Control (Kenshaw Ranch Book 4)

by Piper Frost

  Those lips I've fantasized about for years feel like heaven on my skin. My hands fumble with the fucking knot on her bikini top and when I realize it's not budging I growl and rip it off, throwing it to the floor with her shirt.

  “That thing's fuckin' annoying,” I murmur, chuckling when she looks like she wants to stab me.

  “I made that!” she blurts, her eyes drifting to the top before coming back to my chest, then my face. “You're a dick.” Her lips slam to mine and I don't have time to feel guilty that I just ripped something she made. Her mouth is on me, her hands shoving my trunks down. We tumble to the bed with so much noise I'm sure my dad heard us if he's awake.

  “A magical dick,” I say mid-kiss, grinning at her. I shove off the bottoms to her suit and grab her ass. “I fuckin' love your ass, Beany.”

  She laughs, still kissing me. “If I didn't have this for proof, I wouldn't believe you.” Her hand wraps around my dick and her eyes flash to mine as she pauses.

  I don't give her time to back out. It's too fuckin' late now. I rock my hips into her hand and she bites her lip, trying not to grin. Pressing my lips to hers, I move them down her neck, nibbling my way to her tits. I cup them, pushing them together and groan when her grip tightens around me and she starts stroking.

  “Fuck, Affton.” I puff out a breath of air, trying to stop myself from coming in her palm.

  She locks her eyes on mine, stroking me slowly and we're in a stare down until she blurts, “This is just sex!” And smacks her face against mine while trying to kiss me but she just lost her cool.

  I chuckle and lay her back, pushing her hair out of her face. She's fucking beautiful, even this nervous.

  “Hey,” I whisper, hovering over her. Her eyebrows scrunch together and she looks so confused. I slowly trail my fingers down her stomach and stop right before I get to her pussy. “Just sex.” I dip my head and push my lips to hers just as I sink two fingers inside her.

  “Can't we turn the light off?” she whispers, ruining the kiss.

  “No,” I whisper. “I need to see you. I need to see us.” I massage her and she clenches around my fingers, letting out a small moan.

  “It’s so weird,” she quietly says before moaning again.

  “Stop overthinking this, Affton. You're so fucking sexy.” I pull my fingers out and taste them while I lock my eyes on hers.

  She bites her lip, watching me until she reaches over to my nightstand. “Just sex,” she whispers, blindly digging in my drawer until she comes up with a condom. I cock my eyebrow.

  “You looked pretty confident those were in there.” I take it from her, ripping it open and sliding it on, unable to keep my hands off her for too long.

  “Remember last week you lost your butterfly knife? It's in your closet.” She grins. “I go through your room all the time.” Reaching down, her leg wraps over my hip and she pivots upward, trying to sink me inside her.

  I look down at her and have to keep reminding myself this is just sex. Even though it's much more. So much fucking more. I dip my hips and push into her slowly, never breaking eye contact. My hands grip tight, her legs lock around me, and when I start to pull out I feel her tightening up. Holy fuck.

  “God, Beany.” I sigh heavily and push into her again, enjoying the bounce of her tits. “Fuck, you feel good.”

  “Shh.” She kisses me. “Don't say that.” Her eyes close tight and her hands pull at my back. “Just fuck me, Tommy.” She moans loud enough that her eyes go wide and she slaps her hand over her mouth, muffling, “Oh God,” behind it.

  I'm breaking a fucking sweat trying to hold off. She feels too good and even the fact that she's loud during sex doesn't bother me right now. It's hot as fuck. My thrusts speed up, and I push deeper each time I sink into her. She won't let me talk, and honestly I'm not sure if I could get a full sentence out right now. Fucking her like this...hard and fast...hell. It's hell, because I know it's about to come to an end and I never want this to stop.

  I slam my lips to hers, pivoting my hips harder, pushing into her as deep as I can go. She moans into my kiss, scratching at my back.

  “Holy shit, Cindy Palmer was fucking right.” Her eyes roll back as she starts to arch off the bed.

  I smirk, because I fucked Cindy and that just means Affton's been talking about me to someone, but I try not to think about it. Cindy's nothing compared to the woman I'm with right now. Affton's, well, she's everything. And she's fucking perfect.

  “I need you to come on my dick, Beany,” I huff, fighting my own orgasm back with everything short of losing my hard-on.

  “Yeah,” she moans. “Don't stop doing that. Oh god, that! Don't...fuck...don't stop d...” She gasps loud but slaps her hands over her mouth again and looks like she's about to cry before her thighs start to vibrate and she's whimpering, shaking her head no, but I don't think she means stop.

  “Fuck,” I grunt, slamming into her over and over, keeping that perfect rhythm that sends her over the edge.

  I shove her hands down and connect our lips, muffling our cries as my orgasm shreds me right as hers starts. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I wanted that to last so much longer but I’ve wanted this since I realized you can have sex with girls. Being she’s older than me, I always thought this would have happened sooner. I was starting to give up hope.

  I catch my breath finally, shifting up to my knees and wince, remembering the fight tonight but happy I was able to ignore the pain. Because that was heaven. She's breathing heavy, her hands covering her face and all I want to do is recoup and go at it again.

  I slap her ass when I stand from the bed to toss the condom, moving slow because my side's on fire right now. When I crawl back in bed I do it slow but she notices the awkward movement and she cocks an eyebrow before I get the 'mom look'.

  “Tommy, you are so stupid,” she groans. “I forgot about your ribs.” A line creases between her brows and she reaches out to touch the bruise. “You're going to be hurting for a long time.” Worried eyes meet mine and I shrug.

  “I’m fine.” I reach out and pinch her nipple. “I mean, if you'd like to make me not hurt as much you're just going to have to stay here so we can do this again.” I try to act serious but the corners of my lips start to lift at the look on her face.

  She tugs the sheet from under me and stands, hiding herself. Affton wears bikinis, short skirts, and crop tops. Because she should. She's sexy as hell and she knows it. Her acting bashful right now isn't like her and it's starting to annoy me.

  “Hey, could you stop with the covering yourself up please?” I stand quickly and tug the sheet, trying to get it away from her. “I finally got you here and you're not letting me enjoy it.”

  “Lifelong goals, huh?” She rolls her eyes before making sure the sheet is secure around her then walks to my drawer. “God, one of my tits won't even fit into a shirt of yours,” she huffs and glances at me. “I need to dress...and leave.”

  She's lost her goddamn mind.

  “Turn that brain off, Affton.” I bring her face back to mine, my hand on her chin. “You need to get back in bed with me. I'm injured. Standing is hard but I'm not letting you walk out right now.” I yank out a shirt and hold it out to her. “But here. If this makes you feel better you can put it on. Your tits will fit, I promise.”

  “Don't guilt me, Thomas,” she responds snippily while pulling the shirt on, awkwardly maneuvering the sheet and I groan at how annoying she's being. An angry glare locks on me when she gets the shirt down. “What? Why are you so huffy?”

  “The Affton I know doesn't act like this, that's why. My Affton's sexy, smart, and doesn't give a shit. So why now are you suddenly worried what I'm going to think about you?” I pick up the sheet and toss it on the bed. “Now get in bed.” I storm over to it and lie back awkwardly, trying to baby my side.

  “Tommy, I know every girl, or almost every girl you've had sex with. Out of every one I can think of, I'm almost two to three times their size. I love my body,” she claims with a confid
ent expression. Doesn't seem like it right now, but whatever. “But I know I'm not your type, so don't patronize me, K? K.” She pulls her suit bottoms on. “I really do need to leave.” She looks toward my alarm clock.

  “It's not even eleven yet. And if you weren't my type I wouldn't have just done that. I do have some morals, you know.” I could go on for hours about how she’s my type to a T, but in the mood she's in she wouldn't listen to me.

  She laughs loud enough that she quickly covers her mouth. “Shit.” Her wide eyes fly to my door and the sound of my dad moving down the hall makes her gasp.

  He knocks. “Tommy?”

  I yank the comforter over me, panicked when I see my swim trunks on the ground but Affton notices them and kicks them under the bed.

  “Yeah?” I take a deep breath, praying he can't smell the sex in the room because I fucking can. “Sorry, were we being too loud?” I mentally smack myself for that comment. The door opens slowly. God, this could have been real, real awkward.

  “No, I just heard...” He stops and smiles at Affton. “I didn't notice your laugh, Affy. I thought he was sneaking in girls again.”

  Affton’s the only girl allowed in my room because for some reason my dad doesn’t realize I’ve had a boner for my best friend for years.

  “Uh, no girls. Just...me.” She cocks her eyebrow then shakes her head because she just said she wasn't a girl. She's definitely a girl. I know firsthand now and I'll never forget it.

  “You guys need anything? I'm hittin' the hay.” He wipes sleep from his eyes, probably having fallen asleep on the couch.

  “Nope, we're awesome, dad,” I respond, probably too loud. “I mean...we're good. Thanks.” I clear my throat. “Just...nope, we're good. Thank you. We'll try to keep it down.” I clench my teeth because with the look Affton's giving me right now I know I'm in for it when my dad leaves.

  “Night you two.” He waves before closing my door and Affton's head jerks to look at me.

  “Tommy, I need to leave!” Scooping up my trunks, she throws them at my face.

  “No you don't,” I say, laughing. “You need to hang out and not make my dad suspicious. He hears you leave now he'll know we fucked.” I shrug. “He's used to you staying till all hours of the night. So...” I pat the bed. “Climb in and get comfy. We can Netflix and chill.” I smirk at her and toss my swim trunks to the floor again. I'm not letting her leave right now. I know she's freaked out, that much is evident, but I'm not about to let her walk away from tonight with regrets, and that's what's written all over her face. Typically I don't care, but it's different with Affton. I've wanted her for too long for tonight to end up a mistake.

  “You're so lame.” She giggles before walking back to my dresser and pulling out a pair of shorts. She throws them at me and crawls up my bed, but doesn't get close. Reaching over to my nightstand, she grabs a bottle of nail polish that sure as hell ain’t mine so it can only be hers. “Want to paint my toes?” She cocks her eyebrow.

  “Or we could just fuck again,” I answer, taking the bottle from her after pulling on the shorts she practically shoved down my throat. She's going to turn me down, but that's alright for now. Painting her toes isn’t out of the ordinary, and right now it’s strangely perfect. It’ll remind her I’m still her best friend even after what we did.

  “Listen, not that you need to go and get a bigger head than you already have, but...I'm a little sore,” she mutters almost inaudibly, but I can decipher those words. She's sore.

  “That's the fuckin' magic dick, baby.” I duck when she throws a pillow at me, ready for it the minute the words came out of my mouth.

  “Idiot.” She chuckles then wiggles her feet, her eyes staying on them while I try to get comfortable enough to paint her toenails without painting her entire toe. “You're my best friend,” she whispers like she's not so certain anymore.

  “I better be,” I mutter, trying to focus on not making her look like an idiot.

  We do this a lot. Sit in my bed, watch TV, paint her toes. You'd think I'd be better at it after all this practice, but I just don't fucking understand these tiny ass brush things. After I get one toe painted correctly, I smile up at her but she's watching me with a weird look on her face.

  “What? I thought I did a good job!” I boast, motioning toward her one black toenail. “One down, ten more to go.”

  “What!” she shrieks. “I do not have eleven toes!” She yanks her feet away from me and I laugh, trying to grab them again. We go back and forth until she gives in, giggling as she lays back. “When I leave this place, whose toes you gonna paint?”

  My heart drops for a brief moment. She talks so casually about leaving this place and it pisses me off. She's not just leaving this place. She's leaving me.

  “Mine, probably. Not sure I could put up with anyone else's nasty feet like yours,” I joke, letting my hand rest on her shin, drawing small circles with my fingers on her soft skin.

  “God, I hate you.” She laughs. Lifting her head, she looks at me. “You gonna visit me? I'll get your country bumpkin ass out of here one day.” She drops her head again and closes her eyes.

  “Beany,” I whisper, pausing. When I wait long enough, her eyes find mine and my heart breaks. “You know I love it here. I'm not leaving this place.” The words hurt as they come out, but they're the truth. As much as she wants to go, I want to stay.

  That's why I can't have her.

  She sighs. “You're crazy. But that's why I love ya.” She smiles at me. “If I haven't made anything of myself by thirty, I'll come back and beg for a job on your hog farm.” She giggles, wiggling her feet when my fingertips softly run over her skin.

  “Goats,” I say, grinning. “I'm going goats all the way. Have you seen baby goats?” I laugh and sigh. “But seriously. What say you? No husband...no kids. By the time you're thirty-five, if you haven't found what you need out there in the big old world you come back. Enjoy that big city life, then come back to our gravel roads... And come back to me.”

  She quickly sits up, staring at me in confusion. “For what? I won't work on your goat farm.” A smile parts her lips.

  “You could design tiny little goat outfits. I bet the local farmers would buy you out of stock.”

  Laughing, she throws herself at me and wraps her arms around my neck, pulling us to the bed. This is my Affton. This is the girl she was before we had sex and I love this girl.

  “That's really adorable and all, but hell no.”

  “Okay, so what about...me? If by the time you're thirty-five, you haven't found the husband or kids or whatever it is that you probably won't find out there,” I pause when she jabs me. “I'm serious, Affton. We make a pact. If you're not committed to anyone by then, come back. And I'll marry your old, saggy ass, blue haired self.”

  She shoves me. “Tommy, you'll only be a year younger than me, you ass. And some girl's gonna snag you right up. And I ain't a home-wrecker!” Giggling, she rolls to her back and lifts her legs, pointing her toes.

  As fast as my ribs will let me, I shift and push her legs down, then move to straddle her and pin her to the bed.

  “I highly doubt anyone from this town has what it takes, but I won't count them out of the race.” I wink. “Come on, what do ya say?” Her eyes lock on mine and I want to dip my head the few inches it would take to kiss her again but I want to hear her say the words.

  “When I'm thirty-five? And if I'm not married. Ooo, what if I have a kid, but I'm not married?” She cocks her eyebrow and bites her lip to hide her smile until she bursts into laughter. “Will you take me then?”

  “Absolutely,” I whisper, clenching my jaw because the thought of some douche knocking her up and leaving her pisses me off more than I like. Pisses me off, and makes me incredibly jealous. “You could have three kids and a dog for all I care. But like you said, I ain’t a home-wrecker.” I shrug. “Even with this magic dick.”

  She squeals when I wiggle my hips over her and she grabs tight. “Thirty-five,” she
hums. “At thirty-five, if I'm not married, I'll come back here.” She nods, but that's not what I'm asking her for.

  “When you're thirty-five and unmarried, you'll come back here and marry me,” I state. “You ain’t just coming back here, Beany. You're coming back here for me. Plain and simple.”

  She stares at me for a few minutes, and I know her, she's waiting for me to back down. I usually back down to her, but I'm not.

  Lifting her pinky, I quickly hook mine with hers.

  “I have two years of college left, you're not going to get weird and clingy on me now that we porked, are ya?” Her lips partially lift.

  “Naw,” I scoff, not wanting to think about all the other guys. ”But just so you know, we will be doing that again.”

  “Only friends with benefits.” Biting her lip, she cracks and chuckles. “I can live with that for two more years.”

  And that's what happened. We spent the next two years in the best possible scenario either of us could have imagined.

  And then it all went to shit the day I helped her load her car and watched her drive away.

  At twenty-three I had started my own company. Beany Designs. I was a year out of college and a year away from the south. I’d been going strong for twelve months. But being an up and coming fashion designer and blogger in California was like moving to L.A. to become a movie star.

  ***

  “Affton,” the whisper comes from behind me and I lift my head from resting on my hands. I just got a message from Tommy and I’m worried to death for him.

  Spinning in my chair, I make eye contact with my assistant, Courtney.

  “It’s Eamonn Piaget.” Her perfectly shaped brows arch while she holds a tablet against her chest.

  “On the phone?” I glance toward my desk phone.

  Her head shakes no and she frantically points to the tablet pressed to her shirt.

  “On a video chat?” I harshly whisper and her head violently nods.

  My eyes spread so wide, I’m pretty sure I just cracked my winged eyeliner.

  She pulls the tablet away from her body and smiles at the camera. “Mr. Piaget, she’ll be right with you.”