by Hagen, Casey
“Okay, y’all. You know the classics. Let’s work up an appetite. What do you say?” Beau called out. With a few flicks, the song came to a stop, and “The Electric Slide” started.
Staff members slid cable spool tables back, giving the crowd space, and Emory, well, she zeroed in on a shy woman off to the side, leaned in to speak quietly to her, and in a matter of seconds, put an arm around her shoulders and led her to the opening.
“She knows how to wrap someone around her finger, doesn’t she?” Graham said, smiling at Emory.
“Every single time.”
Taking it slow, she guided the woman she’d pulled out onto the makeshift dance floor. Counting out the steps, she held the woman’s hand and focused her attention only on her, like they were in their own private bubble, with no one watching.
The lady bloomed under the attention with time through the steps, until it wasn’t just counting and foot movements anymore, but enjoyment judging by the way her head and shoulders joined in and the smile reaching her eyes.
Emory zeroed in on the woman’s insecurity, and in true Emory form, she swooped in with patience, kindness, and did everything in her power to replace vulnerability with confidence.
And tonight, she just happened to do it in a cock-stirring sundress, the skirt too short and the neck too low. A dress hiding nothing, yet everything all at the same time.
“Curves never looked the same on other women as they do her.”
Graham barked out a hard laugh. “Oh, you’ve got it bad, man. Wow.”
“Fuck yeah, I do.”
“She’s good. All effort, even when there’s nothing in it for her,” Graham said quietly. “If you break her, I’ll do everything in my power to make you pay for it.”
I turned my fuck you stare on him and said nothing.
“Just so you know,” he said, gesturing with his beer.
“Emory doesn’t break.” Despite the words, the fear in the pit of my stomach flared.
Graham shot me a dark look. “Anyone can break. Even her,” Graham said quietly. “Hit after hit, she becomes a conduit for the pain, and when it’s done pummeling her, she taps into the deep well of perseverance, digs her fingers in the dirt, and claws her way back to her feet with an unmatched force of will. She’s one of the best I’ve ever seen at comebacks, but don’t assume her resilience is endless.”
I lifted my chin even as his words battered the wasteland inside me. I didn’t make a sound and kept my gaze straight ahead while every one of Graham’s words hit me in my most vulnerable places, sending dread surfing on a wave of adrenaline coursing through me.
“There aren’t many women in the world like Emory.” Graham’s gaze zeroed in on Soraya and a smile tugged at his mouth. “And one less since I married one of them. Think about that.”
All effort, even when there’s nothing in it for her.
I knocked back three more gulps of my beer to flush the bile trying to creep into the back of my throat.
Was I going to be more of the same? I hoped like hell I wouldn’t, but my past, secrets, self-doubt—yeah, history told another unflattering story.
I wanted to believe I could be different. That I could white-knuckle my way through my tainted instincts and finally find the right way through conflict. I knew how. The Air Force drilled analytical and problem-solving skills into each of us until they became second nature. In the strict military environment, I knew the steps and effortlessly followed them.
Out here, in a world full of emotion and uncertainty with people I cared about hanging in the balance, every last tool I’d been given courtesy of the US government abandoned me.
The disconnect of the past and present left me adrift. When push came to shove and it all fell apart, who would become collateral damage.
A country-rap song took over, a beat that even had me tapping my foot. The guests stood in rows behind Emory and Beau, watching them move through the steps, a dance they’d both clearly done hundreds of times before, but seemed new to about everyone else.
The edge of Emory’s dress grazed over her thighs as she stomped out the beat, sliding left, then right, before a two-step and spin. Holding hands, Emory and Beau led the crew through the move again and on the next spin, Beau dropped his cowboy hat on her head and dipped her.
Watching everyone, men and women both, fall a little in love with her, I wondered how the hell I hadn’t managed to lose her after all these years.
How many more chances would I get to fuck up before some guy would swoop in with all the right words, all the right moves, sweeping her right off her feet and out of my life for good?
I refuse to be one more disaster she has to claw her way back from.
Now, I just had to convince myself.
* * *
Finishing the touches on the last picture, I held it out, tipped my head as I looked it over, and smiled.
Before I left tomorrow, I’d give my sketches to Dustin and Sierra. What they did with my ideas was completely up to them.
I flipped the sketch book closed and dropped it on the blanket next to me, tossing my second favorite pencil on top.
Thanks, javelina from hell.
The party raged on in the distance outside of the cocoon of the sunflower field. Laughter, the hum of conversation, and the occasional cheer punctuated the air as the sun slipped lower on the horizon, shooting pink streaks across the darkening blue sky.
Laying my palms on the blanket behind me, I leaned back, closed my eyes, and burned this moment to memory. The lingering hint of barbecue smoke in the air, the happy sounds, the light warm breeze lifting stray pieces of hair framing my face, and—I opened my eyes and smiled—Falcon.
“Hey,” he said, stepping off the narrow path worn into the dirt leading to the clearing. An open wine bottle hung casually from his long fingers, the bottom tapping his jean-clad leg with every step.
“Hi.” His lazy smile made my heart soar, leaving me breathless. I patted the blanket next to me.
He’d been watching me all night. No matter what I did, no matter who I was with, his eyes tracked my every move, his hot gaze washing over me, promising tonight there would be no hiding. Give and take, we’d dive into the deep end.
“Mmmm, you can do better than that,” he said, circling behind me, his finger trailing over my bare shoulders, eliciting shivers along my skin in the wake of his fingertips.
Settling in against my back, he wrapped an arm around my waist, tugged me between his spread legs, and held up the bottle. “Thirsty?”
“I am.” His hand lingered over mine as I slipped the wine from his grip and tipped it back to my lips. The hint of crisp pear exploded on my tongue while Falcon’s warm mouth started its assault on my sensitive skin along the soft spot where my shoulder met my neck.
I swallowed and tipped my head, giving him even more access. Wedging the bottle between my thighs, I reached back and buried my fingers in his hair and closed my eyes, letting my senses consume me.
How many times did I fantasize about this? In my early teens, chaste stolen kisses under the sunset played in a constant loop through my imagination.
A little older, my body woke up and my curiosity led me to experiment with touch and fantasy; those imaginary kisses became deeper, more insistent. The way I envisioned him holding me, with a hint of thrilling desperation, kept me awake at night while my hands cruised over my own skin, discovering how I liked to be touched and what it took to drive me out of my mind.
My innocent crush morphed and changed. The more I understood his life, the battles he fought alone, the more I understood how brave he had to be to face my family over and over, even as the look in his eye gave us a firm warning not to pity him.
He grew up in a brutal tug of war between the betrayal of his parents and loyalty of mine, both sides battling for possession of the boy he was and the man he’d eventually become.
I wonder who won…
Or if the war was even over.
I wanted to think
so, but our path had never been easy. I’d be wary if it were any other way.
But tonight with his hands possessing me, his lips marking me, and his heart racing against my back, I didn’t care.
I’d be the loyalty going toe to toe with betrayal one more time.
He wanted me, all of me. In the movies, this is where the woman succumbed because she wasn’t strong enough to resist anymore.
The movies got it wrong.
Succumbing took strength.
I conceded to the risk.
I surrendered to us.
“Did you finish your sketches?” he murmured just below my ear.
“I did,” I said as my eyes rolled back in my head as heat spread through me. The fingers laying along my stomach drew lazy circles over my dress. With each glide, his middle finger caught the buttons, tugging the fabric, making the skirt climb higher on my thighs.
“So you’re all mine tonight?”
“I am,” I murmured.
He growled low in the throat, his arm tightening around me even as his fingers continued to play. The sound vibrated down my spine and set off a throbbing ache between my legs.
“Do these buttons really open all the way down or are they just for show to fuck with my head?”
“They unbutton,” I said, swallowing hard. “All the way down.”
“Good. That’s real good.” His raw voice scraped from his throat washing over me. Walking his fingertips over my bare skin, he reached between my legs to the wine bottle. When his fingers curled over the condensation collecting on the side, droplets gathered and broke free, running down the thick glass and coating the inside of my thigh.
My chest rose and fell with my jagged gasps, my body coming alive, the electricity we made coursing through me. My ears burned as a flush spread over my skin.
I held on as his free hand glided up to my hair, tugging my face around to face his.
Hot, dark, hungry eyes locked on mine as he tipped the bottle back, his mouth hugging the lip while his throat rolled with every deep swallow.
Wild, sinful, a whole lot sexy, with his every move my nerves danced, my mind raced, and my stomach did a slow somersault, knocking the wind right out of me.
He slid the bottle right between my legs again, only this time, he jerked it higher until the damn glass met now-wet lace barely concealing hot flesh.
He grunted, giving the wine one more quick tug, nestling it as close to me as he could, drawing a ragged groan from between my parted lips from the delicious pressure against the exact right spot.
“Keep it right there, sweetheart.”
Fuck teenage fantasies. If giving them all up was the one road leading us here, under this fiery sky, our skin damp, our breath mingling while our eyes told each other everything we wanted to do, to feel—then I’m glad not a single fantasy came to fruition.
The pain led us here, and I could stay here forever.
“It’ll get hot,” I said, my voice thick, arousal robbing me of coherent thought.
He reached up and popped the first button of my dress. “I’m counting on it.”
My nipples drew tight, aching to be touched…tasted.
Dragging my mouth under his, he kissed the breath clean out of my lungs. His tongue possessed all of me, seducing mine in a dance, leaving me hot and needy and whimpering in his arms.
Button two popped and I grew wetter.
Button three popped and my thighs squeezed the wine bottle so tight I wondered how it didn’t shatter.
Button four popped and exposed me right to the top of my lace bikinis. With one expert flick and twist of the front clasp of my bra, he bared my breasts.
Rough hands stroked over my fevered skin, cupping, squeezing, driving me out of my overheated mind as he touched everywhere except where I needed him the most.
He teased and taunted me, until I stretched, my back bowing, leaning my breasts into his still palms, a jagged groan tearing from my throat, my pride at my feet as I prepared to beg for more.
The let his hands fall always and laughed in my ear as he denied me.
Laughed.
Two could play that game.
In the cradle of his arms, I let him go. With one hard jerk of the bottle against my clit, I hissed and reached for my nipple.
He stiffened and out of the corner of my eye I spied his intense gaze raking over me as I grazed and tugged my stiff peak while my hips rocked against the bottle jammed tight to the heart of me.
“Em—God…if you could see you the way I see you right now.”
His rough words held as much power as if they were his hands possessing me. The pressure mounted, his voice echoing in my head fueled me until I threw my head back against his shoulder. My hips grew more demanding, seeking, fighting for release, and my hand lavished attention on my other nipple, setting off a new sensation shooting straight through me.
“Keep going, sweetheart,” he murmured next to my ear, his hands stroking my thighs, his cock grinding against my back.
Every kiss, every stolen glance, every forbidden touch we ever shared tumbled through my mind as I throbbed like an exposed nerve.
Flames erupted over my skin in the wake of his touch along the inside of my quivering thighs.
More, just—a little bit—his hand found my throat—he squeezed, tilting my head back impossibly far, my swallow crushing against his palm as he pinned me there.
Fire and ice raced up my spine, my muscles locked deliciously hard, the tension only bringing me higher before the crest broke and slick heat flooded me, soaking my underwear.
Gasping, sweat broke out over my skin, and my chest heaved as I struggled to suck in air.
A low cry escaped as my body continued to pulse with each receding wave of pleasure.
He wrapped his arm around me and I clung to it.
To him.
To this moment.
“Wine’s hot,” I said, my voice raspy and thick with sated pleasure.
His deep rumble brought a smile to my lips.
He cleared his throat. “I don’t know why you gave yourself to me like that, but—”
“Because I love you,” I said quietly.
I waited for him to stiffen behind me again, this time because he railed against spoken words for the feelings I carried, but he only hugged me tighter, the heavy pounding of his heart taking off at a full gallop.
I tugged his arms free, tossed the wine bottle into the dirt, and got on my knees between his legs, my hand going straight to his belt.
I needed to be closer. I needed to feel him pulsing inside me. I had to look in his eyes as we connected in the most primal way two people could.
Cupping the back of my neck he pulled me in for a bruising kiss, pleasure, pain, and punishment in the hard glide of his lips over mine.
Love hurt him. It always had. It sliced him to the core every time his parents betrayed their duty.
Love turned to sheer agony when he’d found his refuge in our home only to have stupid mistakes strip it all away.
I didn’t want to rewrite our story.
He was right…I wanted to give our story a happily ever after.
Any words we might have said in the moment died on our lips as he helped me shed his jeans.
Settling my hands on his shoulders, I lowered myself onto his lap, straddling him.
His fingers made quick work of the last three buttons of my dress and dipped along the bikinis I’d forgotten to take off in my eagerness to get closer.
“The same ones from Rigby’s?” he asked as he stared down at the lace.
“Yes,” I whispered.
He tore away at the edge on one hip and then the other, tossing the shredded fabric onto his discarded jeans.
I smiled down at him as I trailed my thumb over the glistening head of his cock. His fingertips flexed on me and his jaw clenched tight.
As the sun continued to slide away, darkness moved in from behind us. With the lights from the party glowing a good distance away, t
he twilight embraced us as I rose up and lowered myself, inch by inch onto his steely length.
I welcomed the delicious stretch and pinch as he filled me and then some.
His hands splayed over my back, pulling me in, his mouth roaming over my breasts, leaving a trail of kisses dotting my skin.
When his warm tongue found my nipple, I squeezed him tight. His hips thrust up, and a sound caught somewhere between a sigh and moan broke free from his throat.
That’s right…let yourself lose control. Come with me.
Cupping his hands under my ass, he rolled my hips away before slamming in hard and deep, making me shudder low in my belly.
That’s it.
As much as I loved his mouth on my breasts, I needed to look in his eyes. I needed to breathe him in. Taking his face in my hands, I tilted his face up to mine as he continued to set the pace.
“There you are, lost boy,” I whispered as I smoothed my fingers over his temples and watched all the Falcons of my past collide with the Falcon of my present.
His lips parted on a surprised gasp. Before my very eyes I watched as he struggled to escape the shadows.
Fighting to join me in the light.
Tender touches, soft kisses, and languid caresses ruled the night. Each moan and shudder soothed old wounds on our bruised and neglected hearts.
And when the heat and need took over, Falcon flipped me onto my back and slowed us down, his curious mouth setting off a wild hunger making me twist and thrash away from the sexy assault he began from the inside of my ankles, all the way to my collarbone.
Chest heaving, his mouth damp, he dragged his thumb over my bottom lip. He took my mouth with a raw, unapologetic kiss designed to seduce. With one swift thrust, he buried himself deep, stretching me in a new and delicious way. Swallowing my helpless cries, he drove into me relentlessly, his hips growing erratic and hungry.
Stroking over my skin in time with his thrusts, he kept me suspended on the edge of pleasure.
When I didn’t think I could take any more, when I struggled to breathe and my skin became so sensitized, his touch bordered on pain, he delivered three hard, furious thrusts, and pleasure splintered inside me again, but this time he came with me. He held on with the same desperation, his wild sounds full of submission and acceptance as he let go.