Chapter Five
Grace
Holding the phone between my shoulder and my ear, I pop open the styrofoam containers from the diner and tuck the food onto two ceramic plates. I could’ve made something myself, but I don’t have a ton of discretionary income these days and the diner offers me food for free. Besides, their pasta Tuesdays are pretty iconic up here. I’m not sure what they put in the sauce, but it’s easily the best sauce I’ve ever had anywhere, which is saying a lot because back when life came easy, my father took my sisters and I everywhere. We’ve had pasta sauce in every European country, but none of it compares to the local diner here in Rugged Mountain. If I had to guess, I’d say it’s the amount of sugar in our sauce that makes it taste better, but the fresh grown oregano helps too.
“He offered to help, and I need help. That’s all this is. Just help. I told you… I’m not even interested in a relationship.”
“No, but you’re interested in fucking him. What if he’s got some kind of weird pregnant lady fetish,” Zoe says with a laugh. “Seriously, he’s probably stalking you now. You know that right?”
“Well, he’s pretty bad at it then. Aren’t stalkers supposed to hide in the bushes and stuff? This guy bumped into me. And you’re right, I am horny. So… we’ll have a good time, then paint some things, and I’ll send him on his way. I can’t do this after the baby’s born. I have to get it out of my system now.”
She hums under her breath. “We just talked about weirdos last night. Most of them don’t tell you they collect teeth. It’s a secret. ”
I laugh as I stir the sauce in a pot on the stove. “You’re ridiculous. Cyrus does not collect teeth, and tonight is just about sex.” I grin as I say, “I mean, paint. It’s about paint.”
“Oh my God… Grace! ”
“Anyway,” I lay out with sarcasm, “why are you obsessing about me? Don’t you have a date tonight?”
She sighs with dubious judgment. “We’re FaceTiming at dinner and playing a trivia game together. It’s got all these questions that are supposed to help us to get to know each other.”
“You sound nervous.”
“Not nervous.” She sighs. “Maybe this long-distance stuff is a bad idea. I mean, I like meeting people from different places, but I miss the date nights where he brings you flowers, and you can touch.”
“Well,” I rub my hand over my stomach as the baby kicks, “I tried a touching date night and look what happened to me.”
Zoe laughs. “Is tonight a date? I mean, in your head?”
“No. It’s a painting thing. I told you that.” I pop the plates of pasta into the oven to keep them warm as I talk.
“I’ve never made a painter dinner before,” Zoe says, adding some sarcastic garnish on top of her already annoying sentence.
“Neither have I, so I picked dinner up from the diner. Like I said, if this painting thing comes with a side of cock, I won’t push it off my plate.”
Her tone is somber as she says, “I just don’t want to see you get hurt. You’ve already got so much drama with Jason, and you get attached easily.”
The door knocks. “I’ll be okay, Zoe, and so will you. Call me later. I want to hear all about your date.”
“Love you. Be good, please! ”
“We’ll see. Love you.” I disconnect the line and check my reflection in the microwave. Ugh, I look like shit. My hair is a series of fly-aways and there’s already sweat dripping from my forehead. I need to install some kind of air conditioner in here before the baby comes or we’re both going to cook this summer. I think babies are supposed to always be at the perfect temperature, or maybe that’s puppies. I should look it up.
“Hey,” I say, my voice lifting as I open the door to greet Cyrus. He looks fantastic. I mean, he’s wearing jeans, a white t-shirt, and a black cap with the symbol for Rugged Mountain Ink on the front. It’s nothing fancy, but it shows off the dark ink that streaks up his bulging biceps and the gray in his beard. He’s hot as hell, and I need to get a grip.
Yesterday I swore off men for the next eighteen years. It’s literally been less than twenty-four hours. I can’t un-swear them already.
He strokes his hand down over his beard, handing me a pastry box from the bakery in town. “I thought you and that boy of yours would like some cake. It’s a sampler box. I wasn’t sure which flavor you liked best.”
“My favorite flavor is all of them, so you did well. Thank you.” I lean forward for a hug, unsure if it’s an appropriate move, given that he’s here to help with work. “Thank you.”
I’m not sure how much time has passed, but I’m still tipped onto my toes with my arms around him. I’m still breathing him in, our bodies still intertwined.
Dear God, I need to let go.
Unwillingly, I release the hug and avoid eye contact. I shouldn’t have held the hug so long.
“Smells good in here.” He kicks his boots off by the door, and still, he dwarfs the small cabin. Hell, he dwarfs everything around him. The chairs at the table, my couch, the kitchen, me… and it’s not easy to dwarf me at the moment. I’ve always been curvy, but right now, I’m extra, extra curvy.
“Thanks.” I settle the food on the kitchen counter and stare up at him, clit throbbing, desperation seeping from every pore in my body. My heart slams against my chest, my thighs ache, and though I know I should settle at the table and relax, my body decides on some kind of frantic pre-dinner lunatic approach. “You’re, ugh, you’re thirsty, right? I have water, milk, tea, and coffee. I think I have like half a ginger ale, and a few bottles of Dr. Pepper Zoe left here the other night. But if you’re looking for something else, I have root beer in my car. It might be flat, but it’s something. I mean, I could go to the store or maybe my neighbor has some—”
He grabs my arms and holds me in place, swiping a strand of hair from my vision. “Water sounds good. You okay?” I swear to God this man’s eyes are the most incredible eyes I’ve ever seen in my life. They’re blue and green with flecks of yellow on the surface. “You’re talkin’ an awful lot about drinks.”
“Yeah.” I wipe a bead of sweat from my forehead as I stare up at this much older man that I should most definitely not be attracted to.
There’s a pause. I paused! It’s me. I paused, and I stared, and now I’m looking away. Oh God, I’m looking down again! I’m staring up at him. My lips are parted. Why the hell are my lips parting? Could I look any more obvious?
“Sorry, ugh, I’m… sorry.” I blow out a breath as my clit swells and my panties soak.
This has to be the most embarrassing side effect of pregnancy ever. I’m not this girl. I don’t get super horny and desperate for men. Hell, the only dude I’ve ever been with is Jason and I never felt like this with him. Not once.
This is pure, real, animalistic attraction and I don’t know how to turn it off… even if I wanted to.
Cyrus scrubs his hand over his beard and glances down at me with a smile that makes me want to tear off his shirt and beg him to bend me over. What is it about being controlled by a great big man that’s so hot? Maybe it’s that he makes me feel small. Maybe his massive exterior makes me feel safe. Maybe it’s my DNA convincing me to fall for the biggest caveman.
I’ve never felt anything like this. Whatever it is, I’m addicted.
“You’re what?” He pushes back a strand of my hair, scraping the rough tips of his fingers against my face.
My God. Of course, his hands would have to be rough. Of course he’d have big, calloused, reliable hands.
I wet my lips and squeeze my thighs together as I try to ignore every signal my body is giving me. I can’t want this man. I can’t touch this man. No way, no how.
“I’m,” I clear my throat, “I don’t know.”
His hand rests under my chin and he redirects my gaze toward him. “I think you know,”
“I don’t.” I most certainly do. I know what I want to say, but there’s no way in hell I can say it out loud.
“So, you’re not looking at me like you want me to tear all your clothes off,” he drags his thick hand down over my neck and onto my shoulders, “because I’m getting the feeling you do.”
“What? What makes you think that?” I dodge the heat of his gaze, thinking through what possible repercussions could arise from telling him I’m interested.
Nothing comes to mind.
I’m too focused on his strong, inked up hands, and the way his biceps flex as he moves. Every cell in my body is trying to fight off the urge to climb him.
“Am I wrong?” I swear his voice drops another octave as he says, “You can tell me if I am. I didn’t come over thinking this was a thing. I came to paint.”
“Right. Paint.”
“But… I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been thinking about you.”
He stares at me, his muscular shoulders rising and falling quickly.
“I’m really horny right now. It’s bad. It’s like I’m a teenager again, but ten times worse.”
He smiles this gorgeously wide grin and every nerve in my body tingles. “So, it’s not me then? It’s the hormones?”
“No, I mean… yes. I mean, it’s the hormones, but you’re hot as hell. I… I’d want to fuck you even if the hormones weren’t a thing, but I’d probably be less obvious about it. We’re not doing this forever. It’s just tonight. I mean, no one even has to know. In fact, I’d prefer no one knows. I mean, maybe we shouldn’t even do this. I—”
He wraps his giant hand like a cuff around the back of my neck. “You want to keep me a secret?”
“Is that insulting?” I’m practically salivating.
“A little, but I’ll abide by whatever rules you request. Just tell me one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“How rough can I be?”
Oh shit!
I wet my lips as a wave of heat races down my spine. At sixty-eight thousand months pregnant, I’m not sure how rough he can actually be. Then again, I’m desperate to know how rough he can be.
“Why don’t you show me what you got, and I’ll tell you if it’s too much.”
He nods slowly, backing me up against the cabin wall before landing his lips against mine as I moan and whimper against his touch. The kiss is soft at first, then stronger, as though he’s setting the pace for what’s about to happen.
Tongues tangling, I drag my hand down his solid chest toward his thick, bulging cock.
Good God, the man is huge.
“Take you’re pretty, little dress off for me. I want to see your body.” There’s heat in his tone. I love that he’s demanding me. That he needs me. That he wants me the way he does.
Unfortunately for him, I’m not feeling super confident right now. My stomach is expanded to the size of a weather balloon, my thighs are thicker than ever, and though my breasts are looking better than they ever have, the rest of me is a swollen mess.
Not wanting to look as insecure as I feel, I drag the strap down off my shoulder and then the other, letting the fabric fall to the floor as I stare up at the giant man in front of me.
“Damn,” he sighs and rubs his rough hand across my stomach, “you’re gorgeous.”
I don’t feel gorgeous, but when he says it, I believe him. It’s in his touch, the way he looks at me, the tone of his voice.
Bending down, he wraps his hands under my ass and lifts me off the ground, settling me on the edge of the kitchen counter before bending between my legs. He kisses my thighs and works his way up, touching me gently as his beard scratches my skin.
I’ve never experienced anything like this before. It’s all the world’s pleasures combined into a single touch. The way he lifts me, the way he moves, the way he checks in between each kiss as though he’s making sure we’re always connected.
My fingers run through his hair and the moment his tongue is on my crease, he’s spreading me apart, eating me alive. A flurry of sensations run through me as he creates his oral masterpiece.
“Be a good girl, Grace. Come on my face. I need to taste you.” He eats me faster and harder, thrusting his fingers deeper. His hands grip my hips as he balances me on the edge of the counter, his head buried between my legs, his teeth scraping against my clit, a steady growl low in his throat.
What the hell is happening? My eyes roll back, and I thread my fingers into his hair as I rock against his touch.
“Don’t stop,” I beg, panting out the words almost as desperately as I’m feeling them. “Please! I need to come.”
He growls into my pussy and my thighs tense as an orgasm threatens to take me over the edge.
Lick after lick, growl after growl, thrust after thrust, Cyrus works me over until I’m a moaning, soaking, orgasming mess of pleasure.
Lord, help me. I will never be the same from this moment forward.