5. Tess
Chapter 5
Tess
I ’m being eaten out by some feral forest mountain man in the front seat of his ten thousand-year-old pickup.
And he’s really good at it.
Whatever clumsiness he gets from inexperience, he makes up with raw enthusiasm. This isn’t some dainty poking-around, or some boastful ‘I know what you need, baby,’ like some testosterone-fueled desperate teenager.
Rutger bites gently on my clit and pleasure bolts up my spine. I arch my back, almost like I’m trying to get away, except I don’t want to get away, and he knows it. He wraps his arms around my thighs to hold them tighter to his head. He presses his hands against my hips to hold them down.
I can thrash and moan and cry out as much as I want to, but I’m not going anywhere.
“There, yes,” I say when he licks my clit again. “That spot! Right there!”
“This?” he asks, muffled by my cunt.
He licks it again and I hump his face.
“Y esss ,” I groan. “Lick my clit, Daddy. Oh Jesus, fuuuuck .”
“You like that?” he asks me.
“Like. Yes.” I huff as I jack my hips onto his mouth. “Like. Like, uh .”
More nonsense but he seems to decode my blabber in miraculous ways.
He tries out sucking and my mind goes totally blank. All I manage to do is make a weird whining sound. “Yeah, good girl. Tell me you like it. Let it all out.”
He sucks and sucks, and hot bolts of pleasure shoot from my hole to the tips of my hair.
“God, Daddy! Holy Reindeer --” My eyes roll back and I shake and mumble like I’m speaking in tongues.
I can’t give him words, so I babble more nonsense as I slap my thighs against his face, dig all ten fingers into his hair, trapped in his arms.
His tongue finds its way inside of me. I’m pretty sure it’s bigger than most regular dicks but it’s smooth and wet and warm and gah…
“Fuck!” My hand slaps the dashboard. My heels slam his back.
“What’s that?” he asks, lifting his head.
For a moment, I glimpse his wild, handsome face, and his beard is drenched with my juice.
“That’s—that’s my—” I cut myself off.
“Say it,” he says.
“My pussy,” I whisper.
“And what do you want me to do to it?” Rutger asks.
“Please, don’t stop,” I choke out, but that’s not enough for him.
He lays a kiss on one of my lips without touching where I want to be touched. “You gotta tell me, little girl. Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you. I’ll give it to you until you’re screaming.”
“I want your fingers in me.” I cover my eyes with an arm. “Your fingers in me and your mouth on my clit. Please.”
“Beg,” he growls.
“Please, Daddy! Fuck me with your fingers!”
He slides one of his long, thick digits inside of me, and I feel a dragging sensation deep inside my body where I’ve never felt it before. I’m still a virgin. Just getting his finger past one of the knuckles is a squeeze, wet as I am, and his agonized moan vibrates through my clit.
“You’re so small, so tight,” he says. He pulls his finger out, then eases it back in. “Take me like a good girl. Relax. Spread your legs.”
I can’t spread them when he’s sucking on me, flicking my swollen clit with his tongue, and arching his finger to massage my inner walls. I can only clamp tight around him as another orgasm approaches.
My vision goes fuzzy. My ears ring.
Rutger pushes my thighs back and spreads them apart. I’m doubled over. My calves are still wrapped in my jeans, captured, but he’s got me spread out so that he can keep licking while he slides a second finger into me.
I’m wide open, fully exposed, helpless to the heat of his breath and the strength of his hands.
“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, ” I pant on each breath, neck straining, legs shaking, his mouth locked over my cunt. “I’m going to come—I’m coming—”
“Come for me,” he snarls.
And I do.
It explodes out of me. I gush all over his fingers, all over his face, and I scream so loudly that the whole forest should be able to hear.
The only thing left behind afterward is total peace. Emptiness. Relaxation.
I think I pass out for a second.
When I rouse again, Rutger’s kissing up my thighs and putting my pants back into place. He takes one more long inhale of me through my underwear. They’re soaking and useless. I need to change.
He sucks his fingers into his mouth, eyes locked with mine.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, and I blush as I smile.
I’m basically asleep all the way back to camp.
If we lived in a perfect world, Rutger would sweep me into his arms and take me into hiding with him. In a perfect world, I could have his head between my legs for the next infinity, which is exactly how long it would take for me to be satisfied.
But when Paint Forest Program comes into view, I remember it’s not a perfect world, and that I’ve got a job to do. I catch sight of the dashboard clock.
“I have class in less than an hour,” I say. I’m nestled against his shoulder sleepily as the pickup trundles to the patch of dirt we use as a parking lot.
“Skip it.”
“I can’t.” It’s the only reason I’m here. Lindsay has been so perfectly kind to me, and I need to earn my keep.
“I don’t like people looking at what’s mine,” he says, grabbing my hip. “ This is mine. All of it.”
“It’s yours,” I agree. “But I made promises I have to keep.”
I kiss Rutger one more time. He tastes of me. And not any of the bits people normally see.
Then I take the kitten food into my cabin.
Every step I take, Rutger’s eyes are on me. He waits outside his pickup with his arms folded, one eyebrow arched, and his mustache curved into a frown.
His stare is so intense, I swear he can even see me after I’ve gone through the door.
Frida Kahlo is happy to see me. She gets up and wraps around my ankles, meowing excitement.
For once, she’s right to be excited. I haven’t totally screwed up our lives by getting arrested for shoplifting. And I can even feed her real food. I tap a can out onto a plate, and she jumps onto the plate before I can even put it on the floor. She unhinges her little kitten jaw to eat like a freaking snake.
“Good girl,” I say, patting her head.
Then I blush, remembering Rutger saying the same thing to me.
He’s the only thing I want to think about. He fills my mind in the shower, when I get dressed again, when I’m cleaning Frida’s plate.
When I go to the life drawing class, wearing nude-colored underwear and a drape, I’m still just thinking about Rutger. The idea that he might be watching me makes my nipples get all tight, and they seem directly connected to my innermost core.
His thick beard, his soulful eyes, the tanned skin of a man who always works out in the sun—they’re waiting for me every time I close my eyes.
“Can you pose for me?” Lindsay asks playfully, moving me into position.
“Sure,” I say.
But really, I’m posing for Rutger.
Every movement of my body belongs to him now. When I stretch out, I feel aware of my skin in a way I’ve never felt before.
I think I see him watching me through the window.
It’s hard to tell the difference between the forest and Rutger, though. It could have just as easily been shadows dancing from the breeze. He’s thick as a tree trunk. His hair wild like brambles.
For him, my poses are sultry. I toss my hair. Show off my neck. Lift my knee to reveal a little thigh.
“Oh my gosh, you’re so cute,” Lindsay says excitedly. She’s taken an easel of her own to draw with the students as well. “You are such a great model.”
“It helps to have such a great audience,” I say.
Nobody knows I mean Rutger—the audience of one. The only audience I care about.
The time passes in a blur. Then we’re cleaning up and moving on. I find myself wiggling into jeans as the last couple of people are still wiping down the floor and tables.
“How’s your car?” I ask Phil as I get the jeans into place and fasten the button.
“Towed to a mechanic,” he says with anguish. “Did you get what you needed?”
I blush. “Y-yes, I got food for my cat from the store in town. Thank you.”
“Have you thought more about posing nude?” Lindsay asks, washing the charcoal off her hands in the sink. “A few of the students told me about asking you, and they could really use you. They pay an extra fee for it.”
“I could use the money,” I say slowly.
But Rutger wouldn’t like it. He doesn’t like people looking at me, because I belong to him.
I can’t ask him for too many favors though. My mom always made it clear I’m a burden, and I haven’t forgotten. I’m so afraid of hearing that sharp tone of judgment again.
You got a ratty little cat when you can’t even take care of yourself? She was so disgusted with me. If you’re going to be an idiot, you should be an idiot alone. Stop leeching off of me!
Rutger already had to interrupt his day to take me into town. I get the feeling he isn’t the kind of guy who goes into civilization much.
What if I need to take Frida to see the vet? Or if I run out of money for food? What if I have to go asking Rutger for help, and I hear that same tone of disgust from him too?
He can’t know I’m a leech. I can’t lose him like that.
Better to earn my keep.
I make one last effort to get Lindsay and Phil to retract the offer. I wheedle. “I know you’ve got more nude models. Phil, didn’t you do it once?”
“Sure,” he says. “But there’s only a few of us. Me, Gerry, Shelley. We do what we can but…” He shrugs, and I think about them modeling. Phil is kind of short and stocky, Gerry’s older and wiry, like he’s made from beef jerky. Shelley’s pretty, but thin with tiny boobs and no butt. Apparently, that doesn’t make for such great studying. “You’re not like anyone else,” he says. “We could learn so much getting a chance to draw you.”
“You’ve got an amazing, unique figure,” Lindsay agrees. She clasps her hands together in a begging pose, with a grin. “Please get naked? I’ll even attend the session myself. It’s in my own time, so the university won’t care.”
I can feel this is a pivotal moment. I want to say no. I should say no. At the very least, I should check with the man who just gave me an orgasm with his mouth whether he’s comfortable with the idea.
But…
Well, as Lindsay begs, and Phil makes encouraging eyes at me, I’m more aware that I’m a fake than ever. The real Francesca is out there somewhere, and maybe she just got the wrong day to start or something. I kind of hope that’s the case, or that she changed her mind, because otherwise where is she?
This whole gig is a house of cards, and if I make any sudden movements my curvy ass is likely to knock the table and send the whole thing crashing to the floor.
If I was really a model, who apparently sent photographs of my Rubenesque figure as some sort of audition, would I really be so bashful about baring everything for a few hours’ actual paid work?
No, I would not. And the truth is, I need to save up as much money as I can before someone figures out I’m not who I’m claiming to be.
“Yeah, okay,” I say.
A huge crash from outside interrupts the conversation.
We bolt out the door to find another tree has fallen over.
A big one.
This one didn’t land on anything, but the roots stick up in the air taller than the light post it almost took out. They’re like mangled, bony arms. A mess of dead branches are strewn around the area by the pond where they usually do plein air.
About forty of the retreat goers stand around in little clusters looking and pointing and shaking their heads. I’m the only one looking into the forest beyond, looking for a sign of what I expect to find: Rutger, furious, shoving the tree over with bare hands, with the power of his rage whistling like steam out of his ears.
A flash of his massive form retreats into the forest with a long shadow cast onto the surrounding trees where the sun breaks through their branches.
I don’t like people looking at what’s mine.
My heart thrills in the back of my throat.
“Everyone okay?” Lindsay scans the little groups on a pinched-lipped exhale. “We’ll get this tree removed quick as possible. I’ll get Rutger to cut it up and haul it away.” She turns to me with a lighter smile and a tick of her cheek upward. “So, you’re in, Tess? You’ll do the nude class?”
“Sure.” I nod, scratching my cheek, hoping I’m not going to get anyone killed by taking my clothes off. “I’ll do it.”