Chapter 8 - Claire
"Then touch me," I whisper. "Please, Rhett. Touch me."
I've never asked a man to touch me before. Never been the kind of person who could voice what she wanted so directly. But right now, with Rhett standing shirtless in front of me, his scarred chest illuminated by moonlight, his brown eyes squinted with desire, I can't control myself.
I want all of him. Every damaged, broken, beautiful part.
His scars don't scare me. The burn doesn't disgust me.
He's real and raw and honest, and he wants me as much as I want him.
Yeah, it's going to be hard. We still have to get to know each other better, still have to figure out how to tell the truth to his family.
But we're in this together. We'll get through it.
I can feel it in my bones.
Rhett's hand moves up from my waist to cup my breast through the thin t-shirt, and I gasp. My head tilts back, and I bite my lower lip as his thumb brushes over my nipple. It's been so long since someone touched me like this. Since someone looked at me with desire instead of pity or judgment.
"Fuck, Claire," he breathes, his voice rough. "You're perfect."
"I'm not—"
"You are," he insists, cutting off my protest. His other hand joins the first, both palms covering my breasts, squeezing gently. "So fucking perfect."
He grabs the hem of my shirt and pulls it up over my head. I lift my arms to help him, and then I'm standing there in nothing but my red underwear, completely exposed.
For a second, I want to cover myself. Want to hide my soft stomach, my thick thighs, all the parts of me that society says aren't good enough. But Rhett's looking at me like I'm a goddamn feast, and the hunger in his eyes makes me feel powerful instead of self-conscious.
"Relax," he says, his voice commanding but gentle.
I do as he says, settling back against the cushions. My heart is racing, anticipation coiling tight in my belly as Rhett drops to his knees in front of me.
He starts by kissing my knees. Soft, docile kisses that make me shiver. Then he moves higher, his mouth trailing a path up my inner thigh. Goosebumps erupt all over my body as his lips ghost across my skin, kissing everywhere except where I need him most.
He's taking pleasure in taunting me. I can see it in the slight smirk on his face, feel it in the way his warm breath brushes against my thin panties but his mouth never quite makes contact.
"Rhett," I whimper, my hips shifting restlessly.
"Patience," he murmurs against my thigh, but there's heat in his voice that tells me he's just as affected as I am.
He kisses closer, his breath hot through the fabric of my underwear. I can feel how soaked I am, my pussy throbbing with need. This is torture. Sweet, agonizing torture.
I can't take it anymore.
I grab my own panties and pull them aside, exposing myself to him completely.
Rhett freezes for a moment, his eyes locked on my pussy. He just stares, taking in every detail: the wetness gleaming on my folds, the tiny patch of hair above my slit that I never bothered to shave completely. I start to feel self-conscious, wondering if I should have groomed better, if—
Then he throws himself at it.
His tongue is on me immediately, licking and slurping up my juices like a man starving. He doesn't hesitate, doesn't complain about my bush or ask me to adjust or do any of the bullshit some guys have done in the past. He just feasts on me, his mouth hot and eager and absolutely relentless.
"Oh fuck," I gasp, my back arching off the couch. "Rhett—"
He groans against my pussy, the vibration making my thighs tremble. His rugged hands grip my inner thighs, spreading me wider as his tongue works up and down my slit. He's a man with a mission, and that mission is clearly making me cum.
I reach down and grab his hair, pulling him closer until I can only see the top of his head because his face is completely buried in my pussy. He doesn't protest. If anything, he seems to love it, his tongue moving faster, more desperately.
"Don't stop," I beg, my voice high and breathless. "Please don't stop—"
He doesn't. His tongue finds my clit and starts twirling around it, and I nearly sob from how good it feels. I've always had some self-esteem issues about my clit. It's too prominent, too swollen, and more than one guy has made comments that made me feel like there was something wrong with me.
But Rhett doesn't hesitate. Doesn't complain. He's diving in like it's exactly what he wants, making sure I'm more than satisfied. His tongue circles and flicks and sucks, and I'm falling apart beneath him.
When I cum, I cum hard.
My eyes roll back, my legs wrap around his neck, and I cross them at the ankles, tightening around his head. The orgasm crashes through me in waves, and I'm vaguely aware that I'm probably crushing him, that he might not be able to breathe—
Rhett scoops me up from the couch, breaking the lock of my legs, and I realize he was actually struggling for air.
"Oh my god," I gasp, my face flushing with embarrassment. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to—"
He chuckles, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His face is glistening with my wetness, and instead of looking annoyed, he looks smug as hell. "Don't apologize. That's a sign you enjoyed it."
"I loved it," I admit, still trembling from the aftershocks. "But now I want you to continue. I want your cock inside me."
His eyes darken, pupils blown wide with lust. "Say that again."
"I want your cock," I repeat, my voice steadier now. "Please, Rhett. Fuck me."
He places me back on the couch, and I watch as his hands go to his belt.
He unbuckles it and tosses it aside, the leather hitting the floor with a soft thud.
I lean forward, impatient, and grab his waistband.
I pull his pants down, so focused on getting them off that I don't realize I'm pulling both his jeans and briefs down at the same time.
Suddenly he's fully naked, and his cock is right there in front of my face.
It's big. Thick. Already rock-hard. It bounces slightly as it's freed from his clothes, and then it's actually brushing against my cheek.
I turn my face toward it, pressing my cheek against the hot, velvety skin just to feel how hard it is. Like a fucking rock. Solid and throbbing and perfect.
I wrap my hand around the base and stroke it a few times, looking up at Rhett as I do. His jaw clenches, his hands fisting at his sides as he tries to maintain control.
"Fuck, Claire," he grunts. "You keep doing that and this is going to be over before it starts."
I give him one more slow stroke, then release him. "Then you'd better fuck me now."
"Get on all fours," he says, his voice rough with command. "On the couch. Face down, ass up."
I scramble to obey, turning around and positioning myself exactly how he wants me. Face pressed into the cushion, ass raised high in the air. I even shake my hips a little, teasing him, showing off.
His hands land on my hips immediately, gripping tight. I feel the head of his cock rubbing against my pussy, sliding through my wetness, and I look back at him with half-lidded eyes.
"Please," I whisper.
He leans down, his mouth close to my ear. "Your wish is my command."
I love hearing those words. *Your wish is my command.*
And although he's in absolute control right now, positioned behind me, his hands gripping my hips, able to do whatever he wants, I still feel cherished. Safe. Like this isn't just about him taking what he needs, but about us giving each other something we've both been starving for.
He guides his cock inside me, and I gasp. "Fucking hell—"
I've never had a cock this big inside me.
Never felt this stuffed, this full, this completely overwhelmed in the best possible way.
He starts slowly, his hands tightening on my hips as he thrusts forward, letting me adjust to his size.
But it doesn't take long before his pace hastens, before he's slamming his cock inside me, his thighs slapping against my ass cheeks with each thrust.
"Harder," I beg, pushing back against him. "Please, harder—"
He gives me harder. The whole couch creaks beneath us like it's about to break, the sound mixing with my moans and his grunts. But it never does break. It holds as Rhett fucks me relentlessly, his cock driving into me over and over.
Then his hand is in my hair, grabbing a handful and pulling just enough to make my head tilt up, but not enough to hurt.
"You enjoying this?" he growls, his voice rough.
"Yes," I babble, saliva trickling from the corner of my mouth because I can barely form coherent words. "Yes, yes, fuck yes—"
He's fucking me so good that my mind is blown.
My thoughts scatter with each thrust, reduced to nothing but sensation and pleasure and the overwhelming fullness of his cock.
He never slows down, never gets tired. If I stay, or when I stay, he has to fuck me like this once or twice a day. I won't accept anything less.
I hope he's enjoying this as much as I am, but judging by the way he's grunting… Deep, guttural sounds that make my pussy clench, he's fucking loving it. And I love how vocal he is. Nothing's hotter than a man who's not afraid to show he's enjoying sex.
He grips my ass cheeks, spreading them, watching where his cock disappears into my body. "Fuck, Claire. You're taking my cock so well. So fucking well."
I throw my hips back, meeting him halfway, bouncing my ass on his cock. I'm not very good at it. My rhythm is off, my coordination shot from pleasure, but I'm doing it. Showing him how much I want this, how much I want him.
And he must love my enthusiasm because he slows down, his hands gentling on my hips.
"I want to fuck you looking at you," he says, his voice thick with need. "I want to see your beautiful face when you moan for me."
I turn around, and I'm immediately hypnotized by his cock. Thick and hard and coated with my juices. It looks gorgeous, glistening in the moonlight, and I want to grab it, guide it back inside me myself.
But Rhett pulls me up first, scooping me into his arms like I weigh nothing. He carries me to the bedroom, laying me down on the bed with surprising gentleness given how hard he was just fucking me.
"You deserve more than a couch," he says, his eyes roaming over my naked body.
I spread my legs for him, opening myself completely. I belong to him now. I'll offer my body anytime he desires because this, this connection, this pleasure, is worth everything.
He guides his cock back inside me, and this time when he enters, he lies on top of me.
His scarred chest rubs against my stiff nipples, the friction making me gasp.
We're like a cocoon right now, wrapped around each other, except for the part where he's grinding hard against me, his muscles flexing as he moves back and forth, fucking me deep.
I've never felt this filled. This thoroughly fucked. It's incredible.
He's ruthless, thrusting forward with powerful strokes. His ass goes up and then slams down, driving his cock deep inside me with each movement. Sweat trickles down his chest and drips onto my breasts. His scars catch the light: beautiful, like stars scattered across his body.
"You're beautiful," I stumble over the words, my brain too scrambled to form them properly. "So beautiful—"
"You're the one who's beautiful," he counters, his brown eyes locked on mine. "You feel incredible. I never want to stop fucking you."
I place my hands on his face, cupping his jaw. "Then don't stop. Keep going. Finish inside me. I want it."
Something flashes in his eyes—possession, gratitude, raw need. He smiles, propping himself up on his strong arms like two pillars on either side of my head. "Turn around for me."
I obey immediately, rolling onto my stomach. He's quick to follow, his cock sliding back inside me as he positions us in a prone bone, my ass jiggling with each thrust. He's on top of me, covering me completely, fucking me while whispering in my ear.
"You feel so good," he breathes, his voice ragged. "So fucking good, Claire. I'm so close—"
And then I feel it. His thick cock throbs inside me, pulsing against my walls. It feels warm, so warm. Another throb, another load of warmth flooding me.
"Fuck," he groans, his body going rigid above me as he empties himself. "Fuck, Claire—"
I can feel every pulse, every rope of cum he's shooting inside me. It's intimate in a way I never expected, knowing he's marking me from the inside, claiming me in the most primal way possible.
He collapses on top of me, his weight pressing me into the mattress. Both of us are breathing hard, our bodies slick with sweat. His cock is still inside me, softening slowly but not pulling out yet.
"Jesus," he finally says, his breath hot against my neck. "That was—"
"Incredible," I finish for him.
"Yeah. Incredible." He shifts slightly, finally pulling out. I feel the rush of his cum leaking out of me, and instead of feeling gross or embarrassed, I feel satisfied. Marked. His.
Rhett rolls onto his back beside me, one arm thrown over his eyes. "I should probably feel guilty about that."
"Why?" I turn onto my side to look at him.
"Because you just got here today. Because I should've taken it slower, been more romantic. Because—"
"Stop," I interrupt, placing my hand on his scarred chest. "I wanted this just as much as you did. Maybe more. And it was perfect."
He moves his arm and looks at me, his expression vulnerable. "You really mean that?"
"Yes." I lean in and kiss him softly. "I really mean that."
He pulls me closer, tucking me against his side. I rest my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat slowly return to normal. The room smells like sex and sweat, and the sheets are already rumpled beneath us.
"We're really doing this, aren't we?" he says quietly. "Actually trying to make this work."
"Yeah," I agree. "We really are."
"I'm glad you came here, Claire. I know I said it before, but... I mean it. Even if this is crazy and we barely know each other and we're lying to everyone. I'm still glad."
"Me too," I whisper. And I mean it with every fiber of my being.
We lie there in silence, our bodies cooling, our breathing syncing up. Outside, the Montana night is quiet except for the distant sound of cattle and the wind through the grass. Inside, I feel something I haven't felt in two years.
Peace.
Maybe this mail order bride thing was the best decision I ever made.
Maybe sometimes the craziest risks lead to the most beautiful rewards.
And maybe Rhett and I can actually build something real out of this impossible situation.
I fall asleep in his arms, his cum still warm inside me, and for the first time since my father died, I dream of the future instead of mourning the past.