The Woodsman's Baby Read online

  “I hear ya,” I clear my throat. “I promise, I’ll be see you again soon, maybe I’ll come up your way next time,” I clap my hand over his shoulder.

  He nods then wordlessly pulls his helmet down over his head and fires up the engine with a roar. “I’m gonna hold you to that,” he gives me a pointed look and I nod back at him. He knows I’m a man of my word. If I say it, it’s happening. Rogers holds up his hand in a motionless wave and twists the bike around before leaving a trail of dust behind him as he disappears into the night.

  I hope he’s careful getting out of here. My cabin is pretty far off the beaten path up here in the Willamette National Forest. At least it’s all just one straight road from here to Bend though.

  I head back inside, shutting the door to my renovated cabin behind me and take a deep breath. It’s been awesome having Rogers visit, but I’m looking forward to some peaceful nights that don’t end in me precariously making my way up my ladder to my sprawling loft bed before passing out drunk.

  I flop down in my comfy leather chair and let my mind wander back to Charlotte. She must have known who I was before we went home together. Why didn’t she tell me?

  Before this morning, I had pushed the beef between Marcus and me away. It was locked down into some kind of secret trunk in my brain. Now, the memories come flooding back, painfully rubbing my nose in a mistake made long ago and a friendship I destroyed.

  I lean my head back against the cool, comforting leather and close my eyes. There’s nothing I can do about any of that now. All I can do is try to push Charlotte out of my mind. Because I can’t see her again. It wouldn’t be right. Even if she is all grown up in the best ways. Even if she does smell like the sweet innocence of a field of lavender but fucks like a wild woman.

  My thoughts travel to her glistening body, lit by the moonlight, pulsing with pleasure, writhing beneath me.

  It doesn’t matter if I felt a real connection with her. None of it fucking matters, because I ruined everything long before she transformed into the stunning woman she is now.

  Ruhr-tick-tick!

  My eyes open wide as I hear the roar of Rogers’ motorcycle in my driveway. I wonder if he changed his mind about making the trip tonight. I jump up to my feet and fling open the door with a smile on my face.

  “Told ya I’d see you again soon,” I laugh but my lips tug down and my eyebrows knit together as I see the dual headlights on a small car illuminate her from behind like an angel.

  Charlotte.

  “No, no, no,” I shake my head. “This isn’t a good idea,” I make my way back into the house.

  “Wait Connor!” I can hear her run across the driveway and follow me to the door.

  “Charlotte, you can’t just show up here like this,” I step inside and she follows uninvited.

  “You think I’m just gonna let things end the way they did? Like I’m going to sit back and watch you walk out of my life for another fourteen years Connor?” Her brown eyes plead with me.

  “Lottie,” her name crosses my lips in a whisper, “why didn’t you tell me it was you?” I don’t mean to tuck her hair behind her ear. I don’t remember taking the step closer to her, or how my lips ended up hovering over hers.

  “I wanted you to give me a chance this time. It was wrong, I’m sorry, but I had no idea that you and my brother had some kind of problem with each other. What happened between you two?”

  I feel the pain of the memory twist my face and I try to imagine her ever looking at me the way she is right now after she knows. I can’t do it. I can’t force the words from my mouth. Instead, I let the door slam shut and walk her backward until her back is flat against it, and cover her mouth in a long, sensual kiss.

  “Did you really come here to talk, Charlotte? Or is there something else you’d like me to do with these lips?” I echo her words from last night back to her.

  Charlotte’s lids look heavy as she gazes up at me. Her chest is pressed against mine, I can feel her lungs filling with air like she’s just ran a marathon.

  “Kiss me, Connor,” she sighs.

  8

  Charlotte

  His lips are less than an inch from mine, but he doesn’t kiss me. Instead, he hovers and I can almost feel the electricity build up between us. Like how you can feel the static charge in the air right before a lightning storm. I feel the heat of his breath as he looks into my eyes.

  “I can’t believe it’s you,” he murmurs, “I mean, I see it now. In your eyes. But I had no idea,” he holds me perfectly still with his stare. The same green eyes that would stop me dead in my tracks when I was thirteen haven’t lost their power over me when he was my first crush. As his presence crushes my will to move, I wonder why they use that term, crush. I think it’s because people think it sounds cute and innocent, like a crushed velvet dress or like a drink you would order in a soda shop in years gone by.

  “You haven’t changed a bit,” my mouth is dry and my breathing is jagged as he holds me under his power. “You still look the same as the guy I fell for as a girl,” I remember how devastated I was when he left for the military. How I never thought I could get through another day without seeing him. Maybe that’s the real reason they call it a crush. Because of how it crushes your heart and soul when the love isn’t returned.

  “Well, you are all grown up Lottie, I mean Charlotte. You’re even using your proper name now, unless that was just a play so I wouldn’t recognize you?” He purposely drifts his lips only a quarter inch from mine. The charge between us is growing, I can almost hear the crackle of thunder in the air.

  “No, it’s what I go by now,” I answer truthfully.

  “Well, it suits you. You definitely grew up,” his eyes lazily lick my body, resting down on my breasts.

  Connor suddenly yanks my shirt up and I throw my hands in the air obediently as he strips me. “You didn’t have these,” he tosses the blouse to the floor and squeezes my tits together in his large hands.

  With one hand, he unsnaps my bra and I let it fall from my shoulders and slide down my arms, revealing my ample breasts to him.

  Connor runs his thumbs over my nipples, like he’s admiring a fine piece of art, then he leans over me and gently nips one before letting his tongue soothe the momentary pain. I close my eyes and lean my head back against the door, succumbing to the pleasure, to the fantasy come true, to him.

  “And you definitely didn’t have this sweet fucking ass,” his hands glide down over the small of my back and his fingers dig into my full-figured flesh making my pussy quake with desire. His hands continue to travel down over the backs of my thighs, circling each one easily, he lifts my legs up and open and I wrap them around his waist moaning softly as the hard ridge of his cock presses into me.

  Connor scoops his hands under my ass and carries me across the floor, his mouth is still devouring my nipples and with every step I can feel his cock press into me, reminding me of how good it felt to have him inside me. To feel him stretch out my walls. To feel him take what is his.

  Connor walks to the couch and I expect him to plop me down on it, but instead he sits down and pushes me up until I’m standing in front of him, my feet on either side of him, my pussy at his face.

  “I’m can’t wait to taste you,” he unbuttons my jeans and tugs the zipper down. I help him free me from the denim and lace underwear I thought he might like underneath. Turns out he couldn’t care less about my frilly, pink panties. He only wants what is under them, and I can’t wait to give him what he wants.

  I kick the fabric from my foot and Connor digs his fingers into my ass again, but this time, he circles my round cheeks, pushing into my flesh, into my crack, and pulls me toward his mouth. I open my stance and my eyes roll back into my head as his tongue delves into my pussy. He takes a long lick of my slit from my center to my sensitive nub and back, like he’s savoring me.

  I thread my fingers through his hair and Connor pulls me onto his mouth, so I’m straddling his face, and begins to tease m
y clit with slow circles of tantalizing torture.

  My moans fill the air and I grind my hips forward, toward him, pushing my pussy into his mouth, chasing my pleasure.

  “Fuck you taste so good Charlotte. I wanna taste your cum on my tongue. Be a good girl and cum for me,” he whispers and before I can answer his wet, warm tongue is thrashing against my clit sending pulsing shockwaves through me. The summer storm between us has broken, the clouds have opened and the lightening is flashing as my orgasm tears through me. The thunder is booming in my desperate moans of bliss. The downpour of my juices is flooding my pussy and spilling onto Connor’s flicking tongue and he’s only too happy to lick up every last drop.

  My body begins to relax as the waves pass and the shudders stop. Muscles I didn’t realize were tensed start to unwind and I open the eyes that I never realized I had squeezed shut.

  I slide down him like a drunk stripper on a pole and pant against him. “That was amazing, so fucking good,” my voice is hoarse.

  “We’ve only just gotten started,” he pulls his shirt off and I can’t help but trace the edges of his defined pecs. It was true what I said earlier, I would recognize Connor anywhere. I feel like I could run into him fifty years from now and my soul would still know his. But, I’d be lying if I said nothing has changed about him. These cut abs I want to lick, this hard chest, those biceps that look like he could curl a car, that’s all new. I never thought you could improve on perfection, but here we are.

  I pull his pants open and wrap my hand around the large present inside, my eyes growing wide even though I know what to expect. I still can’t help it, when you’ve got a gift this good waiting for you, you get excited.

  “I’m gonna grab a condom,” Connor grabs my chin and gives me a quick kiss and starts to stand up.

  “No!” I push him back down and grind my pussy over the tip of his exposed cock. “Just pull out again. I don’t want to feel a rubber,” my voice is almost wheezy, like a junkie who needs a fix. “I need to feel you,” I plead.

  Connor furrows his eyebrows and runs his hand over his beard thoughtfully. For a second my gut twists. Is he going to tell me no? Maybe feeling so close, so intimate, isn’t something he cares about. Is this all something I’ve built up in my head?

  “I’ll pull out,” he licks my earlobe and lifts his hips at the same time, quickly sliding his jeans and boxer briefs over his ass in one fluid motion. In a second they’re pooled on the floor at his feet and his thick cock is leaning against his belly, probably too heavy to stand without support.

  I can’t help but stare, and the lip licking isn’t helping anything, but I can’t stop. Damn. You’d think if you’ve already seen it once then you’d be over the whole giant cock on a white guy thing, but nope. I circle my fingers around it and marvel at how small it makes my hands look in comparison.

  Connor grabs his thick cock by the base and pulls it from his stomach and I hover over the tip. He holds it at my entrance and I press down onto it, sighing as he slides inside me. Every inch makes me feel fuller, more stretched, almost like I’m being taken for the first time.

  I hold his shoulders and slide up and down him, the ache between my thighs finally subsiding as he claims me.

  “Charlotte, turn around. I want to watch that sweet ass bounce on me as I fuck you,” he growls in my ear and nips on my nipple, making me yelp.

  I twist away from him and grip his thighs right above his knees and begin to ride him like a bull at one of those rodeo bars where you’ve got to grab the reins and try to stay on.

  Connor bucks his hips, pounding his cock into me and I look over my shoulder at him as he pulls his thumb from his mouth and slides it up between my ass cheeks. I gasp as he pushes it all the way up against my asshole, pressing into it until he passes my body's resistance and buries it inside me.

  I know it’s only a thumb, but I’ve never had anyone touch me there before. Not in anyway. I’m overcome by how full I feel. I’m being pounded by his fat cock while his thick thumb presses inside my virgin ass. The sensation is too much. It’s overwhelming. A sudden wave of pleasure crashes over me and I can’t help but yell his name, “Connor! Oh, my, God!” I scream at the ceiling as he fills me more than I’ve ever experienced.

  “Oh fuck, Charlotte! I’m gonna cum!” He pushes me to my knees and jerks his cock. I’ve never done this before, but I open my mouth. I want to taste his cum on my tongue. I want to swallow his seed. Connor’s white streaks pulse across my lips and mouth, and coat my tongue. I hold it out, as he jerks the last spurt of his seed onto my face. I swallow, then lick my lips to get the rest, wiping my hand over my cheeks to get the parts I missed.

  Connor pulls me up onto him, lying down on the couch. I lie my head on his heart and listen to the beats. Are they calling my name the way my heart has been calling his since I was thirteen? Do I mean as much to him? Could I ever? I want to ask what we are. What we could be, but I’m too scared of what his answer might be.

  The only sound between us is our ragged breathing and the crickets making a symphony outside. I feel pressure to say something, but not the crazy thoughts swirling through my head. I need to start the conversation with something less loaded. Less meaningful.

  “So,” I finally catch my breath and struggle to grasp at any clear thought that doesn’t have to do with who or what we are as a couple or non-couple. “What’s the deal with you and my brother?”

  9

  Connor

  Her question hangs in the air and my skin breaks out in gooseflesh, like a sudden arctic blast just cooled the room.

  “Well,” her eyes twinkle, like I’m about to tell her the punchline of a joke, “what did you do anyway? I mean, I know Marcus has a temper, but the way he chased you out of the house was pretty crazy, even for him.” She smirks at me, but I can’t return the smile. I can’t even fake it. Instead my gut churns as flashes of the memory that I’d long ago suppressed resurfaces.

  “Let’s not talk about this now,” I kiss her shoulder and try to pull her into me. “I’m pretty tired, how about we head up to my loft and get some rest?” I hope she’ll drop it. I hope she’ll let it go.

  “Oh come on, I’m not letting you off the hook that easily, are you kidding me? My brother practically throws you out of the house naked, threatening to beat you with a bat and I’m supposed to let it drop? No way. Spill it,” she sits up and cocks her head at me, twisting her full lips to the side.

  If you don’t tell her, he will. Who do you want her to hear this from? What side of the story is going to make you sound worse?

  I try to toss my stupid conscience from my head like I was tossed from Charlotte’s house, but I’m not as convincing as Marcus in rage mode. No one I know is.

  Ever since we were kids, his temper had been the stuff of legends, or at least comic books. He might not have turned green and busted through his shirt when he lost his shit on people, but he was still a destructive, blind-with-rage Hulk. I still can’t believe he is a Pastor. Marcus. The guy who once lost a game of marbles and bashed his bag of cat eyes and oilies against the winner’s face. I always thought the people who were doing God’s work here were supposed to be more like Mother Teresa and less like mafia thugs.

  “I’m waiting,” Charlotte presses me and I sit up on the couch, feeling like I’m trying to swim toward the surface under a sheet of ice. Even as I move toward the light, the truth, the confession that’s supposed to make me take that first fresh lungful of air, I can see the cold wall of my past mistakes locking me under, forcing me to drown in a history I thought I’d left behind.

  I run my hand over my beard, scratching my chin through the rough hairs and look up at her. Charlotte’s face has transformed from wide-eyed playful insistence to a serious squint.

  I clear my throat, but it still feels dry, “So, I’m not sure if you remember much about Sandra.”

  “Sandra? His high school sweetheart?” Charlotte frowns like she’s trying to put together a one-thousand-piece j
igsaw puzzle without looking at the picture on the box first.

  “That’s the one, yep. Well, on prom night, we all went camping. Not just us, but almost our entire class was there. It was a drunken shit show. Lots of high school drama, binge drinking, drugs, sex, the whole nine yards.” I breathe in deep as I can almost smell the campfire and hear the anthem of our year, Crazy In Love by Beyoncé and Jay Z, blasting again. I blink away the memories and try to keep myself calm, steady and present in the here and now. I don’t need to relive it just because I’m explaining. It’s alright to leave that shit behind. Besides, I can’t still be held accountable for fourteen-year-old mistakes, can I?

  “Gotcha so far,” Charlotte interrupts my scattered thoughts, imploring me to continue with her chocolate eyes.

  “Yeah, so, I got wasted pretty early in the night and passed out in my tent. I couldn't hold my liquor back then, so the rum kicked my ass pretty quickly. Anyway, I didn’t know that Marcus and Sandra got into some kind of epic fight. I heard later that he lost his temper at her and made her cry and she told him she was done with it all. She broke up with him in front of everyone and stormed off. Like I said, I learned that all later on.” I scratch the side of my burning cheek and look down at the sofa. I don’t want to see her eyes when I tell her the next part. I can’t face her judgement.

  “So, what does that have to do with you?” She sits a little taller and even though she’s a foot shorter than me, I’ve never felt smaller.

  “Okay, so, like I said, I was hammered and done for the night when my tent zips open and someone comes in. I wasn’t even sure who it was. I was completely out of it, I swear. Anyway, she couldn’t really wake me up by crying and talking so she tried a different approach,” I swallow hard, “she, uh, well, let’s just say the next thing I knew she was on top of me and I was fucking her.”