The Burbs and the Bees

by Cathryn Fox

  I grip his hair and press his face harder against me as an explosive climax tears through me.

  “Jay,” I cry out and flop back down on the bed as pleasure centers, each pulse harder than the next. I convulse, gasp for breath, and continue to murmur his name, but when my body stops spasming, my moans get swallowed by his kiss. I wrap my arms around him and kiss him back as I ride the high. I soar into the clouds, never wanting to come back down, but then he’s gone, leaving cold where there was once warmth.

  I go up on my elbows, and he’s reaching for his pants. At that old, familiar worry, the constant insecurity I carry, my throat tightens, and my heart falls into my stomach. Ohmigod, was I too eager, too impatient? Was I not enough for him? Am I as inadequate in bed as I am in everything else? I tense at that grim thought and bite my lower lip, struggling for words. He fumbles to pull a condom from his pocket. His eyes are full of lust when he shoots me a quick, apologetic glance.

  “Damn pocket is too small.” He struggles to open the condom, then gives up and rips into the foil with his teeth like he can’t get at it fast enough. This man wants me between the sheets. Thank God.

  All apprehension dissipates, and arousal once again hits me as his beautiful cock reaches out for me. Unable to help myself, I shimmy to the end of the bed and take him into my hands.

  “Careful,” he says. I blink up at him as pre-come spills from his crown. He grins and says, “You’ll have him crowing before I can get this thing on.” He waves the condom.

  I grin, liking that I can do this to him, liking the way he looks at me, talks to me, teases me.

  “Then you wouldn’t be able to fuck me hard like you promised.”

  While I want to touch him, I desperately need to feel all this homegrown hardness inside me, so I lean forward, swipe my tongue over his crown to taste his tanginess, and shimmy back to the middle of the bed.

  He sheathes himself and crawls between my legs. Big, rough hands grip my hips and move me around, putting me in the position he wants. I have to say, something about the way this man takes charge really excites me, leaves me breathless.

  He falls over me, his weight crushing me as his lips find mine again in a kiss so hard and possessive, rough and demanding, it fills me with an unfamiliar kind of want. The kind of want that could make a girl fall and fall hard. But I’m too smart for that. I wrap my legs around him and tug, and the tip of his cock presses against my opening.

  “Yes,” I murmur.

  I inch up, wanting more, all of him, and he repositions, leans to the side, and grips his cock. He holds it and runs it over my clit before sliding in an inch. My eyes roll back in my head, and I take a fast breath. My throat dries, and I swallow as he pushes into me. One hard thrust until he’s seated high inside me, filling me in a way I’ve never been filled before. That’s a whole lot of nice.

  “Jay,” I yelp and lift up a bit. He slides his hand around my head, holds my hair, and brings my mouth to his. His tongue glides in as his cock fills with heated blood, swelling even more inside me. He inches back and drives into me again as I clutch at him, run my fingers over his hard, rippling muscles. My sex muscles quake, and my nipples press against his chest as he takes me to the precipice and leaves me hanging there.

  “Touch yourself,” he whispers. “Show me how you did it while you were thinking of me.”

  “First the shoes and now this,” I murmur. “Who knew the hot farmer next door was a kinky kind of guy?”

  He grins. “You think I’m hot.”

  I laugh. Honest to God, I’ve never laughed during sex before, but with him it’s…fun.

  “And that was your takeaway?”

  I slide my hand between our bodies, and he repositions in a move that’s not hurried or scripted. With an ease about him, no choreographed moves, nothing he’s rehearsed for years, he runs his hands over my body, a soft exploration, an easy introduction, as he goes back on his knees, lifting me up to keep himself buried inside my sex.

  “Ooh,” I say, my head dizzy like I’m drugged as he introduces me to a new position. “I like this.”

  “Here you thought I had no moves,” he teases. I run my hand over my stomach, and the second I touch myself, pulse against my fingers, his growl curls around me. “Just so you know, you weren’t the only one struggling all week.”

  “No?”

  He snorts out a laugh. “I’ve never abused myself so much in all my life.”

  I laugh at that, but it turns into a moan as he fills me completely. Deep and hard, he pushes into me, and I lift with him to meet each thrust. His hips power forward, and I surge upward, our bodies meeting, becoming one.

  He works his hips, filling me, stretching me, unleashing a side of himself I hadn’t yet seen but like immensely. I let go with him, and honestly, I barely know him, but there’s something about his confidence, his certainty, the way he’s just being with me that gives me a sense of safety, like I could surrender to him and not get hurt.

  My thoughts shift when a hot jolt of pleasure pulls at me—a second time. I’ve never orgasmed twice in a row before, but holy hell, I’m right there again. I buck against him, searching, seeking, wanting more. Bodies entwined, we both push and pull—greedy and generous—as we give and take.

  “You’re so tight and wet,” he says and rocks into me harder and faster. His eyes meet mine, and the raw desire I spot as we meld into one excites me, pushes me over the edge until I shatter and climax all around his beautiful cock.

  “Jesus.” A deep shudder rockets through him, and he grunts. “Alyson,” he murmurs and buries his face in my neck.

  “I feel you,” I say as he pulses inside me.

  I hold his body, absorb his tremors as he releases. My sex hugs him tight, keeping him high inside until he collapses on top of me. His heart pounds against mine, and as my brain slowly stops spinning, one thought hits.

  I just slept with my neighbor.

  I was supposed to keep my distance, try to find myself on this farm, find something to stick to; instead, I stuck to the honey farmer next door who gave new meaning to the words “rocked my world.” None of this is conducive to my plan. In fact, it distracts from it, and I shouldn’t want to do it again—tomorrow, or better yet, five minutes from now. I laugh to myself, almost hysterically. Yeah, madness is already taking hold of me.

  “You okay?” he says, lifting his head to see me. He slides his hands around my head again, his gaze scanning my face as he holds me.

  “I was wrong,” I say.

  His brow furrows in confusion. He opens his mouth and closes it again, like he’s choosing his next words carefully. Last time I said I was wrong, he practically had my farm signed over to Bryce Kent—which I’ll probably end up doing after thirty days, if the price is right.

  “About?” he finally asks.

  I turn into him, my body warming again. “You’ve got all the moves.”

  And that raises all kinds of problems for me.

  Chapter Twelve

  Jay

  The early morning sun peeks in through the crack in Alyson’s curtains, and I roll over. I hadn’t meant to spend the night, hadn’t meant to wake up between her sheets. But after round one last night, followed by a shared bowl of cereal in her bed, I found myself inside her again. Christ, I’d been hoping that one night of hot sex, of owning her sweet body, would be enough to snuff the spark between us, but all it did was make me want her more.

  How’s that for fucked up?

  I roll over and smile as she snuggles into her pillow. Her hair is a mess around her face, and her breathing is soft and even. Not wanting to wake her—Cluck will be doing that shortly—I carefully move her hair back and let my gaze rake over her pretty face. Honestly, I shouldn’t be smiling. I should be sitting here sweating my ass off. I bet against a girl I just had sex with, twice, and even though she pretty much said farming wasn’t
for her, and I expect her to give up and leave soon enough, I’m not happy about that.

  Oh, boy.

  She makes a small noise, and I’m instantly reminded of the way she called my name when she climaxed. Jesus, the way this woman opened up and gave herself to me was downright incredible and definitely something new for me. I fight down a wave of lust as I remember how I used my mouth and hands on her, how she used hers on me. I want her again, right now, but last night, she made it clear that it was a one-night thing, and I respect that. In fact, I should be crowing with joy at that, but what if just once more we…

  You need to leave, dude.

  It’s been a long time since I’ve sneaked out of a woman’s bed, but yeah, I should go. She’d probably prefer it if I weren’t here when she awoke. No need to engage in any awkward morning-after sex.

  I reluctantly push the blanket away and try not to think too hard on why I don’t want to leave as I slide from the bed in search of my clothes. I find my pants, tug them on, and toss my shirt over my shoulder as I cross the room until I’m looking down at her. My gaze moves the length of her body, twisted in the bedding, and I grin at the sight of her feet sticking out the end, her nails no longer painted pink. I’m sure her pedicure was ruined from those big work boots.

  “Creeper much?”

  My gaze flies to hers to catch her eyeing me, one brow raised.

  My stupid heart misses a beat when I see the grin flirting with the corners of her mouth, and I’m thrilled that there is zero strain between us under the stark light of the day.

  “I didn’t mean to wake you.” I jerk my thumb toward the door. “I just thought…”

  She nods slowly, understanding dancing in her big eyes as she sits up. She tugs the blankets around her, hiding her beautiful body from my hungry eyes.

  “Jay,” she begins and taps the mattress. I sit down, and she smiles at me. “Last night was…” She pauses and glances at the ceiling. “You know I have an English Literature degree. Someday I’d like to write a book, but here I am, unable to find the right words to describe last night.”

  Maybe writing a book is something she could stick to. Maybe instead of running this farm, that’s something she could do to prove herself to the people who have no faith in her. I need her to fail, but I want her to succeed at something.

  She taps her chin. “Now how can I put this?”

  “Mind-blowing,” I offer. “Jay is a sexual god, a Titan among men. Sir Come Again.” I chuckle at my own stupidity, still high from my post-orgasm bliss all these hours later. “Wait, I got it. Captain Orgasmo.”

  “Captain Orgasmo?”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  She laughs. “Nothing, I love it. Apparently, you are as creative as Jack, and yes, you are all those things.”

  I angle my head and touch a strand of her hair, running the silky softness between my fingers and wishing I was between her legs again. “Are you complimenting me?”

  She touches my hand, runs her finger up and down my arm. “I actually believe you just complimented yourself. But what I want to say is last night was amazing. Neither of us are looking for anything. We made that clear, so if you want to go, go right ahead.” She waves her hand toward the door. “No hard feelings. I don’t want this to be awkward. But if you want to stay, have breakfast, that’s okay, too.”

  I nod, surprised at the easy, casual way she’s dealing with this and how comfortable we both feel after a night of hot, open, honest sex.

  “I can make eggs and bacon,” I suggest.

  She cringes. “Oh, God, no. I’m off bacon.”

  I laugh and tug on her blankets. “Why don’t you jump in the shower? I’ll run back to my place and get us some coffee, and then I’ll collect some fresh eggs and cook them for us.”

  “Be careful. Princess Lay-A has been rather bitchy lately. She pecked at me, and I contemplated making chicken strips for dinner.”

  I shake my head. “Chicken you’ll eat, but bacon is a no-go. Your priorities are messed up, my friend.”

  She smiles, like she adores the idea of us being friends. Hell, I do, too. But then I remember I shouldn’t be getting too close to her.

  “One thing,” she says.

  “What’s that?”

  “Don’t let Tyler or Beck know you slept here.” She runs her finger over the bedding. “I don’t want them or anyone to get the wrong idea about us.”

  “I don’t want that, either.” I frown and look down. “My mother is a different story. I can’t ever seem to get anything by her. One look at me and she’ll know.”

  She purses her lips. “We do kind of have sex written all over us, don’t we?”

  “Yeah.”

  She gives a curt nod and says, “I better get cleaned up and wash the scent of you from my skin.”

  Goddammit, I kind of like the idea of my scent being all over her. Her sweet aroma is all over me, and I wish I was in more of a hurry to scrub it away.

  “I’ll take the path and avoid the main house and get a shower before coming back here.” Without thinking, I lean into her and place my lips on hers. I moan against her silky, soft mouth and cup her face like it’s the most natural thing in the world for me to do, but the second I realize she’s not kissing me back, I inch away.

  “Oh, shit, sorry. I don’t know why I did that.” Her eyes are narrow, and her brow is furrowed as I try to apologize. “One night, I get it. Honestly, I don’t know why I did that.”

  “Jay.”

  “Hmm.”

  “You know, I was thinking. Maybe we… Well, maybe we can do this again,” she says and plucks at an imaginary piece of lint on the blanket.

  “You want to have sex again?” I ask, something niggling inside me, warning it’s not a good idea. My muscles bunch as those alarm bells jingle.

  She flips her hand over, palm up, making light of the situation. “I mean, if you don’t, then—”

  “I do.”

  She laughs at my eagerness, and the sound is light and contagious, easing some of the tension inside of me.

  She makes an imaginary mark in the air. “Points for enthusiasm,” she says. “It’s almost like it was on your mind.”

  I press my hand to my forehead and think about my hound brother. “Tyler would say, ‘Dude, I’m seventeen; of course all I think about is sex.’ Not sure what my excuse is,” I say, but maybe I already know. Maybe it’s because she’s sweet and vulnerable, not afraid of trying new things, and working her ass off to prove something to someone. I admire her grit; I really do. There is more to this city girl than she lets on. And that, my friends, can’t be good for me.

  “Jay.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Coffee.”

  “Right.” I tug my shirt on, and she tsks. “What’s wrong?”

  “Well, if you hesitated, I was going to suggest we put that enthusiasm to work.”

  I reach behind my back and grip my shirt, but as soon as I do, Cluck lets out a crow. “Dammit. I’d better go before the house wakes up and someone comes calling. Tonight, however, it’s on, Alyson.”

  She touches the hem of my shirt. “Don’t you mean it’s off?”

  My God, I love her sense of humor. That’s when I remember she said she wanted to write a book. I’m about to ask about it, but Cluck won’t shut up, so I jump up.

  “I’ll be back fast.”

  She slides from the bed, stark naked, and I damn near bite off my tongue. “Fuck, how do you expect me to leave now?”

  She points to the door. “Go. We don’t need rumors started.”

  I reluctantly make my exit, and her feet pad down the hall behind me as she makes her way to the bathroom. I dash outside, and the sun is cresting the horizon. I didn’t get much sleep, and I should be far more tired than I am, but this morning, I feel alive, invigorated, something that�
�s been lacking from my life for a very long time. Must be from great sex.

  Or maybe it’s because that sex was with Alyson.

  The one girl I should be keeping my distance from.

  I hurry to my cottage and rush inside. “Morning, Capone,” I say with a little cheer in my voice.

  “Jay’s an asshole.”

  “Nice to see you, too.”

  “Alyson’s hot stuff.”

  “Why, yes, she is, and guess what? I slept with her last night. If you were nicer to me, I’d get you a companion, too, and you could rock your socks off.”

  “Jay’s an asshole.”

  I laugh. I can’t quite believe I thought about getting a companion for him. It’s obvious I’m insane. Maybe madness has burrowed deep into my brain. “You’re not wrong about that.”

  “Good morning.”

  I spin at the sound of my mother’s voice. Shit, how much had she heard?

  “Hey, what are you doing here?”

  She tucks a strand of silver hair behind her ears, and I note she has her gardening gloves on. “Can’t a mother visit her son? You’ve been so busy lately, I haven’t seen much of you.”

  “Sorry.” I bring her in for a hug and kiss the top of her head. “You’re right. How about a big family dinner?” The last time we all got together was over a week ago for Beck’s birthday. I usually just eat alone in my cottage.

  “I think that is a great idea. I’ve been meaning to have Alyson over.”

  I stiffen. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. She’s probably not going to be here very long.”

  “It’s the neighborly thing to do, son.”

  “Yeah, but you gave her pie.”

  “Jay, we have to treat our neighbors with respect and be there for them when they need us. Even if it means we have to put ourselves out.”

  I spin, not wanting her to see my face. Last night I put out, and I might as well be wearing a neon sign announcing it. Why, though, do I have the feeling my mother knows that?