Page 32 of Nine Month Contract
I like the idea of him hearing me. The thought makes my inner muscles clench around his spent cum. I can feel myself growing wetter at the thought of him in the other room, listening to every breathy moan I expel, a feral, animalistic look on his face like a caged animal.
A wicked smile teases my lips, and I decide to throw my manners and professionalism and insecurities out the window. I decide to give Mr. Mountain Man an aural delight.
I let myself completely go, not holding back a single breath, moan, groan, or gasp. I rattle the fucking creepy truth window with my climactic cry because, dammit, I’m feeling lucky tonight.
Inseminations:4
“Sundown,” Trista says as she waltzes into my house one week later.
“Sundown,” I repeat stiffly and head to the drawer in my kitchen where my ranch cups are stored. “Give me five.”
She lets out a soft laugh. “Only five minutes? Took you ten the other night.”
I cross my arms and prop myself on the counter to glower at her before stating through clenched teeth, “I told you I was stressed at work that day.”
“And today was a good day?” Her eyes wander down my body before snapping back up to my face.
She’s been doing that a lot lately…inspecting me.I swear it’s like she’s waiting for me to run out of sperm or something. Or maybe she can read my dirty thoughts and is going to call me out for being a creep any fucking second.
The first night we did this, I was untethered and completely out of control. I let myself get off to fantasies of the woman I hired to carry my child. The woman I’m clearly obsessing over.
Even after she closed the bedroom door to do her thing, I still couldn’t get control of myself. I felt my cock getting hard again just at the idea of hearing her vibrator. Then she started moaning. Shestarted gasping and making these little fucking noises like she was having a goddamn party in my bed.
And I wasn’t there.
A flash of me opening the door and offering to make her scream even louder meant that I had to go for a walk in the woods.
Immediately.
Before my horny, buzzed thoughts had me doing exactly that.
I ended up at the natural spring that flows through the mountain. I was fully dressed and did a cold plunge on my aching balls that had already emptied themselves more than I’d ever seen before. I came back to my cabin soaking wet to find her fast asleep and curled into a ball, her knees at her chest, her hair cascading over my pillow. I covered her up and stared with jealousy at the vibrator on top of my duvet.
I was losing it.
I was an unbridled, horned-up animal that couldn’t get the sounds of Trista’s raspy moans out of my fucking head. And smelling her on my sheets every night this week after she waddles her way back to the barn with her vibrator in hand and my seed in her cunt hasn’t helped with my obsession.
She always smells like roses.
I keep telling myself it’s the thought of her carrying my child I find so unbelievably attractive. And I do…but a small part of me wonders if this fixation I have on her is more than that.
Let’s just say I’ve been doing a lot of cold plunges this week.
We’ve been doing this insemination song and dance every other day for the past week now, and I’ve been trying to play it cool. Be detached. Aloof. But the more she invades my space, the more she invades my thoughts.
It’s becoming a problem.
Thankfully, the blogs say one week is all you need to cover your bases. After that, it’s up to the human body to finish the job. Her human body.And what a body it is.
My eyes wander shamelessly over to her, eating up her full figure that’s always covered in way too many fucking clothes. She’s dressedin her standard boots, loose T-shirt, and baggy, ripped jeans. Most women buy their jeans with holes…Trista seems to make those holes herself because if I’ve learned anything about her this past week, it’s that there is nothing this woman won’t do on her own.
The other morning, I heard Millie bleating like a banshee before the sun was even up, which was unusual for her. I slipped into my boots to figure out the problem, only to discover that Millie had gotten her head caught in the metal fence that runs the forest line on the backside of the pasture.
Trista had beaten me down there and was in the process of freeing her when I approached. The force of Millie yanking her head out caused Trista’s jeans to snag on the metal fence. I had to stand behind her to help tear the denim loose, and the process of it revealed a good deal of her leg to me.
Legs I should not be looking at.
Her thigh was bleeding, and I tried to help her out. Begged her to come back to my house so I could clean it up, but she just waved me off and headed back toward her apartment. It fucking pissed me off, honestly. It was my damn goat. She didn’t need to be rescuing it in the dark when God knows what other animals could be lurking outside.
