The Stars in the Sky (Giving You ... #2)

by Leslie McAdam

  I didn't notice where we were going until we pulled up to a restaurant in Buellton, a small town near the ranch.

  "Pea Soup Andersen's?" I asked, incredulously. A kitschy traveler's mecca, it had been here for decades, and advertised by signs with a couple of cartoon mascots who were splitting peas for split pea soup. Will gave Trixie water from a bottle and tied her to the side so she wouldn't go anywhere while we were eating.

  "The soup's vegan.” And he gave me a look, kind of triumphant for having already thought of it himself.

  Ohmigod. He could really be sweet.

  We walked through the tacky tourist shop and made our way to the old school diner in the back.

  Consistent with the theme, the hostess was attired in a pseudo-traditional, Danish outfit. She seated us at a dark, naugahyde booth, old fashioned water glasses were placed on our fake wood table, and we ordered—me, soup and beer, him, pot roast and beer.

  While Will was not a chatterbox by any stretch of the imagination, he was interactive, attentive, and polite, and I relaxed into a fun date. We ate, we talked, we laughed. Will paid, and we left the restaurant, giving Trixie attention before we headed back to the ranch in the truck.

  Well, it was a fun date until he made an asinine comment, as we pulled in the compound, about the upcoming Presidential election, showing that he liked what a potential candidate—and coincidentally, a complete idiot—was saying.

  And then he revealed that he voted for Bush. Twice.

  Excuse me? How could he?

  There was no way that anyone sane would agree with this candidate and no way that I could be with someone who voted for Bush.

  It was a litmus test and Will failed.

  What was I doing with this guy?

  I was letting down the cause. I was an idiot for thinking that I could do this.

  Had I been blinded by his body?

  Clearly. We were such polar opposites. This wasn't going to work.

  "I can't believe you would listen to anything that moron says," I snapped. "He's the worst thing ever for our country," and I stalked out of the truck. He let Trixie out and walked over to me and looked at me. "You believe in all the wrong things."

  "I could say the same thing about you," he said sharply, with amusement under the edge in his voice.

  I looked up at him, masculine and beautiful in the moonlight. And I was pissed. We had such a good date. But now I’d come back to reality and he was still the guy who called me names with whom I'd never see eye to eye. Finally, I spoke. "I don't know what we're doing. We shouldn't date. We don't have anything in common." Even though I knew it was true, saying it hurt for some reason.

  "Oh no? I think we do—" he started to say, but I interrupted.

  "Just don't talk to me," I snapped, and started to walk back to my room. "I don't want this to go any further. We're never going to get past it. I'm never going to agree with you on basic stuff that matters to me and that matters to you, so why should we bother?"

  He hustled in front of me and stood there, blocking me, stopping my progress, holding up his hand, eyes on mine.

  "We talked about this, Marie," he said in his low voice. "You're not gonna agree with me on a lot of things, and I'm not gonna agree with you. So what? Take it out on me," he invited, lifting his chin with his half-grin.

  I paused, exasperated. "I'm not going to hit you, Will, even though you deserve it for voting for that imbecile and thinking the way you do. I'm a nonviolent tree hugger, remember?"

  "That's not what I'm talking about," he rumbled, his eyes boring into me, his burly presence overshadowing me. He paused. Then he continued. "This is the part where we have angry sex."

  Reverse Cowgirl

  "ISN'T IT WEIRD TO do this position the first time we fuck?" I moaned.

  "Nope," he panted. "Just do it."

  To back up.

  At Will's words outside, I decided that, yes, I needed angry sex and I needed it right fucking now. I needed to get laid. I was going to take out my frustrations with him being an asshole Republican, and an asshole generally, directly on him. Now. Almost before he finished his sentence, I whirled around and ran to his house, him hot on my heels. He had his keys in his hand by the time we were at front door, unlocking it quickly, pushing me in, and slamming the door shut.

  Immediately, I got to work, unbuttoning his shirt, fumbling with his belt buckle, reaching for the button fly of his jeans, trying to do this all at once and kiss him at the same time and getting nowhere.

  "How the fuck does this work?" I yelled, during the time I was trying to unhook his I-am-a-cowboy-so-I-must-wear-a-dinner-plate belt buckle, not at all trying to keep my voice down. He was going to learn that I'm a very loud fuck. He took pity on me and whipped his partially-unbuttoned shirt over his head, somehow got his belt and belt buckle off, and started unbuttoning his pants. At this, I noticed something. No waistband of his underwear.

  Holy shit, Will went commando.

  Before he got his pants unbuttoned more than two or three buttons, however, he leaned over and pulled off his boots and threw them on the ground. I heard them hit the floor with a clump, and then another clump. Meanwhile, I reached for the hem of my dress, sailing it over my head so I was only wearing my navy blue satin thong, a matching bra, and my espadrilles, which had flat, dark blue ribbons criss-crossing up my ankles. He took a step back, stared at me, taking my long-legged body in, as I panted, staring at him, equally taking in his epic body, since by now he was only wearing halfway-unbuttoned jeans and clean white socks. Fuck, he was stunning. We both breathed in and out for a moment, just looking at each other, not touching.

  Then.

  "C'mon," he grunted, and pulled me to the stairs, holding my hand, letting go once we got there.

  Not even taking the time to look at my surroundings any better than I had the first time, other than noticing that it was a very old house, I ran up the creaky wooden staircase after him, breathing hard—for a variety of reasons—by the time I got up to the top.

  Apparently I'd taken too long getting up there because he hoisted me up over his shoulder in a fireman's carry, jogged down the hall with me shrieking, went into a room, and threw me down on a bed.

  And then his big, warm body was on top of mine, his lips on mine, his cock hard through his jeans, and all of this feeling like it belonged there.

  But still, I wanted to be on top.

  Our kisses were like we were battling with each other for who was going to prevail, and there was quite a bit of wrestling for position going on. Given his muscles, I figured that he was holding back, because, finally, I wriggled and pushed until I was straddling him, him looking up at me, eyes wild, wavy hair mussed, breathing hard.

  I'd no idea what I looked like and I didn't care.

  Now on top, where I wanted to be, I took a second to glance around at what must be Will's room. I was in an old-fashioned bedroom with tall, whitewashed walls, several small old-fashioned black and white agricultural pictures on the walls, and a huge, dark wood, antique four-poster bed with a handmade, red and white quilt on top. There was a pile of clothes in the corner and loose change on a dresser top, but otherwise the room appeared neat.

  Will immediately interrupted my inspection of his interior design by snaking his hand around my back and expertly unhooking my bra so that my breasts sprung free, pulling my bra off of my arms. And then he let out a breath. Knifing up, he did some sort of twist maneuver so that I was back under him again, and he was kissing my lips, then my neck, then my nipples.

  "Goddammit Will, get my fucking shoes off and take off your fucking pants," I yelled.

  He laughed, and reached back to untie the ribbons on my shoes, while I sat up and went to work on his pants, again fumbling in my anger and frustration. My shoes were off, one, then the other, and Will got up, looked at me, pulled off his socks, and undid the rest of his pants, letting them drop to the ground.

  There he was.

  So, remember how I said that Will w
as huge while unerect?

  Now he was erect.

  Oh boy.

  My eyes widened.

  "You're fucking huge, asshole, how is that thing going to fit inside me?"

  Guess I was still yelling at him.

  "It won't be a problem," he muttered. "I won't hurt you. Now get these things off," and he hooked his fingers in my panties and pulled them down, off of my body. He leaned over to a bedside table drawer and threw a condom on top.

  Then he proceeded to attend to me.

  As I ran my hands through his hair and down his back, he gave ample attention to my lips, feasted on my earlobes, kissed his way down my neck, all the while running his hands through my hair, tracing my tattoos, fondling my breasts. Then, he turned the direction of his mouth to my breasts and his hand went lower, finding my already soaking wet pussy, and exploring.

  The man knew what he was doing.

  "If you don't get inside me in one second, Will, I swear—" and he cut me off by kissing me, breaking apart, then ripping the condom wrapper open with his teeth and sliding it on fast.

  "You ready?" he growled. "Think you are, you’re so fucking wet—"

  "—Right fucking now, Will. You need to—" I started to say, and he thrust into me.

  Heaven.

  "Oh, fuck," we both said together.

  That was right where he needed to be. Right where I wanted him. Yes, he was huge, but my body accepted him like he was meant to be there. He stayed still for a moment, just pressing into me, and then started to move a little.

  "Will, don't pussyfoot around, you asshole. Get moving."

  He laughed, a strained sort of groaning laugh, and started moving.

  Yes.

  I might have said that out loud.

  Because of the size of him, he hit every nerve ending in me. I had never felt sensations like that, stroking, teasing, rubbing every part of me that felt good. He leaned down and kissed me. "You. On top."

  Fine by me.

  We wrestled over to the other side of the bed, but he pulled out and grabbed my hips, helping me to turn around. "This way."

  Now, I’d done this before but not while getting to know someone.

  "Isn't it weird to do this position the first time we fuck?" I asked.

  "Nope. Just do it."

  Ah well, fuck it. I turned around so that I was straddling him, facing his feet, and lowered myself on his cock. "Touch yourself," he grunted.

  Now he was talking.

  I started slowly, then went to work, riding him up and down his magnificent cock, as I fingered my clit. Talk about pleasure. Between him filling me up and me heightening the sensation, I was completely in ecstasy. I moaned and panted. I could hear him grunting as I went faster and faster.

  And then it hit me. I came, spasming on his cock, as I stroked myself into oblivion. He raised his hips, heightening the pleasure for me.

  Fuck me.

  When I came down, I panted, "Which way do you want it?"

  In a second, he positioned me and I was on my hands and knees. He thrust into me from behind.

  That felt incredible, too.

  Then he pushed me down on the bed, me still on my stomach, him still on top, he leaned his body over top of me, and reached his hand in front of me, between my legs, and started fingering my clit again. "Go again," he said.

  Again, fine by me.

  As he thrust into me, and fingered me, I lay, somewhat helpless to the overwhelming sensations of pleasure. As Will fucked me completely, the exquisite and familiar focusing and clenching meant an orgasm was coming. When it burst, I screamed nonsensical words, and he sped up, thrusting until he, too, came with a loud groan and a shudder, and then he collapsed on my back.

  After a second, he propped himself up so that he wasn’t squishing me, then nuzzled my neck.

  He kissed me down my spine and pulled out. And then he plopped himself next to me, and pulled me into him, cuddling with me.

  And then I decided that I was a fan of angry sex. A life-long fan.

  Stars

  AFTER A FEW MOMENTS, Will got up, padded down the hall, and came back cleaned up. He opened a drawer, put on a pair of boxer shorts, and crawled into bed next to me.

  "I'm sorry I called you an asshole so much," I said quietly. "I got carried away."

  "Don’t need to be sorry 'bout that. I am an asshole. Not going to apologize for who I am. And you don't need to apologize for who you are." He paused for a second. "Plus, I'm a kinky sumbitch, so I like it that you get carried away. Want you to get carried away with me again."

  Okay, then.

  I snuggled into his chest and he played with my hair.

  "It's still early," he said into the top of my head. "Wanna beer?"

  "Yeah."

  "It's a nice night. Let's go outside. I know the spot. You can borrow something to wear."

  I thought about whether I wanted to wear something of his, or go get my own clothes, braving an inquisition at the bunkhouse. But there was little chance of an inquisition. Stephanie was gone for the weekend, visiting her parents. Janine knew that I had a date with Will, and approved, telling me that she thought he was great, and that he was like a little brother to her. Since no part of Will seemed "little" to me, this was a funny comment, but it was still heartening.

  "I'll go get sweats and meet you outside," I whispered.

  "'Kay. See you in a few," he whispered back, and then kissed me gently.

  I gingerly got up off of the bed, found the small amount of clothes that I had lost in this room, and retraced my steps to the downstairs, adding clothes to my body as I went down the hall. Will followed me in his underwear, and once I reached the front door and had my dress and shoes back on, he put his finger below my chin, drew me to him, and kissed me again. Then he put his forehead against mine and whispered, "Hurry."

  I walked to the bunkhouse from Will's house, across the courtyard. Although a few outside lights shone on the buildings, the stars were out in full force on this moonless night. I hopped into the bunkhouse, skipped down the hall, and divested myself of my date outfit, putting on a pair of comfy yoga pants, a tank top and hoodie sweatshirt, and a pair of Tom's shoes. Janine slept, so I tried to be as quiet as possible. I put my hair up into a rumpled bun on the top of my head, and headed out, where Will stood outside, wearing a dark t-shirt, black track pants with gray stripes down the side, and flip flops. He was carrying two open beers and a folded up blanket.

  "What, no Wranglers, cowboy?" I asked, teasing him.

  He smiled and handed me an open beer. "C'mon." He took my hand and led me toward a path that I hadn't been on before. I heard a jingling, and Trixie came running up beside us, tail wagging, eager to continue our date.

  "Where does she sleep?"

  "Doghouse or my room. Depends on what she wants."

  With how devoted that dog was to Will, I bet she spent almost no time at all in the doghouse.

  We walked along a flat path that headed northwest and then headed up a small hill to a bluff overlooking the ocean. The path glowed pale so we could see without flashlights, as our eyes adjusted to the lack of light.

  We stopped. He spread out the blanket on the ground and gestured for me to sit. We could hear the crash of the waves, but no other sounds. He took my beer from me, set it beside his on the ground, and lay down on the blanket. "Make yourself comfortable."

  I snuggled up next to him, but down his body, my head on his belly, my legs tangled with his. Trixie plopped down next to us. For a while, neither Will nor I said anything, we just looked at the infinite stars visible in this beautiful place. I felt the rise and fall of his belly and heard Trixie's panting.

  "You know," he said to the top of my head, surprising me by opening up, "I've grown up a rancher, and my dad was a rancher, and my granddad was a rancher, and his dad before him. Don't know what I’d be doing if it wasn't for farming and ranching."

  For once, I shut up and let him talk.

  “I see my parents w
henever I want ‘cause they live here in a new house we built for them. I normally have Sunday dinner with them. They do their own thing, I do mine, but they’re close.

  “Dad’s retired. I’m in charge now.

  "Gotta offer to sell this place to some fancy developer. It would mean that I'd never have to work another day in my life. And I just can't get myself to say yes because I'd miss comin' out here and lookin' at the stars in the sky."

  I propped myself up halfway and looked at him while he was continuing to share. "Farming and ranching is more than just a job. It's who I am. And if I gave it up, I dunno what I’d do. So I keep telling 'em no and they keep calling me back and offering me more money."

  I looked at him, and traced his handsome face with my fingers. "I don't know what the right answer is. I just know that it's beautiful out here."

  "Yeah," he said quietly.

  He sat up and pulled me in front of him, so I could sit, leaning against him. He reached over, grabbed our beers, and we stayed there, under the stars, drinking beer in silence for quite a while.

  After our beers were finished and the air chilled slightly, we walked back to his house hand in hand, with Trixie following behind.

  First Impressions, Redux

  THE FIRST THING I heard the next morning was the clang, clang, clang of the triangle. That fucking triangle didn't let me sleep in. I'd have to steal it and hide it somewhere, or maybe melt it down into a horseshoe.

  As I woke up, I also became aware that I wasn't in my bed in the bunkhouse with Janine, reenacting The Waltons. Instead, I was tucked into Will, his arms around my waist and his forehead in my hair, under his red and white quilt, in his antique bed, in his farmhouse. Bright sunlight bathed the whitewashed room and I felt sore, but also like I’d slept really well.

  I moved away from him and he leaned back into his pillow, putting an arm up behind him, still sleeping, peaceful and pretty, hair tousled on his pillow. I was surprised that I’d woken up first. He seemed like an early-to-rise farmer, but I suppose we were active last night.