Daddy always loved the Peach Festival. It was his favorite time of the year—and not just because it signaled the end of our hardest-working days. It was symbolic of what he’d accomplished. He’d gone from nobody to being a leader in our small community.
An old, familiar ache is in my bones, and my brother’s eyes catch mine. He smiles, and I do a little wave. Taron walks up behind me, putting his hand on my waist, and I see the change in Sawyer’s expression, like he’s just seeing for the first time what’s been under his nose for two weeks. I’m not sure if I should be worried or glad.
“What else do you want to do?” I blink away from whatever my brother is thinking and smile up at his friend.
“Oh, I’ve done this a hundred times. What would you like to see?”
He narrows his eyes as if he’s thinking. “Princess Peach. I want to see what kind of supermodels they have competing this year.”
“It’s a pageant for six year-olds.”
“Which you didn’t win. Those kids have to be on beauty-pageant steroids to beat you.”
“That’s not a thing.”
“I still want to see what kind of rigged system they’re running here. You could win a pageant soaking wet in a burlap sack.”
I shake my head, laughing. “I didn’t want to be in it.”
“Stop making excuses and lead the way.”
We’re intercepted by a hawker guiding us to the Ferris wheel—something I’d so much rather do than revisit my childhood failure.
One look at my face, and Taron buys two tickets for us to go all the way to the top and come back down again. We’re in our car, and I scoot in close to his side, wrapping his arm over my shoulder and thinking about all the good things… my product line being a success, having this wonderful man on my arm… I overheard Sawyer saying we’d had our best harvest in years, thanks to the extra hands. So many good things. My heart is so full of gratitude.
The wind blows in short gusts laced with the metallic scent of rain the higher we rise. A storm is moving in, and I think about what’s building between Taron and me. Our love is wild like a tornado, consuming and fierce… yet at the same time, it can be soft and gentle like a butterfly, like the way he’s touching my cheek right now.
My eyes flicker up to his, and he smiles. “Noel Aveline LaGrange.” So much love is in his eyes, it takes my breath away. “You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”
Dark lashes frame his pale eyes, and I slide my thumb over his full bottom lip. “You’re the prettiest boy I’ve ever seen.”
That gets me a sexy smile. “Can boys be pretty?”
“You can.” Scooting closer, I put my chin on his shoulder. “I’ve never been so happy in my life.”
“I’m pretty happy, too.” His arm tightens around me. “I wish…”
His voice trails off, and my chest aches. I know what he wishes. It’s what I wish for every night he holds me as we sleep. I wish he weren’t leaving. I wish we could be together always. I wish the best things in my life didn’t always seem to end.
I wish our love would last.
Lifting my chin, I meet his earnest gaze. The lights flicker in his eyes like a million promises we have yet to make.
He catches my cheek and pulls my mouth to his, pushing my lips apart and tracing his tongue along mine. My insides catch flame, and I feel my stomach rise as the wheel moves, taking us back down to the ground.
Lightning illuminates the clouds, and I guide his wrist to my knees, under my skirt, tracing his fingers higher to the apex of my thighs. His gaze darkens when he discovers my secret, and my stomach tightens. I love the hungry look in his eyes.
“Come with me.” His voice is rough as sandpaper, and he pulls me quickly from the car, down the steps, and across the short distance to the civic center.
The pageant is in the final rounds, and music blasts, accompanied by the voice of Mr. Newman the MC announcing the names of the five finalists.
Roaring is in my ears, and my focus is on one thing as he leads me quickly into a small room, an empty office with only the exit sign providing pale green light. We spin inside, and he backs me against the door, dropping to his knees and lifting my skirt.
My hand flies out to brace the wall, and I wouldn’t stop him if I could.
His nose nudges at my bare pussy, and my knees go liquid. “Taron…” It’s a strained whisper as his warm tongue makes its first pass over my slippery clit. “Oh, God… Yes…”
Strong hands grasp my thighs, lifting me higher. He spreads me wider as his mouth goes deep, covering me, then sliding his tongue up again, focusing on my clit.
His beard scratches my inner thighs, and my hips buck involuntarily. My head drops back against the door, and a blast of music covers my moans.
He makes me come so hard, my thighs shudder in his grip. Wild moans ripple from my belly. A million fireworks shoot off through my veins to a variation of the Miss America theme, and what he’s doing to me is better than any pretend crown.
With a final kiss to the seam of my leg, he rises, covering my mouth with his and muffling my moans. My hands struggle with his to unbuckle his pants, to shove them down, and free his massive cock.
I ache for him.
My need for him is deep in my bones.
He doesn’t make me wait.
With one strong thrust, he’s inside, letting out a low groan. My arm is around his shoulders, holding his neck as he pushes me higher, thrusting deeper as I’m pinned against the door, and it’s so good. I want to hold him forever, hold him so tight, and never let him go.
The friction between us drives me up and over the cliff with him again. Our bodies grasp and pull, we groan in unison as we ride out the sensation. It’s incredible… our breath labored, holding each other so close. I can feel his heart beat against my chest. The music outside dies down, and it’s only us in this space.
These last few days, what’s happening between us is about lust and need and obsession with each other’s bodies, but it’s also about young love, fierce love, a love so strong it might be able to survive…
And having that looming shadow right alongside it. The clock running out, like Cinderella at the ball. The pain of knowing in only a few short hours, everything will change, will go back to the way it was before, and we won’t be able to hold each other this way for a long, long time.
11
Taron
I’m standing in the back of the room watching the man crown a little girl with orange-red hair Princess Peach, and I have to confess…
She looks like a peach.
The child prances down the stage in a leaf-green ruffled dress, and the music rises. Everyone claps. After all the days I’ve spent with her, flying on the three-wheeler, jumping in the pond, running through the groves with Akela, working quietly behind the scenes in the kitchen, on her product line, on the store… I realize this is something Noel would never be happy doing. Not that there’s anything wrong with it.
It’s absolutely not her personality.
Light streams across the dark corridor, and she emerges from the bathroom. Her hair is over one shoulder, and a smile curls her lips… She’s so beautiful. She’s the best thing I’ve ever seen, and the truth hits me like a freight train.