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

by Leslie McAdam

  After we'd walked in the house from stargazing, he fed Trixie in the kitchen, closed her in there with a dog bed, and then got a look on his face that was a combination of mischievous and hopeful.

  "I was thinking of redoing our first meeting."

  "In the bathroom?" I asked, surprised.

  "Yeah. But reenacting it a different way," he said, grinning.

  Although I was mellow from him opening up to me outside and going for a walk under the stars, at his words, a thrill raced through my body. I hadn't had enough of Will for the evening.

  I followed him down the hall, into the second door on the left, but this time, instead of pushing me out, he opened his arms to me and gave me a huge bear hug, then leaned back, tilted my chin up to him and kissed me.

  The kiss started out sweet, but it didn't end that way. By the end of the kiss we were in each other's space. Chasing tongues, licking teeth, exploring the territory. We simply couldn't get close enough to each other.

  I didn't look at the bathroom at all the last time. This time, I eventually got around to looking at it, and it was adorable—vintage white tile, an old fashioned tub built into one side, and spartan, but pleasant and country.

  He'd been taking the lead this evening, but I decided it was my turn. I broke apart from our kiss, pulled up the hem of his tight t-shirt and lifted it over his head. I ran my flat hands down the smooth skin on his broad shoulders, lingering over his bulging biceps, feeling the veins in his forearms. Then I held his hands.

  Letting go, I reached up and ran my palms up his torso, wanting to feel his washboard waist and his defined musculature, wanting to make his nipples pucker. As I did this, he watched me, amused and intense. I ran my hands up and over his shoulders, and down his strong back, feeling the muscles, feeling his brawn.

  Then I got to his ass. He had a very tight butt that fit into the Wranglers like they were made for him. As I've mentioned, I'm not a Wrangler girl, I go more for Levi's, but Will's ass swayed me to the other side. Still, right now he was in loose track pants and bare feet. I slid my hands inside the waistband and peeled his pants and boxers off of him, feeling his ass, and kneeling as I went down. His cock, splendid and full, popped out of his pants and stood at attention. I reached over to stroke him and I heard him hold his breath. Then.

  "Take off your shirt," he whispered, letting out his air with his words. He reached over into the shower and turned it on to heat up the water.

  "I'll do one better," I murmured and I peeled off my hoodie and top, slowly, looking at him straight into his dark brown eyes. Then I licked my lips, enjoying the tease, as I took off my shoes and my pants, and stood there in my underwear.

  I decided that I just had to play with him some more. I loved messing with him, he was so reactive, even though he said so little. I loved his irregular breathing, the darkening of his eyes, the quiver of his cheek and jaw. Looking at him, I slowly unhooked my bra, then slipped it down my arms. Next, I shimmied out of my underwear. Then I kneeled again, before all six and a half feet of him, looking up at this mountain of a man.

  And I smiled.

  He widened his eyes and let out a breath like a quiet, "Whoooooooooo."

  So I leaned over and I went for it.

  As I've mentioned, Mr. Will was a very big boy, in height, strength, and junk. I didn't know if I could get all of him in my mouth, but I was going to have fun trying. So, I decided to go slowly and carefully, almost dividing it into sectors. First, the balls sector. I gently cupped them with my hands, rolling them, caressing them. Then I decided that he needed a big lick up his cock sector, so I started at the root and licked him all the way to the head.

  He liked this.

  I could tell because he started swearing and he really knew how to swear.

  Then I sort of reached up and decided to take as much of him as I could in my mouth—which ended up being a surprisingly long amount. I swirled my tongue around and pulled out with a sucking pop, and then went back again. And again. Swirl, suck, pop, lick. Repeat.

  Then I decided to lavish attention on the glans sector, and thereunder.

  And then I made the rounds again back to the other sectors, trying to keep up a steady rhythm and gentle pressure.

  I knew I was pleasing him because of the noises that came out of him—a moan, a groan, a quiet "Yes."

  But then he leaned his hips back, pulled out of my mouth and said, "Shower," and opened the curtain and helped me in. As the water surrounded us, he let me into the spray, warming me up, although I was already pretty warm, and comforting me. Then he pulled me to him by my lower back, pressed against me, and said against my neck, "You do that again and I'd consider voting for a Democrat."

  "I see my plan is working," I said, joking.

  He didn't look like he was joking. He sucked on my neck and asked, "You tested?"

  "Yeah."

  "You clean?" he continued.

  "Yeah. You?"

  "Yep. You on the pill?"

  "Yeah."

  "Then you good with bare?"

  "Fuck yeah."

  And with that, he picked me up by my ass and hoisted me against the flat part of the shower wall, above the faucets, under the spray, and slid into me. I quickly wrapped my legs and arms around him and held on.

  I was already wet from the kiss at the beginning of all of this.

  "Finger yourself, darlin'," he ordered, and I did, as he started to move.

  It felt like all of my senses were engaged—touching the water, Will's righteous body, and the cool tile behind me; hearing the sound of our breathing, the slaps of our bodies and the splash of the water; tasting his marvelous mouth; seeing his hard body and dark eyes; smelling his skin and the musky scent of sex.

  Even though I was wrapped around him, he held me up easily. I’d never thought this was a comfortable position, but with him, it felt easy. I liked this. A lot.

  With the assistance of my own fingers and his cock stimulating me on the inside, it wasn't long before I exploded into a climax, Will following shortly behind.

  After staying there for a moment, he slowly let my legs down, pressed his forehead next to mine, and said, "This is what I was thinking when I saw you the first time."

  "Funny," I said, "I just thought, yum."

  "Same thing." He smiled, forehead still to mine, and then he kissed me.

  We soaped up, the slippery suds sliding over our wet bodies, cleaned up, dried off, and went to his bed, clean and sated.

  Will didn't object when I told him that I liked to sleep naked. Apparently so did he.

  So now, first thing in the morning, his torso on display, arm behind his head, I got to watch him in the early sun. Even his armpit was fine. I nuzzled his Adam's apple and then he woke up too.

  He blinked and looked around and then saw me and pulled me into a tight squeeze. Who'd have thought that Will was a cuddler?

  "We need to get up," I told him, "We'll miss breakfast."

  "Fuck breakfast,” he muttered against my hair. “We'll either make something later or I'll take you out."

  "'Kay," I agreed.

  He turned over in bed and pressed me to my back, so that I was looking up at him and he was on his side, looking at me. He traced the tattoo down my arm, gently, lightly.

  "What does this mean?"

  "Everything happens for a reason."

  He raised a sleepy eyebrow. "The saving the animals and the peacenik dove and the earth on your ass I can figure out, I think. But what about the stars on your hipbones?"

  I looked away from him for a moment, then decided to tell him. "Because someday I want to find my mate for life, who will have the stars on his hips too and we'll match."

  "That's cool," he said, tracing my markings with his hands, fascinated. Then, a few moments later, he asked, "You hungry now?"

  "I could wait."

  "Good. Because we'll eat after I fuck you again."

  I lifted up my arms and pulled him to me.

  And if he had
n't announced that it was fucking, I would have called it something else, something with a name that meant that it was slow and gentle and patient. Something like making love.

  Ma

  "I'M NOT EATING FUCKING quinoa for breakfast, however you say it. And I'm not going to ride in your hippie-mobile, whatever shit that is. Men drive. Men like me drive trucks. We don't eat kale and we don't ride shotgun in fucking sissy-ass cars while some woman drives us around—"

  So Will's sweetness was good while it lasted. But apparently he had a breaking point, and that point was easy to get to. Actually, we got to it at breakfast, after I made him oatmeal with craisins, walnuts, and brown sugar, which he said was good but needed butter that he added. But then I mentioned that I liked quinoa for breakfast and I knew a vegan restaurant to take him to and he lost it. If we weren't in each other's pants, it seemed that we were destined for fighting about stupid shit, but the problem was that to both of us the stupid shit was a symbol for something greater. Something we couldn’t reconcile. Something that mattered deep down underneath.

  Quinoa was a symbol of my desire to help the earth. It was also a symbol of his distrust and dislike of anything politically correct.

  He looked at me with disgust, and started that quinoa/kale/car/female driving diatribe, but I wasn't going to let him finish it.

  "First, some woman? That's all I am? Then how can you stand to be around me?" I snapped. "You just want to fuck me. I'm an easy cunt. That's it."

  "No, I don't 'just want to fuck' you—" he started, but I interrupted him.

  "Why did you even start this, Will, if you can't stand me? I should just go. I'm fucking out of here."

  I went to leave the kitchen and he got in front of me and stopped.

  "I like you, Marie. I just don't like everything you like—" he said in a quiet and dangerous tone, but I interrupted him, again.

  "Fuck you, you're a motherfucker," and I pushed him to the side. "If you don't agree with me, fine, don't, but you don't have to be an ass about it."

  "I told you, I know I'm an asshole. That's just the way I'm made. But I think there's something here and if we can get past these arguments, I'd like to know—" but I interrupted him, again.

  "We're not going to be able to get past these arguments because this shit? It's in our DNA. I believe what I believe and you believe what you believe and neither one of us is going to change. We both think we’re right and we can't stand what the other one believes in. And you think differently than me in every possible way you can."

  He looked annoyed. "Not true."

  I waved a finger in his face. "And you're rude and sexist."

  He sighed, exasperated. "Yes, I can be rude but I'm not sexist."

  "Then what was that shit that just came out of your mouth?" I said, exasperated.

  Looking at me straight in the eyes, he said firmly, "The truth."

  Oh he was so difficult!

  "Fuck no, that's not the truth."

  We looked at each other, both seething, both breathing hard. He spoke first, closing a gap between us.

  "I am fucking attracted to you, Marie, and it's not just your incredible body, although that's a big part of it. I like that you don't back down on me. I like that you push back. I like that you care about everything. I like knowing what you think. You don’t hide it from me and I like that. I just think some of it is extreme bullshit and I'm not going to do it. But you, I want to be with you."

  Yeah, right. I was an easy target. "No you don't. You just want to stick your cock in me."

  He reached for me and I pulled back, wanting to withdraw. He kept going.

  "Marie, you're not listening to me. I want to date you," he growled.

  He wants to date me? Could I date Will for real? He made me pause for a moment, but then, I remembered who we were and I put my hand on my hip.

  "Yeah, but can that go anywhere? What would it be like to be seen in public with me? When I have rainbow hair and my eyebrow ring and I'm wearing hemp clothes and I'm drinking green juice. You'd be the laughingstock of your friends and family for hanging out with me. You'd be ashamed."

  "Don't tell me how I'd think—" he started, running a hand through his hair, but I interrupted, again.

  "I've lived on your property for more than a week and I haven't met your parents, who I know live here too. That shows you're ashamed of me. You don't want them to know that a freak like me is living here, whether or not I'm dating you."

  "You have that entirely wrong," he snarled.

  "Oh no? Then why haven't I met them? I’ve met everyone else. I’ve even met the ranch foreman."

  Will stared at me for a moment, eyes flaring, and said, "Come on then. You're meeting my ma and dad."

  I looked down. I was in my yoga pants and hoodie from the night before. "Will, I'm not all dressed up—"

  "You don't have to be. You look beautiful just the way you are. I’m not ashamed of hanging out with you. I’ll prove it. Come. Now." And he fucking picked me up under my knees and shoulders, and carried me out of the house, Trixie nipping at his heels.

  "Put me the fuck down, right now," I shrieked as I struggled.

  "Only if you come with me," he said, not exerting himself at all as he walked.

  "Fine," I said, with as much contempt as I could put into the one syllable, and he put me down.

  He took my hand and physically pulled me across the courtyard, past several buildings, almost running, until we got to a newer ranch house off to the side. It had a grass front with a picket fence, and a few vintage farm implements and wooden wagon wheels as decorations. The one-story house had a slight ramp to the front door.

  He opened the screen and knocked once, walking in. "Ma?" he called.

  An elegant, low female voice with a Spanish accent called out musically, "William, come in. I'm in the living room."

  We walked into the house, which was newish and clean. It was decorated in country, although not overdone, capital-letter, Country. The room had new, comfortable furniture, fresh flowers in chipped enamel vases, and impressionist paintings of California on the walls. We walked through the front room and the kitchen to another room where I could hear Fox News on the television.

  Oh, God, Fox News. Here we go.

  But then I walked into a room and saw a beautiful dark haired, dark eyed woman in a wheelchair. She was breathtaking, with clear caramel skin, high cheek bones, and lush lips. She was clearly Will's mom.

  His mom spoke Spanish?

  And was a double-amputee.

  Fuck. Things were starting to come together. Janine had mentioned that his mom had been in a car accident and her recovery was the beginning of the Headlands Program. I was willing to bet that this accident was the reason, likely, why Will was an only child.

  Fuck, shit, damn.

  He was an asshole, but so was I.

  "Ma, this is Marie Diaz-Austin. She's running the enrichment programs for Headlands, and she's also going to be my girlfriend."

  Excuse me?

  I'd have to talk to him about this, so I glared at him, then rearranged my face into a smile and shook her slim, cool hand. "It's nice to meet you."

  "Marie, the pleasure is all mine. My name is Margarita, but you can call me Margaret. Are you enjoying the ranch?"

  And with that, we launched into a discussion about the ranch and how much I loved it, studiously avoiding Will's presumptuous pronouncement about the future of our relationship, such that it was. After a little while, a tall, handsome older man, wearing a plaid shirt and Wranglers, sauntered in from the back of the house, shook my hand, and sat down by his wife, holding her hand. He had dark eyes and light brown hair and introduced himself as Bill Thrash.

  I didn't know how I got myself into this. I went from pissing Will off, to being attracted to him, to yelling at him, to fucking him, to being sweet with him, to fighting with him, to meeting his parents. This was so confusing.

  But damn, if Fox News wasn’t on, it would've been perfect.

/>   Eating Dinosaur

  I HAVEN'T HEARD FROM you in days because by now you're sleeping with Will, right?

  Upon reading this text, I immediately picked up my phone and dialed Amelia. I needed girlfriend time and I needed it now. Between sex, politics, and my new job, let alone Will's statement that we were dating, I had a lot to cover with her and I wanted advice.

  After talking with Will's parents, who were incredibly nice, his mom outgoing, his dad friendly, but less talkative, just like Will, we excused ourselves. He walked me to the bunkhouse, telling me that because his dad took care of his mom, he was rarely out of the house. His mom would go out to see the animals and loved the life on the ranch. And Will ate there on weekends and stopped in often. He told me he’d take me back if I wanted to go. I absolutely wanted to see them again.

  He followed me inside the bunkhouse, all the way to my room, and when we got to it, he closed the door and kissed me hard. Then he said that he had to go check on things around the ranch and left. I heard him whistling for Trixie once he got outside.

  I changed clothes into jeans and my vegan boots and went into the bunkhouse office to finalize my plans for the upcoming week, a group of thirty twelve- and thirteen-year-olds from Oakland.

  Then I remembered that I hadn't checked my phone in a long time. Funny, now that I was enmeshed in life at Headlands, I didn't seem to check it very much, unlike how I spent every waking hour on it at home. There was just too much to do here—horses and fresh air and taking care of kids and spending time with Will, among my favorites.

  Amelia answered immediately.

  "How did you know we fucked?" I asked, without preamble.

  "Ha! Lucky guess."

  "That's not all that's lucky," I said, and she laughed. "Listen, though. It's an emergency. I need Amelia time. Can you come up?"

  "Sure. When?"

  "Uh, today?"

  "I can leave in an hour and be there in two. Should I bring Ryan so that we can all go out to dinner?"