5. Cornucopia of Cock

Chapter five

Cornucopia of Cock

Georgie

I don't think I'm ever going to be able to look at a wine bottle the same. Or a cucumber. Or Pringles, for that matter.

Honestly, I was so flabbergasted by the prospect of fitting his dick in me that I didn't care or even realize that I basically admitted I was planning to—or hoping to, at least—have sex with him.

So, while I normally would never begin a date with such a blatant declaration, I find that now, as we cook together in my kitchen, I feel a sense of relief. The metaphorical ice has already been broken.

Potentially along with his nose. He insists it's not, but two black circles rim his eyes from when I kneed him in the face yesterday.

"Are you sure I can't offer you an ice pack or something? I feel terrible." He looks up from the cutting board he's using to chop basil when I ask.

"If you insist on doing something . . ." He walks around the counter to where I'm standing by the stove turning off the burner. Putting his hands on my hips, he suggests with a playful smirk, "You can kiss it better."

"You're awfully cheeky," I tease and lift on my toes to kiss his nose. But he raises up as well and my lips land on his.

He hums at the contact, and I feel myself unconsciously leaning into him, my body drawn to his. I love the way his hands slither from my hips to cup my full arse to tug me closer, and my soft, plush body melts into his tall, lean frame.

Our lips meld, and I moan into his when he grinds his pelvis against me. He murmurs in response, "Yeah, you like that? You like feelin' what you do to me?"

"I do," I admit. "But—"

"It'll fit, baby. Trust me, we just gotta work you up to it, stretch that little twat until you're ready for my meat stick."

I am shocked speechless. Twat? Meat stick?? If he's trying to defuse the tension with bonkers euphemisms . . . it might be working.

I'm instantly less intimidated and laugh. "Meat stick? More like anaconda."

He grins. "You trying to charm this snake, baby?" I bury my face in his chest with a mix of embarrassment and laughter.

He runs his hands down my arms and says, "Now, pop on up here and let me show you the wonders of a woman's body." He steps back and pats the counter, pushing the cutting board away.

"You're going to show me?"

"Yeah, baby, I'll get you so wet, it will be a Slip ‘N Slide." He cocks his head, nodding to the counter again.

He gives me a wide berth as I hop onto the counter. After nearly knocking him out last time, I don't blame him. Once I'm settled, he steps between my legs. Butterflies flutter in my stomach as he runs his hands up my thighs.

His fingers tease the hem of my skirt. "Will you invite me into your secret garden of wonders, m'lady—"

" Alfie." I slap his chest.

"Is that a yes?" He gives me a crooked smile, and I can't help but swoon. Everything he does, no matter how silly, makes me feel like a schoolgirl doodling hearts around our names.

"Yes, it is a yes ." I laugh.

The mood immediately shifts to something hot and brooding when his searing palms glide up my thighs to the seam of my underwear. His green eyes meet mine with a spark. His desire is so palpable, it makes me confident in a way I've never felt before.

"Take them off, Alfie."

His gaze sinks to a new level of hunger at my order. It's a heady rush.

He pulls down my panties at the same time he lowers to his knees. "Now, I'm going to eat this pussy until you're dripping down my chin. I want to look like I just got off Splash Mountain, you hear me?"

I giggle slightly and nod. He spreads my knees farther and his head dips between my thighs. It's hard to feel self-conscious when he's so utterly ridiculous and so utterly into me. Who knew the trick to becoming more confident in the bedroom—er, uh, the kitchen—was to laugh more.

My heart leaps at the first brush of his tongue against me. It's a long and languid lick, delving between my lips to stroke my most tender bud.

" Mmm ," he moans into my core, and I clutch the top of his curls.

" Oh, Alfie ," I mewl. He continues to drag and flick his tongue, keeping me squirming. He's so persistent, I begin to wonder if he's even breathing when he comes up for air.

"Fuck, Georgie." He gasps followed by a satiated groan. "I could suckle this sweet bean all day and still be hungry for more."

Proving his point, he dives back in like a man famished. He never stops lavishing my sweet bean and adds two fingers, sliding and curling them inside me. My thighs tremble on either side of his head.

"Uh-uh," he chastises, the sound muffled by my flesh, and pushes my knee back out. He pulls back just enough to look up at me with a wicked glint and says, "I'm skipping dinner for this, so you better let me eat."

I laugh, entranced by his eagerness. I feel so wanted. I'm not thinking about what I look like or how I sound. I'm not worried about whether or not he likes my taste or if I should have shaved.

All I can think about is him and how good he makes me feel—

"Oh, fuck—I'm going to co—" I'm rendered speechless as I . . . as I pee ?!

"Oh bloody hell," I curse in humiliation and try to push him back, but he doesn't move or let me close my legs. He smiles up at me like he just won the bloody lottery.

"You are one incredible specimen, Georgie." I stare at him, gobsmacked. Why is he just sitting there? Why isn't he running for the door, or the shower at the very least?!

Then he sucks on the fingers that were inside me with a delirious moan. He pulls them out with a dramatic pop. "Mm, mm, mm, finger lickin' good."

I'm quite certain I'm existing in an alternate universe. Or perhaps experiencing an incredibly vivid sex dream. Either way, I'm pretty sure Alfie—whether a figment of my imagination or not—just used a fried chicken slogan to describe my . . . unmentionables.

"I was really hoping to fuck you tonight, but I think I'd die a happy man if I can keep making you squirt like that for the rest of the night."

Realization hits me and I want to cry with relief. "I squirted. I squirted!" I practically shriek.

"Like a fucking geyser, baby."

"I've never done that before. I thought I . . ." My relief quickly fades. How sure am I that I didn't?

"Peed? Nah, this is that sweet, sweet bean juice."

I barely process his ridiculous phrasing, too concerned with, "How can you tell?"

"Well, for one, you went to the bathroom ten minutes ago, so it's unlikely you have accumulated that much already. And two—perhaps most telling—it doesn't have a smell."

"Yeah, I guess you're right." My heartbeat returns to a pace not indicative of cardiac arrest. "Well, I guess it's safe to continue then . . . ?"

Alfie

To say I'm grateful I didn't end up spontaneously combusting my first day here is the understatement of the century.

If I had, I wouldn't be making a run to my future wife's kitchen in nothing by my tighty-whities and grabbing every phallic shaped item I can find.

I keep wondering if it's too soon to propose, but seeing as I technically did the first time I saw her, is it really too soon?

Getting to know her these last two days has been amazing. She somehow manages to be poised and goofy. Sure, she makes my dick hard, but she makes me laugh harder, and if there's one thing I need in a life partner, it's shared humor.

I'm used to being the silly sidekick amongst the Fox Family. But being with her makes me feel like the main character.

Before heading back to the bedroom, I remember the words of wisdom imparted on us at the grocery store and snatch a bottle of olive oil from the counter.

"Alright, m'lady," I singsong as I return, swinging the bottle of oil in one hand while my other is full of vegetables. "I hope you're ready for this cornucopia of phallic finds."

She takes a big breath. "Ready as I'll ever be."

As I climb onto the bed next to her, she asks, "Why do you call me m'lady?"

I stretch out, tucking my hands behind my head. "I've seen Outlander . I know how to treat a woman from across the pond right."

The corner of her mouth turns up in a teasing smile. "You realize taking pointers from Outlander might be a little outdated."

"Sure, but I don't know any person now or then that wouldn't vote Jamie Fraser for Sexiest Man of the Year—or millennium."

She rolls onto her side to face me with a laugh. "I've never met anyone like you," she says with a smile so sweet and genuine that it feels like my chest could burst.

"Well, m'lady, the same could be said about you." I give my best attempt at a Scottish accent. "So, let's get that gorgeous snatch stretched so I can skewer ye with me sword."

"That sounds like murder." She laughs and lets me roll her onto her back while I climb on top of her.

"Aye, well, my sword of velvet-wrapped steel."

I begin unbuttoning the front of her dress, kissing her soft skin after each button. She moans sweetly each time. I can't wait to fuck, but this moment is so precious, I almost dread the last button.

But then I undress her to bare her pussy, and precious is the last fucking thing I want.

She's magnificent like this. Every curve and roll sexily displayed in nothing but a red, lacey melon holster. Her pretty blue eyes are ablaze with want and desire. I can't reach for my carrot-slash-dildo quicker.

Having already laid down a towel, I go to oil up the carrot, but she stops me, coyly saying, "I think we can skip that one."

I lift my brow. "Yeah? You want me cock-umber?"

"Give it to me," she says with a bite, and heat zips down my spine straight to my balls.

"God be damned if I don't love when you boss me around." She shivers when I run the tip of the vegetable, cold from the fridge, between her tits and down her voluptuous belly.

She bites her lip then says shyly, "I think I like bossing you around too."

I get the impression giving orders in the bedroom isn't typical for her. I'm truly honored she feels safe and comfortable enough with me to try something new. Even in the short time we've known each other.

Maybe it's not too early to propose after all . . .

"Well, what are you waiting for?" she quips with a sexy smirk.

"Yes, ma'am!" Like a soldier jumping to position, I pick the olive oil back up and drizzle it over the cucumber tip. It glistens as it slides down, and my stomach swoops at the sight. "Now, just imagine how it will look when this is my cock and your love juice."

She sucks in a small but audible breath, and my dick jerks.

I drag the lubed-up vegetable over her clit, drawing more breathy moans from her before sliding it into her moist folds.

" Oh." Her eyebrows jump and her mouth makes a cute little O. I pump it in and out. Soon, her eyes become hooded and she digs her teeth into her bottom lip.

Once she's moaning continuously and beginning to rock her hips, chasing for more, I switch to the eggplant.

"Yes," she cries. "Stuff me full of aubergine!"

Seeing her become undone and wanton is intoxicating, incredible, marvelous.

Like a drummer boy, I wield cucumber and eggplant like drumsticks in each hand, stroking her clit and fucking her cunt.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" she screams as she shatters.

I slow my movements as she comes down then carefully withdraw. She's red-cheeked and blissed-out, panting softly.

"If that's what you can do with an eggplant, I can't wait for what's next." She releases a pleased exhale.

I quickly strip off my underwear, giddy as a goddamn virgin. I pour oil over my already leaking tip, and she pushes up onto her elbows to watch.

"Bloody hell, it really is huge," she says in awe.

I proudly push my pelvis forward, hands on my hips. "Yeah, you gonna take this pecker ?"

Something indistinguishable flashes across her face, but then she nods eagerly. I position the fat head of my cock at her sloppy entrance. I pause, and she encourages, "Do it. I'm ready."

Her mouth falls open as I push inside, her gaze locked on our joining. I can't look away from her face, watching her reaction as she becomes mine.

As I sink deeper and deeper into her juicy wonderland, I hiss, "Shit, you're still so tight. I'm gonna be a two-pump chump."

"I don't care. This is amazing no matter how long it lasts. You're amazing, Alfie."

"Oh, Georgie girl." I groan. "Talk like that and I'll blow my load before I'm all the way in."

She smiles conspiratorially then reaches around to fondle my balls. "Now I'm really not going to last," I grind out, wracked with pleasure trying to consume me. Knowing my time is limited, I hurriedly shove down her bra, freeing her boobs. "I wanna watch these bazongas bounce."

Then I plunge all the way to the hilt.

She mewls at the same time I groan like a wounded animal. I punch my hips forward and her heavy breasts rock like buoys on an ocean.

She squeezes my balls, and it's all I can do to make it at least two pumps.

"Oh fuck." It's a guttural, primal sound as I spill my seed deep inside her.

My orgasm keeps coming and she gasps. "I can feel you pulsing inside me."

"Yeah, this greedy little twat loves my pecker." I breathe heavily.

Again that indiscernible look crosses her face. It's so quick, I almost miss it. I'd ask her about it if I wasn't trying to catch my breath after coming my fucking brains out.

I go to pull out, but she clasps me. "Stay. I love the feel of you." I'm so happy I could die.

I lie on her chest, my cock cozy as a pig in a blanket. She soothingly strokes my hair as I nuzzle into the nook of her neck.

"Alfie?" she asks with a hint of trepidation. My stomach sinks.

"Yes, m'lady?"

"Where did you learn words like pecker and twat?"

I exhale in relief. This is an easy question. "I googled British slang."

She laughs heartily, making it feel like I'm on a waterbed. "Oh, Alfie." She sighs, still giggling. "We're going to have to go over a few things."

Georgie

"Listen, lady, you have no room to talk when your coffee place is called Flicky D's Beans." Alfie props himself on his palms by my shoulders but stays snuggly inside my vag.

"That was a mistake—" He swallows my sentence with a crushing kiss.

He pulls away with an amused smirk and quirked brow. "You named it about masturbating by mistake?"

I huff dramatically in jest. "It's actually named after my childhood dog, Flicky D."

"You named your dog Flicky D—"

"I was five, okay?" I laugh, remembering the first time someone pointed out the innuendo.

A pair of evangelizing old women stopped by the DNF bookstore, wanting to drop off pamphlets. They shrieked in horror when they saw my trailer. One of them threw a bottle of water at me, yelling, "May you be cleansed of your wicked ways!"

Story, the shop owner, saw everything from her window and came rushing out. When I explained what happened, she said, "Well, I love your name—it was one of the reasons I chose you."

After telling Alfie this story, he smiles. "I'd choose you too."

The next morning, Alfie is dropping me off at the trailer when I spot a familiar blue Camaro. My stomach churns. I'm tempted to ask him to circle the block, but I know that won't change anything.

My nerves increase when Alfie pulls into the spot right in front of the blue convertible. I hate to drag him into this mess, especially after the dreamiest night and morning together. Maybe I'll ask him to walk me to the trailer and just play it cool.

Before I even get the chance, he's jumping out and running around to open my door.

"You work in security, right? Bodyguard you said?" So much for playing it cool.

"Yeah, why?" he asks cautiously and quickly scans the area.

"Hello, Whore-gie." The sound of his mocking voice sends chills down my spine.

" Excuse you?" My sweet, silly Alfie's face transforms in a split second as he spins around to meet Neil.

My stalker.