Harry on the Prairie

Chapter 25

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'd like to thank everyone for the love they've shown to country Harry and Frankie. Writing them was a weirdo idea, and I had no idea they'd be embraced as they have been. It touches my heart. xoxo

TWITTER: @styles_orama

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It's your love
It just does something to me
It sends a shock right through me
I can't get enough
And if you wonder
About the spell I'm under
Oh, it's your love.

    --Tim McGraw/Faith Hill

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FRANKIE:

I throw my arms around his neck and squeeze him tight as I can. "Thank you for takin' care of me, Harry."

His arms squeeze me even tighter in return, his hands so big they cover my entire back. "Anytime, Frankie." He hugs me even tighter yet, and lets one of his hands slide down to pat my bottom."Anytime," he whispers in my ear.

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HARRY:

Water splashes in the basin as Frankie washes her tear-stained face, and the steps creak when she climbs to the loft. I tread careful-like up the steps with her fresh cup of tea, tryin' not to spill. As my head rises above the landin', she's adjustin' her pillow against the headboard.

"Comfy?" I ask, handin' her the cup of tea, my eyes drinkin' in the flicker of the yellow candlelight on her blonde hair, spilled loose 'round her shoulders.

In the dim light, I can't fully enjoy the blush I know is on her cheeks when she replies with a shy "Yes," and looks down at her tin cup, deep in thought.

We been cuddlin' every night this week, so I'm hopin' it's the same tonight. Just in case she might try to change her mind, I make swift work of unbuttonin' my shirt and pants, thinkin' the sooner I get my ass in bed, the better. My pants have been mashin' on my stomach all damn day. "What's on your mind? When's that quiltin' thingy-ma-bob that Sophia was yammerin' on about?" I notice Frankie watchin' me as I slip my shirt off and hang it over the chair, so I try to make my muscles look big and my gut look small. I'm still so full on account of the two plates of grub I ate at the picnic, that when I sit on the edge of the bed to pull my boots off, I accidentally let a lil' fart rip. Goddammit.

"Harry!" Frankie cries out and brings a hand up to cover her nose and mouth. "That's so nasty."

I take a sniff. "Nah, it was only noise. I don't smell nothin'."

"Did you just sniff your own fart?" Frankie groans, making me laugh so hard while I kick off my britches that another fart escapes the confines of my asshole. "You're liable to shoot a hole right through your drawers, Harry." She tries to sound serious, but it's obvious she thinks it's funny. I'm glad she's laughin' after her little cryin' jag while ago, so I don't mind much if it's at my expense.

I toss my britches on the chair and turn to her in my drawers only, pullin' back the covers on my side of the bed. "Listen here," I crawl under the covers next to her, "You better just worry about your own knickers, missy."

On my side facin' Frankie, I'm quick to reach an arm across her middle and pull her to me, ticklin' her waist to make her giggle. Her feeble protests fall on deaf ears.

I stop my play and pull her tight against me, my hand at the waist of her nightgown, itchin' to touch her knickers that I know lie just underneath. "Why don't you tell me about the condition of your knickers, Frankie?" My breath fans her face, and she's lookin' at me with this dazed look in her eye. "Did you hear my question, hon?"

My tongue swipes across my bottom lip, but I don't kiss her yet. My eyes drink in every detail of her beautiful face, includin' how the yellow flecks in her creekwater greens reflect the candlelight. Sweet Jesus, this girl is somethin' else.

"Harry?" Her voice is soft and low, and the way she says my name makes me skip a heartbeat. "You still in there?" I'm so busy gawkin' that I hadn't answered. Shit, I musta be makin' an ass outta myself.

"Mhmm?" I grin, not trustin' myself to say much else, and I squeeze her waist.

"Kiss me, Harry." Her request is so quiet, I wonder if she even said anything at all, but the mess of shy desire in her eyes tells me that yes, she did. Frankie Tomlinson asked me to kiss her.

The fact that she wants me to kiss her bad enough to actually ask shoots straight down to my semi-hard cock, and I want nothin' more than to be on her like a jackrabbit on a cottontail. Her hands on my bare back make my skin tingle as I lean in and brush my lips across hers – once, twice, three times. It's all I can do to hold back cause I've been waitin' for this moment all damn day, but I want to rile her up a little more. She releases a faint whimper.

I pull back, "What?" I know she wants me to kiss her full-on, but I'm actin' ignorant.

"Harry. . ." Is that a whine I detect? I could laugh if my boner wasn't ragin' hard right now, but my mind is cloudy with the notion of peaches. Sweet, wet, warm, peaches.

Frankie's had enough teasin' and grabs fistfuls of my hair so she can pull my face to hers, almost smashin' our noses in haste. I grin into our kiss for a split-second, but when I hear a frustrated moan fall from her lips, I'm all over it. My mouth covers hers as I briefly trap her lips between mine. I let my tongue slide across her softness, and when she opens to accept me, her body arches up, and she presses her hips against mine. My cock's so hard it hurts, and I am pretty dang certain she's aware. Yep. Hell in a hand-basket.

I push the notion of hell as far to the back of my mind as possible, and focus on her and only her. My lips and tongue move over hers, tastin' every bit of her like a starvin' man who's gone days without food or water in the wilderness. Frankie's eager responses are pushin' my desires to the brink. We hadn't done nothin' this intense since our little fishin' trip, when I first got to see her titties. Shit, I could almost come all over myself at the thought of them.

I reach down and start inchin' up her nightgown, I have got to get my hands on her again. We're kissin' up a storm and I grunt when Frankie nibbles my bottom lip. She is wigglin' this way and that beneath me, givin' off mixed emotions that are one minute like we-shouldn't-do-this-Harry and the next like yes-I-want-you-to-Harry.

I'm able to get her gown up to her waist before she brings a hand down to mine, "Harry. . ."

"Mhm," I stop kissin' and look at her. She's lettin' out pant-like breaths through swollen lips, and I can picture those lips kissin' me all over. She don't say anything, she just sits there all mussed and blinks. "I. . . I just wanna touch you. Like that night by the creek." I slide my hand from the waist of her knickers, over the soft skin of her stomach, and allow my fingertips to graze the underside of her bosom real gentle like. "Will you let me touch you, Frankie?" I dare to slide my thumb over her titty, and I feel the hardness of her nipple.

She leans up off the pillow and I reckon her hungry kiss is my permission, so I cup her firm breast in my hand and give it a light squeeze, followed by a harder one. I palm her tit before pullin' away, and tuggin' at her nightgown. "Frankie – can . . . would you take this off for me?" I watch her in the candelight, thinkin' I must look like Duke when he begs for vittles.

She doesn't say no, but she doesn't say yes. I think she wants to, but she's a girl and probably don't wanna look too interested in sins of the flesh. I ain't givin' up yet, so I give my best grin and tug upward on her gown. She lets out a laugh, and I say, "Arms up, hon," and she obeys. Hot damn! I thank God almighty as I carefully pull the gown over her head and toss it yonder.

I pull the sheet up over us for now so she don't feel so naked, and pull her warm body to mine so I can recommence my kissin', enjoyin' the feel of her bosoms against my chest.