Little Brats: Taboo A-Z Volume 1: (Forbidden Taboo Erotica) (Little Brats Boxed Sets) (11 page)

He exploded.  “You went into the pig pen? Alone?”

“I had to!”  She stood, wrapping herself up.  “There was no—”

“No what?”

Clara stopped, eyes wide, finally registering what it meant—the sun setting over the horizon.  “My chicken! Oh my God, my chicken!”

She ran.  The towel fell off halfway to the house, and she let it, leaping over the black and white cat and bursting through the door to find the kitchen hazy with smoke.  She coughed and sputtered her way to the oven, opening it to find a very black chicken inside. 

“Oh crap!”  She grabbed the oven mitts and pulled the roaster out, but it was far too late to save dinner. 

“What the hell?”  Grover came in behind her, coughing and propping the door open to let the smoke out. 

“The chicken.”  Clara dropped the roaster on the stovetop with a clatter and burst into tears.  “I ruined it.” 

“Oh Clara…”  He took a step toward her and she sniffled, waving him away and wiping at her eyes with the big red oven mitts.  That’s when she realized she was still completely naked, standing in the middle of the kitchen, wearing just oven mitts.  She looked up at Grover and saw the corner of his mouth twitching.  “Don’t you dare! Don’t you
dare
laugh!” 

“I wasn’t…”  He cleared his throat, tossing his hat onto the table.  “I’m not…”

But the other corner of his mouth twitched and he started to smile. 

“Grover Lindsey! If you laugh at me, I’ll… I’ll…”

“You’ll what?”  He chuckled.  And that did it.  It was like a dam burst.  His chuckle led to a snicker.  He tried to cover it with his hand, but it didn’t work.  Neither did trying to hide it in his chest.  His silent mirth grew and inevitably escaped in great, whooping, knee-slapping guffaws. 

“You!”  She flew at him, not thinking at all, beating at him with her fists.  He caught her easily, although he was thrown slightly off balance because he was still laughing so hard, keeping her from really doing any damage.  “Ooooo! I hate you!” 

“Oh Clara, you are too precious.”  He kissed the tip of her nose, her wrists still caught in his grip.  That just made her madder, and she tried in vain to wiggle free, struggling so much it took her a moment to realize Grover wasn’t laughing anymore.  He was staring at her hands, a frown creasing his features.

“What in the hell did you do to yourself?”

She surrendered to him as he turned her hands over, palms up, revealing the splinters there.  Before she knew what was happening, he had her upstairs in the bathroom seated on the closed toilet lid while he sat beside her on the edge of the tub with a pair of tweezers, pulling little pieces of wood out of her skin.  But he did take the time to give her a towel to wrap herself up in, and she couldn’t help notice the way he looked at her before she covered herself up. 

“I’ve told you a million times not to go into the pig pen by yourself!”  he growled, releasing his grip a little guiltily when she yelped at how tightly he was holding her.“What’s the number one killer on a farm?”

She sighed.  “Pigs.  I know.” 

He tweezed and squeezed and removed all of the splinters she’d acquired during her piglet rescue, and then he got the hydrogen peroxide and the cotton balls. 

“Clara, if I ask you something, will you be honest with me?”  he asked, dabbing at her tiny wounds. 

“Sure.”  She said it, but she wasn’t sure if she would or not, depending on what he asked. 

Grover put the cap on the peroxide and set it on the sink, tossing the cotton ball into the trash.  His jaw was tight, and she wondered if she was in real trouble. 

“Grove?”  she prompted, watching his jaw work, his eyes distant, seeing past her.  “Am I in trouble?”

“No.”  He focused on her again, smiling a little.  “I just want to know.  I need to know.  Are you really a lesbian?”

This time it was the corner of Clara’s mouth that twitched in amusement.  If he only knew! “No, Grover.  I’m not a lesbian.”

“You swear?”

She nodded.  “I swear.  I like boys.  I just don’t like…
those
boys.” 

“Well…”  He smiled, plucking her hand out of her lap again, blowing on her still-wet fingers.  “You’re young yet.  I’m sure you’ll find a boy you like one day.” 

He bent to kiss her fingertips, pressing them to his mouth, and she marveled at their softness, rubbing them slowly against his lower lip.  His gaze lifted and their eyes locked and Clara felt her heart thump in her chest, her stomach dropping to her knees.  My God, when he looked at her…

“I already have.”  Her voice was barely above a whisper. 

“Oh?”  He swallowed, not moving her hand as she traced her fingertip over his lip, down his chin where stubble grew in that hypnotizing cleft. 

She stood before him, not much room between them in the little bathroom, so she was directly between his knees.  He looked up at her, his expression dazed, a little like he was drunk, although she knew Grover didn’t drink.  Clara slowly, deliberately, began to drop her towel.  His gaze followed the path of the fabric, pausing as she did before revealing her breasts.  They were pretty, pink-tipped, generous but not overly so. 

She heard him inhale sharply and the soft sigh of appreciation that escaped his lips encouraged her to drop the towel a little further, over the soft curve of her belly, below her belly button, pausing again at the top of her hips.  His gaze was fully on her, right there, and he was so close she could feel his breath against the peach fuzz surrounding her navel. 

“Clara…”  His tone was a warning, but a weak one, and she knew it. 

She dropped the towel entirely and stood nude before him.  He’d seen her sleeping this way out in the haystack, had seen her running like a crazy person naked through the yard just twenty minutes ago, but this was different.  Entirely different. 

“What are you doing?”  he breathed. 

“Proving it to you.”

He blinked.  “Proving… what?”

“That I like boys.”  She smiled, running a hand through his sandy-colored hair, already bleached by the sun.  “
Men. 
More specifically…
you
.”

“Oh God, Clara.”  He shook his head, his look desperate, trapped.  “No… no…”

“At school, they taped a sign to my back.  It said Cunning Linguist.”  She laughed, flushing red.  “I had to look it up.”

“Oh Christ.”

“They meant cunnilingus.  It was a play on words,”  she explained, unnecessarily.  He clearly knew just what she was talking about.  She could tell by the look on his face.  “Oral sex.  For girls.  The funny thing is, I’ve never done that.” 

“Never?”  Grover’s eyes widened and he licked his lower lip as she ran her fingers lightly over his shoulders. 

“No.”  She shrugged.  “I didn’t want to be like my mother.  I tried that once.  Didn’t like it.”

Grover cocked his head.  “What do you mean?”

“I lost my virginity two summers ago at camp,”  she explained, starting to work the buttons on his shirt.  He didn’t stop her.  “He wanted to and I thought, what the hell? Why not? But I didn’t care about him… not really.” 

She paused, remembering.  She’d known about sex, of course.  It was hard to live on a farm and not know how reproduction worked.  They had done what came natural, but somehow, it hadn’t quite turned out the way she expected.

“Afterward, I felt…”  She sighed, reaching his bottom button and pushing his shirt open to reveal the glorious sight of his chest and belly.  “I felt empty.  Still alone.  And that’s when I understood how Mama could just leave, like she does.  Like she did.” 

“I’m sorry, Clara.”  Grover grabbed her hands when she reached for his belt.  “It shouldn’t be like that.  It should be special.  Beautiful.  It should be with someone you love, who loves you.”

“I know.”  She smiled softly, meeting his eyes, trying to show him with her look alone just how she felt.  “That’s why I waited.  For you.” 

“Oh God, sweetheart.”  He shook his head, clearing his throat, letting go of her hands and grabbing her hips, attempting, unsuccessfully, to push her away—there was no room.  So instead he tried to change the subject.  “Listen, are you hungry?”

“Not for dinner.”  Her hands were free now and she reached down, daring him to stop her, and spread her pussy open at the top of her cleft, revealing the soft, pink inside.  “Are
you
hungry, Grover?”

He groaned softly, watching her circle her clit with a fingertip.  The sensation made Clara’s knees weak, and doing it here, right in front of Grover, made it feel even better.

“I rub it a lot,”  she confessed breathlessly.  “It feels so good.  I rub it and I think about you.”

“Clara no,”  he croaked. 

She ignored him, closing her eyes, rubbing faster, a little faster still.  “But I wonder what a tongue would feel like.  It must feel so good.  Does it feel good, Grover?”

“Yes.” 

She opened her eyes to look at him, asking, “Have you done it before? Do you like it?”

“Yes.”  He gulped, not taking his eyes off her pussy.  She spread it wider for him and he groaned.  “God yes.”

“You like the taste?”  She lifted her fingers and brought them slowly to his lips.  He moaned, shaking his head, but she insisted and he succumbed, letting her slip them into his mouth. 

“Oh fuck.”  He sucked gently on her fingers.  “Sweetheart, you taste so good.”

“Do I?”  She reached down, curious, rubbing herself again and then raising her fingers to her own lips this time.  It was tangy and left a slightly metallic taste in her mouth.  But she liked it.  “Mmm.  Do you want to taste me for real?”

“Yes,”  he whispered, voice hoarse, expression pained as he watched her start touching herself again. 

“Show me.”  She guided his head toward her navel with her other hand, pressing it down, down.  “Please.  Oh please,”  she begged.  “Show me how good it feels.”

He groaned and—finally—finally gave in, grabbing her around the hips and lifting her so her bottom rested on the edge of the sink.  He peeled his shirt off, sitting where she had been seconds before, perched on the toilet, and spread her slender thighs with his palms. 

“You’re so beautiful,”  he murmured, starting at her knee and kissing his way upward.  “Seeing you sleeping there today, I wanted you so much.”

She brightened.  “You did?”

“I wanted to take you right then and there,”  he confessed, rubbing his stubbled cheeks against her thigh, making her shiver. 

“Oh, Grover.” 

He groaned as he neared her pussy, inhaling her scent.  “I have to taste you.”

“Yes.”  She ran a hand through his hair, pulling him close, anticipating the sensation, thighs trembling.  “Please.” 

He parted her already-swollen pussy lips with his tongue and she looked down, watching more and more pink appear between the soft, golden curls of her pubic hair as he worked his tongue up and down her slit.  He explored her slowly, making her moan in frustration.  It was nice—very nice—but her clit throbbed, aching to be stimulated. 

“Oh God your pussy is so fucking sweet,”  he moaned, shifting his gaze upward, meeting her eyes as he fastened his lips over her, focusing just where she wanted him. 

“Ooooooo my!”  She squealed and giggled and then a heat began to spread through her pelvis as he licked, licked, licked, his tongue flat and soft and utterly delightful.