by Vanessa Vale
Claire ran over to him when he came toward us, hugging his leg. He gave her a few moments of attention but lifted his head to look at me.
Those blue eyes held mine and the corner of his mouth tipped up. He was holding a puppy, just like Sandy, although this one was black.
“Go on,” Huck murmured. “He might just surprise you. He surprised the hell out of me.”
Huck stood as well, called to Claire. She ran over and he squatted down to scoop up Sandy. “Bath, brush, books, bed.”
She huffed, then shouted, “I want to read the puppy book!” as she darted into the house.
I heard Huck’s retreating footsteps and the front door close, but I couldn’t look away from Thatcher.
Unlike me, he’d changed since softball this morning. He had on jeans, sturdy work boots and a white t-shirt that hugged his muscles. I was jealous of the cotton. And the squirming puppy in his arms who just licked his chin.
“Hey,” he said, voice deep. Like a rasp of velvet, I almost shivered at that one word.
“Hi.”
“Thatcher—”
“Sweets—”
We spoke at the same time, which made us relax.
“Here.” He pushed the dog into my arms. I took the cute bundle awkwardly at first, then settled him into my arms.
“Um… what am I doing with this guy?”
“He’s yours.”
I looked down at the gorgeous big ball of love. He looked up at me with dark eyes, cocking his little head to the side. He was a black Labrador Retriever and I guessed he was eight or nine weeks old. The same size as Sandy.
“Mine?”
He crossed his arms over his chest, watched as the dog’s tail thumped against my stomach and he nudged my neck with his soft nose.
“One of Maple’s pups. Dogs love unconditionally. They’re always happy to see you. They don’t care what you look like or who you’re friends with. They just want to be where you are.”
He reached out, scratched behind his ear and the dog turned his head to try to playfully gnaw on his hand.
“Your parents are a nightmare,” he continued. “Your sister’s a fucking mess. A dog’s a hell of a lot better. This one’s a sure thing when it comes to love.”
I wasn’t sure if I should laugh or cry. Thatcher got me a dog. To give me the love that I wasn’t getting from my family.
“Thank you,” I said, swallowing hard. I’d never thought about having a dog before, but I lived where I worked. He wouldn’t have to be alone, although I’d have to read up on the health codes of animals in a bakery.
I leaned down, nuzzled the puppy.
“I’m sorry about leaving you in Cutthroat,” I admitted.
He shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal.
“I’m sorry I didn’t give you a chance,” he added.
My eyes widened. The puppy wiggled and I put him down. He pranced around, tried to eat a tall blade of grass, then flopped down and went to sleep.
“A chance? Between the party, my parents’ house, and softball, I’d say you gave it more than a chance.”
He grinned, then leaned in and murmured, “I liked your parents’ house. Especially the kitchen.”
I flushed and looked down at the dog, pushed my glasses up. “I did, too.”
“Go out with me,” he said.
I whipped my head up, stared at him. “What?”
“Dinner. Movie. A horseback ride. ATVs. Whatever. I want to spend time with you. Alone.”
A thrill shot through me. “You do?”
He grinned, although it was almost bashful. “Yeah.”
A few seconds of hope quickly faded. I shook my head. “A weekend is one thing, but I can’t go out with you knowing you’re leaving. I might be nicer than my sister, but I’m not a masochist.”
He set his hand on my arm. The heat of it seeped into me. I remembered what that hand could do, and I got wet. I wanted him to touch me. But I wasn’t stupid.
“I’m not going to Mexico.”
My eyebrows went up and I stared. “You’re not—”
He shook his head. “I texted Kent back and told him no. I connected him with Kelly, my bar manager. She’s going to go instead.” He paused. “I was running away,” he admitted. I could tell the words cost him, because he swallowed hard, looked away for a bit. “When my friend offered, I thought, what the hell? It would be fun. Easy. A beach and warm weather instead of a Montana winter? It wasn’t that hard of a sell. Then Sawyer hooked up with Kelsey and Huck got back together with Sarah. They’re in it for the long haul. When I look at them, I see the love my parents had for each other. I’m happy for them, but it’s scary as fuck.”
I knew his parents had died a long time ago, but nothing more than that.
He sighed, wiped a hand down his face.
“So is having parents who hate each other but stay married,” I shared. “That’s petrifying to watch because what if I find someone and we turn into that? I only know that kind of love, Thatcher, which probably isn’t love at all. You saw it this weekend. I don’t want that. It hurts too much.”
“You pushed me away to protect yourself,” he said, his voice soft. He lifted his hand and stroked my hair.
“You pushed me away to protect yourself,” I added.
“It hurts too much,” I said, repeating her words.
I blinked back tears. “We’re a disaster.”
He laughed.
“Let’s be a disaster together,” he murmured.
I looked into his eyes. Saw he was serious.
“We like each other. We wouldn’t be feeling like shit without each other if we didn’t.”
I blinked. He was right.
“I like you,” I admitted.
“I like you, too.”
I nodded. He nodded.
There. Done.
No, not done.
His hand hooked around to my ponytail and tugged it so my head tipped back. He kissed me.
Yes. Fuck, yes. I loved his kisses and this one was no exception.
With his free hand, he banded his arm around my back and picked me up. Walked forward and set me on a step so we were the same height and he kept right on kissing me.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, held on. Pressed myself into him. Let his tongue find mine. Let him devour me.
We kissed. And kissed. And kissed.
The birds chirped in the far-off trees. The wind whipped across the prairie grass. The sun felt warm on my cheek.
And we kept right on kissing.
“I more than like you,” Thatcher said when he started kissing along my jaw.
I clawed at his t-shirt, held on. My breasts pressed into his chest and I knew he could feel how hard my nipples were.
“I’m in love with you.” I stilled, suddenly panicked at what I said. “Sorry, that slipped out. Your kisses scramble my brain. I’m a mess and I have no idea what you see in me. I’m in my gym shorts from this morning and I know I’m not crazy thin and—”
Thatcher cut off my rambling with a finger to my lips. I lifted my gaze to his.
“You say anymore bad things about yourself you’re going to be over my knee on Huck’s front steps.”
I frowned. His brother’s steps?
“Do you think I care, that I want you to be all dolled up and fancy? That the things you seem to hate about yourself are what makes my dick hard? Haven’t you figured out by now that I love you the way you are?”
“But—” I began, then cut myself off. “What?”
“I’m in love with you Astrid. I love your glasses. I love your curves.” To back up those words, he slid his hands down my sides and cupped my ass. “I love your giving nature, your smiles.” His hands came around and cupped my boobs. “And I love these.” His thumbs flicked over my hard nipples.
My nipples believed in mutual attraction.
“I don’t think I know what love really is,” I shared. “It’s not like I had good examples.”
“I do. I did
. Can we please go to my house so I can show you how much I want to try with you?”
I looked over my shoulder. “You don’t live here?”
His hands continued to caress me as he spoke. “I grew up in this house but Huck lives here with Claire and Sarah. Alice, too. I converted the old barn.” He moved a hand away to point to his left.
“Yes, show me. Yes, don’t go to Mexico. Yes, to dinner or ATVs or both. But whatever you do—” I grabbed his hand and put it back on my boob. “Don’t stop.”
“I don’t plan to, sweets. For a very long time.”
16
ASTRID
We left my van where it was and Thatcher drove me, and the black puppy, further down the drive. He parked in front of a barn and led us inside through a door on the side. I set the puppy down and it scampered off to investigate.
“Come on, I’ll show you around,” he said, taking my hand. I couldn’t get over the space. It did look like a barn, with the thick beams that went up the walls and arched to create a vaulted ceiling, but that was as far as it went. It was one huge room, a second story loft over half of it. The side we entered had no windows that kept the exterior look of the original barn, but the back had wall to wall windows on the lower floor and skylights the entire length of the roof.
It was bright, open and there wasn’t a cow or farm animal in sight. The kitchen was modern, with stainless steel appliances and a white granite. The walls were a soft gray, and the furniture was masculine, but there was a mix of vintage pieces, perhaps from the main house that had belonged to his parents, with newer items.
“This is amazing,” I said, walking in a circle to take it all in.
He squeezed my hand, led me into his living room area. “I’m glad you like it. I hope you’ll be here often.”
I lifted my gaze from the view to his blue eyes. Studied him to see if his words were true. He was serious and I felt… elation. Completeness. Some emotion which was unfamiliar, but I liked.
The dog nipped at my ankle and I squatted down to pet him. I couldn’t believe he’d gotten me a puppy. He was adorable and I could tell now a complete handful. But he’d been right. The little guy loved me and knew nothing about me. He didn’t care the day I’d had. Where I came from. Anything.
He just wanted… me.
It seemed so did this slightly mysterious bartender cowboy. He had layers. So many of them that I wanted to learn. And for some reason, he wanted me. He loved me.
Thatcher grabbed a handle on the window and lifted. I realized it was actually a huge garage door made of glass. It rolled up so the section of wall was open to a sprawling deck. The dog forgot about me and ran off exploring again.
“Should we worry about him?” I asked, watching as he sniffed, then toppled off the low deck and onto the grass.
Thatcher smiled as he watched. “Nah. At this age, he won’t go far. Besides, he’ll have to get used to being here, too.” He took my hand again. “Come on.”
Leading me to a leather couch, he dropped onto it and pulled me to his lap so I straddled him. Shifting, he moved a throw pillow out of the way.
I took off his hat, set it beside us. “You got your things from my parents’ house,” I commented, remembering he’d been wearing the stupid ballcap when I’d abandoned him.
He nodded, reaching behind me and carefully removing the hair tie so my hair fell down over my back.
“I did. Your stuff’s in my truck.”
I shrugged, not caring about the few things I’d taken. I’d figured they were a loss, not willing to return to Cutthroat to get a few outfits. “Doesn’t matter.”
“It does,” he replied. His hands ran over me now, his gaze following their path. It was as if he’d finally been given permission to touch me and couldn’t stop.
I didn’t want him to.
“I’d miss that green bra and panties set,” he admitted. “I want to see you in it again.”
“Now?”
His gaze lifted to mine. The blue was dark and stormy. Eager. “Now I want you naked.”
I wanted that too, so I took off my t-shirt without any reservation or shyness and dropped it to the floor. “The sports bra is going to take a little work. Guard your eyes.”
He frowned. “Huh?”
I laughed. “To hold in the girls, it needs to be tight. Protect yourself from flying elbows.” I got to work, crossing my arms in front and grabbing the bottom edge at my ribs. Then worked it up. It wasn’t easy and when I was really sweaty, sometimes I panicked I’d get stuck.
Thatcher was laughing by the time it was off but went silent when my breasts were exposed. He looked at them reverently and his fingertips brushed over the indentations the tight fit left in my skin.
“This doesn’t hurt, does it?”
I shook my head. “No. It keeps me from getting two black eyes.”
He frowned, then caught on. Then cupped me. “They’re more than a handful. Perfect. Fuck me, I could play with them for hours.”
My nipples tightened into hard points and like a kid with a new toy—or two—he played with intent focus. Mouth and hands. It wasn’t hours, but I was writhing and squirming on his lap eager for more. Interested in giving him some of the same attention. Taking hold of his hands, I moved them off me. He looked up, confused.
I gave him a secret smile, then scooted back and dropped to my knees on the floor between his.
“Sweets,” he said, catching on to my intention.
I leaned forward and undid his belt buckle, then his zipper. Thatcher helped by lifting his hips and pushing down his jeans and boxers. His dick sprang free, and I gripped the base. Stroked it once.
“Fuck,” he growled, his head falling back to lean against the couch. His eyes remained on me. “The sight of you, my dick at your lips, those tits out and nipples red and hard. Fuck me, it’s the prettiest sight I’ve seen.”
I felt powerful then, knowing Thatcher was lost to the pleasure he found in me. In us.
I took him into my mouth for the first time, licking the mushroom shaped head, then taking it deep. There was no way I could take all of him, but I gripped the base and stroked him as I sucked.
His hands tangled in my hair, sliding it back then tugging on it so I looked up at him.
“I don’t want to come in your mouth. Not this time. And shit, I don’t have a condom. Not here.”
“Did you bring the bachelorette party favor bag?” I asked.
His eyes flared and pre-cum dripped from the slit. I flicked it off with my tongue.
“I’ve got plans for you and those toys. I want you walking around my house in nothing but that jeweled butt plug.”
I laughed, but realized he was serious. My butt clenched at the idea. No one had ever gone there before. In any way. But with Thatcher, I wasn’t embarrassed. I felt… pretty. Sexy.
He grabbed my arms and pulled me up. “Green’s my favorite color.” His gaze dropped to my nipple, pulled me close to give one a lick. “Maybe pink.”
When he turned and dropped me onto my back down the length of the sofa, he tugged off the rest of my clothes. Pushing my legs apart, he cupped my pussy and said, “Definitely pink.”
The feel of him, his weight pressing me into the couch, was incredible. I felt feminine. Desired. Especially since the wet tip of his cock slid across my inner thigh.
“I’m on the pill,” I stated, sharing how I protected myself.
He looked down at me, studied my face. “Fuck, sweets. Taking you bare is going to be incredible. I’ve never done it before.”
I shook my head. “Me, either.”
He kissed me then. Long, deep. Sweet. He shifted over me, filled me as his mouth claimed mine.
I tipped my head back and gasped at the feel of him.
“Fuck, it’s too good.”
His forehead leaned against mine.
“Shit. I’m not going to last. I’ll make it up to you. But your pussy’s dripping all over my dick. It’s—”
He stopped
talking and thrust into me, wild. Hard. And he came.
I felt it in me, felt it seep out and onto my thighs, his couch.
His breathing was ragged and his skin hot.
It took him a few seconds to recover, then he met me with sated blue eyes. He seemed chagrined that he hadn’t lasted. I felt exhilarated, toppling a guy like Thatcher, making him so hot that he came with barely any control.
“Just wait, sweets. That was just to take the edge off. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of my girl.”
I raised my hand, stroked his sweaty cheek. “I know.”
“Ladies come first, but today, fuck, you’re too much for me. You make me bust a nut like a fifteen-year-old with a girlie magazine.” He gazed lowered to my breasts. “Fuck, yeah.”
He was still hard inside me. I wasn’t even sure that was possible, until now. He took a total of maybe thirty seconds to recover and then he thrust in again. Lowered his head, sucked a nipple into his mouth.
“Your turn,” he growled against my skin. “You’ll come three times for every time I do.”
I stroked his ginger hair. “Three?” I stared up at the ceiling, a little worried. I’d never come three times in a row in my life.
He lifted his head long enough to grin and give me a wink. “Three. Ready for number one?”
Was I?
Was I ready for whatever Thatcher gave me? Whatever we’d be, whatever we’d do together?
Because he was right there with me as he fucked me into orgasm number one. When he flipped me so I knelt facing the back of the couch and took me from behind—with the jeweled plug in my ass—for number two. When he handcuffed me to one of the posts of his bed for orgasm number three.
“Thatcher,” I finally moaned, completely wrung out and sprawled naked on his tangled bed sheets.
My glasses had disappeared downstairs. The puppy was sleeping on Maple’s dog bed in the corner. Thatcher was coming from his bathroom with a damp cloth. Wearing only his smile.
“Sweets,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed and wiping me between my legs. “What is it?”
I squirmed at the intimacy and the touch on my sensitive pussy. “Are you going to let me go?”
He looked me over, the way my arms trapped over my head thrust my breasts up. Shook his head.