I should probably give a warning, this is where the Mature rating kicks in.
The next morning, John got up feeling groggy, his shoulder pounding in pain, and shuffled to the bathroom. Jo was lying across the couch, covers kicked into a ball on the floor like she'd been too hot, and even then, he could see the damp on her skin, clinging to it and making her hair at her temples a little damp too. She wore a tank top that was too thin for regular wear. Even not in the sunlight, he could see through the thin fabric, could see the round of her tits and the rose peaks of her nipples. It was raised up just under her bust, granting him a view of her flat belly and belly button. She wore white cotton boyshorts that were see-through too if he looked hard enough, which he shouldn't. He was already gawking at her like some kind of dirty old man.
But even as he thought it, his eyes found the lines of her pussy through the fabric, well enough to know she shaved, or at the very least, trimmed. One leg was up against the back of the couch, and the other was spread, lying on the seat, foot under the opposite leg, so if she just shifted a fraction more, he'd probably be able to see her clit.
He forced his gaze away from the sleeping girl and clenched his jaw. He was fucking sick. This girl was younger than his youngest son, and here he was, having the most lewd thoughts about her, thoughts that belonged in an x-rated movie, and he sighed, hand slipping through his hair, and turned back into the bathroom for a cold shower.
Even in there, he decided maybe a little release would take his mind off things. It took him less than three minutes to come and he rested back against the shower wall, panting for a moment to catch his breath. He finished his shower and then got out to dry and dress. Jo was already up when he came out and thankfully, she'd put on jean shorts to cover the boyshorts, but he could still see through her top as she made coffee.
"Hey. Help yourself to some coffee and there's some doughnuts on the counter."
John made no move to get himself anything and watched her a moment. Jo's smile melted and she sighed, shaking her head. "I'm not going back, John. I'll call her, write her, whatever...but I'm not going back."
John only nodded. "Call her if you're not going to go see her. I understand needing to get out on your own, but she's scared. She thinks she's going to lose you."
"She always thinks she's going to lose me." She shook her head. "I'm careful. You saw me last night. Saved your ass. I can do this."
John nodded again. She was more than capable. "I'm not saying you cant. I'm saying you can't do this if you don't at least let your mother know you're alive."
Jo sighed, eyes closing a moment before she nodded. "Alright. I'll call her. Go get something to eat."
She walked over to her messenger bag and rifled through it a moment before turning up with her cell phone. She turned it on and John left the room to give her privacy, getting some coffee and a plain doughnut to munch on while he waited.
Jo sighed as she waited through the ringing, biting her bottom lip and crossing her arms. "Harvelle's Roadhouse," her mother answered and she could hear the fatigue in her voice and she felt guilty immediately.
She takes a breath and bit her lip. "Hey Mom. It's me."
Her mother's breathing stopped for a fraction of a second. "Oh thank god. What in the hell were you thinking, sneaking off in the middle of the night like that? I've been worried sick! Thank god you're alright. I'm coming to get you. Where are you?"
"Mom, I'm fine, and I'm sorry for not saying anything or leaving a note, but... I'm staying here."
"You are not. You tell me where you are right now, Joanna Beth."
Already a fight. Though she hadn't expected anything less. "I have to do this. Mom. I have to."
"Why? So you can go running off like your Daddy and get yourself killed? I can't lose you. You have no idea...just...come home."
Jo sighed, shaking her head. "I can't. You don't understand. I'll call again soon. I love you."
She hung up before her mother could respond and ran a hand over her face. She knew she was crying, she'd started sometime around the middle of their short conversation, but it surprised her when she broke down, hand covering her mouth to keep the man in her kitchen from hearing.
When arms wrapped around her, it surprised her enough that she jumped, but she recognized John's motor oil, beer and sweat smell and she turned in his arms, the want for someone to hold her stronger than her embarrassment at him seeing her crying.
"Shhh...shhh. It's okay," he murmurs, and she's pretty sure its far from okay, but she doesn't say it. She only buries her face in his chest, clutching his shirt, and sobs uncontrollably, shoulders wracking, and he can only hold her, hands rubbing absently at her back.
She isn't sure how long she stood there in his arms and cried, but finally, her tears stopped and she was just breathing unevenly, face still wet and red. His lips fall to her hair and she glances up, knowing she must look frightful, and her eyes flick back and forth between his for a moment, still red-rimmed and puffy. John gives her a gentle smile and kisses her forehead and she feels his lips against her skin and it's comforting and not all at the same time, and she leaned up after a moment, standing on tiptoes to crush her lips to his.
John hesitates, freezes automatically, but she's no fool. She'd felt him watching her on the couch, caught it in his eyes when he'd been looking between her spread thighs and she'd peeked through her eyelashes at him, and she'd heard him in the shower.
Automatically, he began to pull back and sighed softly. "Jo..."
"I know, John. I know you want me. It's okay. I want you too," she breathed as she pressed her mouth to his again.
John's hands closed around her upper arms and he goes along with it for a second, lets her press in harder, and then he's hauling her back, holding her at arms length for a few moments, breathing hard through his nose, eyes dark and unintelligable. "This is not okay, Joanna. I'm nearly three times your age. I'm...I'm old and wrinkled and I got too many years and too many scars. You're young and fresh-faced, and you aren't gonna waste your time with me."
She rolled her eyes. "Is this because you think I'm still a virgin?" John went silent, face hard. "I'm not, John. And I know what I want." If nothing else, she was a woman who knew what she wanted and she wanted him. "So stop acting like you're stopping for me."
"I am!" He was angry, his face red and eyes hard. "I'm a grizzly old man!'
"So what? I don't care!"
"I do! Your mother would skin me alive!"
Jo rolled her eyes and jerked her arms out of his grasp. "Jesus Christ, really? Like watching me all the time like you have been is any better?"
John froze again and stared at her and she crossed her arms. "I saw you this morning. Looking at me. How is the way you look at me any different?"
He growled and some part of her admits she likes it when he does that, but she's too pissed off to admit it fully. "Because that's wrong enough! You realize you're younger than Sam? Younger than my youngest son! That's...pitiful, Jo. I'm pathetic for even thinking like I have been."
"For fuck's sake, stop it!" It was the first time she'd used that word in front of him, mostly because her mother had always taught her a lady didn't talk like a sailor and she sure as hell wasn't a lady, but for some reason, it had stuck with her. "Just stop! You know what, you're not pathetic. You're a coward."
"What did you call me," John asked dangerously low, and that warning voice in Jo's head kicked on. He was bigger than her. And stronger than her. But there's no way he would hurt her. She knew that.
"A coward," she spat. "I know the real reason why you wont, why you wont let anyone get close to that nice brick wall you've built up around yourself. It's because you're scared. Terrified even. But not everyone you let close to you is going to die!"
John's jaw was flexing under his dusting of week-old scruff, and he was making a sound that could be construed as soft growling and she knew she'd hit some kind of nerve.
Jo shook her head. "Screw this. I'll go get what I need somewhere else."
She turns and stalks over to the door but John is on her before she can turn the knob, slamming her against the wall, hands like vises around her biceps. "Just gonna go out and fuck some random stranger?"
"Better than sitting here so you can stare at me some more," she replied, staring him down, unblinking. They're both breathing harshly, inhaling each others air, and then suddenly, his mouth is covering hers, hard and unforgiving, and she jerked away, pissed off beyond belief, and starts kicking and struggling. "Who the fuck do you think you are? Get the hell off me! Don't touch me!"
John holds her tighter, pressing his hips into hers so she cant kick him or buck him away, and she gasps sharply, breath caught in her throat. "I'd rather fuck you than let you go out and pick up some random guy."
Jo turned her face away from his, tried to regain some semblance of thought other than the fact that he was pressed against her, tight, body flush to his, and she bit her lip softly. "I'd rather fuck them than you," she replied, meaning it to sound acidic and cold, aloof, but her voice shook more than she would've liked.
John chuckled softly against her skin and it raised goosebumps, no matter how hard she tried to fight it. "Little liar," he murmured softly and Christ, he's hit the nail on the head with that one, because she'd take on a vamp nest single-handed if it meant she could drag him to her bed after.
She bucked again, attempting to pull away and when he pulled back to look her in the face, she spat, "Fuck you."
John smirked. "If you insist," he murmured, and kissed her and goddamn, it was like being kissed for the first time all over again. John's tongue was sure and practiced against hers, licking into her mouth, around her tongue, drawing shapes and sucking until she was letting out soft, gasping sounds and the fight had gone out of her, will nonexistent, putty in his hands.
John released her in favor of catching her up in his arms, hands holding the backs of her smooth thighs, and she wrapped her legs around his waist tightly, riding the hot line of his erection pressing against her crotch and he let out a soft groan, carrying her to the couch and dropping down onto it, so she was straddling him. She'd never told anyone, but she liked being on top. Gave her a sense of control and empowerment, being able to set the rhythm
Sliding her fingers through his hair, she sucked at his tongue and lips, nipping, payback for earlier, and her reward was hearing his breathing hitch and the way his hands slid up her thighs to her ass, cupping her cheeks through the thin denim and she lets out a soft moan into his mouth.
Riding against him again, Jo slid her fingers through his hair as his hands slid up the back of her shirt and around to the front, cupping her small breasts, rough thumbs playing against her nipples, tugging them into hard little peaks between his thumb and forefinger, rolling them until she's moaning and squirming on his lap, nails digging into his scalp and arching, head tilted back slightly. He made her feel like a virgin, like he knew her body and how to work it better than she did.
He only proved her point when his hand slipped down to cup her crotch, amazingly good and unbelievably dirty and she gasped, pushing into his hand, and he pushed his middle finger against the thin, well-worn denim, zeroing in on her clit exactly. She moaned softly, biting her lip even as he bit her neck, sucking a mark into her skin she'd wear for days.
John's hand came back to the button of her shorts and she slid off him to unbutton them and slide them down. She reached to take off her tank top, but John grabbed her, pulling her forward slightly, so she was standing closer, and slid to the edge of his seat. His mouth covered one of her nipples through the thin cloth of her tank top and she arched, hand going to his hair, throaty moan leaving her. Another shock registered when she felt him rubbing against the crotch of her panties, rumble sounding in his chest at what he found there, probably how wet she'd grown so quickly. He gripped the front of her panties and pulled up, so the cotton bunched at her clit and Jo let out a keen, hips moving, riding against it as he sucked and nibbled on her nipple through her shirt and Christ, she was about to come just from this.
He must've known, though she wasnt sure how, because he let out another soft rumble and started pulling up repeatedly, grinding the bunch against her clit, and she let out a loud cry, back arching as she came on it, clutching his hair. She leaned on him, sweaty and panting, and he supported her like she weighed nothing, a feather, and he also didn't stop, only switched nipples, making her moan and arch again. He pulled again on her panties, and she whined, oversensitive. John chuckled and she felt the vibrations on her nipple an it made her breath catch and bit her lip.
"Sensitive?" She nodded and he hummed, teeth cutting at the hard peak in his mouth through the shirt. "I think you can come again for me."
He pulled on her panties again and it made her jump, hips tilting up so not much pressure was put on her clit, and she whined again, shaking her head. "I-I can't."
"Yes you can. I know you can. Come again for me, sweetheart," he murmured as he pulled back from teasing her nipple to kiss and mouth at her stomach and abdomen, tongue flicking across her navel and fuck if he didn't know exactly which strings to pull.
He hadn't called her sweetheart or babygirl or anything like that since she was little, and to hear it now shocked her back into a memory of being on his lip in the Impala, making car noises as she turned the wheel from side to side, John's chest against her back and his breath in her hair. It shocked her back to being twelve, still dressing in pink and pigtails because that's what her Daddy liked, John behind her, holding her arms, teaching her the right way to aim and breathe when she shot tin cans off the fencepost. She'd gotten every one and he'd grinned and kissed her hair. "Make a fine hunter one day, babygirl," and she'd grinned big and wide, because that's all she'd ever wanted to be, to hunt things and save people like her Daddy, to be a hero like he was, even to her.
The thought nearly brought tears to her eyes, but this really wasn't the time for it, not with John panting on her skin and grinding her bunched up panties against her clit and fuck if she didn't come hard again when he growled and nipped at her side. She was shaking and damp and he chuckled, pulling her shirt off and then pulling her up, up onto the couch on her feet, pulling her till her knees hit the back of the couch and he took the pressure off her clit, pulled her panties aside, and licked and Jesus Christ.
She gripped his hair again, trembling and arching and whining. She was already on the verge again, body well primed within the past few minutes, and John was obviously counting on that as he gave her clit a suck and her vision went white for a moment. Before she could realize his fingers were sliding down her hips, he pushed one into her, finding her g-spot like he knew were it was. He pressed in once, only once, and she was coming again, arching into his mouth and finger and letting out a wail.
Mercifully, John let her recuperate a moment from that one, but he kept his finger in her, tucking his chin against her pubic mound to glance up at her. She felt her legs give and sank down onto his lap, kissing him, licking her wet from his face, and that made him let out a rumble from deep in his chest again and she could practically feel his hard on pulse against her cunt through the layers of jeans and boxers.
She planted her hand over the bulge and he moved it, shaking his head. "One more. Come for me one more time, and I'll let you do whatever you want. Now get back up against me so I can taste your pussy again."
She whined, but did what she was told, rising up to plant her knees against the back like she had before. He licked into her, sucking an licking at her swollen clit, finger working in and out of her, making sloppy sounds as her come trickled down his hand and wrist, and she came again within seconds, trembling and riding against his face and finger.
Finally, she let her legs give out, resting heavily on his lap, and he pulled that finger out, starting to put it into his mouth, but she caught it, closing her mouth around his finger, tongue working to clean him off and he groaned softly as he watched her, pulling off to swallow and lick at the drips of her come. His hands tasted like sweat and coffee and come and she hummed as she licked it off.
She pulled back to kiss him, fingers dropping his hand to go to his belt buckle, beginning to undo it. "Take off your shirt," she murmured, and he did so. she let her eyes travel along his scars, let her tongue travel them too, a knife wound, a bullet wound, ragged bite wound. John groaned softly, hand petting down her hair as she popped open the button on his jeans and pulled down the zipper, fingers curling into the waistband of his jeans and boxers and pulling them down, his thighs.
His erection is thick and leaking, a spot on his boxers soaked through with it, and she hums, begins to lick off the drips of precome like ice cream and its got him groaning softly, a slight shiver working through him, fingers sliding through he hair. She hums again softly, opening her mouth wider, taking him in, and sucking. His cock was thick, already her jaw was hurting from holding it open so wide, but she didn't let him know that, bobbing on his cock, and it went straight to her cunt when he groaned, fisted her hair in his hand, and husked, "Just like that, sweetheart. Fuck, just like that."
She hums and starts bobbing a bit quicker, tongue sliding over his skin, and he groans again before pulling her off. "Stop, stop, or I'll come and then I have to wait to fuck you."
She shivered and kissed him, feeling the tightness in his body. As she kissed him, it slowly drained and he relaxed so she could slide down and give a pulling suck on his cock again before sliding back up to straddle him again, his tip rubbing against the slickness of her cunt and she moaned softly. "I want to suck you off, feel you come in my mouth," she purred, "But I've waited too long for this." She leaned into kiss him and is surprised when he grips her hips and pulls her down, cock sliding into her easily and fuck, he fills her perfectly, rubbing all the right places as he pulls her down still, till she's taken all he can give and he's breathing heavily with the sensation of her tight and wet and hot around him.
She moans throatily, kissing him and nipping at his lips and tongue as her hips shift up and then back down, arms around him. "John," she whimpers softly, and he growls, pushing his hips up into her as he pulled her back down, so every thrust had him bottoming out, and she moaned loud, fingernails digging into his shoulders. "John...yes! Oh god..."
He growls again and grips her hips so tight, she knows they're going to bruise and he thrusts up into her and his eyes glaze over with his approaching orgasm. She slid her fingers through his hair, kissing him again and then she knew from the look in his eyes that he wasn't seeing her. He was seeing a young blonde girl atop his hips, riding him, but it wasn't Jo.
Part of her was hurt beyond belief. But the other part reasoned, she'd curled up with John when he came with news of her father, curled up and cried and pretended he was Bill, called him Daddy through her tears. Maybe this was her payback.
So even though her orgasm stopped sharply there, she continued to ride him, let him have the fantasy, let him believe it was Mary riding him, moaning. To continue it, she twined their fingers together and buried her face in his neck, kissing his skin, both so he could have this fantasy and to hide her tears when he tensed up and came, heat blooming in her that any other time, would've had her coming with him, groaning his wife's name through his teeth.
She stayed where she was for a few long minutes, and his hands traveled her, kissing the side of her neck, and muttering loving gibberish, and that made her tears slip over and she squeezed her eyes shut, forcing her breath to stay normal. It's not like she'd expected him to just forget Mary and fall in love with her or something. She had just hoped he'd had enough desire, enough want, enough fondness, enough something that he could tell the difference, that he wanted to. Finally, she felt him start to calm, hips not jumping or stuttering against her anymore, and she gave his neck one last kiss before standing on shaky legs and she let him believe that it was from being so thoroughly fucked.
She didn't turn to look at him as she walked to the bathroom and shut the door to clean herself up and behind the door, she finally let go, tears sliding full down her face, hand pressed against her mouth to stifle her sobs.
