Love me ... Again

by Beazer, Delka

“What?” Jett shouts, startling both mother and calf, he points to the cattle, “It doesn’t take two hours to kill and butcher a calf.”

  Colt stalks past me and heads over to the makeshift corral the hands has stabled the horses in, “it will take me that long to get a doe for her.”

  Jett hoots with laughter, “you’re gonna hunt something when we have a thousand heads of cattle right here?”

  Colt stops and turns to look at Jett, “Yeah, got a problem with that?”

  Jett doesn’t back down, “Whatever Colt, go waste your own damn time,” he comes over to me and loosely takes my hand.

  Colt turns from the two of us and keeps walking towards the corral, his large hands are clenched into fists at his side.

  Jett groans, “He gets worse every year.” Jett looks down at me with a grin, “Colt needs a woman!”

  Chapter eight

  The venison is tender, it melts on my tongue and though I’m ravenous, I eat very slowly to savor the delicate texture. Colt is sitting in front of the open pit barbeque, a simple iron grill placed over dried pinewood. He spears the last piece of grilled venison and turns around to the circle of family about the fire. I’m sitting in the middle beside Jett, Marjorie and Michael flank us.

  “No,” Marjorie backs away from the offered meat, her blank face is softened by the light of the amber fire, “if I eat another bite I’ll explode,” she laughs.

  I swallow a rueful chuckle, Marjorie had primly requested half a venison steak and eaten only a piece of that, next to Colt’s grandma who now dozes contently beside the fire, who’d packed away three thick venison steaks.

  Colt offers it around the fire, everyone including Jett waves it away.

  He has no choice but to offer it to me.

  Our eyes meet and Colt drops his gaze to the ground at my dusty boots, I hold my breath and look at the slightly charred juicy flank of steak stuck on the point of his hunting knife.

  The succulent odor of the roasted meat tickles my nose and water pools in my mouth, “I’ll take half,” I say and his eyes flick upwards, I savor the way his gaze rakes over my face, then falls to my lips which are sticky with meat juices. I rake my tongue over my lips to clean them and his eyes dart away.

  He grunts, deftly slices the meat in two and hands the larger portion to me.

  “Is it too much?” he asks while avoiding my eyes.

  A shiver runs through me as the husky timber of his voice, he seems to catch it himself and clamps his lips tightly together, regret furrows his brow, my mouth droops, I feel as if I’ve just lost something he never gave me, I pluck the meat off the knife, “It’s just the right size,” I say and pop it into my mouth.

  His eyes flare with … hunger and I watch him struggle to say what he cannot in front of his family and my fiancée but he just nods. He squats down in front of the fire, legs crossed and swiftly devours his own half, and watches me from under his lashes. I squirm as he watches me eat. His eyes are narrow and a hint of calculated savagery blossoms in them. My mouth wet with the juices of the meat goes dry, I force down the last bite. Is he mad at me? Quickly I drop my gaze to the dirt, my cheeks burn and I’m glad for the heat of the fire to hide the confusion on my own face.

  Beside me Jett lets out a loud, satisfied yawn, gets to his feet and stretches, “I’m going to turn in,” he sends me a look from beneath his long lashes and heat scorches my cheeks, I turn away rapidly and run right into Colt’s pained eyes.

  Just like that, it melts away, leaving me feeling as if I’m betraying two men … which I am.

  The wretched thought does nothing to console me as I get slowly to my feet. Mutter goodnights to Jett’s parents and grandparents, and the rest of the crew.

  My tent looms like prison, which Jett walking behind me in the role of jailer. He is close. The heat from his body cloaks my back, sending warmth and with it a growing urgency.

  He stops me even before I get to the tent. Grasps me around the waist and pulls me about to him. His mouth swoops down onto mine, I tense, prepare to push him away, we’re in full view of everyone, but the expected anger doesn’t come. In its place I feel myself melting, thawing, my body yielding to his as if it doesn’t give a heck what I may want, especially if I’m going to be indecisive about it. The warmth of Jett’s mouth is slow, he doesn’t rush me, he beckons me into the kiss, nipping at my lips, sucking gently on the corners of my trembling lips. I sigh, a greedy sound and turn towards the softness of his mouth. His breath is hot, it burns me deliciously. The tip of his tongue flicks snakelike at my closed lips.

  “It’s been days,” he rasps breathlessly, “open for me.”

  And because nothing in my world is making sense anymore and I can’t even recognize the wants that I’m having, I do. Because I want this. I want to kiss Jett. He feels me cave, and he sighs as if he too was unsure I’d let him kiss me this way in front of his parents. In the back of my way, I realize that Jett is branding me. Anxiety thugs at me. What does he suspect? It makes my mouth dry and strangely enough it makes me want to prove to him that I do love him, that up until a few days ago he’d been the only man I’d imagined. Not his brother.

  I wrap my hands around his shoulders, revel in the long, sinewy muscles that cord the expanse of his shoulders down to his arms, he responds and pins me tighter against him. His body feels like warm steel, much like Colt …

  Ice water streaks into my veins, I drop my hands from his shoulders, struggle against the tempting lushness of his mouth.

  He reluctantly draws back from me, his eyes are heavy, his mouth moist from my tongue.

  But he doesn’t argue. He smirks and pecks me resignedly on the tip of my nose, “sorry didn’t mean to get so heavy,” his words are low, they scratch along the center of my spine like sandpaper on cheese. I nod. Too speechless to speak. I search his lashed eyes, the blue is deeper and his nostrils are flared. There is no denying that he wants me badly. And that I want him to. But our relationship had not progressed that far yet.

  “Goodnight,” I say firmly and lift the flap of my tent. And I feel him. Colt. I look back, over my shoulder, even as Jett walks away from me, his hands stuffed in his pockets and a satisfied whistle cutting through the silence of the night. Colt watches me and even if there had been a thousand miles between us there is no denying the pain etched in the golden eyes that regard me somberly, resignedly. I wince. My lips begin to tremble. I think I’m going to lose it and start crying. I dash into the tent and the flap falls behind me.

  I stand for several moments, clenching and unclenching my hands, fighting not to cry. Some indistinct amount of time passes, and I pull back the tent flap and look out again.

  Colt is crouched before the dying fire. He’s alone. Carefully he banks the small flames. The night sits on him like a black shroud, his hair is so dark and thick it’s lost in it. A fresh gust of cool wind whips in my face, billows the tent behind me. I look up and there are thick clusters of dark clouds rolling in from the west. When I look back Colt is gone. I pick out his silhouette stalking towards the cattle herd yards away. His head is thrown back and his hands are clenched at his sides.

  Without thought I slip out and follow him.

  He doesn’t go towards the cattle. He heads to the make shift corral where his horse is tethered. He quickly saddles him and leaps up onto his back. He takes off back down the trail we’d taken yesterday.

  Freedom and fear bite at me. I grab both with two hands. I don’t bother with a saddle. I’ve always wanted to ride bare back. To feel the animal beneath me. I follow him. I lose him several times. He is a superb rider and he moves so fast in the thickening darkness, I marvel at him even as I struggle to keep him in sight. He weaves in and around lone trees which dot the valley floor. Clips by fallen boulders strewn across the grassy meadows like ghost toys heedlessly thrown down. He hangs low in his saddle as he blazes across the darkened valley at breakneck speed.

  A rain drop hits my cheek, I look up, and another one falls into my eye. It is
raining quietly. Somewhere in the background of Devil’s Middle Mountain a tiny flash of lightning forks through the sky. The rain comes harder, I giggle loving the feel of the rain on my face, and the speed of the animal galloping strongly beneath me. Another upside to the rain is that it has provided a convenient muffler for my stalking.

  The ride seems to last anywhere from one to two hours. I can’t truly tell. All around me light rain has turned the valley into one giant grey watercolor. I squint and pick out Colt’s white shirt about ten yards up ahead. From this distance it looks like he is floating on air. I clutch my knees around the powerful flanks of my horse and bend low, the powerful warm body of my horse pulses beneath me and despite the rain and not knowing where the hell I’m going, I grin, and absorb the feel of just being. The feeling is so exquisite, I close my eyes to savor the delicate tendrils inside me.

  Colt abruptly takes a hard left out of the valley floor and up into a chain of low lying hills that run parallel to the valley floor. I follow closely for several minutes then recognition hits.

  He halts in the meadow of flowers he’d brought me to the day before and slips from his horses back. He ties it to a tree that brackets the mouth of the flower meadow. I slow down and watch him walk away out into the field of wildflowers. I get off and hastily tie my horse a few yards back from his.

  I hesitate, bite my lips. I shrug. Take a step out of the trees, I gasp as he wheels around and comes charging towards me.

  His face is set. His eyes glittering beams in his skull. He’s angry. A sharp crack goes off behind me, I scream as lighting strikes about a mile away and I’m in the trees, but none of that matters because Colt is bearing down on me and my only defense is to stay within the trees.

  He talks as he corners me and I stumble back and bump against a smooth tree trunk. He growls, “Why did you follow me?” he looms over me and his voice is hoarse from the restraint he’s exercising and clearly doesn’t want to!

  I flinch, then shrug as if stalking a man on a two hour ride is nothing out of the usual, “Like you I wanted a midnight ride,” I say boldly. Secretly I delight in the steadiness of my voice.

  He stops inches away from me, the rain has soaked through his shirt, molded it to his chest. The muscles across the expanse of his chest are large, hard and defined all the way across, sloping down his rigid shoulders which bunch and dip in all the right places, down to the long length of his corded arms and big hands, which he holds a little away from his sides.

  “Oh,” startled I realize that I’m speaking, but the word comes as an afterthought as I reach out to touch the beauty of him. He jerks as my fingertips make impact but doesn’t move away. I slide closer, close enough to rest my palms on his chest, above his heart.

  It thumps like a sledgehammer beneath my touch, a thought occurs to me, I search his golden eyes and catch it before he can tuck it away, sweetness wells up inside me, “why are you afraid of me?” I ask feeling his vulnerability sweep into me.

  He grimaces, but he is not a man to back away from anything, even obvious questions. He grips my palms and presses it harder to the thump of his heart. We stand still for several heartbeats, connected by the sound of his life beating beneath my fingertips.

  He tips my chin up. I blink because the tenderness in his eyes from only a second ago has gone. Washed away in the rain, leaving behind a light mist, he is open but unlike the gentle rain, anger radiates from his harshly drawn face, sparks from his eyes. It is naked and savage.

  He tilts his head to the side, considers me, “you shouldn’t have followed me sweetie,” his voice is gruff but not the expected cold, still he is warning me.

  The urge to bolt, get on my horse and race back in whatever direction it would take me streaks through my body.

  But it’s too late. I see it on Colt’s harsh face. His hand is still pinned over mine and we both listen to his heartbeat speed up. It climbs higher and higher.

  With an awareness that keeps me pinned upright, I reach up and wrap my free arm around the powerful chords in his neck. He sighs and gives up. He crushes me to him, then backs me up against the tree trunk.

  He hauls back and growls down into my face, “You should’ve stayed away.” His mouth descends on mine, so harsh he steals my air supply and crushes my lips in one brutal kiss. I struggle, scratch at his shirt, then give up trying to hold him in check. I surrender to his kiss, the hard, hot planes of his lips buffer and zing me so good that when he pulls away for a quick breath, my lips burn. He cups my face in his rough, warm palms and seeks my mouth again, this time the kiss is not as hard. But he doesn’t waste time to tease me to open, he demands it and his tongue swipes up into the roof of my mouth and tussles strongly with mine. We remain this way for ages, me scratching at his shirt to stay upright, him palming my face taking my mouth in a searing display of need. Chest heaving he pulls away again, but before, he dips and nips me hard on my plump, swollen bottom lip.

  Pain sizzles on my nerve endings, stings my eyes. I wrench back and glare up into his hungry, blazing eyes, “Is that to punish me?” I demand, stupid tears of hurt fill my eyes and stream down my cheeks

  “Yes!” he shouts, completely unforgiving, he holds my scorching glare, then he lifts a large finger to my hot, wet cheek and wipes the tears away. His face twists in torment.

  Anger, confusion … everything that had battered me suddenly swallows me up. I scream and swing my hand back, slap his face so hard the bones in my fingers rattle. His head snaps to the side, a look of stunned incredulity flashes across his face, then a grudging admiration begins to blossom there.

  Panting I go for a second try. He catches my hand in the air, pulls me hard against him, I twist furiously in the prison of his hold but he doesn’t give a damn, and he doesn’t let go.

  “Stop Angie,” he moans.

  What the hell?

  He nudges me back up against the tree and his hands fall from my face to the waist of my soaked jeans.

  I still. Close my eyes. Fight to come up with a single plausible reason why this should happen. None comes.

  His fingers are hot bands of heat as they swipe across my belly, quivers wreak havoc inside my belly, every nerve jumps and trembles as if a Salsa band has taken up residence.

  He strokes the tip of his broad fingers into my navel, then skims it down, downwards to the metal clasp, it dives below my waistband and my legs give out as he caresses my mound from the outside of my cotton panties.

  I gasp and tilt my head back, thrust my hips towards the seeking heat of his fingers. He fans them out and dips one digit lower into my slit.

  I clench around his probing digit, cry out and buck harder against him.

  He breathes roughly into my ear, “Is this what you want?”

  I nod, tremble as he opens my metal button, then the sound of my zipper grinds through the silent, hot air between us. He pulls the jeans down to my calves. I lift my feet to kick out of it but he stops me, “No,” he growls.

  He runs his wickedly hot hands through the opening between my lips, from calves all the way up to and just shy of my womanhood. My eyes cross. If the tree weren’t at my back, I would’ve collapsed. All I can manage is a mew of helpless want.

  He skims down again to my calves and this time he lifts my leg, one at a time, and frees me of my wet jeans.

  He parts my legs a little bit more and looking up at me, as I watch him, works the hard, callused insides of his hands painstakingly up the sensitive flesh inside my thighs.

  My breath hitches, veins pop inside my head, I’m quaking from his touch as I watch his hot, hard hands. He shoves my legs wide, making enough room for his head. He ducks and seconds later a hot stabbing pleasure starts along the base of my spine and spreads upwards, I stiffen and grind myself wildly against his face. The heat of his tongue, snakes and sucks and licks along the inside of my thighs, leaving a wet trail that makes me pant and clutch overhead at the tree trunk behind me.

  He parts my legs further and buries his he
ad between them, feasting on my flesh, he pauses and looks up at me, “damn, you taste good.”

  He ducks back, swipes his wicked tongue along the other leg, I hiss and begin to tremble so hard I can’t hold myself upright any longer. I collapse onto me and he catches me, supports my weight on his arms, as he pins me against the tree. Mercifully he lifts his head away, he is panting, his eyes are stark in his tight face, eyes locked on mine, he resumes the path of his hot fingers between my thighs and skims them, one at a time upwards, he reaches the flimsy barrier of my panty line and with our eyes locked, he delves one finger underneath the elastic waistband and right into my moist center.

  I stiffen, my knees give out and I buckle as he buries his finger inside me. Gasping from the unfamiliar impact, I clutch at his hair, turn my face into his neck.

  “Relax,” his breath is strained in my ear, and if his finger wasn’t buried inside I would’ve sworn that he’s the one being needled by discomfort. He sighs into my neck, nibbles the tip of my earlobe, “shh … I can make this good for you.”

  I moan and move my hips slowly, experimentally, he flicks his finger up inside me, and a light bulb goes out, a sharp, stabbing sensation brings my eyes wide open. I open my mouth to suck in desperately needed air and he does it again. This time, I do cry out. I grip his hard shoulders, drive my heels into the soft earth and arch back off him. I whimper into the comforting warmth of his shoulder, trying to catch my breath.

  He strokes my back, soothing me, slides his other hand down to my waist and rolls it on my hip, “Ride my finger,” he whispers into my neck. Licking my lips I grind my hips against his hand and every time I do, he flicks his finger inside me, reaching deeper with every circle of my bottom on my hands. He grips and kneads my hips and ass as I move on him and his finger teases and rears up inside me rubbing up against a spot nestled deep in the wall of my womb. I jerk and push down, mouth open, eyes wide with shock of pleasure convulsing my lower body and moving relentlessly outward, igniting every nerve and I begin to shake uncontrollably. Tiny screams rip from my throat when suddenly I’m coming apart. There is not enough air, my heart is beating so loud I can’t hear the wind through the trees anymore, even my stuttered cries seems to be coming at me rather than from me. I mangle my lower lip and grind myself harder onto his stabbing finger, echoes of pleasure so intense I’m in pain rip outwards inside me, pulse from the pad of his growing finger buried in my warmth and tears me apart. I scream and can’t stop. My voice breaks, turns raw and still I can’t stop screaming as I break apart astride him. He clenches me to him. Not letting me go.