Page 92 of This Broken Heart
Like I was made for her.
She comes with a lusty groan, pussy squeezing hard on my shaft.
“Ah. Fuck, baby. I’m close.”
“Not yet,” She pants, riding out the last twinges of her orgasm. Then she’s leaning forward, dragging my cock out of her. She flips around, lowering her head over me. Her tongue glides over my shaft and then she’s bobbing her head up and down, sucking so hard her cheeks hollow out.
“I’m gonna come.” I grunt, but she only takes my cock deeper until the head is sailing over the back of her tongue.
And then I’m seeing fireworks.
Literally.
Every nerve in my body is firing, pleasure radiating out to my toes while Clark, Nebraska starts their annual fireworks show.
Once she’s sucked the last drop from my shaft, she sits back, tugging my flannel shirt over her shoulders. I wiggle back into my boxers. Sliding the little window panel open on the back of the truck window, I fish around in the truck bed, retrieving a bottle of chilled champagne.
I grabbed it at the store when she said she’d be spending New Year’s with us. I didn’t know what we would do, but I knew that I wanted to bring the new year in with her.
Sitting back, I pull her into my lap and wrap the sleeping bag around our bodies.
We pass the bottle back and forth, watching fireworks splash across the sky.
61.
Erin
The new year brings with it more snow and frigid cold.
But with the low temperatures, life surges beneath the surface. Calving season is in full swing and we have four sweet calves to show for it.
Josh has turned into a heifer’s midwife, attending births at all hours, in all kinds of weather. Between that and Maven’s teething, he’s getting worn pretty thin.
I stand at the window by the sink, watching the unfamiliar silver pickup truck plow back down the driveway.
Josh sits at the table, elbows resting on the scratched wooden surface. He has his fingers woven together, pressing his clenched fists into his lips.
“What now?” I ask, setting a cup of coffee in front of him.
He stares in the distance for a bit before focusing on me. His expression is grim. “We keep her comfortable and hope for the best.”
“That’s it? The vet isn’t coming back?”
Josh’s drained expression is hurting my heart. “He says she’s making progress. Her vitals are good, but…”
“You don’t think she can do it?”
His gaze meets mine and slides away. “I get a bad feeling about it. I just don’t want her to suffer.”
His words dry up and he shakes his head.
“I don’t understand. Wasn’t Betsy super old? How’d she end up pregnant, anyway?”
“That was my fault. We don’t really include her in the herd count, so she snuck in with the other heifers when we put them out to pasture with the bull.” He slumps back. “A stupid fuck up.”
I want to give him a hug, but he’s intentionally keeping himself out of range.
It’s almost like he’s punishing himself.