Page 41 of Careless Hope
“Beautiful,” Walker said again, and the word anchored me.
I drew in a deep breath, the kind of lung-filling gulp I’d take before diving into cold lake waters. My fingers, once so sure, hesitated at the hem of my panties. But this was what I needed—this was about discovering parts of me long neglected.
“Caroline,” Walker’s voice was soft, almost reverent. He reached his hand down and palmed himself through his jeans. The bulge there—bigger than I ever could have anticipated—spurred me on.
My hand moved, emboldened by his call of my name—a sound that seemed to wrap around me. With newfound resolve, I began to explore, tracing the outline of my collarbone, feeling the tickle of my own touch. It was foreign and familiar, all at once.
I unclasped my bra, letting it fall to the floor, earning a grunt from Walker. My breasts hung heavy, my nipples hard and sensitive. I coasted my hands over them, letting their weight bounce in my grasp. I pinched each nipple, closing my eyes to let the sensations wash over me.
Walker’s eyes became hooded and his mouth slack.
Each breath punctuated the silence between us. My fingers danced over my skin, curious and gentle, venturing further with each pass. The sensation built slowly, a flurry of desire that had me biting my lip to keep grounded.
Stealing a glance at Walker, I caught sight of him shifting in his chair, his eyes darkened with lust and something akin to awe. His gaze was fixed on me, unblinking, and it spurred me on, tearing down the remnants of my uncertainty.
“Keep goin’,” he murmured, his voice husky, threaded with an undercurrent of need that matched my own.
His encouragement was a spur against my side, urging me forward. And then I saw it—his hand, resting atop the denim stretched tight across his thighs, fingers moving in a subtle, suggestive rhythm. Not just touching anymore, but working himself. That simple action, the unspoken permission in it, shattered the last of my hesitation.
I sat on the couch, leaning back and spreading my legs. The room seemed to grow warmer, the space between us charged with an energy as tangible as the late summer storms that rolled in from the west. My breathing grew ragged, a mirror to the pace set by my wandering hand, while the sight of Walker, so controlled yet undeniably affected, drove me toward a precipice I had never dared approach.
He was touching himself, a private act made public for my eyes alone, and it sent a thrill through me sharper than any scalpel. There was no going back now, not when every nerve ending was alight, not when I could almost taste the anticipation hanging heavy in the air.
“Caroline,” he said again, the word both a plea and a caress. It was all the affirmation I needed.
I let myself be guided by instinct, by the pulse that thrummed in my veins. I slipped my panties to the side and circled my clit with my fingertips.
“Go on,” I whispered, the newfound boldness in my voice surprising even myself. It was as if the quiet, studious girl from Whittier Falls had shed her skin, leaving behind someone daring, someone not afraid to ask for what she wanted.
Walker’s gaze snapped up to meet mine, a spark igniting in those light blue eyes that mirrored the vast skies over the ranch. His hand paused, and I could see the question there, the silent wondering if this was truly what I desired. I nodded, becausewords were too cumbersome, too slow for the urgency that was building within me.
“Please,” I added, a single word that seemed to carry the weight of all the unspoken yearnings that had gathered like clouds ready to burst with rain.
With a slow, deliberate motion that was pure Walker—confident yet considerate—he unbuckled his belt. The sound of leather sliding through loops was like the whisper of wheat in the fields, a soft rustling that promised something good to come. His hands, roughened from years of handling reins and rope, made quick work of his jeans, revealing the undeniable evidence of his desire.
My eyes followed every movement, drinking in the sight of him exposing himself to me. He pushed his pants down, and pulled out his cock, large and rock-hard, sitting up proudly from the top of his blue boxer briefs. His hand wrapped around it, slowly jerking it from base to tip, exposing a bead of precum on the head. Every movement he made was electrified as he watched me watch him.
I felt it in the way my own fingers danced over my skin, each touch amplified by the knowledge of his watchful eyes.
The air between us was thick with the scent of longing and the musk of our arousal. It was as potent as the earth after a storm, alive with possibility. We moved together but apart, a dance of self-pleasure that was somehow more intimate than if we had been entwined.
“Caroline,” he breathed out, and it was as though he was saying more than just my name. It was an acknowledgment of the change taking root within us, of the shared experience that was altering the very fabric of our beings.
I couldn’t tear my gaze away from him. There was a rawness to Walker that I’d never seen before, a vulnerability that heusually kept hidden under his usual bravado. He watched me with those light blue eyes that seemed to see right through to my core, igniting a fire that burned away any lingering shyness.
“Go on,” I urged softly, my voice a mixture of desire and encouragement. “Don’t hold back because of me. I want to see it.”
He paused for only a second, his eyes searching mine for any sign of hesitation. But all he found was my growing confidence, an assertiveness I didn’t know I possessed until this very moment. With a nod, he surrendered to the moment, his hand moving over himself in a slow, deliberate rhythm.
The room felt charged with our shared pleasure, the heat within me built with every stroke Walker made, mirroring the movements of my own hands. It was a symphony of sensation, each note struck with precision and care. The way he touched himself—an intimate view into his private pleasure—made me dizzy with anticipation.
“Darlin’,” he said, his voice rough with need. It was a plea.
And I accepted it wholeheartedly.
We moved in harmony, our breaths syncing as we approached our climaxes.
Our gazes locked, and in that instant, I knew we had crossed an invisible threshold. The cresting wave of desire that had been building within us finally crashed, sending tremors through my body as if the earth itself was shuddering beneath me. I felt a release so intense it bordered on spiritual, and from the corner of my eye, I could see Walker experiencing his own powerful culmination.
