Loading...Boone, Mississippi. 1976.
September
In the middle of the night Ginny woke with her bare feet burning and itching something fierce. When she swung her coltish legs out from under the sheets and pulled her knees up tight to her chest, she found her ankles littered with sore, red welts. Ginny rubbed at her big eyes in the hot darkness, trying to rouse herself.
She sat for a moment, letting out a quiet yawn as she traced her finger around the blue butterflies on Coralee’s sheets. Her body was still warm and heavy with sleep, and a dull, steady ache lingered in her belly.
Earlier that night, Coralee Cooper and Annabelle Lane had gotten Ginny drunk for the first time. The three of them had trekked out back into a thick of old trees and wild brush, their backpacks filled with stolen beer and bags of Doritos. They’d plopped down Indian-style in a patch of cool, damp grass, and Cora had pulled out her daddy’s old bottle opener. ‘Budweiser’ had been written in faded blue letters across the red handle and they’d pried open the smooth, cold longnecks with eager hands. The three of them had sat near the river for a long while, guzzling down that liquid gold until the stars had begun to tilt and spin. It’d been a load of fun, but from the looks of her swollen feet, Ginny had left the woods with more than just a good beer buzz.
She sucked in her breath and poked gingerly at one tender red bump. It stung and ached with the beat of her heart and Ginny knew straight off it was poison oak. She’d had it before as a little girl, and it’d been downright terrible. That stubborn, scarlet colored rash had gone on and on, no matter how many times her mama had rubbed it with salve and wrapped it in clean cloth bandages. For weeks, it had throbbed with her every step, and it’d made her whimper in pain. She still remembered the honeysuckle scent of her mama’s damp skin as she’d gathered her up and rocked her all sweet and soothing, whispering against Ginny’s messy dark hair. “It’s all right, my sweet girl. That calamine’ll work its magic soon enough.”
“Coralee…” Ginny sent out a quiet whisper to her friend, but Cora was deep in dreams, her eyelids fluttering in the silver moonlight. She waited a moment, then pulled herself up off Cora’s bed with a long, lazy sigh.
Outside, in the hot damp of midnight, the lull of crickets and cicadas was steady and musical through the open screened window. In the hazy shadows, Ginny found her glasses among a scatter of glitter nail polish bottles and Seventeen magazines strewn over Cora’s white dresser. She wiped the lenses clean with the bottom hem of her nightdress, then slipped the tortoise shell frames up onto her little nose. It was still dusted over with a mess of brown freckles even at the age of eighteen, and she cursed those tiny things, for they made her look years younger.
In the quiet heat of Coralee’s bedroom, Ginny was suddenly homesick. The Coopers had no air conditioning and all she heard then was the eerie, drifting whir of steel blade fans running in every room of their dark house. Down the hall, Cora’s little brother, Travis, tossed and turned in his small twin bed, restless with sweat and bad dreams.
It was wicked hot for late September and Ginny longed for autumn. She loved when the nights grew windy and brisk after the purple fall of dusk, and she would often linger out in the backyard until late, breathing in the scent of burning leaves. Each year, she savored the slow turn of trees in their neighborhood from deep green to crimson and gold. So far, she hadn’t seen a wisp of color, and it made her wonder if summer would ever give up the fight.
Ginny looked on at her two friends slumbering in the darkness. She listened to the slow, whispery sound of Annabelle’s breath moving in and out, like the flutter of angel wings. In the far corner, Coralee exhaled a sweet, lazy sigh, and shifted onto her belly. Ginny didn’t have the heart to wake them, so she stepped over Belle’s long, sleeping body and tried her best to be silent. A rush of searing pain swept through her feet and ankles, and she stopped dead in her tracks, wincing.
She tucked her damp, wavy hair back behind both ears and looked out into the dark, narrow hallway. Roaming around in someone else’s house at night seemed like trespassing. All those unfamiliar scents clinging to blankets and pillowcases; they were the Coopers’ blood, sweat and tears. The creak of a wooden floorboard, the groan of a warped stair, the shadowed corners and the locked closets were all parts of a foreign land; one where natives slept, unknowing.
Ginny stood there for a moment, smoothing her white cotton frock over her slim, pretty legs, until finally, like a sailor without a compass, she pulled up the anchor and ventured out into the hot, silent house.
~~~~~~~~~
“Mr. Cooper?” Her voice was quiet and hesitant as she stood there looking down at him, at a good daddy sleeping peaceful on his brown plaid couch.
Ginny had never known her own daddy. He’d left her mama high and dry when Ginny was just three years old. At home, she never walked into their yellow tiled bathroom and found a straight razor sitting on the sink. There were no bottles of stiff, woodsy smelling aftershave tucked into their medicine cabinet, no dirty brown work boots lying idle near the front door.
Emmett Cooper had the same color hair as his daughter. It was like burning embers, not red and not brown, but a beautiful mix of both. His big, weathered hand rested on his lean belly. It moved up and down gently as he took in a long breath and let it out with a quiet, lazy sigh. His sleeping face was turned away from her and the warm, dancing light from a muted TV screen cast rippling shadows all over him.
Ginny stood there, still as a baby bunny in a farmer’s garden. She’d always been painfully shy. Even as a little girl, she’d been soft-spoken and thoughtful, and often filled to the brim with a quiet uncertainty. Ginny felt like a little pest saying his name again, so she waited a bit, hoping he might stir.
She looked on at the frayed bottom hem of his grey t-shirt. It had come up a bit on his belly, and Ginny’s cheeks burned at that little glimpse of his bare skin. A straight line of auburn hair trailed down from his navel and disappeared into his blue work pants. They were all stained up dirty with grease and motor oil and the dark cotton was worn at the knees.
Ginny only knew a handful of things about Coralee’s daddy; that he fixed up cars down at Lipman’s Garage, that he loved horses, and that he had a hot temper and smoked two packs of Lucky Strikes each day.
Cora had told Ginny how he loved riding his old motorcycle, and that on Friday nights, he would put his feet up, listen to blues, and drink Wild Turkey out of a tiny shot glass. She’d also said that Coralee’s mama, Lucy, downright hated that motorcycle and the whisky drinking too.
For months, Cora’s mama and daddy had been fighting like cats and dogs. Lucy had been staying out nights, spending more and more time working late shifts at Ruby’s Diner. She was there that night, in fact, waiting tables and slinging hash to all the night owls and drunkards. Cora had said her mama had been acting like a selfish bitch, and that her daddy deserved his bit of fun, especially after working his hands to the bone all week. She’d told Ginny that she missed her daddy’s goofy laugh and his stupid jokes. All of his silliness and playful teasing had gone absent since he and Cora’s mama had begun living separate lives. It all seemed so complicated and sad to Ginny.
“Mr. Cooper?” Ginny drew a bit closer, intent on asking him if they had any calamine lotion to soothe the itch on her tender feet. She jumped in her skin a little when he sat up quick, startled from a deep sleep.
“What? What’s wrong?…Shit, I fell asleep. What time is it?”
Still sleepy and bleary-eyed, he reached up and rustled his red-brown hair with both big hands. It stood up every which way until he smoothed it back down again with a heavy sigh. He seemed disoriented and plain exhausted, and Ginny felt remorse for waking him so suddenly.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Cooper…it’s ’bout two o’clock, I think.”
He sat up at the edge of their plaid couch, and almost at once, he reached for his pack of Lucky Strikes lying out on the coffee table. They’d been tossed there beside an empty bottle of Budweiser and a green plastic ashtray filled to the brim with spent butts. He smacked the half pack of smokes up against his big palm and pulled one out, taking it between his teeth.
“You one of Coralee’s friends? Lucy warned me ’bout you girls stayin’ over tonight. Said I might not get much sleep on account of all the gigglin’ and carryin’ on.”
Emmett Cooper gave Ginny a tired, weary smile, showing just a glimpse of his straight, white teeth. He looked at her bare, freckled shoulders and her tiny frame. She was a good bit smaller than his daughter, and she looked young as a chickadee. The only thing that gave away her true age was the shadow of two little points hidden beneath her thin cotton frock. She stood at just the right angle, where the smooth, white moonlight drifted in through the big picture window and made that little gown of hers go completely sheer. She might as well have been standing there naked as a jaybird in front of him. She didn’t have a clue though, and he wasn’t about to let on. He’d learned quickly, just by living with Coralee, that teenage girls were nothing but over-sensitive, erratic creatures. He kept quiet and took a long drag off his cigarette, his eyes fighting the urge to look at her taut little nipples through that pretty cotton sheath.
“I’m Ginny Goodman. I work with Coralee at the Dairy Queen…makin’ ice cream cones and such. We just met this summer. This is my first time stayin’ over.”
She had a honey-drip little voice that he could barely make out, and like a bloodhound, Emmett caught scent of her shy, hesitant nature. She had a quiet innocence about her, and none of the giddy drama that was common in most girls her age. She was different, more sweet and trusting. It was plain as day in the downward tilt of her big doe eyes behind those glasses. It was in the high color of her baby soft cheeks, and he felt the tug of an erection come on him then. It took him completely off guard. It disturbed him, even, because she still looked like a little fawn.
He’d never been one to desire knock-kneed, skinny young girls. He favored curves, and his wife had plenty of those. Her ass still looked delicious in a tight pair of old Levis. Since the night they’d first met, Emmett had lusted over her soft, rounded tits. Lucy’s ample rack had always driven him wild. After twenty years of marriage, he still had trouble keeping his hands off her. He even loved the little paunch of her tummy because she’d carried his three children there.
Emmett had always fancied real women; women he could grab onto and drive himself deep inside of. He’d never once, as a grown man, felt himself stiffen up so quick and eager for a girl so young. It just hadn’t been in his nature, though every buddy of his down at Lipman’s ogled and gawked at those firm, young things that were all of sixteen years old.
Those wayward girls often sauntered into the shop dressed in snug, cut-off jeans and tank tops tied above the navel. They’d prance around and put themselves on display, showing off their flat, tanned-up bellies and long, sunkissed legs. They loved to snap their bubble gum and give the middle-aged men like Emmett a knowing little smile as they dropped off their smashed-in bumpers and busted-up taillights. In the summertime, they’d always leave the sweet scent of coconut oil in their wake.
Emmett thought on Lucy. It’d been nearly three months since she’d let him touch her, and that last time had been rushed. It’d been a quick, silent fuck in the still darkness of their messy bedroom, before the house had woken up and the sun had sneaked its way through their drawn curtains. She’d slipped her warm body out from under his and whispered, “I need coffee…and I gotta pack a lunch for Travis.”
It’d seemed to Emmett that she hadn’t been able to get away from their bed fast enough.
By instinct, his body had grown hungry in Lucy’s absence. He knew it was possible that his wife no longer loved him. They’d been growing apart for some time, years it seemed, but Emmett still had hopes that the two of them could put aside their problems and salvage the family they’d made together. As of late, Lucy didn’t seem too keen on that notion, and the whole thing downright broke his heart in two.
“Well, Ginny Goodman…” He took another long drag off his cigarette and slowly exhaled into the close, humid air. “I’m Coralee’s daddy.”
~~~~~~~~~
“What in hell you girls doin’ out in them woods, anyhow? Drinkin’ my beer and smokin’ up my cigarettes, I reckon.” Emmett looked at Ginny’s big chocolate eyes, waiting for her to deny it, but she just pressed her bee-stung lips together and let out a soft giggle.
“Yep…you can tell Coralee I noticed them smokes missin’ from my pack. You can tell her to cut it out too, or there’ll be hell to pay. I keep sayin’…if she’s stupid enough to take up smokin’ she best buy her own pack. I told her to stay out of them woods too. It’s ripe with poison oak.”
Ginny kept quiet and listened as he talked to her all daddy-like. She savored his playful, gentle scolding. It felt nice. She imagined what it would be like, having a daddy that loved you deep; one that teased you and made you laugh.
She was hesitant when he brought down the bottle of calamine lotion and sat down next to her on the brown plaid couch. He told her to shimmy her little behind around and sit with her back against the couch’s big pillowed arm, and she obliged him.
“Put your feet up here so I can get a look. I know that’s what you got though, and it ain’t no fun from what I remember.”
“It itches something terrible.” Ginny pulled her glasses off and wiggled her toes like a child.
“I bet. You covered in it.”
She set her bare feet in his lap and watched his scruffy red beard, his thick fingers and big knuckles. He had a black crescent of dirt and motor oil under each of his nails, and a tender red cut on his thumb. Her eyes lingered on his big hands as he took soft white cotton balls, all slathered up in cool, pink balm, and gently dabbed them on her sore welts, just like she was his own baby girl.
“That hurt?”
He looked over at her big eyes and Ginny shook her head no. Though she was young and green as a sprig of mint, a warmth suddenly blossomed up between her legs. Those feelings brought up a whole mess of confusion, because Mr. Cooper was a grown man over twice her age. He had a scruffy beard and tiny lines at the corners of his eyes. He was no spindly teenage boy.
As the fan slowly teased across their hot skin and drew away, Ginny felt a shadow of uncertainty go through her. She wasn’t sure if Coralee’s daddy had looked at her bare legs in a way he shouldn’t have, or if he’d been wrong to let his deep, hazel eyes wander to the thin strap of her nightdress when it’d slipped down her freckled shoulder. She wasn’t sure of anything, only that his hands were like feathers on her sore bare feet, all soft and tender, healing her ache with that smooth pink salve; the one that smelled like childhood.
~~~~~~~~~
“Wake up, pretty girl.”
Ginny came slowly from her dreams with lazy, half-open eyes. She was still sleepy as he pressed his mouth against her damp forehead, kissing her gently.
“It’s all right. Wake up, now.”
His mouth was warm and searching, and he smelled faintly of cigarette smoke. A coppery scent of sweat lingered on his skin, like he needed a long, hot shower to wash away the day’s work. He smelled like those men had, the ones who’d come to fix her mama’s leaky kitchen pipes. They’d been dressed in dirty old work trousers and worn leather tool belts, and they’d carried the same scent of musk and tobacco. It was the way a daddy should smell, and a daddy was someone who had no business nestling his rough, scratchy face into the soft hollow of her neck.
Ginny’s first instinct was to pull away. She wanted to spring up off the couch and run back to the haven of Cora’s small, messy bedroom. Instead, she lay there like a rag doll as Coralee’s daddy placed a gentle kiss on her smooth, freckled shoulder. A moment later, he kissed up along her warm, salty neck, his mouth all hot and teasing, and Ginny closed her eyes tight at the scruff of his beard on her soft skin.
“Don’t…” Ginny didn’t want to hurt his feelings. He’d been so nice to her as he’d tended her wounds and made her giggle in the quiet dark of the Coopers’ small front room. Still, she knew it couldn’t be right, him kissing on her like that.
“You don’t gotta be afraid…I ain’t gonna hurt you, baby. I promise.” He drew one finger along the smooth curve of her cheek, watching her eyes.
Ginny remembered falling asleep on their big plaid couch, and for a spell, he had too. He’d dozed off sitting up, still holding her damaged feet in his lap. She’d felt nothing but safe and sound with him. But right then, she couldn’t help but wonder.
She thought on Coralee and Annabelle, sleeping sound just upstairs. She knew that any girl in her place might be afraid or at least unsure, but more than fear, Ginny was only shy and timid as those big hands of his worked down the front of her thin nightdress, pulling loose a long row of buttons. He parted her gown and dragged his fingers across her smooth belly, until Ginny lay there bare and bashful, looking up at him with wide, dark eyes. His rough hands made their way along her slim, girlish legs, and before she knew, he’d taken two thick fingers, one at each of her narrow hips, and laced them under the sides of her thin, cotton underpants.
“Lift up.” Ginny did as she was told then. She lifted her hips, all slow and careful, listening to the smooth lull of his voice above her.
“Yeah…that’s it, pretty girl.”
A moment later, he pulled those little cotton panties clean off her and Ginny looked up at him in wonder. It was unthinkable, that Coralee’s daddy, or any daddy for that matter, would touch her in such a forbidden way, and she watched as he tossed her little underpants on the coffee table next to his cigarettes and beer.
“You ever been touched here?”
Ginny shifted away as he laid his body down beside hers on the big plaid couch. He traced one finger down between her small breasts, then circled the warm, dark hollow of her navel. The light, whispery feel of his touch was a tickle on her hot skin and it made her belly tense up. It made her suck in a little breath and bite down on her puffy bottom lip.
“That tickle?”
He smiled down at her and leaned in close, his mouth hungry and eager, searching for hers until Ginny pulled away. She was all racing heart and vulnerable eyes then, and a deep, warm ache had settled down between her legs. It throbbed with the beat of her heart as he traced a slow finger around each of her dainty pink nipples; first one and then the other.
“You so pretty.”
“I can’t believe this is happening.” It was a silent thought inside of her as he touched the small, sparse patch of dark hair where her slim legs met. Since that curly tuft had sprouted up the summer of her thirteenth year, Ginny had been intensely shy about it.
Emmett slid his big hand down, rubbing gently at her slippery little cleft, testing the waters. She couldn’t help but look there. In the warm, silver light through the big front window, Ginny watched those rough fingers of his stroking against her most private place. It felt like too much at first, almost too good, and she pushed his hand away, feeling all tingly and feverish. She rose up on her elbows, looking at him with wide, over-bright eyes.
“That hurt you? You so soft and warm here, pretty girl…I just…I forgot…”
Ginny didn’t know what he’d meant by that. Forgot what? That she was a late bloomer? That she’d never been touched before? That she was still brand new, though most girls her age had already lost it?
“Let me kiss you, now. Don’t be shy. I just wanna make you feel nice.”
“You do?” She asked it in a way that nearly broke his heart.
Emmett knew he was doing the worst kind of wrong to his daughter’s new friend, but in that moment he’d become someone else entirely. If he’d looked in the mirror, he would’ve found a stranger’s face peering back at him, someone who was all broken up and beaten down. He knew it was a shameful thing, to take his grief and frustration out on a sweet little bird like Ginny.
“I do. Let me kiss you, sweetheart.” Emmett gave her freckled-up cheek one gentle kiss and she smiled, all playful and shy when he did it.
“It’s scratchy.” Ginny couldn’t look at him.
“My face?” He reached up and rubbed at his red beard. It made a sound like sandpaper going across wood.
“I love these freckles.” He touched her nose with a sugary sweetness that made her trust him all over again.
“I hate ’em.” Ginny felt herself blush.
“You such a beautiful little thing.” Emmett kissed her cheek again, smiling against her hot skin.
Ginny looked over at him, right into his deep hazel eyes. She bit back a little smile, turning her gaze down like a shy doe, and it was all the invitation he needed. He took her little chin in his big hand and pulled her smooth baby face close against his own. He kissed at her warm mouth and she followed his lead, stroking her cotton candy tongue against his, kissing deeper when he did, her breath growing quicker all the while.
“You so sweet, baby girl. I love this pretty little mouth.” Emmett traced a slow, teasing thumb over her wet bottom lip.
Ginny lay there with a shy smile on her, taking in all his sweet talk like a cool glass of water on a hot day.
She felt his big hand slip down and graze across her small triangle of dark curls. A moment later, he nestled his fingers against her slippery warmth and started a slow, gentle rub there, circling around her most tender place. It sent a warm flutter of pleasure through her, and as he added more pressure, a soft, urgent ache took root deep in her belly. It made Ginny close her eyes and sigh like a baby.
“That feel nice?”
Her small body went lazy against his, just like Lucy’s did when he used a slow, gentle touch. With Ginny though, it only took a moment before she was swollen up wet and beautiful. She was so young, and her body told him so.
“Yeah…it feels nice.”
She smiled up at him bashfully and he kept on, going slow, watching her pretty face; the way she closed her eyes tight, then opened them again, daring to watch his steady hand as it touched her in a way no one had before.
“I wanna make you feel real good, baby girl.”
Emmett whispered right near the hollow of her little ear, his voice honey-sweet and soft. He kissed deep at her full mouth, and this time, he felt the soft tilt of her hips, the way her pretty legs opened a little further, welcoming every bit of pleasure that he offered up.
He’d always had a way with women. He’d never been the most handsome or shown the most bravado, and he’d certainly never professed to be the smartest, but somehow he’d always known just what to say, and at just the right time. Like magic, his soft, deep voice had made more than a few sets of legs fall wide open for him, and even at forty-two years old, it seemed that was still the case.
“Is that all right? The way I’m touchin’ you?”
“I guess so….” Ginny swallowed hard, and they both looked down.
A moment later, she felt the scratch of his beard on the firm swells of her breasts. He used a slippery tongue to trace slow, warm circles around her little pink nipples and Ginny looked on with curious eyes. It felt better than she’d imagined, and it looked like something you’d see in a dirty movie; the kind all the boys talked about at school. She felt the hot pull of his mouth there, sucking at her softy. He licked at her pretty red points, and his warm tongue left a shiny wetness on her taut nipples. She saw it in the hazy light of the porch lamp through the big picture window, and it was a beautiful sight. The distant song of a neighbor’s wind chimes danced through the open screen as Emmett pulled his body away from hers. A moment later, he gazed down at her, kneeling between her lazy open legs.
“Just relax now…you promise?”
Emmett pulled his t-shirt over his messy, red-brown hair and Ginny looked up at him, her big eyes all full of wonder. He was thick-chested and strong-armed, and he had more muscle on his bones than any boy she’d ever seen. She caught a glimpse of two reddish patches of hair under his arms, and suddenly, she felt very young. He had a strange, faded black tattoo inked onto his upper right arm. It looked like a rooster, but she didn’t dare ask to see it. She just watched him quietly, listening to the gentle, familiar hum of their refrigerator in the next room, her eyes on all the parts of him that were different from her own.
Emmett slipped his body over hers and Ginny took in a sharp breath at the feel of his bare belly pressed tight against her most private place. It felt more than good, and she wanted to touch him then, but she didn’t know where to put her hands.
“Don’t be shy, now…all right?”
“All right.” Her eyes were like two dark moons as they roamed over his warm mouth, pleading for another sweet kiss. He obliged her, and at the same time, they both let out a little sigh of pleasure. Emmett knew he was in the worst kind of trouble. The way he wanted inside of her then was something primal. He’d never felt a desire quite like it.
“Girl…you got me all in a lather here…”
His words were a hungry whisper against the damp hollow of her neck, and Ginny couldn’t help but worry on what came next. She didn’t want to think of his man part, but she couldn’t not think of it either. She knew enough about sex to guess what he was easing her into, and she was downright nervous about all that.
“Really?” Ginny felt tongue-tied and self-conscious. She didn’t have a clue on how to respond to all the longing he had for her. With her glasses and her freckles, and her slight, girlish frame, she just plain wasn’t used to being so irresistible.
“There’s just somethin’ ’bout you, pretty girl.”
In the darkness, Emmett traced a slow, sultry tongue around the sweet dip of her navel, and without hesitation, he gave her bare little cleft one long, slow lick. She tasted clean and salty and undeniably feminine. He hadn’t tasted another woman in twenty years, and it felt downright sinful. Ginny was different there, smaller and nothing but tender, the color of pale pink roses. Lucy was darker skinned. She’d always hated the color of her sex, a warm brown like Tupelo honey.
“You taste so sweet.”
Emmett drew his tongue up slowly, pressing it inside of her so he could get another taste and she made a quiet little sound above him. He slipped his ropy arms under her slim legs, cradling the slight curve of her waist in his big hands, holding her small body gently until she relaxed against him.
“I do?” A note of disbelief came up in her quiet voice.
“You do. Sweet like sugarcane…” Emmett gave her a playful smile and Ginny saw all of his straight, white teeth shining in the darkness.
He kissed at her belly, then slipped his hands down under her firm little behind. Emmett looked on at her sex. A hint of pink, swollen flesh peeked out at him, and Ginny’s whole body went tense as he nestled his thumbs against her small, dainty cleft and opened her with gentle fingers. He went right to her most tender spot and took it in, sucking at it long and deep, and Ginny felt a warm, aching pleasure like nothing she’d ever known. It made her legs tremble and her eyelids flutter, and she couldn’t help but let out a sound so soft and sweet, it made Emmett weak in the knees.
“That feel good, baby girl?” He licked at her baby soft flesh, then fluttered his warm tongue up against her tender spot, all light and quick.
“Oh my goodness, yes. It feels really good.”
Ginny answered him with all the honesty of a green teenage girl. He heard the eager hitch in her small voice and he’d never been so completely and so desperately turned on by anything in his life. He started having her for supper then. He pulled her slim, coltish legs up onto his shoulders and she let out a surprised little gasp, rising up onto her elbows. He licked her clean, then sucked at her sweet spot, all swollen up firm like the pit of a cherry. His natural instinct was to bury his fingers up inside all that slippery warmth like he’d done to his wife a thousand times, but he hesitated, remembering that she was still brand new.
Ginny sighed like a baby bird. She couldn’t help it. The longer he sucked at her, the more it felt like she was chasing a butterfly just out of reach. It would hover close and then slip away, leaving her body all hot with an aching frustration. It wasn’t until he began drawing a steady circle with his tongue, that she dared to reach down and touch his damp, messy hair. She pulled at it softly, thinking of nothing else but the warm, deep rhythm of his hungry mouth buried up against her there.
It started with a little flutter of pleasure inside, and then it blossomed, bright and beautiful, coming on in waves, each one stronger than the one before. She felt a warm shudder down where his mouth still worked against her, lapping at all her sweet nectar, and Ginny let out a helpless little sigh of pleasure, losing herself in all that newfound heaven. It felt so good she almost couldn’t breathe.
Emmett recognized the surrender in that little sigh of hers. He’d felt the tremble in her smooth legs against his lean shoulders. He’d made her come for the first time, and it had taken all of five little minutes. Emmett couldn’t deny that he was downright smitten with that notion.
“Oh my goodness…” Ginny bit back a growing smile and covered her freckled face with both small hands.
“Oh my goodness.” Emmett teased her with those sweet, playful words, and he smiled back at her, planting a quick kiss on her smooth, flat belly.
“You like that?”
“Uh-huh. A lot.” Her breath went in and out like she’d just run a mile in the sun, and her dark hair was all damp and messy around her soft face.
“Didn’t I tell you I wasn’t gonna hurt you?”
He smoothed her hair back with both big hands and Ginny nodded yes like an over-eager child. He looked at her cheeks, all flushed up pink and pretty, and he knew it wasn’t right. She wasn’t ready yet.
He thought on Coralee, his own baby girl, and the shame she would feel if it ever came out; all the dirty things he’d done to her new friend. And Lucy, if she ever came to know the truth? That he’d messed with a girl so young and naïve? Well, Emmett supposed she’d just want to cut his stiff pecker clean off. It wouldn’t be out of jealousy, either. It’d be out of disgust. The mama bear in her just wouldn’t stand for any of that business. It was a downright horrific thought.
Still, Emmett reached southward and pulled loose the thick leather belt wrapped around his lean hips.
“I don’t know, Mr. Cooper.”
It struck him that she didn’t even know his first name, or if she did, she was too awkward to call him by it.
“It’s all right.”
“It ain’t…” Ginny spoke up then as Emmett’s blue trousers slipped down his hips, and the whole silky smooth length of his cock spilled out, bobbing softly above her. It was beautiful and frightening all at the same time and she marveled at him there. She couldn’t take her eyes away, though she tried.
Emmett watched a soft, love-struck gaze come over her pretty young face and it didn’t surprise him a bit. He’d been no Don Juan before he’d met Lucy, but he’d had a fair share of lovers, and they’d all worn the same, almost comic expression when they’d seen his cock for the first time. It’d always made him feel a little like a stallion, and Lucy had told him as much the first time they’d made love. He could still hear her girlish voice, teasing him something fierce.
“You right proud of that big ol’ thing, ain’t you, Emmett Cooper?” He’d been kneeling above her, and she’d prodded at his belly with the tips of her painted toes, tickling him until he’d grabbed her foot and kissed it gently. Lucy had rolled her big blue eyes when he’d answered her with a wide smile. “Yes, indeed pretty lady. And now I’m gonna show you just how proud I am.”
Right then, Emmett was swollen up heavy and hard as a redwood. He stood up long and thick and more eager than he had in ten years. He wanted inside of Ginny’s ripe little body. He wanted it in the worst way, but the daddy in him said, “Don’t you dare. She’s still brand new, and that’s sacred territory.”
“You can’t. My mama’ll go to her grave if you put a baby in me, Mr. Cooper.” Ginny looked up at him with wide, dark eyes. “It ain’t gonna fit inside me, anyhow…I don’t think…”
Emmett held his tongue and bit back a little smile. He grabbed onto that part of himself, covering up a bit so she wouldn’t be scared that he was going to impale her.
“Just lay back. I ain’t going inside. I promise.”
“You promise?”
“I promise. Now lay back.”
Ginny kept still, and then finally, she obliged him.
Emmett leaned in and traced a gentle thumb over her red, bee-stung mouth. It was all swollen up from kissing and he gave her full bottom lip a soft bite. He waited for her touch, and when he finally felt her warm, inquisitive fingers brush against his bare belly, it sent a shudder of pleasure through him. He rubbed himself against her baby smooth thigh, watching her eyes all the while. She hesitated, then reached down where he was stiff and warm.
Her touch was curious and gentle. He felt her hot little palm slip all the way down his swollen shaft, and just like that, she pulled back again. It was a sweet kind of torture for him; the best foreplay in the world. He hadn’t felt so lit up since he’d been a horny kid all riddled with angst and hormones.
“Go on now. Touch it all you want. It ain’t gonna bite.”
She bit at her bottom lip, then let her fingers slip down his hard belly again. Emmett watched her little palm start a soft, careful tug on his thick shaft. It was the stuff of dirty dreams, and like any red-blooded man, he couldn’t help but savor it. Her wide-eyed innocence was suddenly better than high heels and black lingerie
“Is that right?” Ginny didn’t have a clue. She did her best, until she finally found his rhythm.
“You can handle me a little rougher if you want. You ain’t gonna hurt me. I promise.”
“All right.” Ginny bit back a little giggle, and Emmett sighed just hearing it. She pulled harder and faster, catching on quick, and soon, he was getting a good old-fashioned hand job. For a minute or two, he felt like a sixteen-year-old buck again.
“I can’t believe I’m doin’ this.” She sounded giddy, all full of wonder and possibility.
“Keep goin’. Don’t you dare stop now, pretty girl.”
Emmett kissed at her mouth, and the way she kissed back, all hot tongue and panting breath, made him want to slip inside her little body and fuck her sore. He had to reign in all that desire before he hurt her in more ways than one.
“I need you to say somethin’ for me.”
“What?” He nudged her little hand away and grabbed hold of himself, and suddenly, Ginny worried about him not keeping his promise.
“Say….come on my belly. Say it now, sweet girl.” His mouth was hot against her ear, and Ginny watched the steady rhythm of his big hand. It slid up and down his long, smooth part, then settled under the thick, rounded tip, pulling hard and quick.
Ginny hesitated, then whispered to him in the hot darkness. “Come on my belly…”
She knew what it meant, but she couldn’t picture it actually happening. Her face burned with shame, and she felt all hot and feverish.
Ginny lay there quiet on the big plaid couch, listening to the quick draw of Emmett’s breath as he worked his cock above her. He was so close to that warm opening between her legs, and a sudden longing filled her belly. She couldn’t help but wonder how he might feel inside, all that stiff, silky heat. Her slim legs had a mind of their own, and they grew lazy in welcome.
The invitation wasn’t lost on Emmett for a second. It was the most wicked temptation he’d ever known.
“You ain’t ready for all that…are you?” She lay flushed and open beneath him, and his eyes wandered down to that soft, virgin warmth. He dared to nudge against her and Ginny tensed right up.
“I…I don’t know…” Her eyes looked frightened and excited all at the same time, and Emmett pulled back, kissing her forehead.
“It’s all right, baby. We don’t gotta do that…just do what you done before.”
Ginny did then. She worked her restless little hand up and down his long cock, and that sweet, eager touch sent Emmett right to the edge.
“That’s it, pretty girl…don’t stop…”
A soft, desperate look swam in his hazel eyes, and suddenly, a quick rush of heat painted her belly, like warm honey. Ginny heard a quiet sound catch in his throat, and she looked down at his swollen cock as it shuddered gently in the small cradle of her palm. Little spurts of hot, milky wetness fell onto her bare skin and Emmett kissed her then, lapping his tongue against hers until the well ran dry.
He smiled down at her, all spent and satisfied, his heart going like a piston inside his chest. Her little palm still held fast to the sore head of his cock, and he gently eased it away.
“Did I do it right?” Ginny looked down at the warm, beautiful mess he’d made on her soft skin. She dared to touch it with the tip of one finger, almost like she might get burned.
“Yeah…you sure did, sweetheart.”
Emmett cupped a big, daddy-like hand around her cheek and bit back a little belly laugh. She was so young and everything was so new for her, and in that moment, he’d never been more ashamed of himself. What in hell had he just done?
He shimmied his pants back up his narrow hips and buckled his old leather belt. A moment later, he leaned back against the big plaid couch and used his palm to wipe the sweat clean from his damp forehead. He needed a shower something fierce. The smell of sex seeped out of his pores, and he needed every trace of that gone before Lucy’s red Chevy pulled up in their dirt drive.
Emmett sat there catching his breath, wondering what little Ginny thought of him. He knew what he thought of himself. Dirty old man.
After a minute or two she started buttoning up her little frock, not even thinking to wipe his stuff from her smooth, flat belly.
Emmett looked down at the pink spots of dried calamine all over her tiny feet. He reached and touched one of those tender, throbbing welts all swollen up with poison. If not for her trek through the summer woods just hours before, Ginny would still have her innocence. He knew that nothing would ever be the same for either of them again.
“You best soak these feet when you get home today.” Emmett couldn’t get himself to look at her big, searching eyes so he just pinched at her little toes, feeling red-faced and awkward.
“I ain’t gonna say anything, Mr. Cooper. I promise.”
Ginny pulled her sore, ticklish feet away from him then, her eyes filled to the brim with a new kind of knowing; the flicker of her smile like a struck match in the dark.