Praise Me: Lumberjack, page 4
I use the pulsing connection of our bodies to push her up the bed, slowly, slowly, putting a pillow beneath her precious head and kissing her forehead, before I start to buck like a goddamn marauder. I have no idea where to look, because every inch of her is utterly gorgeous. The stretched pink slit taking my cock. Her titties, bouncing fast and furious. That expression of hero worship on her face while I essentially fuck the virginity squarely out of her, sweat slicking my body, my dick in heavenly agony, the mattress creaking, followed by the sound of wood splintering beneath us.
A beam gives way in the center of the bed, and it drops a solid six inches, my weight landing hard on Jenna, the gravity of the drop causing my cock to ram her even more roughly—and she screams, thrashing through another flood-like orgasm, tears rolling down her temples, blood on her mouth from biting her bottom lip.
“I have to blow, baby. Whatever stamina I have doesn’t mean shit when the pussy is so sweet for Daddy.”
“Come inside me,” she babbles, gripped with pleasure. “Come anywhere you want.”
When I thrust into her now, it sounds like I’m juicing a ripe orange and all that succulence is drenching my pumping cock, urging me on, my grunts and curses peppering the air while the pace of my hips kicks into overdrive, and then I’m snarling into her neck and pressing those knees up to her shoulders, railing her like a fuck doll while she whines and rakes ribbons down my back with her nails.
“Sorry, princess. Should have chosen a prince if you wanted a man who comes quietly.” I plow forward until I bottom out, leaning down to kiss her hard, before breaking away. “Get your fucking knees up and take this sperm.”
She squeaks a cry, a third climax running her over like a semi-truck, and she’s too green to handle another assault on her untried flesh, so she goes limp underneath me for this final ten thrusts, her eyes glassy, body and face flushed, jaw slack while I squeeze in and out of her incredibly snug hole, absolute rapture taking me over as the come finally, finally, releases from the pit of my loins, frothing into her in endless waves while I’m above her stiff and bellowing my gratitude, my ass in painful flex, her hands stroking my face lovingly, worshipfully, then raking into my chest hair, her purr of contentment causing me to jerk and let out another spurt. Another, another, until I’m finally on empty.
I fall heavily onto the bed beside Jenna, and she snuggles into me, giggling breathlessly, planting kisses all over my face…and shock permeates my every thought.
Thirty-three years and I’ve never come close to feeling this light, this sated after sex.
This…fulfilled.
It’s her. It’s this wonderful girl who somehow formed a bond with me, despite my best effort to do what’s best for her. And damn did I bond right back.
It’s impossible to tell myself the Daddy-little girl roles are bad for her when I can see firsthand how much pleasure they give her. How much security.
Lord. This angel is mine. Every blessed inch.
How do I stop my heart from capsizing under this weight?
How do I let her go when the time comes for her to return to Los Angeles?
“Do you have to go home tonight?” she asks me, kissing my shoulder, her fingers sifting through my chest hair. Those teeth buried in her bottom lip. Anxious princess.
“Yes,” I answer, though I have no clue how I’m going to force myself to leave Jenna.
Naked Jenna who is yawning into my neck and snuggling into my side, right where she belongs. A vital piece of me I didn’t know was missing.
“Can I come too?” she whispers.
“Yes,” I say, without hesitation.
CHAPTER 7
Jenna
Ican barely breathe watching Penn carry his sleeping child out of the house, laying her down in the back seat behind me. He’s so many amazing things. A protector, a father, a lover. Honorable, intuitive, honest. Dominant when the moment calls for it. Gruff. Sweet.
“It’s a good thing she’s asleep, because I think she’d probably have a meltdown if she saw Jenna Fairchild in my passenger seat,” Penn says wryly, getting behind the wheel. “Once she’s out, she’s out, though.”
“Maybe…” Maybe I can meet her in the morning.
When I trail off, Penn glances over at me. “Maybe what?”
Stop trying to turn this into a relationship. He made it clear that isn’t in the cards, right? Being too eager is only going to cause him to pull away.
Won’t it?
“Nothing,” I breathe, shaking my head. “How far away is your house?”
“Ten minutes.”
I chew my lip, not knowing if I should ask my next question, but unable to do anything but appease my curiosity. “And her mother?”
He drums his fingers on the wheel, no doubt remembering my jealous display earlier. Still, he doesn’t remind me of my behavior or make fun of me for it. He just gives me the benefit of the doubt and answers evenly. “She’s not far from LA, actually. A town called Ojai. She lives there with her boyfriend, when she’s not overseas.”
“When does she come home?”
“Couple of months. Then Erin will be splitting time between us. I’ll have her for most of the summer. Some holidays and weekends. She’ll have her for the school year.”
“Do you get along with her?”
“Well enough to be good parents and communicate, when necessary,” he says, impressing his next statement on me with a stern look. “We were only ever meant to be friends, Jenna. Nothing more. That’s all we’ll ever be.”
I nod and sit back, resting in the feeling Penn gives me. One I’ve never had in my life. Total and complete safety. Nothing bad is going to happen to me as long as he’s nearby. That certainty coasts over me like cool water, my anxieties unraveling and falling away, all from observing the capable wrist he draped over the wheel, his other hand holding mine on the seat between us, his gaze straying to my breasts every few seconds—and it’s easy to see why. I didn’t bother with a bra after we made love, and the truck is bouncing over roots and potholes, causing them to jiggle and bounce in my strapless top.
“Lord have mercy,” he grunts, shifting in his seat.
I beam back at him happily, turning slightly to give him a better view.
Normally I hate my body being objectified, but apparently, I love Penn doing it.
Because he is careful with me. Because he listens and adjusts his actions to make me happy and comfortable. The way he guessed that it wasn’t the right time to spank me. The way he waited for my body to stop hurting before moving inside of me. The kisses he gave me at the exact right moment I needed them. How he guarded me in the bar. How he saved me from being exploited earlier today.
How he orgasms me like he was born knowing the combination to my pleasure.
A combination I don’t even have myself.
All of it. All of Penn Holland.
There is no end to what I’ll give him if he lets me.
We reach the house, and he carries Erin inside, holding the door with his back so I can follow him in. Kissing me on the forehead as I pass. I take in the sweeping, open plan cabin, the rustic décor, the cozy stone fireplace and the finger paintings on the refrigerator. It couldn’t suit the man better. It’s Penn in the form of a house and therefore, it’s magical.
“My bedroom is upstairs, if you want to wait for me there. Erin’s is downstairs.” He jerks his chin. “I’ll just go tuck her in.”
“Okay,” I whisper, watching him carry Erin to the rear of the lower floor, before I slowly make my way up the stairs, turning down a short hallway and ending up in the most masculine master bedroom I’ve ever beheld. Grays and blacks and forest green. A heavy rug and a gigantic four-poster bed. A cedar chest at the foot of that bed, a desk tucked into the corner. Untied boots, size one million, resting on the ground. His closet door is ajar enough to see an endless array of flannel. It smells like him.
I’m in heaven.
With a quiet giggle, I take a flying leap and land in the center of the bed, doing a snow angel on the soft, green comforter, squeaking when Penn’s deep voice reaches me from the doorway.
“Again, I ask. You planning on being this fucking cute all night?”
I roll over onto my tummy and prop my chin on a fist. “I still haven’t decided.”
He takes a long, heavy breath. “My god, you’re a beautiful sight, Jenna Fairchild.”
There’s an ominous surge into of me, like maybe my heart has tipped over and spilled its contents. “Thank you,” I manage, rising onto all fours and slowly crawling to the edge of the bed where he meets me for deeply emotional kiss that shakes me to my core. “Will you cuddle with me?” I murmur against his mouth.
“Thought you’d never ask.”
Penn goes to work on his buttons for the second time tonight. “Ooh!” I bound off the bed, carried by the buoyancy he gives me. “Can I undress you?”
Even in the muted lamplight, I can see the tops of his ears turn red. “Sure, baby. Although…I’d rather just get my giant ass under the covers as quickly as possible.”
“Not me.” I slide my hands up the front of his flannel, shaking my hair back dramatically. “I want to marvel over you.”
His chuckle is low and warm. “Fair is fair, I guess. I never stop marveling over you.”
“Mmm.” We should get married, I almost blurt. It’s what my heart wants to say. “I’m going to take my time, if that’s okay with you.”
“When you’re with me, you do whatever you goddamn please, Jenna.”
I press my face between his pecs and inhale with gusto. “Thank goodness I left my phone back at the trailer. I’m sure Dustin is blowing it up right now.”
“Why?”
“Why?” I begin the slow journey of undoing the buttons on his flannel, starting beneath the notch in his throat. “I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but a six-foot-six lumberjack kidnapped me from a bar earlier this evening.”
“Six foot seven,” he grumbles.
“I stand corrected.” I have three buttons open now and I lean in to kiss his forest of chest hair, recalling how it felt to be pinned down beneath that thick pelt, the broad patch of coarse hair abrading my nipples while he moaned hoarsely, driving himself between my legs. “I hope...you won’t be upset when the internet gets a hold of the story. There could already be leaked video from the bar circulating. Tabloids trying to track down your identity and speculate if you’re my new boyfriend or just a one-night stand…”
He makes a low-pitched sound when I use the word “boyfriend.” After that, the word drops between us like a heavy wrench and we meet each other’s eyes momentarily, searching. How does this end? I desperately want to ask him, but I don’t want to ruin our night. Especially if it’s the only one we’ll have together. “Maybe it’s a good thing if we end up on the internet.”
“It’s never a good thing. Why would you think that?”
“When you see what the public has to say about this, you’ll come to your senses.”
I pause in the act of tugging his flannel out of his denim waistband. “What the public has to say about what?”
“The differences between you and me. Our ages, how different we look…”
I’ve repeatedly told Penn that I find him wildly attractive, but my reassurances aren’t working, are they? I’ll have to take a different tack. “No doubt they would rather see me with a lead singer with a big pile of hair on top of his head, but none on his chest. Or maybe a prima donna co-star who I secretly loathe but is excellent for my career.” I circle around behind Penn and drag the flannel off his giant shoulders, and I go to work, planting open-mouthed kisses all over the warm strength of his back, tracing muscles with my tongue.
Meanwhile, my palms skim around the thick circle of his waist, meeting at the bulge atop his thighs, my right hand stroking him through the denim.
“Do you think those boys could ever make me as happy as this does?”
“I don’t want to think about you dating anyone,” he rasps.
“Me either,” I whisper, flicking open the button of his fly. “If by some chance people couldn’t recognize the perfection of you, I would tune them right out, because they obviously have no taste.” Carefully, I lower his zipper, and his broad back starts to heave with the shallowing of his breath. “My Daddy does things to me they can only dream about,” I whisper, slipping my hand into his open fly to fist his sex, pumping it twice while he groans like a big, hungry bear, then bringing the fullness of him out into the open.
Leaving it resting in the denim V, while I saunter around back in front of him.
“Anyway, I don’t want to form relationships with people simply because they’re good for my acting career.” My steps falter as his turgid erection comes into view, sticking straight out in front of him, his balls tucked up juicy and tight beneath the stalk of pulsing flesh. “Um…I want to be taken seriously. I want to be known for my acting, not simply for being famous. My manager refuses to understand that. Hence him wanting to show my nipples to the world.”
Penn bares his teeth with a dangerous growl.
“I know, right?” I say, pleased when he allows me to guide him over to the chest positioned at the end of his bed, urging him without words to sit down on top of it. Holy moly, even with him sitting down, I have to tilt my head back slightly to maintain eye contact. “When I get back to LA, I’m auditioning for the lead role in the Muse trilogy. I’d be playing an assassin. A very grown-up role, compared to my last one. That’s why everyone is so frantic to present me as a sex symbol. Not that it excuses their methods.” I wet my lips while searching his expression. “Do you think I’ll ever be taken seriously in Hollywood, Penn? Or am I just going to be that girl from Hey Betty my entire life?”
Picking up on the plaintiveness in my voice, he takes hold of the sides of my face, impressing a stern look on me. “I don’t think you’ll be taken seriously, baby. I know. There is nothing you can’t do. There is a reserve of strength inside of you, waiting to be used. Follow your path and no one else’s…and nothing can stop you from getting where you want to go.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, blinking moisture away rapidly. Involuntarily curling my fingers in the sides of his jeans, my intentions taking clearer shape inside of me. “Could you lift your hips for a sec?
“Sure,” he says without thinking, but when I pull down his jeans, as well as his boxers, tossing them away, he swallows heavily, his erection jutting up from his lap, mottled and painful looking. “What are you doing?” he asks hoarsely, his upper lip already shiny with sweat.
“Just talking,” I say innocently, before I peel off my tank top—watching his hips jerk, a little spurt of white spraying from the tip of his sex. “Well. Talking topless,” I amend, batting my eyelashes.
The rumble in his chest speaks of desperation, along with his eyes. “Ask me for anything, Jenna. Right now.” His irises are nearly black as he zeros in on my breasts, veins straining all over his herculean body. “God almighty. Standing there with your hot tits out in a skirt so short, I’d hardly need to lift it to take you from the back. Damn.” His chest shudders up and down. “I need to do something to deserve this king’s treatment.”
I settle my hands on his shoulders and lean close, dragging my tongue sideways between his sculpted lips. “I can ask you for anything?”
“Anything, baby.”
I settle my open lips against his ear. “May I please suck your cock so hard that my little girl mouth is sore in the morning?”
“Oh Jesus! Jenna,” he growls through his teeth—and he proceeds to masturbate, his fist rifling up and down that beefy, darkening trunk, knuckles white from the pressure he’s applying. “I can barely think about you sucking on it without coming, baby. No.”
“But you said I could have anything,” I murmur, pouting, doodling invisible circles into his chest hair. “I want to give my first blow job. Are you worried I won’t be good at it?”
Rivulets of sweat pour down the sides of his face, his fist still stroking in a furious rhythm. “God, no, I’m not worried…about that…” he pants. “I’m worried once you put my cock in that pretty mouth, I’ll be walking around with wood the rest of my life.” He looks conflicted. “Go down and give it a kiss and watch me blow every which way.”
“I want to suck,” I whine.
His curse is ragged. “Two sucks. That’s it.”
I jump up and down with excitement, and he looks near-death watching my breasts bounce, his hand jacking faster, his big feet shifting on the floor, a lump bobbing in his throat, as if something is coming. Instinctively, I hurry to my knees, taking over the job of milking him, though it takes my two hands, instead of one.
“Oh, my goodness, Daddy, it looks so much bigger from down here.”
His groans brokenly, his mighty thighs starting to quake, his hands searching for purchase, one gripping the edge of the trunk, the other fist capturing my long hair, wrapping the strands tight around his knuckles. “Two sucks. Two. Then get out of the way, baby.”
I slowly plump my lips against his engorged head, kissing and nuzzling. “Why?”
“I’m going to come like a motherfucker,” he says through his teeth. “Oh baby, I’m going to come so much, you could drown if it’s still in your mouth.”
I’ve never given a lot of thought to a man’s spend before, but I’m definitely thinking about it now—in terms of Penn, only. How stimulated he must be for his body to release a flood of pleasure. How I’m the one giving him that stimulation. And when I think about it that way, come is really hot, isn’t it? I want to experience it up close and personally.
So I stretch my lips around his monstrous arousal and start to work my mouth in an up and down massage, pleasure sensors lighting me up like a pinball machine. I moan and scoot my knees closer, the flesh between my legs getting swollen and achy, almost right away, from the raw, salty taste of Penn’s cock. The ridges and textures and how he prays to God in that guttural, shaky voice while I force his inches as deep as I can stand, using my resulting tears as lubricant to give him a tight hand job at the same time, my cheeks hollow with eager sucking.
