Chapter Twenty-Six Picnic
M y parents are best friends.
Claire is Georgie’s best friend.
My bestie for life, Gloria, got married last year, and you know what? She’s still my best friend, but her husband, Wesley, is her person . He’s her bestest best friend, but I know there are things she tells Wesley that she doesn’t tell me.
I lean on Douglas’ arm as he drives us toward Antonia, Pennsylvania, down hilly roads, across valleys, over winding scenic routes, and through the long tunnels cut into the Endless Mountains. I navigate a little, but I also just close my eyes and breathe in his scent, feeling his warm skin through the thin white t-shirt he’s wearing. At one point, my hand brushes his muscled thigh under his kilt, gently running my fingertips over his semi-hard cock.
“Georgia!” He nips at my forehead with a playful growl.
“Time for a picnic breakfast,” I remind in a teasing voice, starting to stroke him more earnestly.
I like this, whatever it is. A blend of safety and horny teenager lust.
I think... I think he’s my person. I’ve always been cheery and factual, your standard go-getter type, but around Douglas, I can be all the other things, too. Vulnerable. Corny.
Grabby and needy.
A little nuts.
An absolute puddle of lust.
I nibble on his earlobe and stroke back a streak of gray in his dark hair. His eyes flick to the rearview mirror.
“I hate that little bit o’ gray next to your pretty blonde hair,” he admits in a grunt. “Makes me look old.”
“It makes you look wise and worldly. Mature and experienced. Ready to take this little virgin out into the meadows for some corruption.” I bite my lip. What the hell has gotten into me?
A feeling of safety and a lack of solid food, apparently.
Douglas’ cock jumps under my hand. “But... You’re not some little... I... Georgia, you shouldn’t say that.”
“Oh?” I push my fingers into a stretched circle around his tip and squeeze as the Land Rover bumps its way through the Endless Mountains Nature Preserve and Hiking Trail entrance. “Because you don’t like it?”
“Because I don’t want you to feel that way. I don’t want you to feel like I’m more experienced. I’m not—not by much. And you’re so amazing at everything you do.” Douglas briefly closes his eyes and his jaw flexes as he rumbles off the main road onto a rutted path composed of dry dirt and specks of gravel.
“It doesn’t turn you on a little to think of being my first? Because it turns me on. And I love the way you look. That gray streak is so hot. I have a thing for men with those gray streaks.”
Douglas’ eyes narrow. “All men?”
“No. Just you.” I confess.
I love the way his shoulders relax and he sighs, suddenly content again.
The car stops at a small lay-by off the track. A painted signpost with faded letters posts the fishing limits and reminds visitors that they must have a valid fishing license. Rusted metal signs direct us to forest trails, meadows, and a picnic ground.
“I remembered the picnic blanket.” Douglas turns off the car, and we sit in silence for a moment. “Well, it’s just an old duvet, but it’ll do.”
I slowly remove my hand from under his kilt, flutters of hunger and excitement burgeoning in me. This is my first weekend away. First real love. First boyfriend.
So many firsts—and honestly, I hope so many lasts. First love. Last love. Only love.
“You make me feel safe enough to say things,” I confess.
“You are! Oh, love, I should never have said not to speak your mind. I’m the insecure one, knowing I have such a beautiful, strong woman as a prize on my arm. I know I don’t deserve you.”
“Bullshit.” I nuzzle my head to his shoulder. “I don’t deserve you, either, then. You are my total fantasy. Didn’t I already tell you that once?”
Douglas gives a modest shrug. “Really?”
“God, yes.”
“Fantasy?” He swallows, and I stare at the tent in his kilt. “I... I’m not opposed to any fantasies involving the two of us.”
“Like... chasing the maiden through the woods, catching her, and giving her a good pounding?”
Fuck, what is wrong with me?
“I wouldn’t want our first time to be outdoors where we might get caught,” Douglas’ voice is strained, and he shifts in his seat. “Remember, an Orc couple can’t just pull apart and scamper off.”
“Well, it’s early in the morning, and I don’t think anyone’s around just yet. Plus, this is a huge area with hundreds of acres. This little area seems pretty secluded. What if he catches her and other things happen? Things that won’t be as hard to stop in case of interruptions?” My hand is already on the door handle.
Douglas nods once, mouth opening. I don’t wait to hear what he says. Bolting out the door with a cry of “Grab the blanket!” I’m gone.
The idea of being chased by my lover excites me. I blame my Orc genetics and maybe my parents, based on what Douglas let slip the other day.
I hear his startled cry followed by a low growl of desire, and it's a wonder I can run at all. My insides are doing jumping jacks. What’s he going to do when he catches me? I can’t wait to find out. I want to find out. Whatever it is, no matter what it is (and my mind leaps to some filthy places), I want it.
SHE’S RUNNING, LAUGHING , her playful smile tossed back over her shoulder like an arrow from Cupid’s bow.
I’m hit, and I want to stay under her spell forever.
It doesn’t help that with Georgia, all the things I thought I’d never experience, all the things I could not imagine sharing with Nicola, are suddenly flooding into my life.
This fantasy of chasing my mate in the hills and glens... We’ll honeymoon in Scotland, I’ve decided. I’ll have no compunctions or worries about catching her and sliding my cock home then. For now...
There are so many thoughts running through me as I follow her scent and her footsteps, chasing her.
I could unwrap her like a present and look at her beautiful breasts and her soft, wet folds in the misty sunlight of a summer morning.
I could put her on her hands and knees and pound her with two thick fingers until her screams ring in the woods.
It’s hard to run when I’m this hard, but I move faster by the second, desperate to catch my little minx.
Part of me wants to be selfish and force her to her knees to watch her worship my cock the way I feast on her pussy.
What would Georgia like best?
All of it. Any of it.
With a sudden spring, I catch her elbow, spinning her back to my chest in this meadow of tall golden grass that’s mingled with bright pink mountain laurel and purple heather. Red wing blackbirds fly off as I unfurl the blanket with one hand, keeping ahold of Georgia with the other.
“You’re mine now,” I rasp, kissing her until she pushes against my chest to make me give her a breath of air.
“I’m yours, always.”
“I love you. I love that pretty smile and that pretty mouth.” I give into selfishness, a little current of fear in my stomach as I scoop Georgia up and sit her on her bum in the middle of the blanket. What if this scares her off? What if this isn’t what a good husband and mate would do?
Ought to put her first.
Georgia easily slides to her knees, licking her lips.
“Open.” A single croak from my lips in a voice I barely recognize.
Georgia obeys, her hand around my stiffness and her tongue already circling around my tip.
“I’m not done with you,” I inform, not sure how it sounds since I’m gasping at the sensation of her tongue caressing the throbbing vein in my cock.
“Good,” she whispers, looking up at me as she wraps her lips around my tip and sucks. She guides my hand to the back of her head, and I leave it there, gently petting the golden waves I’m so smitten with.
“If you’re not going to pound my pussy, you’d better pound my mouth,” Georgia instructs between wet gulps.
Would it be shallow and very wrong to propose right now? I think it would be.
I bite my lip to stop from asking this goddess on her knees to marry me. I need to be on my knees for that, and probably holding the biggest diamond in the States. For a second, I try to back away, and Georgia comes with me, head fused to my palm.
I don’t move her, she moves herself, farther up my shaft, down to the tip to catch the beads of pre-cum, once drops, now a steady stream.
We move together, and I wouldn’t call it pounding, but it’s certainly... vigorous. “I’m going to do this very same thing to you tonight,” I hiss.
“Promise?” Georgia stops to beam up at me.
“By all that is holy.”
A solemn vow in the most debauched yet beautiful setting.
After years and years of living in a dank, hollow place, the world is suddenly bright and shining again, getting brighter every day that she’s with me.
To be clear, it has nothing to do with the fantastic sexual prowess of the woman with me (okay, it has something to do with it, only a fool wouldn’t be grateful for her loving enthusiasm) and everything to do with the shiny soul Georgia carries, an indelible flame inside of her that lights up my life.
One of her hands suddenly comes up to squeeze my knot, and the game is over. My cock bursts in her mouth. Georgia swallows the first mouthful and lets the rest arc out onto the grass.
I drop to my knees this time, pushing her down with an exhausted pant. Georgia giggles as she hits the blanket.
“Shorts off, maiden.”
I’M SO WET THAT DOUGLAS’ fingers slip into my soft pussy easily with no resistance.
“Good girl. You’re going to swallow me right to the hilt tonight, aren’t you?”
I’m not sure if he’s talking to me or having a conversation with my lady bits, but both of us are in agreement. “Uh-huh.”
“You wanted to be caught and ravished, hmm?”
I blush, exposed to his gaze and full of his fingers, juice absolutely flooding out of me. I just nod.
“When we go on honeymoon to Scotland, there are lots of private lands there, plenty belonging to the Wickstaff Clan that’ll be at our disposal. I’ll chase you and ravish you as long as you like.”
My brain screeches to a halt, hitting the brakes so hard that even my extreme arousal can’t win over the shock.
“Honeymoon?” I ask.
Douglas looks stunned, then furious at himself. “Damn.”
As if determined to erase that comment with a mind-numbing orgasm, Douglas drops his mouth to my clit and sucks while his fingers jackhammer inside of me, skirting the edge of pain.
And oh, God... It’s so good. It’s what I want to feel, it's why I long for an Orc lover who can give me that delicious stretching fullness, that blistering edge of pain that suddenly turns to sweet fullness when he strokes me just right.
My muscles clench from stomach to ass, fingers curling tight in Douglas’ hair. He slows suddenly giving me a worried look. “Sorry, love. I’ll learn to do it just right, I promise.”
“That is just right. I want it like this, while I’m so full of you and I need you to fill me all the way up, take away the empty spots and achy parts,” I babble, riding forward so that his tusks push into my outer lips.
I love it when his free hand grips one thigh, spreading me wider. His fingers suddenly curl up inside me, pressing on me from the underside of my clit as he swirls his tongue over the stiff bead from the outside at the same time. “Ohh. Fuck! Oh, Douglas!” My breathless cry rings in the stillness of the meadow and sends another shower of blackbirds flapping into the blue sky overhead.
Douglas licks me clean, then helps to pull my shorts back into place. “You’re not tender there, are you?” he asks, lifting me to my wobbly feet.
I am a little, but I love it. I love that he was so deep inside of me and that he’ll be even deeper soon. “I’m fine.”
“Come on, back to the car and breakfast.”
“Okay. Can I ask a question?”
“Yes, love?”
“What did you mean by honeymoon?”
“Oh... Um...” Douglas rubs the back of his neck.
“My dad has lots of land here, too. Private land. Claire and Georgie went to one of his lodges for their honeymoon. Just mentioning that there are closer alternatives. In case a honeymoon is a long time away.”
I’m hinting. I don’t care if that’s pushy or pathetic. I want to know.
And even though there are plenty of things I don’t know about Douglas, one thing I know is that if he asked me to choose between marrying him tomorrow or leaving his life forever, I would choose to be his wife in a heartbeat.
We walk back along the path. In the distance, I can hear a mower and some cars rumbling on the main paths. Things are getting busier as the morning warms up and the day officially begins.
Is it bad that even though this place is beautiful and the town of Antonia is beautiful (I’ve been there before), I can’t wait to get to our hotel and lock the door behind us?
It’s probably a shitty girlfriend move. So is asking about a slip of the tongue he made when we were knee-deep in hormones. “Douglas, I’m sorry, I know you just meant—”
“Traditionally, Orcs marry in the summer. There’s not much time left this summer, really. Even if I pressed it to the very end of the season... Well, summer ends in mid-September, and that’s such a busy time for you, isn’t it? The shop is never busier than the fall, that’s what your bookkeeping shows.”
I blink at Douglas as he helps me over a rotted log, swinging me into his arms and setting me down on my feet with the delicate grace of a couple performing a pas de deux . “Nothing is more important than being with my—with you. Not even the shop.”
Oooh. The words echo in my head and pound into my heart like a stake. It feels like a betrayal at first. Getting the storefront, the loans to start the shop, the loans to expand it, the long hours, the endless holiday preparations that have stolen hours from my private life to give to the community I love and call home... Georgie and I have practically killed ourselves making our little shop a big success.
The Pine Loft was my first love, but I don’t want it to be my only one.
“A honeymoon only means a few weeks away. I’m looking forward to years with you.” My cards are on the table.
Douglas opens the boot of the Land Rover and shows his hand, too. “When you know, you know—but people would talk. They’d say, there goes that newcomer, Wickstaff. He made an utter bloody mess of his first marriage, and what right does he have to come in and swoop Georgia up in just a matter of weeks?”
“They wouldn’t say that about you. I promise.” I pat his arm. “But we don’t have to rush. There’s always next summer. Next September.”
I blink suddenly, an ache too deep for words springing from my soul to the corners of my eyes. I can’t imagine waiting another year to call this man mine in every sense of the word, in the eyes of our clans and communities, before God and witnesses.
Yes, that’s another of my dirty secrets. Not only do I read smut and have a filthy mind, but I also love Orc traditions, even the ones some would consider archaic. I love the idea of marriage and the primalness of having a mate. I love the symbolism of the summer wedding, marrying at the peak of the year, then entering the backbreaking season of harvest together, and surviving the winter relying on one another. In the olden days, your partner was the difference between life and death, and to me, he should still be that important.
Maybe that’s why Douglas wants to wait and go slow. He’s already had one mate die, and he blames himself. Maybe he’s not entirely sure I can be all he needs.
I would wait a year for him. I would wait a thousand. I just don’t want to.
Douglas uses the wet napkins from the picnic basket on his hands and face and passes me one. “You thought of everything,” he says.
“Yeah. I try.”
“You remember what I forget. You’re the vivacious music to my somber chords. The sun to my gray skies.” He looks down at me, his jaw working as he swallows silently several times. “Georgia, I don’t want to wait another year to call you mine.”
I try not to whoop with joy. “Okay.”
“And y’ wouldnae mind if I were to ask sooner? You wouldnae feel rushed, or that ye dinnae know me well enough?”
I shake my head vigorously, trying not to let out a spontaneous “aww” at how adorable his accent is and how it’s like a cheat sheet to his emotional state. He’s either very angry or very nervous, and judging by the soft light in his eyes and the way he takes my hand in his, there’s no fury in him.
“When I’m with you—I have my person. My other half. I know, even if it’s soon. I know that because whatever was missing in here,” I tap my chest above my heart, “isn’t lost anymore.”
“Aye. That’s exactly it.” His head bobs, a relieved smile spreading over his face.
We enjoy a tailgate picnic in contented silence, thoughts swirling as we eat the oat-y bannock that’s sturdy yet tender, topped with jam and fresh butter. “Breakfast fit for a king,” I finally say.
Douglas nods, but he’s quiet until we get back in the car.
Then, his voice is a whisper so soft that I have to strain to hear it. “You said I could ask. I may be a fool who needs everything spelled out for him, but after making so many mistakes before... I need to know—if you know, that is. I could ask, but what would your answer be?”
I don’t even have to think. I lay my head against his arm again. “It would be yes.”