The Simple Life

by Tara Sivec

  Chapter 19

  Cheesy Life

  I shouldn’t be this happy.

  After the things Clint and I talked about in town, I should be drinking heavily. He has more baggage than the Ambassador Luggage Store in Midtown. But the thing is, he was honest with me. I thought Stephen was amazing and our relationship was perfect, and look at the shit he failed to tell me?

  And seriously, I don’t think I’ve ever been on a better date. I love that he took me into town and we did something simple and not over-the-top. The idea of driving over an hour away and going to a fancy restaurant or a club with Clint just doesn’t feel right. He’s a simple guy, and I love that about him.

  Shit. I just thought about Clint and the word “love” in the same sentence.

  Sure, I was in love with him as a teenager, but that was kid stuff and I had no idea what that word really meant back then. How is it possible I’m falling so fast for a guy that I haven’t spoken to in twelve years? All that time apart and being with him again makes it feel like I never left. I never felt like I belonged in White Timber when this was my permanent home. Why in the hell do I feel so comfortable here now? Is it because I’m older, and wiser? Or is it because I’m finally letting myself stop thinking there’s got to be something better than this small town? I left. I thought I’d found all that “better.” I spent twelve years building friendships and a life that, looking back on now, never truly made me happy. I always felt like something was missing. Now I’m starting to realize that maybe everything I was missing was right here where I left it.

  “Are your eyes closed? You better not be peeking, Manning,” Clint warns me.

  After we left town, I was more than a little giddy when he started heading in the direction of the farm. Thoughts of all the different places we could have sex here started flying through my brain, until I was pretty sure it would short circuit. My head was like a twenty-four-hour farm porn channel. You know, minus all the livestock.

  “Don’t get your panties in a bunch, Hastings. My eyes are closed,” I quip.

  With his hands resting heavily on my shoulders, he walks behind me, guiding me to wherever we’re going. He made me close my eyes as soon as we got out of his truck, and the only thing I know is that we’re heading in the direction of the store.

  Mmmmm, store sex.

  After a few more feet, he finally pulls me to a stop and tells me to open my eyes.

  I have to say, I expected to open them and maybe see that he transformed his office into a Fifty Shades type set up. Not that I’m into the whole whips and chains thing, but the image of me bent over Clint’s desk with a paddle in his hand makes my skin tingle, and all the blood in my body rushes south.

  Instead of a secret sex den, I see that a small space behind the store has been converted into an outdoor theater area. Against the back wall of the store, there’s a giant, beige outdoor cushion the size of a twin mattress resting against it, covered in different earth-toned pillows, with a chocolate brown throw blanket folded neatly at the bottom of it. Next to the mattress is a small, maple side table, with a huge bowl of popcorn on it, a bottle of wine chilling in a bucket, and two wine glasses. The huge, freestanding movie screen is about fifteen feet away from the end of the cushion. Strands of white Christmas lights have been strung in the branches of all the trees surrounding the area. And there are a handful of lanterns with candles in them sitting in the grass in random places.

  “Oh my God,” I whisper. “This is amazing.”

  And it really is. It’s sweet, and cozy, and the fact that Clint set this all up for me almost makes me want to cry.

  “It’s not too cheesy? I set up everything before I picked you up earlier, and Mrs. Sherwood brought out the popcorn and wine and lit the candles when I sent her a text that we were on our way.”

  I turn around and find him sliding one of his hands through his hair, biting his bottom lip, and looking unsure of himself. It’s just so fucking adorable I almost can’t stand it. He’s always so damn cocky that seeing him nervous makes my heart flutter.

  “It’s totally cheesy. But in the absolute best possible way. What movie are we watching?” I ask excitedly, as he grabs my hand and pulls me over to the cushion.

  We both flop down on top of it, propping ourselves up against the pillows and crossing our legs straight out in front of us.

  Clint leans over me to reach for something, and when his shoulder slides against the front of my body as he goes, I’m overwhelmed by how good he smells. I want to run my nose against the side of his neck that is right in front of my mouth. I want to lean forward and kiss the spot right behind his ear. Before I can find the courage to do one of those things, he pulls back and gets comfortable against the pillows again, his shoulder pressed right up next to mine.

  I realize he leaned over me to turn on the movie projector, when all of a sudden, music starts playing and the screen lights up. I immediately recognize the opening credits song, and I start bouncing up and down in excitement on the cushion.

  “Clint Hastings! Did you seriously just put on Mean Girls?”

  “I’m going to regret this decision of trying to suck up to you with one of your favorite movies from high school, aren’t I?” he asks with a deep sigh.

  “Boo, you whore! There is nothing to regret about this decision,” I inform him, quoting one of my favorite lines from the movie.

  This movie came out when Ember and I were in tenth grade, and Clint was a senior. I’m pretty sure we watched it every single time I came over. Which was every day. Back then, the Hastings only had one television and it was in the living room. Clint would lose his shit when we would try to kick him out so we could watch it. He would always refuse to leave the room, which just made quoting the entire moving while it played that much more satisfying.

  Sliding his arm around my shoulders, he tugs me back toward him until I’m snuggled into his side. Every part of us is touching from my shoulder tucked under his arm, to our hips pressed together, and my bare legs resting against his jean-covered ones. Once again, I’m completely overwhelmed with how good he smells and the heat from his body that surrounds me.

  Clint reaches his free arm out, grabs the bowl of popcorn, and places it in his lap. When the opening scene starts, I dip my hand in the bowl and toss a few pieces in my mouth as he does the same.

  As much as we joked about that whole sex betting pool when we were in town, and how much he turned me on when he made the comment about me not having an orgasm without him, he seems pretty relaxed and comfortable now. It’s like he’s not even thinking about sex. Or me. Or sex with me.

  If Cunty Clint doesn’t take Cookie Brookie to Pound Town soon, I’m going to lose my fucking mind.

  Maybe my breath stinks and it completely turned him off. Turning my head away from him, I discretely cover my hand over my mouth and breathe heavily.

  Nope. All good. It just smells like popcorn now. And popcorn is fucking delicious.

  Maybe my entire body stinks. That would definitely be a mood killer if I suddenly started smelling like garbage. Stretching my arm that isn’t pressed against his side above my head, I quietly smell my armpits.

  All good there. I still smell like the cotton candy lotion and body spray I’ve been using since I was a teenager.

  “You okay over there?” Clint asks with a touch of humor in his voice.

  “I’m fine. Perfectly fine. Just stretching and getting comfortable. It’s a little chilly out here,” I ramble.

  “You want me to grab the blanket?”

  “No!” I shout a little too loudly. “I mean. No, thank you. I’m fine. It’s fine. Everything is fine.”

  Blankets go on beds. People go on beds under the blankets. People have sex on beds under the blankets. For shit’s sake, stop thinking about sex!

  Curled up so close to this man, when all I want to do is shove the bowl of popcorn out of the way, climb on his lap, and rub myself against him, I concentrate on the movie and start mouthing the wor
ds under my breath, hoping I’ll be distracted by this theatrical masterpiece enough to calm the hell down.

  “Are you going to be annoying and quote this entire movie?” he asks quietly after a few minutes of my mumbling.

  “Is butter a carb?” I respond, quoting the movie, naturally.

  “I don’t even understand what that means.”

  “You are a disgrace, Clint. An absolute disgrace.” I sigh, resting my head on his chest.

  Chapter 20

  CLINT

  Boner Life

  I’m a pretty confident guy for the most part. Becoming a father at a young age, being the only responsible and loving parent to my girls for their entire lives, running my family’s farm, and having the respect and friendship of everyone in town has made me into a man who doesn’t shy away from things and takes charge of situations.

  Sitting here next to Brooklyn, with her warm body pressed up next to mine, has reverted me back to the teenage boy who blushed every time he saw a pair of tits on television and got sweaty palms just talking to a girl.

  My dick was hard as soon as we sat down on this cushion and I could smell her cotton candy scent. I had to put the bowl of popcorn over my fucking crotch just so it wouldn’t be sticking up in the air shouting, “Touch me! For the love of Christ, touch me!”

  It isn’t helping matters that at some point during the first hour of the movie, she shifted more onto her side, draped her arm over my stomach, and her smooth, bare legs became tangled with mine. I’m trying to pretend like I’m completely cool and relaxed. My arm is still wrapped loosely around her, and my other arm is tucked behind my head. I am anything but cool and relaxed. It’s taking all my willpower not to flip her over onto her back and push my hips between her thighs.

  That God damn sex pool has messed with my head. I don’t want Brooklyn to think I don’t want her. I want her more than I want my next fucking breath. But I want to take this slow. She’s already been pushed enough with her knowing I’ve always had a thing for her, the whole town placing bets on us, and opening up about our pasts. That’s a lot of heavy shit all at one time. I thought sitting outside and watching a stupid teen movie I hate would be a nice, cold bucket of ice water over my head, but it’s done the exact opposite.

  Every inch of her body is touching me. I can smell her. I can feel her tits pressing against my side with every breath she takes, and I want to rip the buttons all the way down the front of her dress and wrap my mouth around one of her nipples.

  Fuck. Don’t think about her nipples. Don’t think about her nipples!

  It’s probably a trick of the light, but I swear the goddamn bowl of popcorn twitches a little when my dick swells inside my jeans.

  “You want some more wine?” I ask quietly.

  I don’t really want to roll away from her to grab the bottle and pour her another glass, but at this point, if she breathes again, I’m going to come in my pants like a teenaged boy during puberty.

  Brooklyn tilts her face up toward mine, and since I’m looking down at her, our mouths are so close that all I’d have to do is angle my neck the tiniest bit and I could taste her.

  “I already finished the bottle,” she says with a smile. “I may or may not be a little buzzed.”

  Fuck. Me.

  Her eyes look a little glazed, and they’re completely focused on my mouth when she talks.

  “I could go inside and get us more popcorn.”

  Her eyes are still staring at my lips, and she gives her head a slight shake.

  “I don’t want popcorn,” she whispers.

  I know she can feel my heart thundering in my chest, since her cheek is pressed right up against it. I should probably be embarrassed by it, but I’m too busy watching her tongue dart out and slowly slide between her lips.

  “Do you want popcorn?” she asks, her eyes finally moving up to mine.

  “Nope. I’m good. I’ve had enough popcorn.”

  Jesus Christ, stop talking about popcorn!

  There’s an annoying teenaged girl who just got hit by a bus on the screen behind Brooklyn’s head, and I should probably be cheering since she was a bitch throughout this entire dumb movie, but Brooklyn is still staring at me, neither one of us saying a word. Her eyes move back and forth between my mouth and my eyes, and right when I decide taking it slow is bullshit, she lifts her chin and presses her lips to mine.

  The kiss starts off slow, but as soon as she opens her mouth for me and our tongues slide against each other, it’s like someone pressed fast-forward on us.

  Brooklyn kicks the popcorn bowl off my lap with her knee, I sit up and drag her over on top of me so she’s straddling my lap, and she wraps her arms around my shoulders and pulls me against her. I plunge my tongue deeper into her mouth as her hands grab onto the back of my head, sliding my palms up her bare thighs and under the hem of her dress. When I get to her hips and feel a thin scrap of lace under my hands, knowing she’s been wearing a fucking thong under this dress all night, I clutch tightly to her hips and yank her body down to settle right against my cock, straining against the material of my jeans.

  She moans into my mouth and rocks her hips against me, and I swear to Christ I see stars behind my eyes. I can feel the heat radiating from between her thighs right against me, and I have never been so super aware of my dick or how goddamn constricting jeans are. My balls are so tight they feel like they’re going to explode if she slides against me one more time, and I’m thinking it would be a great way to die.

  Moving my hands from her hips, I slide them around under her dress until I’m holding her bare ass in my hands. I squeeze it in my palms and pull her against me harder, helping her rock back and forth.

  She’s making little whimpering sounds as I suck her tongue into my mouth, and it’s like a shot of electricity right to my dick. It pulses inside my pants with each thrust of her hips against me, and I know I’m going to embarrass myself and come in my boxer briefs in no time at all.

  I had so many teenaged fantasies about Brooklyn dry humping me that it was probably unhealthy. Every time I was forced to be in the living room when she was over watching a movie, I never paid attention to the movie. I spent the entire time staring at Brooklyn, picturing her getting up from the chair across the room, sauntering over to me, and climbing onto my lap. I jerked off so many times after she went home that I’m surprised my dick didn’t fall off.

  Not one of those fantasies was anything like reality.

  Jesus, she feels so perfect on top of me.

  Everything about this moment is going to be seared into my brain forever. Her moans of pleasure, the smell of her skin, her hot little mouth kissing the hell out of me, and the wetness I can feel through my jeans with each jerky movement of her against me.

  Her thighs tighten against either side of my hips, and she suddenly pulls her mouth away from mine and keeps it hovering close to my lips. I’m breaking out in a sweat, and she’s panting against my mouth as I dig my fingers into her ass harder and move her faster.

  “Fuck… fucking hell,” she whispers.

  Hearing her curse like that, knowing this is affecting her as much as me, makes my balls tighten even more, and I know I’m not going to be able to stop my release from happening.

  I quickly remove one hand from her ass, clutch a handful of her hair at the back of her neck into my fist, and tug her head back. Moving my head forward, I wrap my lips around the smooth skin of her neck, gently biting down.

  As soon as my teeth make contact, she jerks roughly against me, the sound of her moaning my name as she comes like music to my ears, and my dick.

  “Clint… fuck… oh my God…!”

  With my hand still wrapped tightly around a fistful of her hair, I bite down harder against her neck, thrusting my hips up between her thighs as she continues to rock against me. The pressure in my cock builds and builds, throbbing and pulsing each time she grinds her body down.

  I hear her whisper my name again, and that’s all it takes for
me to come harder than I have in fucking years, if ever. It’s my turn to moan as my release jets out of me, the pleasure so explosive I’m afraid I might pass out.

  A few seconds later, I collapse back against the mound of pillows behind me. With my arms still wrapped tightly around Brooklyn, I bring her down with me until she’s sprawled on top of my body, both of us breathing heavily.

  Fucking hell. I just gave Brooklyn Manning an orgasm. And she returned the favor.

  I’d almost wonder if I were dreaming, but the mess inside my pants tells me otherwise. It needs to be dealt with, but there is no way I’m moving out from under her anytime soon. She tucks her head under my chin and against my neck, burrowing as close to me as she can get, and I tighten my arms around her as I stare up at the stars shining above.

  What exactly does one say to the woman he’s been hung up on for years, after they dry humped for the first time?

  “Was it good for you?”

  “Sorry if you can feel my jizz soaking through my jeans. I know, it’s disgusting. It can’t be helped.”

  “What are you thinking right now? What are you feeling? Tell me all your hopes and dreams.”

  Jesus Christ, I’m not a chick! I can’t ask her that!

  But seriously, what is she feeling? Is she weirded out? Is she uncomfortable? Is this awkward for her?

  Brooklyn suddenly lifts her head, placing her hands on my chest and resting her chin on top of them.

  “You know what this means, right?” she asks with a smile.

  It means you’re falling for me and never want to leave?

  “Poor Shannon doesn’t get her industrial stove.”

  I can’t help but laugh. Not exactly what I was looking for, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

  Chapter 21

  Pantry Life

  It’s the weekend of the reopening of Hastings Farm to the public, and when I woke up this morning, I couldn’t wait to get out there. The Hastingses have celebrated this weekend for as long as I can remember, but it was always a small affair. Most of the town would stop by, Mrs. Hastings would make a bunch of food and set it up on a tablecloth-covered cafeteria table by the house, and Ember and I were given our usual job of handing out candy to all the kids who came with their parents. Even though the pumpkins aren’t quite ready to be harvested yet, the store is open with everything in there available for purchase. The Hastingses always opened the farm before the pumpkins were ready, because they felt like having everyone here showing love and support helped make the pumpkins grow big and healthy, and would give them luck for a good season.