by Mj Fields
Cowboy Up
Garrett
Jesus, what the fuck am I doing?
I turn my back to her.
“You have no right to be pissed at me!”
I spin around and look at her when she yells that at me.
“You!” A burst of air escapes her mouth as tears flow down her face like a fucking river. “You had everything. You and your family have more than anything I could have imagined. You could have asked for help! For you, for me, for Brandon! You’re a fraud! A fake! What were you doing? Slumming! Did you get off on helping a poor, abused girl because you saw a fucking documentary on the underprivileged and needed a charity!”
“You have got to be fucking kidding me. You fucking took more from them in six fucking years than I did my entire life! I hate what money does to people. You fucking have no clue, no clue what I have lived.”
“Oh, poor Garrett wasn’t the shining star that Gage was,” she taunts.
“You shut your fucking mouth!” I snap at her.
“Why? Why should I? Look at me, Garrett.”
I turn my back to her.
“Look at me!” She stomps around in front of me. “I trusted you! I trusted you with everything about me!”
“Probably should have told your husband about the fucking rape. He’d have been a hell of a guy then.”
She covers her mouth, and her body visibly trembles. “You didn’t.”
“Was pretty damn sure you’d have used that in your favor.”
“I hate you.” She balls her fists up and starts pounding them against my chest over and over as she repeats how she hates me. “He didn’t know! How could you? He’ll use it against me! I hate you.”
I let her hit me. I let her because it feels fucking good to be touched by her. I let her because I deserve it. I let her because I understand. I let her because it’s...her.
Her strikes lessen and weaken, yet her tears continue. Her cries become less angry and more hurt, and I can’t fucking stand it.
I grab her around the waist and throw her over my shoulder before storming into the bedroom, the one that was my parents.
She scratches my back and screams, “Let me go!”
I drop her on the bed, and she scurries up toward the headboard. Then I throw the covers back and climb onto the bed, following her.
“Don’t you think you’ve done enough?” she cries. “Don’t you think that forcing me to drop to my knees was enough?”
I don’t say a fucking word, not one, because saying, “you wanted it just as much,” would be fucking wrong. Instead, I grab her and pull her toward me. She tries to get away, and I end up with her back against my chest.
I lie down on my side and hold her like I used to. When she stops trying to pull away, I hold her tighter.
Once she calms the hell down, once I have calmed the fuck down, I whisper against her hair, “I’m sorry.”
Her body quivers against mine. “How could you?”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper again, pressing my lips against her head and leaving them there.
“I’ll never forgive you.” Her words are harsh, but her body’s tension releases a little more.
“I’m sorry.”
“Just shut up. Just shut up and let me go.” Her words contradict her movement as she presses further against me.
“Never.”
I hold her, and she lies completely relaxed against me. I grow tired, so fucking tired, but I don’t close my eyes. Instead, I watch her chest rise and fall slower and slower. Then I reach over and take her hand, linking it in mine. She allows it; even holds it to her chest.
As I feel her warm breath against my skin, content that she’s not going anywhere, I finally close my eyes.
When I wake up, she’s gone.
***
It’s not even five-thirty in the morning when I walk my ass into the house, walk up the stairs, make my way to Brand’s room, and open the door. I see her holding him, his back to her chest, and even though she’s asleep, I can tell her arms are tight around him. Protectively so.
I walk quietly toward them, pulling out my phone and taking a picture before tapping her on the shoulder.
Her eyes flutter open, and when she sees me, she looks incredibly sad.
I nod toward the door, telling her I need to talk to her, and she holds up a finger, telling me to give her a minute.
Turning around, I walk down the stairs and into the kitchen to make coffee.
When she comes down, she’s fresh from a shower, and I have to focus really fucking hard on not getting...hard.
“It’s early, Garrett,” she remarks, looking away from me.
I pour two cups of coffee and set one down next to where I’m planning to sit. “It is.” I walk around and sit next to her, saying, “You left,” before taking a sip of my coffee.
“Yes, I did. Brandon...” She pauses. “Brand likes me to read him stories.”
“Horse stories.” I nod. “He told me.”
Her face heats up nice and pink, and it hits me. She knew I was out west, and now she’s embarrassed over the horse thing. I feel a smile starting to creep up.
“He likes horses,” she defends herself.
I give a slow raise of the chin.
“He does.” She gets up and goes to the fridge, pulling out a carton of vanilla creamer, and then shakes it. “Dammit.” She pours what little bit there is left into her cup and takes a drink. She scrunches up her face, just like I have seen Brand do.
Stepping way the fuck out of my comfort zone, I break the silence.
“I slept good last night.”
She looks over her cup at me with absolutely no expression and says nothing.
“The face you just made when you took a drink of that coffee, I’ve seen Brand make it. The one you’re wearing now, that’s all Gail.”
“Is it? Is that what it is, Garrett, or is it that I feel like I’m seventeen years old again and am being forced to shut my mouth to survive?”
Her words are fucking knock the wind out of me.
“Is it that everyone knows about what I did? The only thing I knew to do for that beautiful little boy, and I am judged by everyone around here for wanting him to be okay. And now”—her voice cracks—”now they know where I came from. They didn’t think I deserved my son to begin with, but now they know I don’t.”
“Juli—”
“No. You don’t get to come back here and have everyone dote on you, while they hate on me. And my son—our son—he sees it. He does, and he...” She stops and shakes her head.
“Didn’t tell him specifics. Just that you had it bad. As far as Brandon goes, I’m not gonna show you anything but respect in front of—”
“Really?” She shakes her head again. “What you showed me the first night here, was that respect?”
I shake my head. “That was something we both wanted.”
“You’re delusional,” she snaps. “Just like last night. You slept good, did you? Well, I only stayed because I felt trapped.”
“Bullshit, Juliana. You stayed because it felt good. You stayed because you needed me to make you feel safe—”
“Safe or stuck?”
“Great question. Why not answer it?” I take a drink.
“You crushed me when you left. You crushed me. Last night, knowing Gage knows, knowing she knows, that is unforgivable.”
“He isn’t going to tell any—”
“How the hell do you know?” she hisses.
I look at her. “I know.”
“Don’t just—”
“I fucking know, okay? I fucking know.” I stand up and push the stool out, tipping it over. I turn around and pick it back up before walking out.
I can’t fucking breathe. My chest is tight. My hands are shaking. I need fucking air.
I swing open the door to the back deck then close it behind me, trying to take in a deep breath. Fucking can’t. Can’t fucking breathe.
I hear the door open and shut be
hind me.
“You don’t get to walk away from me anymore.” She shoves me. “You don’t!”
“Juliana,” I say, still not able to catch a breath.
“You told me last night. You told me...” She’s in front of me now. Those eyes, those fucking light brown eyes, pleading, desperate, fucking scared. “Garrett?”
I hold up a finger and try to turn away, not wanting her to see me having a fucking head trip like I did for so many years, but she grabs my hand and pulls me over to a chair.
“Sit.”
I do.
“Head down,” she says, squatting in front me. “Now.”
I close my fucking eyes. “I’m fine.”
She begins humming a tune as she runs her fingernails over my scalp softly, slowly, as she continues to hum.
I know the fucking song; I just can’t figure it out. I listen closely as she continues humming and massaging my scalp.
“Take a breath,” she whispers then starts the song all over again.
By the third time she starts to hum, I feel relaxed enough to take a breath and look up.
“Better?”
I nod slowly, looking into much different eyes, but so damn familiar.
“Brand used to have mini, little panic attacks,” she says, still squatting as she hugs her knees. “Whenever Gage and I were around each other.” She lifts her head and sets her chin on her knees.
“What song was that?” I ask
“Rolling Stones,” she answers, standing, and shrugs. “Don’t remember the words or the name of the song. It’s just soothing.”
“He had panic attacks?”
She shrugs again. “Not a hundred percent sure, but I did read about them in a parenting magazine, so I tried to get him to focus on something other than the tension.” She turns and looks at the lake, staring at it. “Garrett?”
“Yeah?”
“What happened in there?”
I don’t want to tell her. I won’t tell her.
“My family may have money, Juliana, but that doesn’t mean bad shit didn’t happen. When I tell you that Gage isn’t gonna judge you, accept it. If not, it’ll rip you apart and destroy every fucking thing good in our life.”
She turns and looks at me. “Who hurt you?”
“Doesn’t matter. That pain was nothing compared to the hurt I caused myself for six fucking years. The hurt I caused you, my family, and the hurt it’s gonna cause Brandon.”
“Who hurt you?” she asks again.
I shake my head. “Not up for discussion.”
“No? But mine is?”
“He was pissing me off. He knows my shit, so I told him that, if he can forgive me, he better do the same for you.”
“That’s why you resented him back then?”
I shrug. “I was young.”
I put my hand on my chest when it starts to feel tight again.
“You need to talk to someone about it,” she tells me. “You knowing helped me.”
“I don’t need to talk about shit. No one is gonna put their hands on me.” I half-laugh.
Her phone squawks, and she pulls it out of her pocket to look at it. Then she hits the button to silence it.
“That your man?” I ask, annoyed.
She looks away. “He’s none of your business.”
“Brand doesn’t like him; makes him my business.” I stand up.
She sighs. “Don’t do that to me.”
“Just layin’ down some rules, Juliana.” I turn to walk the fuck away.
“Rules? Who says you get to make rules?”
“We get that shit dealt with before Brand knows about me. I will not be daddy fucking three, you hear me?”
“That’s not your choice.”
“No?” I turn around and look at her.
She puts her hands on her hips. “No.”
“Wrong,” I tell her. “And he doesn’t get you, either.”
“What?” she gasps.
“You’re still in love with me,” I tell her straight.
“Can your ego get any more inflated?” She laughs at me.
“Who fucks better, me or him?”
“You seriously have issues,” she says, pushing past me.
“No issues. Just fucking confident that I left a fucking mark, and that he’ll never be missed.”
“No one ever forgets their first,” she snaps at me from over her shoulder.
I grab her and pull her back hard against me. “Fucking right, they don’t.”
I wrap my arm around her waist and push her hair to the side. Then I lean in and lick up her neck before pulling her ear lightly with my teeth.
“Don’t,” she pants out.
“Tell me you fucking missed me,” I demand, walking us toward the bathroom.
“Garrett.” My name is a purr, not a protest.
I push open the door then shut it behind us.
“I live with someone. Don’t make me any more of a cheater than you already have.”
I look in the mirror at our reflections.
“Say that like you mean it,” I demand, running my hand up the front of her, between her tits, up her neck, gripping her chin and turning her head back to look at me. “Tell me you don’t want me.”
Her eyes close, and I fucking kiss her.
Six years have not passed; nothing has changed.
She opens her mouth to me and turns her sexy as fuck body around, tangling her hands in my hair. I thrust my tongue into her open mouth, and she makes the same fucking moan she did the first time I kissed her.
I cup her ass and lift her, and she immediately wraps her legs around my waist, and I immediately want to fucking come.
I pull back and look her in the eyes. When she starts to bow her head, I press my forehead against hers, stopping her.
“Tell me to stop.”
Before she has a chance to say a word, I bite her lip and pull it out, causing her to open again. Then I kiss her harder this time, thrusting my tongue deeper, rubbing it up and down hers roughly, needy.
I set her on the counter, kissing her, pushing her back farther as I slide my fingers into the waistband of her yoga pants. I run my finger along the lace of her panties, before hooking them and pulling them down. Then I grab her around the back and lift her, pulling them down past that ass, the one that’s round and sexy, still kissing her.
As I pull away again, she starts shaking her head.
“I can’t. I can’t be that girl. I’ve done a million things wrong—”
I drop to my knees and pull one leg free of her pants and underwear before burying my face between her legs. I lick between her smooth, wet lips, spreading her.
“Ahh...Ahh...” she moans.
I suck on her swollen center, and she whimpers.
I look up at her, watching her fall apart in a way I have never caused her to before.
She looks down, biting her lip.
“Spread wider for me. I want to see your pink pussy as I make you come.”
“Garrett...” She closes her eyes.
“Tell me no.” I spread her. “Fucking beautiful. Your pussy is fucking beautiful. I want you to coat my fucking beard. I want to taste you on me all fucking day.”
I lick her deeply, hard, and suck her clit. Her legs tremble.
“Fucking love the taste of my pussy, Juliana. And this pussy is mine. No motherfucker should have ever had it besides me. No motherfucker ever will again.”
I lick and suck, paying attention to what move makes her squirm, cry, tremble, and thrust the most.
Licking deeply, tasting her delicious taste. Sucking furiously, fucking feasting on her cunt. I can’t get enough.
She rubs her pussy against my face.
“Fuck yes,” I groan as she wraps her legs around my back and pulls me closer.
I push my face against her harder, and she whimpers. I suck harder on her clit, and she cries out. Then I throw a finger inside her fucking tight, little snatch wildly as I continue flicking and
sucking, flicking and sucking her clit until her cunt contracts, squeezing my finger, and she falls the fuck apart.
Chapter Fifteen
Owned
Juliana
Now I’m the one trying to catch my breath. I lie back, panting, trying to be pissed at him, at me, at this situation, but he’s kissing me—my thighs, between my legs—as he kneads into my flesh.
He’s groaning like he’s getting some sort of satisfaction out of going down on me, an act that now, for the life of me, I don’t know why I have never let a man do.
His pussy, he said. I don’t know if I agreed that it was his, but if I did, I can blame it on the orgasm, the best orgasm I have ever experienced, with any man, including him, in my entire life.
He sucks hard on my thigh; one then the other. He does the same on each hip, then right above my opening where I am bare. Then he goes back and runs his tongue up and down outside of me slowly. Then he’s back to sucking on each thigh, each hip, and across my belly before he stands.
“Open your eyes, Juliana. Look at the mess you’ve made of my beard, my hair.”
I look up as he’s looking at his reflection, his body between my still spread legs
“Fucking breakfast of champs is goddamn right.” He smirks before bending down and pressing his lips hard against mine. His lips vibrate against mine as he says, “I’m eating that every fucking morning.”
I sigh, and he opens his eyes.
“What?”
“You don’t listen. I told you I have—”
“Me. You have me back.” His eyes narrow as he searches mine. “Say something.”
“I live with—”
“Move the fuck out,” he demands.
“It’s my house,” I tell him.
“Sell the fucking thing,” he says it as if it’s no big deal.
“It’s not that easy. It’s not. And Garrett, how can you expect me to trust in you, in us?”
He steps back and looks at me as if I have slapped him.
“Six years,” I say, pushing myself up and off the counter.
“Six years of hell, and it’s fucking over. I’m back. I want my fucking family.” He’s still looking at me like he’s shocked. “You want that, too.”
“Your family is back. You and your brothers, you and Mags, you and your mother.” I pause. “And soon Brandon will know.”