50. Dusty

I didn’t ask for this hail, and yet, I find myself feeling responsible.

Worried.

I wanted to have a banner year this year. I wanted to prove to Marnie that renting is the way to go. But if we’re trading out sky-high corn prices for a meager insurance pay out, she’s going to be underwhelmed at best.

I wanted to impress her.

Hail clatters against the window.

Not good.

I wanted to be able to spoil her.

Wind tears at the trees outside.

Not good at all.

It’s the farmer’s lot. You’re self-employed, but you have one partner, Mother Nature, and she can be a real bitch.

Some years, she blesses you.

Some years, she curses you.

Marnie can sense my anxiety. She just doesn’t know why I’m worried.

Her fingers smooth over my shoulders, kneading out the growing tension there. Her lips press against my neck, initially as an attempt to comfort, but my hands squeeze at her and the gentle kiss turns heated. She’s going to leave a mark, and that sparks a flame in me. She can leave a mark anywhere she wants. Tattoo my forehead if she wants to. I already belong to her. She might as well make it official.

Easing her body on to my chest, she tangles her fingers in my hair and studies my face. A flash of lightning illuminates the room temporarily, freezing her image in my mind, branding the back of my eyelids. Golden eyes that see so much. Plump lips that can smile and frown and flail me with her words.

Lips that soothe.

She presses her mouth against mine, demanding my attention. Taking me away from my worries. This woman. I don’t deserve her.

Before I can delve into her mouth, consuming her, she moves down, trailing kisses along my jaw, lingering at my throat. My hands slip under her tank top, flattening across her smooth back. Her tummy is soft and pliant against my growing bulge.

She drags her body down, kissing my chest, nipping at my abs. I feel like I’m on fire. I don’t know if I want to kiss her or fuck her or cling on for dear life.

But then she’s nestled down between my legs, making room for herself, before drawing a hand over my hip. She tugs my sweats and boxers down, dragging them off so that I’m completely naked and she’s completely dressed. It feels lopsided.

Like I’m at her mercy.

I kind of like it like that.

Her fingers curl around my shaft, and she drags her fist up the length. Darting her tongue out, she laps up the bead of precum there. I prop myself up on my elbows so I can watch. My tip disappears into that warm, wet mouth and she sucks, lavishing me with her tongue and her lips. Feeling plush and soft and wet. Holding my cock at the base, in a tight grip, she moves her lips down to my balls. Dragging a broad tongue across them, she tugs gently, pulling them away from my body. My toes curl and she has my back arching off the bed.

She swirls the precum dripping down my tip around the head, making it slick, overwhelming my senses. My shaft grows harder with every new ministration, desperate for release, never wanting her to stop. “It’s so good, baby. That tongue is magic.”

She pops my tip out of her mouth and drags her fist up and down the length. “I want your cum on this tongue.”

“Fuck, Marnie.”

She drags the flat of her tongue from base to tip. One hand grips my shaft, the other stretches across my trembling abs.

“Give it to me, Dusty.”

She murmurs, fluttering her tongue against me. “All of it. Please.”

That word.

That word.

Why does it break me down and build me up?

Maybe because I’d never say no to her.

Maybe because I like that she isn’t too proud to say it. That she’s happy to say it to me.

All I know is that it sends a spark of pleasure through me, igniting the pressure that was already building. And then I’m spilling into her mouth against that masterful tongue. She does her best to keep up, swallowing what she can, letting the rest go past her lips.

When I’m done, she raises her head. Dragging her finger along her lower lip, she takes the last of my seed and licks it from her fingertip.

A growl sneaks out of my chest and I’m dragging her up along my chest, flipping her onto her back.

Then I’m sliding back down between those thighs.

It’s my turn.