The Pucking Proposal (Maple Creek)

My phone dings and I jerk it up to my face, praying it’s not a “changed my mind” text. I’ve been worried I’d get that all day. Instead, Joy sent . . .

On my way!

Okay, she’s excited too. Probably not as excited as I am, but if she’s using exclamation marks, that’s a good sign. Before I can reply, it buzzes again.

Ducking autocorrect. I typed omw and it got a little overzealous.

Well, shit. There goes that good sign. Taking the new cue, I send her . . .

All good. Just getchur ass here.

She doesn’t respond, presumably because she’s driving her tiny clown car to my house and not because she decided to ghost me for being bossy.

I finish getting things ready. Truthfully, I undo and redo the things I’ve already done. Charcuterie board—on the top shelf of the refrigerator, ready for when she gets here if she’s hungry, or for sustenance between sex rounds one and two. Or maybe two and three, I think hopefully. Drinks—two beers iced plus wine chilled in case she’d rather have it. Bathtub—filled with steaming hot water and bubbles, surrounded by candles. Bed—made, but it’s easy enough to yank the duvet back.

And of course, everything’s scrubbed clean, spick-and-span, including me. I swipe a hand over my freshly shaven jaw. I typically only trim during the season, but when I was in the shower earlier, I thought about possibly leaving beard burn on Joy’s thighs and pulled out a razor to be smooth as silk for her.

I force myself to sit down and wait patiently, two things that are not in my wheelhouse. I’m a man of action, but all I can do is kill time until she’s here.

Finally, headlights run across the front window and I jump up, rushing for the door. Joy parks in the driveway, and my strides eat up the ground as I scramble to get to her side. “Oh, hi!” she says as she pushes her car door open, nearly hitting me with it.

“Hey,” I say, my voice rough. “Let me.” I hold my hand out, and with a tiny smile of surprise, she slips hers into mine so I can help pull her from the vehicle. “You look beautiful.”

Her face is still covered with stage makeup, her hair fluffed and curled, and beneath her open coat, she’s wearing simple black slacks, a burgundy blouse, and black heels. She could be a professional in any office, but I’m glad she gets to work where her heart lies.

Her smile grows. “Not too shabby yourself,” she drawls, boldly scanning me up and down. I dressed for her, too, in black jeans, a cream-colored sweater, and slip-on leather boots. “You shaved.”

“Of course I did.” I grin.

I look down at her, thankful for the dark of the night because I stop us right there in the front yard. Cupping her face in my hands, I place a gentle kiss to her lips, sipping at her. When she relaxes into me, gripping my belt loops for support, I feel like I’ve finally made it beyond her defenses.

I have to stop, though. I have plans for Joy, and for tonight. None of which include lowering her to the grass on my suburban street and burying myself in her where anyone could spy us. Not that I give a shit about what they think, but because Joy does. And admittedly, I’m protective of her and don’t want anyone to see her in a vulnerable state. Or at least, anyone other than me.

Plus, I don’t want us to get arrested.

“Let’s go inside.” I guide her to the door, excited to show her my place for real. She’s seen it on video chats, but this is the first time she’s been here in person. I want her to like it. No, I want her to love it. “So, this is home,” I tell her, holding an arm wide.

She looks around shamelessly, taking it all in. “It’s very . . .” She pauses, then smirks at me. “Clean. My place must make your skin crawl if this is how you live.”

I laugh at her assessment of my home, and the comparison to hers. Shaking my head, I say, “Naw, different decorating styles. I like a throw pillow. You like to throw undies on the lamp. Both work.” Pulling her coat from her shoulders and hanging it on a hook by the door, I ask, “Hungry? Beer? Wine?”

“Wine would be amazing,” she says with a sigh, falling to the couch. I hustle to the kitchen, pour her a glass of red, grab a beer for myself, and return as quickly as I can. She might as well be plucking at my strings like a puppet master. “Thank you,” she says after taking a small sip.

I sit beside her, reclining comfortably, stretching one arm out along the back of the couch, and spreading my legs. I’m feigning confidence, but I swallow half of my beer in one gulp because, truth be told, I’m nervous as a virgin on a first date, no evidence of my history as a player in sight. This is too important. She is too important, and I don’t want to mess this up.

“How was work?”

“I was in the field for a basketball game, but I also had some interesting things to report after the doubleheader wins by my favorite team. I might’ve had a bit too much to say about the goalie, though.” She lies against me, letting her head fall to my shoulder as she snuggles into my side.

“As long as it’s all good, you can talk about me all you want.”

“No promises,” she jokes. “How was your day?”

“Good. Did my Fritzi-prescribed homework, cleaned this place up, got a bath ready for you—”

“What? A bath?” Her smile stretches her lips and her eyes sparkle as she jerks back to look at me. “Are you serious? What are we doing sitting here then? C’mon!” She stands, pulling me from the couch, and when I get up, too, she curls against my chest. “You are unexpectedly sweet.”

I wrap my arm around her waist. “Unexpectedly? You mean you didn’t expect it from me, or at all? Me? Probably understandable, but you should always be treated like this.”

She frowns as something flashes in her eyes. “I’m never . . . ,” she murmurs, trailing off. Her eyes clear as she meets my gaze boldly. “Just you.”

Feeling like she’s having a heavy realization, I let her think on that as I take her hands to guide her down the hall. She glances sideways at my bed, but I don’t pause, leading her into the bathroom. She gasps, letting go of my hands to cover her mouth. “This is like a movie!” she exclaims as I light the candles surrounding the tub and check that the water is still hot.

Once that’s done, I drop down to my knee to slip her heels off. She holds on to my shoulders until she places her bare feet on the warm tile. “Dalton.” Her voice is whispered, choked in her throat, and I glance up. She places her palm on my smooth cheek, and I tilt into her touch. “Thank you.”

I rise from her feet, my hands stopping at her waist to pull her blouse free. It lifts over her head easily as she helps, and then she undoes the button at her waist, shimmying her pants down and stepping out of them. Standing in her matching black bra and panties, she’s an absolute vision that I commit to memory. I run a gentle finger along the strap at her shoulder, and it falls down, so I reach behind her to unhook it entirely. She curls her back, letting the scrap of fabric drop to the floor.

I can’t help myself. I cup her breasts in my big palms, teasing over the nipples with my thumbs, and she moans in pleasure. “Will we both fit in the tub?” she murmurs, eyeing the tub skeptically.

It’s not a tub made for two, not one of those big Jacuzzi things, but it’s a deep garden tub that I usually fit in, other than my knees, which stick up well above the water line. Tonight, there’s no way around it. We’re both getting in, one way or another.

“You might have to sit in my lap,” I concede, not sounding the least bit disappointed by that option.

Her smile is full of the devil, so I don’t think she minds either.

I pull my sweater over my head, adding it to the pile of clothes at our feet, and her deft fingers are already working the button on my jeans free. I toe my boots off and take over removing my jeans. She places her palm along the thick ridge bulging through the black cotton fabric of my underwear to tent the waistband. “Finally gonna get my hands on this monster,” she purrs.

I groan at the effect her eagerness has on my cock, but first . . . “After I get my hands, mouth, and tongue all over your body. Get in the tub, Joy.”

She whirls, giving me her back to push her panties off her ass and down her legs. Once she’s stepped out of them, she peers back at me over her shoulder. “Coming?”

I make even quicker work of my own underwear, until I’m standing there with my dick pointing due north. I climb into the tub first, spreading out to make room for her between my thighs as I take my time drinking her in. “So fucking sexy,” I rumble, and goose bumps rise along her flesh. I hold a hand out to help her step into the hot water and watch with appreciation as she wiggles her ass right in front of me before sitting down. She lies back against my chest, her head relaxing to my shoulder. The sigh that passes her lips is pure bliss.

“Feel good?” I murmur into her ear as I trail my fingertip up her arm.

“You have no idea,” she answers. “The tub at my apartment? It’s literally nonexistent. I’ve only got a walk-in shower, so this feels like bougie, spa-level luxury to me.”

I chuckle. “I’d say you’re easy to impress, but we both know that’s not true.”

“I’m worth the work,” she quips proudly.

I don’t bother disagreeing, because she’s right. I’ve gone through the wringer to get her here tonight, and now that I’ve finally done it, I want to do everything right and make it worth the risk . . . for her.

To start, I create a lather in my hands with the fancy bar of soap I bought today and begin washing her arm, then the other. I pay special attention to her neck, testing to see if she likes pressure there, and when I feel her moan of approval, I smile to myself and move on to her breasts. The suds pile up on her nipples as I circle them over and over until she’s squirming enough to create waves in the water and lifting into my touch, wanting more. I think I could coax her into an orgasm solely from massaging her tits, and maybe later I will. But now, I need to touch more of her.

“Not yet,” I tell her, moving lower to slip my palms across her belly, not caring that the bubbles are washed away. I cup water in my hands, letting it dribble over her shoulders, down her arms, and over her chest to rinse the soap from her skin.

Joy rolls her head around to peer up at me, her eyes hazy with desire. “You’re gonna make me lust-crazed, you know? Not sure you’re ready for that.”

“I’m ready for you. Throw whatever you want at me, I can take it. The question is . . .” I pause dramatically and, without warning, slide my hand over her pussy to slip two thick fingers into her. Even with the water washing away her arousal, she’s slippery enough to allow my entrance easily. “Can you take it?”

Her hands jerk to my arm, holding me in place against her. “Yessss,” she sighs.

Fuck me, she’s already close. I can feel the walls of her pussy quivering around my fingers. All right, first time’s gonna be fast and hard. I can work with that. Hell, I want that for her.

I circle her throat with my hand, keeping her ear at my mouth so she hears that I mean every word I’m saying. “You’re gonna come for me, Joy. Take my fingers like a good girl so you’re ready to take my cock because I won’t be gentle when I fuck you. I want you too badly, and you’ve shredded all my control. But I can be sweet for now.”

I’m fucking her with my fingers and strumming my thumb over her clit as I growl out every word. She’s frozen in place, riding the razor’s edge of her pleasure, until she shakes her head, fighting my grip on her neck and digging her nails into my arm. “Don’t want . . . sweet. Want moooore.” Her words turn into a guttural groan as I slam my hand into her harder. She throws her head back, her mouth open on a silent cry as she shatters.

I work her through it, drawing her pleasure out until she collapses boneless against me, her head lolling off to the side. I grin, pleased with myself and thrilled with her. I hoped I would be able to give her the same pleasure I’ve watched her give herself, damn near studying her movements like I would be taking the most important test of my life. I’m pretty sure I aced the first section.

I lick a line along the shell of her ear and then whisper darkly, “That’s one.”

“Are we counting?” she mumbles. “If so, that’s probably at least one and a half because daaaamn.” I can hear her smile.

“Maybe counting, or maybe trying to get you a-dick-ted to me,” I deadpan.

It takes her a second to hear the difference and realize I didn’t say addicted, but when she gets it, she laughs lightly. “You dickmitized me ages ago.”

“Wait till I fuck you,” I promise darkly.

As if that reminder is the jolt she needed, she jerks forward and starts blowing out candles like she’s making birthday wishes left and right. “Let’s go. Show me what you got, Dalton. We’ve waited long enough.” She twists around, her eyes dropping to my thick cock bobbing against my abs in the water. “I’ve waited long enough.”

We’ve both been patient—or at least, patient-ish—but I’m gonna make her wait a little longer because I need to taste her again. I want to fuck her with her sweetness on my tongue.

After getting out of the bath, I dry her off quickly with a soft towel even though I wouldn’t care if she was sopping wet while lying on my sheets. Hell, I might prefer it. But when I drop down to run the towel down her legs, I inhale her and can’t wait any longer. I push her back to the bathroom counter, guiding her to sit there while I kneel down between her thighs. It’s similar to how she sat on her kitchen counter to drive me fucking nuts with her honey, except this time, I’m going to drink her down the way I desperately wanted to then.

I throw one leg over my shoulder and she sets her other foot on the counter, spreading herself for me. Using the flat of my tongue, I lick a slow line from her entrance up to her clit. She shudders in response. “So fucking delicious,” I mutter before diving in for more.

I learn her folds with my tongue and my mouth, licking and sucking and nibbling along her tender flesh, paying attention to what makes her clench, moan, and squirm. Her hands thread into my hair, holding me against her. She seems to think I’m going to start something and then leave her hanging, and I wonder what type of shitty lovers she’s had in the past that would do that to her. Whoever they were, she doesn’t have to worry any longer. She’s gonna have to kick me to get me off her pussy because I’m addicted—to her, to her pleasure, to the painful pressure she elicits in my cock.

It takes only minutes for her to come again, coating my tongue and lips with her orgasm. Before she’s even found her breath, I scoop her from the counter. Her legs lock around my waist, putting my cock so close to where I want to be as I stride to the bedroom.

I toss her to the bed and she grins happily. “My turn?” She looks hungrily at me and licks her lips.

I quickly and sharply squeeze the base to fight off the explosion that’s already too close. “Next time. You remember what I told you, Joy? Are you ready?”

I’m asking so much more than if she thinks her slippery pussy is ready to be filled with my length and girth. I’m asking if she’s ready to admit this isn’t about a superstition and hasn’t been for a long time. I’m asking if she’s ready to give me a real chance, preconceived notions and fears be damned. I’m asking if she’s ready to handle the fallout of what we’re about to do.

I’m asking if she wants me the way I want her. Seriously enough to risk everything and give this a shot.

Give us a shot.

She bites her bottom lip and swallows thickly. The moment stretches, and I think she’s going to chicken out. I’m already mentally yelling at myself for pushing her too far, too fast when I knew she needed patience, and I’d have to prove myself over and over to secure a place behind her defenses.

But then she juts her chin out and smiles. “I’m ready. C’mere.” She holds her arms out, inviting me to join her, and I basically fall over her, catching myself at the last second with one knee and one arm.

I should ask if she’s sure. Double-check that she’s not feeling pressured. But I don’t. I’m too scared she’ll take it back, so instead, I kiss her hard, stealing her breath away so she can’t think too much about this.

I told her once that her pussy is mine. Right now, whether she knows it or not, when I slide into her, her heart will be mine too. She’s already got mine, so it only seems fair.

I roll us, putting her on top of me. “Ride me so you can control how much and how fast you take it.”

She stares into my eyes, and I can see too many thoughts swirling behind them, but she pulls her knees beneath her to align her entrance with my cock.

“Pill?”

She nods. “Do you want a condom?”

I shake my head. “I want to feel that sweet, tight pussy, and nothing else.”

“Will I feel the piercing?” she asks.

One side of my lips tilts up, and I glance down between us. “Try it and see,” I suggest.

She takes a steadying breath and then, slowly . . . slowly . . . slowly she sinks onto me. “Jeeesus, Joy,” I grit out, fighting every instinct to grab her hips and slam in balls-deep. Instead, I grip the duvet beneath me in my fists. I probably look like I’m in excruciating pain, but the truth is every inch of my dick that she wraps her pussy around is in hot, wet, tight heaven.

“I did it,” she pants when she’s sunk fully on me. “I wasn’t sure I could.” She smiles proudly, blushing at the confession, and I reach up to run my thumb along her bottom lip.

“I knew you could do it. You can do anything you put your mind to, sexy girl.”

Her smile quickly fades as she grinds on me. “Ooh, you’re . . . a lot.”

“Take your time. Relax into it,” I say, letting my hands find her waist to guide her.

Her eyes flutter closed, her head falls back, and her nails dig into my abs. “I like it,” she moans. “Feel full, but like I didn’t know I was empty.”

She starts to lift and lower herself and I support her, letting her take the lead but grunting at the restraint it takes to not come already. “Fuck, Joy,” I say on a shudder as she finds a rhythm.

“You promised me rough, and now you’re making me do all the work,” she groans, not seeming too upset given the way her juices are running down my balls, and she cries out every time I pinch her nipples.

“You ready for that?” I’m truly asking. I don’t want to hurt her, and just as importantly, I don’t want to fuck this up.

“I can do anything I put my mind to. Somebody brilliant told me that once, so show me what you got, Dalton.”

I chuckle. “I told you that five minutes ago.”

But I’m already rearranging us, putting her on her belly with her legs together and pulling her hips into the air while her head stays on the bed. I straddle her legs, dipping my cock into the tight space between her thighs to tease at her entrance. She arches sharply to guide me as I take her slowly. Once I’m fully in her again, I lean forward, covering her back with my chest.

When she nods, I pull back and do exactly what I promised, fucking her hard and rough.

I pound into her, trusting that she can stop me from going too deep by arching more or less, but she takes it all, pleading for more and encouraging me with pants of “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

I thread my forearm beneath her chest, my mouth right at her ear, and growl, “Is this what you wanted?”

“Fuck, Dalton! I’m coming . . .” It turns into a strangled cry, and I feel her pussy quivering around my cock.

It’s too much. She feels too good wrapped around me, and I can’t hang on any longer. “Me too,” I shout a split second before I explode, filling her with jet after jet of hot cum. It seems to trigger an aftershock for her because her cries ramp up again as I slam into her, marking her pussy the way she’s marked my heart.

Still hard, I keep going. “I’m not done with you,” I warn her. “That barely took the edge off.”

“Oh, fuck,” she groans. But I catch the way her lips lift in a smile and the way she arches for me again, ready for more. “Bring it on.”