Sweetest Obsessions - Anthology

by Anthony, Jane

  The band begins to play, and AJ starts inching up my skirt. The airy material flutters along my skin as he tugs at my underwear. I shift my hips from side to side, aiding in his hot pursuit to tear them down with clumsy hands, but the cheap elastic pops, snapping against my thigh like a firework.

  Hooded eyes lock me in their hypnotic gaze. He drops to his knees on the brown tile floor. Stubble scrapes against my thighs, tickling the delicate skin as hot breath feathers along my damp flesh. My urgent need for him is agonizing. I teeter on the edge of the saddle, waiting for him to drive me into oblivion.

  With rough hands, he grasps my thighs, forcing them wider. “This …” A calloused fingertip skims past my slick entrance, causing my hips to buck. “Is mine.” A series of whimpers and whines falls from my mouth as he slips two fingers in down to the knuckle. “You want my mouth on this gorgeous pussy?”

  I nod, writhing against his palm as he works me over with his hand. “Then say it. I need to hear the words escaping those pretty lips.”

  “It’s yours, AJ. Kiss it. Fuck it. Take it. It's yours.”

  “I won’t share you with that redneck fuck. Whatever you had with Austin is done. Understand?”

  Another whimper, another nod. He’s torturing me with pleasure, giving me a taste but holding back what I really want as punishment.

  “That’s my girl.” Taking hold of my leg, he drops it over his shoulder. His tongue glides from bottom to top. One long, languid lick that sends a hushed moan tumbling out of my mouth.

  “Moan louder. I want everyone in this bar to know who you belong to.”

  His stern voice vibrates deep inside me. “Don’t stop,” I mewl, dropping my head back as he flicks my already engorged clit with rapid-fire fervor.

  The band is killing it on the stage. The erratic beat of banjo twangs loudly through the door, but as AJ delves deeper between my legs, everything becomes muffled. His hat lies forgotten on the floor at his knees. My fingers tangle in his unruly waves. I’m lost in the moment, drowning with desire. Holding his head and fucking his tongue until a muted shriek rips through my clenched teeth.

  “Hold onto me, baby. I’m nowhere near done making you mine.” Pleasure whirls through my body as his arms tighten around my backside and lift me in the air. He settles onto the bull with me on his lap. “Go on, cowgirl. Ride.”

  Still reeling with aftershocks, I fumble to position myself over him, sliding down his entire length until I’m straddling both him and the bull. The way he growls when I start to move is almost enough to make me come on the spot. No space resides between us. He fills me completely. Not just my body, but my head and my heart as well. Every part of me is his.

  “Whose cock do you love?” he barks with a firm smack on the ass.

  “Yours,” I breathe, trembling with another impending release.

  His palm comes down on my ass again. “Who owns that pretty pussy?”

  “Oh … oh, AJ … you do.” My nails dig into his shoulders as he jerks my hair and bites down on my neck hard enough to draw blood. Stars pop behind my eyes.

  “Watching you fall apart is so fucking hot. Come for me again. Now.”

  The taste of me is sweet on his tongue as AJ attacks my lips, matching the beat of my body with his own slapping hip movements, as he slams upward into me hard. Fingers bite my ass. An unashamed cry tears from my lungs and thick spurts of heat overflow my insides.

  “What did you do to me, woman?” Goose bumps prickle my oversensitive skin as AJ’s hands roll up my back and slide under my hair. He’s as affectionate as he is possessive. Owning me, yet loving me at once. Harsh and gentle; ruthless and tender. Everything I need tied up in one deliciously decadent bundle of muscle and man.

  “What do you mean?” I giggle.

  He pushes us up, and our bodies come apart with a pop. Gray eyes search my face. His gaze is earnest and strong, shrinking my smile and raising my heart rate. “Ever since I lost my family, I’ve wanted to start one of my own.” He rests his palm on my cheek. “I still want that, and I want it with you. I love you, Casey.”

  25

  AJ

  What the hell is wrong with me? You can’t fuck a girl in a dirty bar storage room then start talking about babies and shit. When did I become such an emo bastard? And ... did I just tell her I wanted to marry her?

  Her body just feels so warm next to mine, melting into me with its floral fragrance that drives me wild. Her hair is like a garden of lilacs, and her skin as soft as jersey knit cotton. Maybe it isn’t the most romantic setting to be dropping the L word, but to me, the moment just seemed right. I love her, and I want her. When I close my eyes, I don’t just see today; I see tomorrow and day after. Years in the future, with Casey by my side. My partner, my lover, my life.

  Jesus Christ, I really am an emo bastard! Fuck!

  Her mouth opens then shuts like a ventriloquist doll. She doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. My gaze snaps to hers, trying to read her mind before losing my cool. I’ve never seen a woman look quite this freaked out.

  “Casey Jane? I know you’re out there somewhere, girl. Get your cute little butt up on this stage!”

  Until now.

  “Shit!” she whispers, scrambling off me. The busted strip of panties falls further into her boot. She does a little hopping dance trying to grab it out to pull it off, then wads it in a ball to wipe what’s left of my cum away.

  “I can’t do this, AJ. I ain’t Casey Jane anymore. I can’t sing in front of all these people.”

  An iota of relief washes over me, hoping that deer in headlights look on her face is a severe case of stage fright, rather than the rejection I worry is coming. “You are, and you can.”

  “How?”

  “Just focus on me. Let all those other people fade away and stay right here.” I point at my eyes with two fingers.

  With a deep breath, she nods. “I’ll go out first. Wait until you hear me talkin’ and then follow. Got it?” She drops a kiss on the corner of my mouth then disappears out the door.

  I look down at the soiled wad of cotton she pressed into my hand with a snort. What am I supposed to do with these? I stuff them in my pocket and adjust my fly. I’m still half-erect. Impressive, I know. The smell of sex hangs in the air; the combined fragrance of honey, flowers, and sweat all mingling together, making me want to go for another round.

  Or two.

  “Hey, everybody! How y’all doin’ tonight?”

  Her sweet voice melts under the crevice, beckoning me to come out. Opening the door, I slip through the crack undetected and force my way to the stage as the crowd erupts with applause. Show lights bathe her in a yellow and red glow. The stage is makeshift. A platform, really. A homemade mix of two-by-fours and plywood. But with Casey on it, it could be Madison Square Garden as far as I’m concerned.

  She stands in front of the microphone with a shy smile, her dimples highlighted by the combination of lights and shadows dotting her face. Next to her, the burly dude with the ZZ Top beard slips the guitar off his neck and hands it to her. She hesitates. Her eyes dart over the crowd, no doubt looking for me, but I’m still fighting my way through, trying my best to get to her as promised.

  “Looks like Casey Jane needs some reassurance,” Burly Dude drawls into the microphone. A cacophony of hoots and hollers waves through the crowd, filling up the tiny space.

  I saw the pictures, and I heard the stories, but seeing it firsthand is remarkable. All these years she’s been gone, yet no one forgot. They all still love her. Want her. Casey Jane may not be the household name she’d hoped it would become, but here, in this tiny podunk Texas town, Casey is as big a celebrity as any.

  Her hands shake when she reaches for the guitar and straightens the strap over her slim shoulders. Burly Dude claps and stands back, giving her the full spotlight.

  “I hadn’t really prepared anything …”

  Seven years of silence is a mighty long time. Her lips tremble as she seeks me in the crowd, but calm when
she finds me with her pool blue gaze. Her hands move over the strings, a haunting, purposely off-key tune plucked by her delicate fingers.

  The words come out timid and weak. She pauses for a second but continues sliding her fingers along the frets. When she tries again, the song bursts out of her chest like a caged bird taking flight. I don’t recognize the song, but it draws me in. The words are magic, washing over me. Nightmares, wreckage—a premonition falling from her angelic lips. I, too, have been sleepwalking. Living my life in burned-out ruin, unable to right the wrongs I’ve committed.

  Chills break out on my skin. She looks different now. I always thought she was beautiful, always referred to her as an angel, but I never realized how astute that comparison was until right this minute. The voice that comes out of her is like nothing I’ve ever heard before. It reminds me of church at Christmastime. Beautiful, spiritual.

  All around me, the crowd sways to the music. Some sing along, others just watch with half smiles plastered on their faces, while I look on with awe. They all want her, but I have her. She belongs to me, and I refuse to share.

  Under the majestic yellow and red lights, her gaze locks on mine. The crowd disappears. It’s just her and me and that sweet voice singing to my soul.

  A horse stable isn’t like the picture I had in my head. I imagined animals just hanging out, walking around, and sniffing each other’s butts and shit. In reality, it’s nothing like that. The large wooden structure looks like a house from the outside and fancy horse jail on the inside.

  Long snouts poke out from each individual enclosure, lined up one after the other on the left-hand side. Each stall has its own door, both in the front and the back so the horses can enter the stable or run through the pasture. Along the right is a row of low shelves. Above them, saddles hang in a neat row one after the other on racks and, in between, hang various other items like ropes and blankets.

  Just outside the stable, a concrete slab sits alone surrounded by wooden posts with a hose dangling off one of them. Today is grooming day, or so I’m told. Each horse gets a bath, followed by a treat for good behavior. Casey hands me a plastic bucket filled with brushes, shampoo, and conditioner and tells me to wait. A strange face in the stable can upset the horses. The slow clop of hooves on dry earth turns the corner as Casey emerges with the first horse I’ve ever seen up close. His black coat gleams in the sunlight. She holds the rope loosely and lets the beast guide her, not the other way around. “This is Barney.” Casey’s voice is tender as she strokes the horse’s mane. “You ready for your bath, big guy?”

  Barney huffs a breath out his nose in response but doesn’t walk toward the slab. “Barney’s a sweet old stallion, but he’s a little skittish at times.” She continues to comfort him, humming with the same gentle tone. “Talk to him.”

  This is crazy. The only thing that comes to mind are the old Mister Ed reruns I used to watch on late-night television, but I’m sure yelling “Wilbuuuuur” isn’t going to win me any bonus points. “Uh. Hey there.” I feel like an idiot. “You must be an earring. ‘Cause you look like quite a stud.”

  “Seriously?” Casey asks with a laugh.

  I shrug and smile. “I don’t know how to talk to horses.”

  “Just say whatever comes to mind.”

  The only things ever on my mind are sex and music. Animals have no place in either. Then again ...

  The lyrics to the “Four Horsemen” tumble from my mouth like poetry. Cheesy, I know, but they popped into my head and found their way out before I had a chance to think it through.

  Casey gives the rope a little tug, and the horse begins to move again. Who’d have guessed Barney was a Metallica fan? He walks toward me slowly and takes a step up onto the concrete platform. Casey ties the rope around a post before settling her hand on his back with a light scratch between his shoulder blades. “Good boy.”

  I remain off to the side, nervous I’ll spook the animal if I get too close. “Barney’s sweet spot is on his wither,” she explains. “Never go straight for the face. Always reach for the base of the mane first. They like that.”

  “You know a lot about horses.”

  The dimples on Casey’s face say it all as she reaches for the bucket and pulls out a comb. Her hands roam the horse’s coat as she finishes combing then switches to a brush. She’s a calming force. The horse knows she’s in charge and allows her to work. This is her calling, not the stage. In the spotlight, she was unsettled, but on the ranch, she’s in control.

  She gracefully glides her hands down his leg, and Barney lifts his foot. I watch with wonderment as she picks the hoof with meticulous care then goes on to the next. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

  “Nah, I’ve just been doin’ this a long time. Been around these animals all my life. Can you fill that bucket with water for me?”

  Water sloshes into the bucket from the hanging hose and makes a splish-splash sound as I set it down next to her. She dips a cloth into it and strokes the horse’s nose and face. As soon as she’s done, she sprays his body down with cool water.

  “I got a job for you.”

  The way she smiles and dangles the mitt out in front of her is so damned sexy. I never thought something like bathing a horse could have erotic undertones, but that would be a severe underestimation of Casey’s power over me. Every move she makes drives me just a little bit crazy. This morning, I wanted to bend her over the sink after watching her brush her teeth.

  I take the mitt and await further instructions. She squeezes a quarter-sized amount of shampoo onto it then covers my hand with hers, massaging Barney’s coat with a small, circular motion. “Think you can manage that?”

  “Yep. Just like washing a car.” A big, breathing, furry car that could kick me ten yards away if it gets mad.

  I work my way across his side, and Casey follows with the hose. Soapsuds foam and run off Barney’s slick body into a puddle of water below him. The excess spray dapples my hot skin, soaking my shirt as we work side by side. With my free hand, I grab the back of my collar and tug it over my head in one swift move.

  Casey’s eyebrow slowly lifts as she watches my tee carry on the breeze and flutter to the grass. A lascivious smile passes her lips. She aims the hose and shoots water on my pants. “Ooops!”

  “That’s how you wanna play, huh?” My attempt to snatch the hose falls flat while she continues the task of rinsing the horse. Instead, I pick up the bucket. “You’d better run, cowgirl.”

  She does a double take before lifting her arms in surrender. “Okay, I give up,” she says, dropping the hose and backing away from both Barney and me.

  It’s on.

  Water flies from the bucket and spatters against her stomach with a splash. It soaks her shorts and trickles down her legs. “Aww, gross! That’s dirty horse water! At least I hit you with the hose!”

  “Well, then I guess I’m going to have to wash you next!” I take her by the waist and smash her against me. The cold water is already warm, heated through by both her body and the sweltering temperature outside. “Then again. I kind of like you dirty.”

  “Mmmhmm,” she breathes against my mouth when my lips find hers. They instantly part, allowing my tongue to slip between them for just a moment. A tantalizing appetizer for what I hope is to come as soon as we’re finished with work. “I plan to get very dirty. Just so you know.”

  My hands inch up the back of her shirt and glide down her silky skin. Casey sucks air between her teeth, shivering under my ticklish touch. “Then I’ll have to bathe you extra thoroughly to make sure your coat is shiny.”

  A loud bang, followed by the echoing clop of hooves turns Casey’s docile body rigid in an instant. I turn and follow her gaze. Clouds of dust kick into the dry air, followed by flying horsetail and a black dot getting smaller by the minute as it runs away from us.

  “Oh, my God! Barney!”

  I run, work boots thumping heavily on the mix of yellowing grass and dirt. My smoker’s lungs burn, but I can�
�t stop. This is my fault. I distracted Casey from her work, and the horse got loose.

  Barney slows as he nears the fence, knowing he can’t get past it, and my sprint becomes a jog. I don’t want to spook him. With my hands braced on my knees, I hang my head to catch my breath before finding the strength to inch near the horse. I really have to quit smoking.

  Singing the same song as before, I step forward. Barney’s whinny is loud as he moves backward, butting up against the fence. My voice is quiet, but I don’t stop warbling the words, standing still and waiting for the horse to calm. When I take a tentative step, he lets me. A few more steps and he meets me. My hand rests between his shoulder blades, just the way Casey showed me, as my free hand wraps around the rope still attached to him.

  “I think we’re gonna be friends, Barney.” I sigh with relief, continuing to rub his back.

  All it takes is a gentle tug, and the horse follows me back toward the stable. Casey stands at the edge, not far from the wash pad where I left her. A look of relief slides over her face when she sees me, but a snarl crosses mine when I see Austin. He’s leaned against the wall of the stable, opposite Casey, so he goes undetected. His dangerous glare sends a shiver up my spine. Something about the way he looks at me. It’s not just menacing. It’s evil.

  “It was you, wasn’t it? You untied the rope!”

  “What’s going on here?” Casey’s ponytail flaps behind her head as she jogs toward Barney and me.

  “Your boy, here, is accusing me of endangerin’ one of our horses!” Austin strolls over, all bowlegged and slow like he’s Doc friggin’ Holliday. “I told you he’d make a mistake!”

  “I’m not accusing you. I know you did it.”

  “AJ.” Casey keeps her voice light and even as she takes the rope from my hand. “Why would Austin do somethin’ like that?” She turns and leads the horse back to the slab.