? Why did I say they are ‘nice’? They are ten-thousand times better than nice.
“They’re art,” I manage with a surge of confidence in my chest. “You’re an artist.”
Her gaze softens as she turns and takes me in. Her eyes feel like they are licking me wherever they touch. “You get it, don’t you? Why I paint them?”
I jerk my chin in a nod. Up and down. Up and down, hard enough that my brain bounces around inside my skull.
“Are you an artist?” Tess reaches my way, her brow in a curious knot as she brushes her fingers along my temple and I nearly drive us off the road. “It looks like you’ve got a little pastel here.”
I can’t tell her, but I haven’t just been stealing art. I’ve been stealing supplies, because I have to draw her. If I’m not sleeping or stalking her, I’m drawing her. I have to see if I can capture Tess. I want her with me whether she wants to be there or not.
“I’m not an artist,” I say. “I just…draw. Things. Sometimes.”
You. Your tits. Your ass. What I imagine between your legs. The slope of your back and the way you tip your head over your shoulder. And your toes.
Jesus, Mary and Joseph.
Your. Toes.
“That makes you an artist. You don’t just draw, you make art.” She raises her other hand for me to look. “Like me.”
Her fingers trail down my cheek and brush my beard and the muscles in my legs turn to knots. My balls try to climb up inside me and the throbbing ache of my constant erection is making the world sort of hazy around the edges.
Somehow, I make it to the grocery store on the edge of town without ravaging her or driving us off a cliff.
Tess is blushing as I jump out of the truck and run around like a jackrabbit to her side to open the door like a gentleman should.
“I’ll take, like, five minutes.” She slides down from the seat on a smile that makes me think she’s not playing with me, that she even really likes me.
But I already know in my heart I love her.
I wish my grandmother was still here. I bet she’d know how you turn like into love, and she’d surely tell me how to do it.
“Five minutes,” I agree, my eyes darting up and down the street. There’s more danger in town than in the forest, and if any of it comes around, I want to be ready. But I wonder if I’ll be able to handle five minutes without her smell, her touch, her beautiful eyes.
I watch her ass as it sways and bounces into the grocery store, loving every little jiggle. I’m jealous of the bell ringing over the door when she goes inside. Jealous that anything gets to experience her presence on this planet.
I spend all five minutes staring at the clock in the park at the center of town, waiting for her to come back.
As soon as it ticks past five of the little dash marks, I come undone. I throw myself through the same door where she disappeared, and stalk into the store like a wild man, the bell jingling more like a warning than a welcome this time. There’s apples and broccoli in the bins by the door. I’m tall enough to see down aisles without moving around. But her scent is faint, like she’s far away, so I scan the store, all the way to the back past the chips and soda and cans of soup, and there she is.
In the part of the store where they have the medicine and make up.
Someone’s talking to her.
He sounds angry, and as he turns a little I recognize him as the store owner. I know him and he’s not nice. He always rolls his eyes when I come to the register to pay for my supplies and have to count out the money three times before I’m sure it all adds up to the amount he wants.
I think he would take more than I owe if he could. He’s got those eyes. The take advantage kind of eyes.
I take out a pyramid of canned beans as I bolt her way. I’m at her back, standing over both of them, glowering at the piece of shit, and Tess looks scared.
The owner’s got his arms crossed, his body blocking Tess from leaving the store.
“Back away,” I snarl, my knuckles letting out a pop-pop-pop as I clench and extend my fingers.
He looks terrified as I approach, my long steps meeting the tile floor with resounding thuds. I’m not counting my money this time asshole, I think as I watch his throat move as he swallows hard.
The distance his eyes travel to get up to my head makes him more panicky. But he thinks he’s a tough guy, and he squares up his shoulders. “I saw this girl put nail polish into her pocket. She’s a thief. I’m calling the police.”
“Back. Away.” I say again, resting my hands on her shoulders.
He swallows again as I lean forward over Tess, locking my eyes with his.
My nostrils flare as he finally stumbles back.
Good.
“I could have her arrested,” he snaps, his voice cracking as I take a long inhale over Tess’s hair.
My cock jerks in my pants, nudging against the middle of Tess’s back, but she doesn’t move.
“How would you call the cops with two broken hands?” I ask, and his eyes widen.
“You can’t threaten me, I know who you are—”
I don’t let him finish, retrieving the little shopping basket that she’s holding filled with cans of kitten food. “What’s this worth? Twenty? Forty?” I’ve got cash. Money’s not a problem. I reach into my pocket and throw a handful of twenties at him, and I know it’s more than enough for nail polish and cat food. It’s better than he deserves. “Now you can fuck off.”
He gapes at me like a dying fish for a minute, before scrambling to pick up the money. I step over him on the way out the door, steering my woman with my hand on her back around this waste of flesh.
I grab a bag as we pass the register, dropping the cans inside, then throwing the basket over my head, listening to it crash into the ceiling then fall to the floor with a crunch as the bells on the door signal our exit.
Tess is giggling when we get back to the pickup, like adrenaline has rushed through her. Her face is red though. She’s embarrassed.
“That was so bad,” she says. “I could have been arrested.”
“No,” I say. “I’d never allow that.”
“But…” She pulls nail polish out of her pocket. The unopened bottle is glittery and green.
“We paid for it.” I put the pickup into gear and pull out of the parking lot, wondering if she put it in her pocket by mistake or on purpose.
And does it matter?
“I was going to steal it.” She reads my mind, and I dislike the shame in her voice. “I’ve done it before, too. I just…” She seems to search the toes of her shoes for what comes next. “I’ve never had much money. And I can’t wear cute clothes, even if I could afford them. People get weird about me—about my body. Boys used to try to grab me. That’s why I wear men’s clothes. Big things. My mom’s boyfriends would either make fun of me or try—” She leaves that there when I start to growl as red creeps into my vision. “So, anyway… nails are kind of the only thing I can do to make myself feel pretty. Fancy, I guess. And I can barely afford cat food, so—”
“You don’t have to explain.” I swing open the passenger door, fixing the bag in the space behind her seat, then circle her soft waist in my hands and lift her into the truck, reaching around to buckle the belt over her cute little belly. “If you’re doing it, it’s right. I don’t care, but if you want polish, I’ll buy it for you. All the colors. But not from there.” I jerk my head toward the grocery as the sun turns my forehead warm. “We will find another store. A bigger store with the whole rainbow of colors, and I’ll fill a cart with them so you can have polish forever.”
I inhale, holding my breath, wondering if she thinks I’m crazy or stupid. Or both.
Her eyes widen. Then I catch tears glinting along the bottom rim.
Did I say something wrong?
“Nobody’s ever believed in me like that before. Or wanted to take care of me like that,” she says. And then she hugs me.
I’m overwhelmed by the tenderness. I haven’t been hugged since my grandma went to heaven.
There’s something soft inside of me that feels a lot like Tess herself. It blossoms open like spring flowers. I want to hold her forever, keep those flowers forever, just for us.
I make my way into the truck, turning the key and revving the engine, nearly pulling the wheel off the column as I barrel down Main Street back toward the mountain where I belong. With Tess.
But the need that cinches around my chest and squeezes my testicles is too much. That serpent inside me whispers that I need a taste. I need to eat her. I can’t stop myself.
Right outside town, I pull abruptly to the side of the road.
Tess’s breath gets caught in her throat and her eyes widen as she asks, “Rutger?”
“You’re so fucking beautiful.” I fight to keep my voice steady. I haven’t cried since my dad died. Not even when Grandma and Grandpa left. I hate crying. I hate hurting. Tess is making tears come, but they aren’t the sad kind, they’re the desperate kind. The ones that tell me I haven't known sadness like the kind she could cause.
The kind I wouldn’t come back from if she was gone.
“I need.” The two words come back from when we were outside her cabin together. Touching. “Forest Daddy needs—".
And then she’s kissing me.
Her lips tease over mine. I’m too shocked to react at first. Fantasy and reality are crashing together, and I’m not sure if I’m awake, or even alive. It’s like heaven on her lips. Maybe a tree fell on me and I died.
Then my pounding heart and throbbing cock catch up.
She’s making these little sounds. They’re sweeter than anything I’ve ever heard before.
Fuck, those sounds.
When I growl again, she just opens her mouth wider and leans into me, and I can taste her sigh.
I cream my fucking jeans.
My body shakes hard as I pull her closer, crushing her against my chest. I breathe the heat of my desire into her. White spots sparkle on the edges of my vision from the sheer tension of coming, and it makes her glow in my eyes.
“That’s right,” she gasps. “You’re—you’re doing great, Daddy.”
I know from listening to people talk that Tess is only eighteen. I’m in my thirties and I almost could be her Daddy. I sure as hell feel possessive enough. Like it’s my only purpose in life to protect her now.
But I’m not that kind of Daddy. Not right now.
I’m the kind that shoves her back flat to the bench seat and covers her with my body, pressing every fucking inch of myself against every inch of her. Jerking and bucking and grunting so she knows what’s coming.
What I have been keeping for her.
I teach myself the shape of her body with my hands. She teaches me how to kiss with her lips. Her tongue is hot and wet against mine, guiding me, fighting with me.
I drag my mouth down her body, bury my face between her thighs, and bite down on the seam of her jeans.
She clings to my hair with both hands, pressing me against her pussy hard enough to smother. “Oh my God,” Tess cries.
Instinct tells me to lick and suck, and I don’t hold back. Even through her pants, I can taste her. She’s like honey.
I map the shape of her with my face. Drag my cheek along the inside of her thigh. Bite on the seam of her jeans like a dog. She bucks her hips to move them where she likes, and I blow my hot breaths through the cloth.
She’s coming against my face.
“Rutger!”
Her thighs clamp on either side of my head. I’m deaf. I’m getting crushed.
I love it.
I love her.
As she bucks and drags her pussy along my face, all I can think is that this is my woman. The woman I’m going to take care of for the rest of my life. I’m broken for anyone else.
From now on, it’s only Tess.
I climb her body to kiss her lips, a little more confident now. I can do what she showed me—stroking her tongue with mine, sipping at her lips—and I think her noises mean that she likes it.
“You turn me on,” I say. “It feels like…a storm. Like when the thunder gets caught on the mountain, and it pours rain and takes down half the trees.”
She sighs and rolls her head back, and I nibble on her neck. My beard scrapes along the tender skin of her throat.
“I want to eat you up without the jeans,” I admit, then add in an embarrassed murmur, “But I’m not sure what to do.”
“You can explore, if you want. Just…use me to figure it out,” Tess says, pink spots spreading across her cheeks.
It’s all the permission I need.
I flip her onto her belly and pull her jeans down her ass.
That ass.
God, it’s even better than I imagined. The waistband holds her thighs together and the plump flesh is dimpled by it. Her skin glows like moonlight. The twin curves are the juiciest peach I’ve ever seen. I open my mouth wide to take a bite, exactly the way I’ve been wanting. She’s salty-sweet. Perfect.
I rub my beard over her thighs and bury my tongue in the crevices between, and she makes those good noises again.
She’s got hair on her lower lips, just a little bit. Her arousal glistens on it like morning dew.
I lick it off with the wide flatness of my tongue.
It does taste like honey.
She’s so sweet and soaking. I suckle on her lips and draw out as much as I can, drinking from her, feeding myself on her essence. I bury my nose into the slit so that my tongue can reach deeper.
Her pants are choppy. She makes these rhythmic little uh-uh-uh sounds that grow in pitch.
“You’re a fast learner.”
“Can’t get at you the way I want,” I grunt.
Frustrated, I push her onto her back again, and her hair spills over the seat.
I maneuver myself between her thighs and spread her lips with my thumbs to take a look. She’s perfectly pink. There’s a nub at the top and I rub it with my thumb.
“You found my clit,” she says. “That’s what it is. It’s called—oh—it’s a clitoris. Did you know that?”
I didn’t. “Is this right?” I watch her face while rubbing her clit.
“Yes—yes!” It’s a magical spot, judging by the way she throws her head back. I love those squeals.
My lips lock around the clit easily, like it’s meant to be in my mouth. I suck. She cries out with the most delicious moan I’ve ever heard.
“Why—why—why me?” Tess asks, her fingers all tangled in my hair.
“What?” I ask without lifting my head.
It takes her a minute to speak again. “I’m just—I only just showed up at camp. I’m just a fuck-up who—who doesn’t know what she’s doing. And…oh, yes. Right there.” I flick that bead with my fingers and she spasms. “I’m getting half-naked for money. I steal nail polish. Why are you into me?”
“Because it’s you,” I say.
And I dive face-first into her cunt again.