Claiming What Is Mine

by Abby Brooks

  We enter the barn and Gabe stops in front of the ladder leading up to the hayloft. I can’t help smiling as I realize what he’s doing. “Really? What a great idea.”

  “I know we always did this at your place—” Gabe grimaces “—so Jim could keep an eye on us. But I thought it might still be fun. Just the two of us, no parents snooping around, watching the stars come out, like old times.”

  Fond memories mix with excitement and I’m practically beside myself. “Just like old times?” I ask, coyly.

  Confused, Gabe nods his head. I pull my hand from his and race for the ladder. “Last one up is a loser,” I squeal as I pump one leg after the other up the steps, as quickly as I can.

  Gabe reacts faster than I anticipate and makes it to the ladder before my foot is off the third rung. He tickles me as I climb, but doesn’t try to stop me. I wait for him at the top with my hand on my forehead in an L shape. Gabe shakes his head as he climbs off the ladder. “And I’m the one who needed time to grow up?”

  “What’s the matter, la-la-la loser?” I dance and giggle like a girl as I run and Gabe chases me around the loft. When he catches me, he picks me up and swings me around, and then pulls me in to him.

  “This is everything I’ve needed, Doll.” He deposits a kiss at the base of my neck. “Everything my heart knew I was missing.” He kisses my chin and jaw. “Right here in my arms.” He pulls his head back and looks me in the eyes. “You are my everything.”

  My heart melts, my core burns, and I need to be with him. “You talk too much.” I unfasten the buttons on his polo, exposing the top of his well chiseled chest.

  Gabe takes a half-step back towards the ladder. “Why don’t we go back to the house for a while?” he says with a smile.

  I run my fingers through the strands of hair poking out of his collar. “Too far. Can’t wait.” I pull at his belt buckle.

  I don’t know what’s gotten into me, but I am on fire for this man. And I don’t want to wait a second longer to have him.

  “Here?” Gabe looks around the space. “Where?”

  “Wherever,” I say, as lust consumes me. Right now, I don’t care about right or wrong, about making love, about whether someone might disapprove of what I do. Right now, I care about giving myself to the man I love. I care about the desire coursing through us both. It’s palpable. “However. Whatever.” My chest heaves. “Doesn’t matter, I want you. Now.”

  Gabe’s demeanor changes. The glimmer in his eye tells me he understands the urgency of my need. His body straightens, and he lifts my shirt over my head and tosses it onto a nearby bale of hay. He cups my breasts, squeezing them through the bra. “I want you too,” he says with a deep growl. “I want to fuck you.” His touch is hard, and controlling, and exactly what I want.

  His words are catnip to my pussy. “Your dick is so hard,” I moan as his cock strains against my touch through his jeans. I look up at him, breaking the trance his erection has over me. “Fuck me.”

  Gabe slides his hands off my bra, tickling my sides as his hands trace down my body on their way to my jeans. He pulls and tugs at the button and zipper like an animal, until they succumb to his will. He forces the jeans down around my knees. “Take them off.” His voice is curt and commanding. It surprises me to admit it, but this side of him is exciting and it turns me on in a new way. The idea of him taking control. No questions, no conversation, just a man with single-minded focus, in pursuit of what he wants. I step on each heel of my boots to slide my foot free, kicking and pushing my jeans down over my ankles. When I’m finished, I stand in my bra and panties in front of Gabe, exposed and vulnerable.

  “Turn around,” he directs.

  My heart pounds and my blood rushes with exhilaration as I comply with his commands. The thought, however unlikely, that someone could enter the barn below us at any time has my nipples hard, and my pussy dripping wet. This kind of behavior is so far outside of my experience and yet, it is intoxicating.

  “Now the panties.” Gabe steps behind me and places a hand on my shoulder, bending me forward over a bale of hay as I slide my panties off my hips. This is rough and dirty, but it has me so turned on I don’t care about any of that. He takes his free hand and moves the fabric out of his way, then places both hands on my hips. I feel the pressure of him against my slit as he positions himself. “You’re already wet for me?” he asks. “You need this cock inside you, don’t you?”

  “Uh-huh.” I bite my lip. “So bad.”

  Gabe pushes forward, entering me. “Shit woman—you feel so good. Is this what you wanted?”

  His hands on my skin. His cock filling me. “Oh God,” I moan in agreement.

  He fucks me from behind, sometimes leaning forward and biting my back or shoulder, sometimes twisting my hair in his hand and pulling it, and sometimes slapping my ass—whatever pleases him.

  “Yes! Use me,” I beg. “Fuck me.” Sex with Gabe is always amazing. But this? This is new. This is primal and rough and naughty. And I can’t get enough.

  His pace increases, and I can barely contain the orgasm that’s been building. I rub my button as his body crashes into mine, each thrust harder than the one before.

  Beads of sweat run down my face as I look back at him. “Please…tell me…you’re close.” I struggle to speak. “I’m going to come.”

  “I’m close.” Gabe thrusts again and again and I lose myself when I feel him release into me.

  He collapses, resting his head on my back as he struggles to catch his breath.

  “Meredith…” He takes a deep breath and holds it as he pulls his jeans back to his waist. “That was…”

  I attempt to stand on my still very wobbly legs, in order to retrieve my clothes, but my knees falter.

  “Whoa now, tell me what you need, I’ll get it for you.” The kind and considerate Gabe I know is back. I point to my jeans. “Got it,” he says still puffing for air as he fetches them for me.

  After we’ve dressed, we sit cuddled up together in the loft, staring out at the evening sky. Gabe listens quietly as I share whatever thoughts and feelings randomly come to mind. We talk about memories of moments like this when we were teens. I confess my fears and worries about being a mother and how I don’t want to make the same mistakes my parents did.

  All in all, it is a perfect day that transitioned into a perfect evening. Is this what happily ever after feels like?

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Gabe

  “Text me and let me know you made it home safe, okay?”

  “I will.” Meredith stretches onto her tip toes for one last kiss.

  “Sure, you won’t stay a little longer?” I ask before letting go.

  “Gabe, I have to go home eventually…and you probably need to get back to work sometime.”

  “You know if you lived here, then we wouldn’t have to keep saying goodbye like this.” I touch my forehead to hers. “And I could go off to work happy because I’d know you would be here when I walked through the door.”

  “So, you keep saying.” There’s a hint of frustration behind her tone, a clear reminder not to push the issue. She’s standing her ground with her parents, but they have doubled down, pressuring her to stay at home with them until we’re married. Which is some old-fashioned, half-assed, bullshit if you ask me. She’s an adult. She’s been married—and divorced. Not to mention the fact that she’s pregnant with my child for god’s sake. But somehow living together crosses the line of impropriety? Whatever. I do my best to shrug it off, recognizing Meredith is the one caught in the middle, and it’s not going to do any good to push the issue as we’re saying goodbye. It’s just the way things are. For now.

  She smiles, squeezes my hand, and turns for her car.

  I watch her from the doorway, until the taillights disappear down the drive. I bring my fingers to my lips and whistle for Marry. That damn dog—judging by how quickly she appears after I call—I’d swear she was waiting just around the corner. She’s running at top speed when
she comes into view. She barely touches the steps before she flies past me into the house. “What’s gotten into you? Afraid I’d close the door before you got your treats?” I chuckle.

  I ease the door closed and lean back, resting my head against it as I mull the conflicting feelings of satisfaction for my time with Meredith, and sadness for her noticeable absence now. When I look up, Marry stares at me from the couch, her head and front paws draped over the back. “What are you staring at me like that for?” I ask. She watches me like I’m an idiot for standing here alone instead of sitting comfortably beside her (where I could be scratching her belly no doubt). Hell, maybe she’s right. Maybe I am an idiot for standing around sulking about things I can’t change. Maybe I should show a little patience and gratitude, considering I have the woman I love back in my life.

  Wait a second. Who says I can’t change things? Standing around with my hands in my pockets sulking like a baby? Is that really the kind of man I am? God, I hope not. That’s not the kind of man Meredith deserves, that’s for sure.

  I push off from the door and walk to the kitchen, and I can feel Marry’s eyes following me as I do. Thoughts of the pooch transition to thoughts of Christy in the hospital, exhausted from a lack of sleep, concerned only about the handsome newborn she’s rocking in her arms. Then I recall my brother standing by her side, the weight of the world behind his eyes, but none of his worry having anything to do with the ranch. At first, I didn’t understand it. Why he never asked about the livestock, or the ranch, or even the dog. Chet’s not a big talker, which means the vast majority of words that come out of the man’s mouth have something to do with this land. Until that day. There wasn’t so much as a hint of concern about anything beyond that hospital room. And I think I’m beginning to understand why. The only things in the world that matter to my brother, that truly matter, were there with him in that room. I bob my head in silent agreement with the man’s priorities as I open the fridge to grab a beer for me and a piece of bacon for Marry.

  When I close the door, guess who’s standing at my feet, waggling her butt on the floor, eagerly waiting for her treat. “Take it nice,” I remind her. As if on cue, Marry raises up on her hind legs and carefully grasps the bacon between her teeth. “Good girl.” Honestly, I don’t know why I bother to tell her because the moment she gets a scrap of anything in her mouth, all bets are off regarding her manners. She races to the corner of the kitchen and devours her snack as quickly as possible. “I keep trying to tell you…” I shake my head. “You’d probably like it better if you’d slow down long enough to taste it.”

  Watching the dog focus all her energy on that one thing in front of her, as if it’s the only thing that matters, gets me thinking about Meredith. She deserves every bit as much devotion from me as Chet gives his family. That realization leads an uneasy thought back to the surface. A thought I’ve been pushing off for weeks, but for the first time, I feel like I may finally be ready to deal with.

  Meredith said from the beginning that she didn’t move back here to settle down. This might be home to me, but for her, it was supposed to be a stepping stone. A soft place to land while she put the pieces of her life back together. I couldn’t bear to think about it before, because I couldn’t see a solution to the problem. No matter what, every way I looked at it, someone had to give up something important to them. Now I realize, the only thing in the world that means anything to me, is her. I fill a bowl with water and set it on the floor. “Here you go, girl.”

  I swipe my beer from the counter and plop down on the couch. Another thought I’ve been ignoring rises to the top of my mind, though I’ve been working hard to ignore this one much longer. This ranch has been my home for almost a decade. And it always will be, in a way. I grew up playing in this dirt. But when it’s all said and done, this is Chet’s place. We all knew it growing up. Pop groomed him for the job from the time he could saddle a horse. Now he and Christy have a boy of their own to pass it down to. There’s really no questioning that fact.

  I don’t see any other brothers still hanging around, looking for table scraps. They went out into the world and forged their own paths. Jack’s an Army man—and a good one. Frank is a too-smart-for-his-own-good engineer, always using five-dollar words to prove it. Hell, even Hank is finding his thing. God, I’m still pissed at those two about Leo. As for Leo? Well, at least he’s gone. If he never does anything more than that, I’ll take it.

  If I’m being honest with myself, part of me has known this was coming for a while. I had a life of my own, once upon a time. Hard to believe it’s been almost a decade. Back then Colorado Springs was exploding with growth, and I was part of the boom, building a contracting company with a reputation for taking the time to do things the right way. I thought I had only hit the pause button, you know, put that life on hold for a minute, while I came back here to help Chet get his arms around the place after Pop passed. I guess somewhere along the way, being here got comfortable and the idea of leaving just…faded into the background.

  Chet’s words echo in my head. Life isn’t about you anymore, you have other people who are going to be counting on you. You’re going to have to put their needs first. Always.

  Usually, I hate it when he’s right—today is no different. But when his words mix with Meredith’s, it only makes matters worse. I’m just tired of it, you know. Of wanting one thing, but settling for something less, because of someone else.

  Her staying at home with her parents is just one more example of her settling for less than what she wants. To make them happy.

  Frustration surges through me as I clank the empty bottle down on the coffee table. I feel trapped between the life I know and the life I want. A life with Meredith. A life where she is happy.

  Enough is enough. Why should either of us have to compromise our happiness?

  I retrieve a fresh bottle from the kitchen and pick up my laptop before sitting back down. On a whim, I fire off a couple of emails to old acquaintances while surfing the web, hoping the answer will fall into my lap. Which it does, approximately four beers later.

  I sit, staring at the words on the screen in front of me, trying to decide if it’s one of those drunk-genius moments, or if it will still feel right in the morning. I’m so excited I wish I had someone to talk to about it. But Hank’s an idiot, Mom wouldn’t understand my point of view, and Chet’s got enough going on in his own life.

  For most of the night I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling as I look at my plan from every conceivable angle. I want to be sure I’ve worked through every detail before pulling the trigger. Eventually I drag myself out of bed and start a pot of coffee. It’s hours before the alarm, but I haven’t slept anyway, and I can’t lie still a minute longer. By seven I decide I’ve waited long enough to text Mer. Maybe she’s still sleeping, but hell, I’ve been wanting to text her since four.

  Me: Morning Doll. Sorry if I woke you. If you have any plans for today – break em. I want to take you on a road trip.

  A few minutes later she responds.

  Doll: Morning. What are you talking about?

  Me: You’ll see. Just tell me you’re free today.

  I pace the kitchen like a kid on Christmas, impatiently waiting to tear open the wrapping paper that separates him from everything he’s ever wanted.

  Doll: Uh - Okay. I’m still kind of in bed. I haven’t even had coffee yet?

  I tap out a reply as quickly as possible.

  Me: How soon can you be ready? We’ll stop for breakfast on the way.

  Doll: Alright. I’ll be ready by the time you get here.

  In my excitement to get on the road, I almost forget about my morning chores, and the need to inform Chet he’ll be on his own again today. I catch him in the driveway and, it’s no surprise that he’s less than thrilled by the news. But, by eight o’clock I’m in the truck on my way to collect Meredith. Adrenaline courses through my veins as I think about how perfect today is going to be.

  Chapter Twenty-Eightr />
  Meredith

  Ordinarily, I look forward to a wake up a text from Gabe. It’s a great start to my day. This morning though, I’m less enthusiastic. A surprise road trip isn’t at the top of my bucket list and I’m exhausted. But seeing the blue gem sparkling on my finger, reminds me that his last surprise worked out pretty well, so maybe I’m just too tired to be excited. I drag myself out of bed and pop into the shower, hopeful the warm water will be a shot in the arm.

  I shut off the faucet and step out of the shower, doing my best not to yawn as I wrap up in my towel. The ventilation fan lost its battle against the wafts of hot steam hanging heavy in the air. The condensation fogs up the mirror. I clear a face-sized circle in the glass and go about getting myself ready for Gabe.

  I try out a few different hairstyles, searching for one that will cooperate with the mop on my head. My makeup is minimal, the jeans and blouse I choose are uninspiring, but seeing as I’m fighting a queasy belly, have no idea what the day ahead holds, and had approximately an hour to put myself together, I give a small nod of approval to the mirror before shutting off the bathroom light and grabbing my shoes. The notification light on my phone blinks, indicating an unread message.

  Gabe: Five minutes out. Hope you’re ready.

  I check the time. Shit. That was ten minutes ago. Shoes in hand, I race down the hall and look out the kitchen window. Sure enough, his truck is in the driveway. At least he didn’t honk this time.

  My mother looks up from the stove. “Where are you running off to so early? I was just heating up a pan to make you some breakfast.”

  “Sorry Mom. Gabe’s waiting outside to take me on a surprise adventure.” I pause, caught by a feeling of déjà vu. “You wouldn’t know anything about this, would you?” I cross my arms and tap my toe.

  She smiles. “No, dear. I promise, I don’t know anything about this one.” My mother has the worst poker face of anyone ever and, judging by her reaction, I’m inclined to believe her.