Pumpkin King Read online

  Oh. My. God. I might have to marry this woman.

  “Are you going to ride me hard, Jane?”

  “Yes,” she says, her voice trembling.

  “Are you saying you’re gonna ride me with your pussy?”

  “You know what I meant.”

  “I want to hear my girl say it.”

  “Shit. Yes, I’m gonna ride your great big chest with my pussy.”

  My voice matches her trembling when I say, “Are you going to take a hard ride on my chest, squeeze me with your thighs, and cover me with your juice?”

  “Mhmm,” she hums. “Ride your chest while you grab my ass and make me go as fast or slow as you want.”

  “Mm, I like it slow. I like that pussy grinding on my chest slow and hard. Leave your scent all over me.”

  My hand rubs lower and I wrap my hand around my shaft. “I’m touching myself now, Jane. What do you want me to do with this cock?”

  She gasps. “What do you want to do with it?”

  “No, you have control. You’ll be in my bed soon enough and I’ll tell you what I want. For now, you tell me what you want me to do with this dick in my hand.”

  Her rasping voice moans softly. “I want you to tell me how hard it is.”

  I smile. I can’t believe all this smut was just there in her sexy mind this whole time, waiting to come out. I love this so much. “It’s so fucking hard, baby. Just for you. Hard and red and throbbing. I knew I was going to be getting myself off as soon as I kissed you goodnight because you drive me crazy.”

  “Pump it for me, just once,” she says.

  I do, once, firmly. A moan falls from my lips. She moans in return. “I’m cupping my pussy, wishing it was you touching me.”

  “May I stroke it?”

  She moans a yes.

  We continue this way, egging each other on. I stroke it again and again until I can feel precum at the tip.

  “I’m so close, I can see my precum, baby. But I’m not going to touch it. Because it’s all for you.”

  She’s quiet for a moment, and I can hear the rhythm of her pleasuring herself. “I wish I was there now, riding your chest, reaching back and holding your dick, stroking it. I wish it was your fingers stroking my clit. You’ve been driving me crazy since you took off your shirt today.”

  The thought of her touching herself while thinking of me nearly makes me explode. The thought of her being driven to distraction by looking at my mediocre body in the pumpkin patch is beyond hot.

  I close my eyes and stroke up the underside of my shaft, spurring on my arousal, trying to match mine with hers.

  “I can’t wait to touch you. Taste you. Bring you all the way to the end with my hands, my mouth, my dick.”

  Her breath hitches and she whispers, trying to be quiet. “Henry, I need you. I need you between my legs.”

  “Soon. Real soon.”

  My hips rise up off the mattress, my mind barely fooling myself that her body is wrapped around me. The imagery combined with the frustration that she’s not here is bringing me to the breaking point.

  I feel a tingle in my lower back. “Fuck, honey. I’m about to…”

  “Me too.”

  I release a growl and blurt out, “That clit, that pussy is mine. Mine. I need it, I want it. I’m going to take it. So hard. It’s mine. Mine. Mine.”

  On the third time I say “mine,” Jane cries out. “Oh my god!” But she does it with a squeak, and I know she’s trying so hard not to wake the baby.

  The visual of her touching herself and biting down on her lip sends my release slamming through me. I come all over my stomach with a roar. “Fuck! Shit! Jane, why aren’t you here with me? Fuck!”

  Neither of us says anything coherent for the next few moments, just a lot of heavy breathing, moaning, whimpering, and eventually tired laughter.

  “That was fun,” she says.

  “No, Jane. It was frustrating. You’re not here with me. I’m not going to get what I need until you’re in my bed.”

  The silence that follows tortures me. I roll over on my side, using my fluffy towel to clean myself, wishing I was using it to gently wipe her down instead.

  “You’re right,” she breathes. “Still. I had so much fun with you tonight. Eating dinner, watching you play with Sarah, making out a little, and the dirty talk. But you’re right about me. It’ll be that much better in person.”

  Damn. Nothing sexier than a confident woman.

  I try not to count myself lucky until I’m in a solid, defined relationship with her, but it’s settled in my mind already. I’m hers. She’s mine. We’re a pair.

  I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.

  Chapter Twelve

  Jane

  On the way to work the next day, I’m worried things will be awkward. We got pretty carried away last night.

  But Henry puts me at ease right away. He’s waiting for me in the driveway with a huge fountain cup of Diet Coke and a deep, day-making kiss.

  We hop into his truck together to run all the errands for the finishing touches on his business.

  I sip my beverage and wait for him to break the silence. I’m grateful that he provided me something to drink to occupy me. I don’t know if it was deliberate.

  “So, last night,” he says.

  Instantly my face heats. Oh crap, he’s going to tell me it was a little over the top. He’s going to tell me that my needs are weird and too much for him. Or worse, he’s going to tell me that it was too vanilla, what I’m thinking about. Or worst of all, he’s going to tell me that I’ve been leading him on. That I’m a cock tease, getting him all riled up at my apartment only to send him home to pleasure himself.

  Henry says none of those things. Rather, he takes my breath away with his sweet words.

  “I don’t know how you’re feeling this morning, but I’m feeling really good about things. Last night was really special. I’ve never done that before, with anyone. I mean, of course, I’ve masturbated, but not with anyone listening. I liked it.”

  “I…liked it too.” My mouth is dry and I take a huge sip of my drink. I’m still waiting for the “but.”

  “So I want you to know whatever negative things you might be feeling right now about last night—Regret. Maybe a little embarrassment. Self-consciousness—don’t. It was cool and I loved it.”

  I bite my straw. Am I really doing this thing? I am. I’m going to have sex with my boss. My body needs this, and my brain finally has agreed to give my body what it wants. Hell, a great orgasm is good for the brain, too.

  He continues. “And I’m not going to keep us a secret or anything. I’m all in. OK? I meant what I said last night. I don’t normally behave like this. I’m not the kind of guy who comes on that strong, but something feels terrible when we’re not together. I like this. I like you. So as corny as it sounds, I gotta ask you. Are you my girl? ‘Cause I wanna be your guy.”

  I bite the straw harder and try not to scream. It’s been a decade since someone referred to me as “my girl.” Where are we, in high school?

  “I’ll understand if you have reservations, because of the things everyone has told you about me. And if you just want to use me for animal sex, I’m not above it. Just know that if that’s all you want, I’m going to take up so much of your time with said animal sex, there won’t be any time for any other guys. So take your pick.”

  Oh my god, I would never use anybody for sex, but just the suggestion of losing my mind and having hot jungle sex—whatever that entails—makes my inner muscles clench down involuntarily.

  “I’m here for all of it, Henry. I liked you the minute I sat down next to you at the fair and my daughter started babbling at you, and you weren’t the least bit annoyed.”

  “She’s a great kid.”

  “She is. I don’t know how I got so lucky. Great kid and now a great boyfriend.”

  “There’s no luck involved,” he says, pulling the truck into the lot of the garden center. He throws the truck into park and looks me dead in the eye, that sudden seriousness appearing again. “No luck at all. Sarah’s a great kid because you’re a great mom. You have a boyfriend now because I know a good human when I see one and so do you.”

  I feel the need to correct him. “Yes, I do work so hard at being a good mom. But you have no idea how scary it is. I know plenty of other moms who worked so hard, gave their kids so much love, didn’t spoil them too much, let them be independent but not too independent, did everything they thought they were supposed to do, and yet the kids grow up and make terrible choices. And the moms always blame themselves.”

  “Hey,” he says, taking my face in his hands. “Look at me.”

  I look at him, and the tenderness in his eyes nearly does me in.

  “They grow older and make choices. All you can do is your best. The good news is you don’t have to do it by yourself anymore. I’m not saying I’m a replacement for her dad, but you don’t have to carry the weight of that worry and stress alone anymore. I’m here for you. I’m here to talk about it. I’m just…here. And for the foreseeable future, I always will be. Do you hear me?”

  I nod and try not to cry. He plants a soft kiss on my lips, and our fingers entwine together. Two days ago I could never have imagined crying and kissing my boss on the second day of work while we sit in his truck cab at the garden center, a bunch of ceramic gnomes staring us down, but here we are.

  “Thank you.”

  “I know you don’t like to talk about Carl. But let’s get the stuff and we can talk some more on the way back.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Henry

  The drive back to the farm is a little slower than the drive to the garden center, with the truck bed weighed down with all the accessories we’re going to need t
o do all the things Jane thinks we need to do.

  But it’s fine with me if we go slow. We stop to pick up an egg McMuffin on the way back and continue our talk.

  I tell her all about my upbringing, how my uncle raised me, how he was never happy, and always trying to get rich quick. How Jet’s grandma did a better job of raising me than my uncle.

  For Jane’s part, she tells me some more about Carl, and I listen.

  “The worst part was the rumors. When he said Sarah wasn’t his. But then he turned on a dime when he thought he could use Sarah to his advantage. It was just despicable. I sometimes worry he’s going to track me down and try to get her back. She barely knows him. That’s why—I don’t know if you noticed—I was a little freaked out when the doorbell rang when the food arrived. He’s texted me a few times since the move. He’s not a good guy, Henry.”

  “Do you have those messages? Read them to me,” I say. She does, and they are every bit as awful as I’d imagined.

  Bring her back today and I won’t charge you with kidnapping.

  And another one: Do you know I can have you declared an unfit mother? I have money for a lawyer and you don’t.

  And finally, one that takes the cake: Sarah might not be mine, knowing what a slut you are. I mean, you did move in with me less than 24 hours after I bought you that drink. But I’ll do you a favor. I’m sure you’d be happy to get rid of her so you can keep messing around and preying on other rich guys, so feel free to bring her back. I’ll take her off your hands. I’m generous like that.

  The rage building inside me, I can’t even describe it. “I’m going back to the craft store and buying supplies to build a homemade trebuchet so I can personally fling Carl directly into the sun.”

  The tinkling laughter that comes from her does not match the full range of emotions I’m having at the moment. I’m veering between rage and disgust and contempt.

  “No, really. I hate that guy.”

  “I know. I appreciate that so much. It’s one thing to privately bash Carl with Rocket, but it’s another thing to be so out loud about it with you. I can’t let Sarah hear me talk shit.”

  My feelings are all fighting each other and I don’t know what to do with myself. Something is coming out and I have to express it. I don’t know what it is, but I do know that I have to pull over.

  I pull the truck over to the side of the road at the nearest stand of trees. When I slide the transmission into park, she asks, “What are you—“

  But she doesn’t get to finish because my lips are in the way. My kiss is not sweet and sensual the way I kissed her last night. This is a deep, forceful, owning, possessing kind of kiss. The kind of kiss that comes from my toes. The kind of kiss that’s the only way to express what I’m feeling. That she is worthy. That she doesn’t deserve any of that. That she’s mine now. That she and Sarah are both mine. That I am not in control of my emotions and I don’t want to be in control of my emotions anymore.

  I drive my mouth over hers and feel her body go rigid against me in surprise before she relaxes and kisses me back.

  That’s it, girl. Take it. Take all of me. Nobody is going to kiss you like this ever again. I’m leaving my mark of protection on you. I push my tongue into her mouth, not hesitantly, not testing her. I just have to own her mouth. She lets me in without a pause, but with a small moan. Her moans alternate between surprise and release.

  She breaks the kiss to look into my eyes. The reflection I see back is one of wonder and fear.

  “Don’t be afraid. That whole story made me feel things, and all I want to do is make the memory of that guy disappear. I know it’s wrong to say I want Sarah’s dad to disappear, but fuck that guy.”

  Jane puts her fingers to my lips. “No, it’s OK. Fuck that guy. He doesn’t exist. I don’t give a fuck, I just want you to kiss me like that again.”

  This time it’s me who moans into her mouth. Her tongue is heaven inside my mouth, teasing me, tasting me, bewitching me. She transforms my rage into arousal. We’re both so lost in the roaming hands and tangling of tongues that our teeth, noses, and bodies jumble together and we don’t even stop to laugh at ourselves. We are two people grasping for each other like we’ve found something that makes sense in a world that’s dealt us unfair hands.

  “Baby, I need to touch you,” I rumble against her throat before I lick her soft skin, then carefully suck, but not enough to leave a mark.

  “I’m going to scream if you don’t,” she says.

  We keep kissing and add in heavy stroking. My hands on her breasts, squeezing them through her flannel shirt. Her hands stroking my jaw, stroking my hair, occasionally pulling it, light fires in the darkest corners of my heart and soul.

  I hastily unbutton her shirt while we kiss, and I slip my hand inside, feeling the smooth cotton of her thin t-shirt under my palm. She lets out a small whimper when my fingers stroke her nipple into a tight peak through the fabric.

  She pulls away from the kiss, her fingers fisting the waffle-knit shirt at my waist. Jane’s face is flushed as her chest rises and falls with her rapid breathing. I reach back and pull the shirt over my head and toss it into the back. Her eyes rake over me, both of us breathless and licking our lips.

  “What are you waiting for? Touch it. It’s yours.”

  Her eyes roam over my chest and her hands follow. Our mouths come together again as her hands travel down my stomach and up the sides of my chest. I tug at the hem of her shirt. I need to get closer. My hands find her breasts under the shirt, the smooth fabric of her bra bringing up all kinds of deeper, darker desires that can’t be met in the cab of my truck.

  “Babe. I want to keep kissing you, but I don’t want our first time together to be out in the open like this. Things are about to get really out of control.”

  She pulls away and shoots me a wicked grin. “You’re right,” she says. “We should wait until Saturday night. The waiting will make it even better.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Henry

  She’s right. We should wait. Besides, we have a lot of work to do.

  Still, I’ve never driven so fast with a truck bed full of stuff in my life.

  With Jane’s hand on my knee propelling me onward, I just pray I don’t get pulled over by the cops. I’m already on the town’s shit list, and my day is not going to end well if the sheriff himself pulls me over; he’s one of the ones who lent a couple thousand to my uncle when the rainforest project was proposed. The old boy isn’t likely to go easy on me for driving 80 in a 55 mph zone out here in the sticks.

  Arriving back at the pumpkin patch, we’re both silent as we unload all the stuff from the back of the pickup.

  While yesterday was an easy day of work with her, full of good conversation and plenty of innocent flirting, now I’m going out of my mind. Every time she bends over to pick up a ripe pumpkin and hoist it into the wagon, I salivate so bad I might drool. When she’s zoned in on painting a sign for the pumpkin patch, tongue sticking out of her mouth in concentration, all I can think about is sticking mine down her throat. Every time I get an inadvertent flash of cleavage as she’s working on an overpriced pumpkin arrangement, my cock twitches a little more.

  I spend all morning so fucking hard I lose all ability to answer her questions.

  “Well,” she says, gesturing around the place. “What do you think?”

  I don’t bother looking around, because I already know it looks good. But nothing looks half as good as this woman perched on top of Big Daddy, looking so pleased with herself.

  “Henry, what’s wrong?”

  My legs eat up the distance between us. I can’t take it anymore.

  “You look mad. Are you mad?”

  “No, I’m not mad. I’m in pain,” I rasp as I plant both hands on either side of her where she sits on Big Daddy.

  Jane makes this adorable face of concern for my health—until she realizes what I mean. She glances down at my dick and then meets my gaze again.

  “Oh,” she says. “Now?”

  I don’t mean to let it happen, but some inhuman grunt escapes my throat. Her eyes flash, her lips part, and she angles her face just right. The next moment, it’s all lips, hands, legs, heavy breaths, squeezes, and even a little bit of biting. I’m pressed against her body when she sucks my bottom lip into her mouth and nips it with her teeth. My cock jerks. My hands on her hips press her pelvis hard against me so she can feel what she does to me.