“Trace,” she says, hesitantly inching closer, as if she’s not sure she’s welcome. I open my arms and she falls right into them. “We’re not as different as you think we are. Come home with me.” Wait, what?
I must look as baffled as I feel because she looks up into my eyes, saying, “I want you to meet my dad. I checked our schedules and we both have off tonight. It’s not much time, but at least we can get away from it all and you can see where I’m from. But if you’d rather not, I under—“
“No, I want to,” I answer, not hesitating now that the air is clear between us. “That sounds great actually. When do we leave?”
“As soon as you’re ready,” she says, and after a few more minutes where I “introduced” Taryn to my folks, I was.
***
Cal hooked us up after promises that I would go straight to Taryn’s dad’s ranch and then meet up with the tour in Dallas afterward, without so much as getting out of the car to get gas in between. Like hell I’m going to let Taryn pump gas while I sit in the car like a lazy motherfucker.
We are barely going to have twenty-four hours together, but I plan on making the most of it. I just hope her dad doesn’t chase me from here to yonder with a shotgun or that would seriously put a dent in my plans. I’ve decided I’m tired of fucking around. Yeah, I thought I knew that before, but after pushing Taryn away and then seeing the photo of her with someone else, I really knew it. Doesn’t matter if it’s guitar boy or any other asshole, I don’t want to see anyone with my girl.
And I’m actually glad I did see that picture because, sorry to say, I might not have believed her if I hadn’t. Not only could I detect the adoration in country boy’s eyes, but I also clearly saw that there was no reciprocity on her part—it just wasn’t there. When she told me that she chose me and not him, well, that’s all I needed to know. So I plan on using our time together wisely…cementing my way into her heart and mind the way she has mine. And I’d be lying if I didn’t say I want to spend some time cementing our bodies together too. Damn, I’ve missed her.
So here I am driving this piece of shit car that Cal dug up for us so we could “blend in,” and after agreeing to not listen to rap or country, we settle on an alt-rock radio station. After singing along happily to a few of the songs, “Demons” by Imagine Dragons comes on and she quickly changes it. What the fuck’s that about? I don’t listen to this kind of music and even I like that song. She lands on an R&B station still piping out of Houston and Drake’s “Hold on, we’re going home” starts to play. My man can write and sing like nobody’s business and I begin singing along, grabbing a hold of Taryn’s hand so she knows that the words are meant for her. When I get to the part about how I know what a good girl she is, she quickly yanks her hand out of mine and turns the dial. “Sorry, not a fan,” she says but I can tell that’s not it. Her hands have started fidgeting in her lap and one of her legs is bouncing up and down. Plus, I’d swear I remember her saying that Drake was one of the few rappers she’s listened to and this isn’t even rap.
Apparently, she does like Top 40 because she stops when she hears Lady Gaga & R. Kelly’s “Do what u want.” I try not to hate because edited versions of my songs end up on these stations all the time, but I can’t say they’re my favorite. However, I might just change my mind, listening to Taryn sing about doing what I want with her body, especially since what she’s currently doing to mine is rubbing the palm of her hand on my dick.
“Fuck, Taryn, you know I’m driving, right?” She leans in and begins licking her way up my neck to my ear, whispering, “I know. I also know that you can control the car and I’ll control this.” With those words, she begins unbuttoning and unzipping my fly, which is a relief since I was about to bust right out of there anyway. Wasting no time at all, she releases my cock, and flinging her sunglasses off, her mouth immediately wraps around it. “Oh, sweet mother of—oh shit, oh Taryn, oh baby…” I don’t even know what I’m saying because it’s all I can do to keep my hands on the wheel and the car between the lines…hell, I’m not even doing a very good job at that. Thank God this is a one-lane road or anybody driving next to us would see exactly what she’s doing to me. And what she’s doing is giving me the best damn blow job of my life. She begins to slow down and lick her way up and down my shaft, which feels amazing, but now that I’ve felt how deep she can take me, I want more of that. I raise my hips slightly and hold onto her hair gently with one hand, causing her to moan as she begins to pump up and down again—oh, fuck yeah. I vaguely hear the song on the radio end and Taryn slaps the button, shutting it off, and now all I can hear are the sounds of her chroming my dome.
“Uh, Tar—babe, I’m gonna blow,” I warn, but she only sucks harder and takes me deeper. “Fuuuuuck,” I hiss and then let it all out. And damn if she doesn’t take it all in. Taryn may be an expert at avoiding whatever it is she’s hiding, but she’s also a master in the art of pleasing her man.
***
Forty-five minutes later we pull up outside a gate and Taryn immediately jumps out of the car, unlatches whatever is holding those iron bars together, and pulls one side open, gesturing for me to pass through. After locking it up again, she hops in with a huge smile on her face, closes the door, and sits on the edge of her seat, obviously keyed up about being home. I’d be a jackass if I didn’t admit that I’m a little nervous about meeting her dad, even if it doesn’t seem as if he’s very involved in her life. Not to mention, she is a grownup now, but then again, that doesn’t stop her witch of a mom from running her life. Speaking of….
“How the hell did you get away from your…um, team?” I question carefully, not wanting to raise her hackles again about her mother.
“You mean my mom?” she asks with a smirk. “All I had to do was tell her I was going to see Dad—problem solved.”
“I take it they’re not on friendly terms then?”
“No, not at all,” she says, a wistful expression crossing her face. But before she can explain further, we’ve pulled up to a modest-sized, ranch-style home. I’ll be damned…it is a ranch. Not too far behind the house is a barn, all red and everything. And behind that is land as far as the eye can see. It’s strange—I may have grown up in Texas, but I definitely didn’t grow up in this part of Texas. So if Taryn is trying to prove how alike we are by bringing me here, she must have misunderstood where I grew up. I may not have lived in the ghetto in Texas, but it sure wasn’t any place like this either.
Taryn’s out of the car again in a flash, her excitement palpable. She runs over and grabs a hold of my hand, pulling me toward the barn—guess Pops isn’t sitting around watching soap operas all day. As he emerges from the barn and strides toward us, I see that Taryn’s dad looks to be about the same age as her mom, though the closer he gets, the more I can see the numerous lines in his face, indicating years spent outdoors. I’d say it’s the Texas sun, but I’ve seen my fair share of leathery beach bums in southern California so I guess it doesn’t matter where you are—the sun doesn’t have geographic boundaries.
“Taralyn,” he says, pulling her into a tight hug. She holds him close for a minute and then backs away, reaching out to take my hand. Her dad cocks his eyebrow but I don’t see any of the judgment I expected when I look him in the eyes.
“Dad, this is Aster Manning,” she says and both of my eyebrows shoot up. Girl just whipped out my real name and I’m not sure what to think about that. “You may know him as Trace.”
“Nice to meet you, sir,” I say, giving him a firm handshake. I won’t kiss his ass, but it can’t hurt to be polite to Papa Bear.
“Likewise. You can call me, Everett. And what should I call you?”
“Trace is good. Aster is my given name,” I explain.
“Which it turns out was given in Houston,” Taryn chimes in.
“You’re from Texas?” he asks, sounding surprised.
“Yes sir, originally I am. But it’s the first time I’ve been in this part of Texas. It’s really nice…and q
uiet,” I add.
He chuckles, saying, “Yup, it’s definitely quiet, which is just how I like it. None of that city life for me. Speaking of which, if you guys want to wash the grime off of you, it’s a perfect day for a dip in the pond. I’ve got some stuff to take care of around here, but I’ll bet you’d like some time without your old man around anyway.” He winks at Taryn before adding, “Why don’t we meet back up for dinner, alright?”
“Sounds good, Dad, thanks. Missed you,” she says, giving him another hug. I grab the few bags we brought, trailing behind her into the house. When I start to follow Taryn into one of the back bedrooms, she abruptly stops, saying, “Woah there, cowboy. My dad’s cool and all, but you do want to keep your stallion status, don’t you?”
I drop the bags and back her up against the wall, caging her in, leaning in until my mouth is right at the outer shell of her ear. “After that car trip, darlin’, this stallion thinks it’s time for a ride.”
She starts shaking and I lean back to see that she’s laughing. “Are you makin’ fun of my accent again?” I ask, running one of my hands down her side and resting it on her hip.
“No,” she says, obviously trying to contain her laughter, “it’s just that that’s exactly what we’re about to do.”
I look at her questioningly and now she’s laughing out loud. “We’re going to ride to the pond. You know….horses?” Oh, hell no.
“Sweetheart, you ain’t never seen my black ass on a horse and you’re not about to start now. We can take the car, right? I’ll even let you drive since you know the way,” I offer.
“’Arrogance is the cowboy that talks, confidence is the cowboy that shows’…ever heard that expression?” she asks, goading me.
Grabbing her tight ass and grinding my hard-as-hell cock up against her, I say, “We both know I’m no cowboy, but I’m about to show you something alright.”
She gives me a quick kiss on the lips and says, “You can show me whatever you want…after we ride.” That promise of future pleasure has me so mindfucked that Taryn manages to wiggle her way out of my arms and through the bedroom door before I can even think straight.
After I use the restroom, I head outside, where I spot Taryn standing near the barn door with her dad. I can tell by their gestures that the conversation they’re having is intense. Although I can’t hear what her dad is saying, I damn sure don’t miss the look on her face when he says it. Shock, sadness, and if I’m not mistaken, some anger and guilt cloud her flawless features, and I want to kiss every one of those emotions off her face. Not now though; we’ve got to get away from Pops first.
“Since Taryn says you haven’t ridden before, she thought you might be better off with her on ol’ Scooby here,” he says as I approach, drawing my eyes away from her and toward him.
“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.” For a number of reasons, I think.
Taryn hops up without hesitation, and I figure I’d better do the same here pretty quick before I look like a pussy in front of Pops. Or before “Scooby” decides he doesn’t want me on his back and kicks my ass all the way back to Houston. I move toward the massive beast, hold on to the part jutting out of the front of the saddle, put my foot in the stirrup, and swing up behind Taryn, before placing my other foot in the other stirrup. Not too bad, if I do say so myself.
“Trace?” she asks, humor clear in her voice.
“Yeah, Peaches?”
She turns and I see a beautiful blush covering her cheeks…oops, I should probably cut it with the nicknames in front of Pops. “You might have to take your feet out of the stirrups so I can get us going.”
“Aw shit, you’re right—I’m definitely out of my element here,” I admit, removing my feet so Taryn can put hers in.
“At least you own it and don’t try to pretend. I like that,” he says, handing me a backpack which I slip on, loosening the straps as I go. “‘Cowgirls lead, cowboys follow’…you just remember that, son, and you’ll be alright. Now giddyup.”
With that, we ride off into the sunset—not really, but it sure as hell sounds like something you’d do on a horse. Once I get acclimated to the feel of the creature moving beneath me, I wrap my arms tight around Taryn’s waist and, leaning close to her ear, ask, “Scooby, huh?”
I feel her laugh against my chest. “Yeah, I always wanted a dog and never got one so I named my horse after a dog instead.”
“Now that you mention it, that is kind of strange that your dad’s a rancher and there are no dogs running around.”
She sighs, “Yeah, dad got his heart broken as a kid, Old Yeller-style, and never got over it. I’m afraid the same thing’s going to happen because of my mom.”
“I never did ask what went down with them—beyond the obvious,” I say, kissing her on the cheek and hoping she doesn’t get pissed that I just implied her mom is a bitch.
We continue to ride along at a nice slow pace before she says, “My mom and dad were high-school sweethearts. She got pregnant with me and was kind of pushed by her parents into marrying my dad. I don’t think they were unhappy…well, he wasn’t anyway…but my mom always wanted to be a star, and being the center of my dad’s world wasn’t enough. Ironic, isn’t it, that my dad’s last name is Starr?” she laughs humorlessly.
I don’t think she’s looking for an answer so I don’t give her one. Plus, I know there’s more to this story. An expert at evasion, Taryn points out the pond where we’re heading and says, “Hold on, we’re gonna trot!” Holy shit—I may not have thought about having kids, but it’d be nice to know I could have them if I wanted to. Fortunately, the torture to my nutsack only lasts a few minutes, and when we arrive, I immediately ease off the brutal beast, rubbing myself.
Taryn climbs down after me and it’s more than obvious she’s trying not to laugh. She reaches out her hand as if to massage my black-and-blue balls, but I swat her hand away in mock displeasure. “Oh no, you don’t get to touch. I think you did that on purpose, in fact.” To be honest, I’d let her touch, but then I’d have to fuck her right here in front of God and Scooby, and we’ve got some more talking to do first.
She gives me a pouty look, takes the backpack from me, and begins to spread out a blanket on the soft grass, which ‘ol Scooby is munching away on like it’s his last meal. Taryn flops down while I ease my way onto the blanket. She’s smirking, probably trying to figure out how she can weasel her way into making me feel better, but I wipe the smile off instantly with my words.
“Alright, Peaches. You wanna tell me what you and your dad were talking about earlier, and before that, what got you all out of sorts while we were in the car? Oh, and while you’re at it, why don’t you finish telling me what happened with your folks?”
Tears fill her eyes instantaneously. Shit, I don’t want to be a dick, and I sure as hell didn’t mean to make her cry, but I do think I need to know what’s going on. The more I’ve thought about it, the more I’ve begun to realize that I don’t really know any more about her past than she knew about mine. Now’s the time to get it all out in the open, and there isn’t any place on earth more wide open than this place. No paparazzi, no fans, no crews…just me and my country girl and this last secret between the two of us.
“Trace, just like you, there are things in my past I’ve tried to hide. Apparently, my demons aren’t staying in hell where they belong though.” Ah, the song in the car…got it now. She begins to cry and I do the only thing I can—hold her as close to me as I can get without us being naked. And now is definitely not the time for that. After she seems to get it all out, Taryn takes a deep, shaky breath and tells me what I’m on pins and needles waiting to hear.
“When I was seventeen, I was still trying to go to school while building my reputation as a singer. Guys hadn’t really taken notice of me until then, and one in particular asked me out…Weston,” she says with a slight shiver. Oh shit, looks like I’m gonna have to kick some redneck’s ass while I’m in town.
“We dated some, and bein
g the stupid, naïve teenager that I was, I was surprised somehow when I found out I was pregnant—like that couldn’t happen to me, only other people,” she laments, shaking her head. Fuck, I don’t know if I want hear anymore. Regardless, I asked and she continues, “When my mom found out…well, you can only imagine her reaction.” Now I’m the one shivering. That woman would tell the Devil where he could stick his pitchfork and laugh when he did it.
Taryn begins crying uncontrollably again and she doesn’t even have to tell me—I know exactly where this story is heading. “She…she said I’d worked too hard…we’d worked too hard to throw it all away and stay here in this ‘one-horse town’. She told me that Wes didn’t want me, he wanted my fame…which was true, by the way, but I didn’t find that out until after the fact. She said that once that was gone, he would be too. She marched me straight over to the clinic and—“
Taryn can’t continue because she’s crying so hard and my heart breaks for her—literally fucking breaks. Even though I don’t know what to say, I do know what I can do. I squeeze her tight and rub her back the way she probably wasn’t held then and needed to be. She cries until she can’t cry anymore and I just continue to hold her while I wait.
After a few sniffles, she says, “Mom booked our tickets and we left a week later for Los Angeles. Most country-western musicians get their start in Nashville, but she said she didn’t want to go from ‘one hick town to another’ and Backlash had just begun signing country artists shortly before that.” Huh, I didn’t even think about why she was in LA, but before I can contemplate it further, Taryn continues, “My dad said it was a long time coming and didn’t fight it, but I still feel responsible for their marriage ending. Like my career was more important than them being together…us being a family.”
Collaboration (Backlash) Page 20