The Dumb Fuck

by Marie Stanley

  It was glaringly obvious that she and Walker came from two entirely different worlds. If twin set was the kind of woman he wanted then, it was better to suffer the broken heart early before she was all in. She was only half in right now. Her heart only felt slightly cracked right now.

  Walking slowly up the hallway to her apartment door, barefoot, shoes in one hand, digging in her handbag for her door key, she didn’t notice Walker sitting in front of her door until she almost stepped on him. Shrieking in surprise, she started to stumble, he reached out, still sitting, steadying her legs to keep her from falling.

  Once she was stable, he stood. Her mouth watered, he was in jeans, a black thermal under a weathered leather jacket, baseball cap on his head, worn black boots. Rubbing a hand over his stubbled face, he looked her up and down, unhappily taking in her date outfit. She drank him in, mesmerized, did he look at a Pinterest board for the perfect outfit to wear to fuck any woman on the planet?

  “Nice outfit,” she offered as a greeting.

  “You don’t approve? I would have checked with you, but you won’t answer my fucking texts,” he snapped at her.

  “Where have you been?”

  He was angry with her, he stood spinning his phone in his hand, watching it, not looking at her. He was not happy.

  “A date.”

  Unlocking her door and making her way into her condo, he followed her in without being asked.

  “Does that bother you?” She questioned, setting her keys on her entry way table.

  He shrugged, walking to her sofa, then leaning against the back of it, still playing with his phone.

  “Did you sleep with him?”

  “No, no sleeping happened,” she was being deliberately obtuse, she wanted to push him, to see if it would bother him, like seeing him with Cece bothered her. Throwing her handbag on the floor by her door, she padded over to the kitchen, setting her shoes down and grabbing a bottle of water.

  “So you fucked him?”

  Walker asked, Folding his arms across his chest, Walker finally looked at her. The calm, she was used to seeing from him had been replaced with an anger that reddened his face.

  Yes. It did bother him. Good, why should she be miserable and confused alone? She didn’t need to answer his question, didn’t need to be interrogated. He had gone out with someone else also and she hadn’t waited accusingly at his door.

  “You fucked him?”

  Waverly exploded.

  “You lied to me, Walker. You told me you didn’t want a girl like that! I saw the pictures of you and Cece Moneyface, together in the paper!”

  Shouting at him, grabbing her shoes, both of them, she threw them at his head. He ducked gracefully, easily avoiding both of them.

  He stood there then, calm again, not moving, just watching her in that quiet, judging way he had.

  “And I saw pictures of you with John Campbell.”

  “Twice.”

  “Well, John Campbell is not a twin set wearing, cold-hearted, bitch,” she declared, tossing her head to flip her hair out of her face.

  “You’re jealous?!,” He pointed out, the corners of his mouth lifting.

  “And, you’re a dumbfuck asshole,” she snapped back.

  Stomping out to her kitchen, slamming things into the sink, into the dishwasher, and into drawers, then she opened every cabinet and slammed it shut again, just to having something else to slam.

  “Are you finished?”

  Hands in his pockets, still calm, still superior, just watching her stomp around her kitchen slamming things. Leaning her back against the refrigerator, finally finished, she drew in a few deep breaths.

  “I think so,” she replied, glaring at him.

  Walking slowly he came toward her, stopping when they were toe to toe. She wouldn’t look at him now. Walker tipped her chin up to him but her eyes still looked away.

  “Look at me Waverly,” his voice was soft now. She peeked up at him.

  “I do not want you to see anyone else,” he said, his dark blue eyes staring intently at her.

  “Ever.”

  “I’ll let John know your feelings, the next time we go out.”

  “Oh, there won’t be a next time,” Walker informed her, his eyes back to glaring.

  “You have no right to tell me what I can do.”

  Anger blazing up in her, she raised both hands to his chest and pushed him. Nothing.

  “When I found out that you were out with him...it made me angry.”

  Catching her wrists he slid them down, so her hands rested on his chest again, holding her captive.

  “You went out with twin set,” she pointed out.

  “Extremely angry,” He repeated, squeezing her wrists gently.

  “And, I wasn’t out with twin set, I was at a fundraiser, her family runs the foundation. My company donates every year, the photo was arranged by her, it was publicity for the company.”

  He moved his hands up her arms to wrap them around her neck. His hands were very warm and comforting on her.

  “She’s not...” He stated, resting his forehead on hers.

  “Like me?” Waverly whispered. His hands went to her waist, leaning his head down to her ear, whispering in the low, raspy tone she loved.

  “There’s no one else like you, Hippie Girl.”

  He pulled his head back to meet her eyes, ducking down slightly, so she couldn’t escape his eyes.

  “You are sweet, sincere, kind... and genuine. She is very fake, opportunistic and cold. Her goal in life is to be the rich wife of powerful guy, that’s all. It doesn’t even have to be to me. She doesn’t have any feeling for me, I think she wants us together because of our families. I don’t want her.”

  “You don’t?” Waverly breathed, looking into his eyes which were watching her so intently.

  “I want you,” Walker said in a low voice. She held her breath for a second.

  “I’m already so confused. All of this is starting to scare me, Walker.”

  “I know the feeling,” Walker’s lips tipped up a little bit at the corners. Her hand rested on his bicep, running over his tattoo.

  “I didn’t think anything could scare you,” she whispered.

  “All women scare me. And your throwing arms is becoming more accurate,” he replied, his eyes crinkling even more at the corners.

  “Was that...a joke? Did you just make a joke?”

  “No. Your throwing arm really is more accurate.”

  She laughed out loud, throwing her head back, her hair flying. He grabbed her and leaned forward, kissing her, it was too long since he had his mouth on her. He missed it. When he finally pulled away, her fingers flew to his shirt, after getting about of half of his buttons undone, she just started pulling it over his head. When her fingers dropped hurriedly to his belt buckle, Walker broke away from the kiss and pulled back, chuckling at her.

  “Baby, slow down.”

  He leaned down to her mouth, her eyes fluttering closed, slowly he kissed her, doing it so thoroughly and deeply, that when he pulled away she sagged against him.

  “Did you just call me baby?” Waverly whispered, rubbing her fingers over her lips. Focused, on finding the zipper to her dress he paused.

  “Yes. Are you okay with that?”

  “Yes.”

  He took her by the hand and pulling her into her bedroom.

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “I like the yeses, Wave. Keep them coming.”

  Walker pushed her down onto her bed and stood just staring at her. And then, he went over her body, first with his fingers, trailing over every inch of her skin — and finally with his mouth. When finally he spread her legs and licked the insides of her thighs, she cried out for him to stop. He moved down and used his tongue to kiss and suck her rel
ease from her, his eyes locked on her body, “I love to watch your pussy when you come, almost as much your face.”

  He crawled back up and kissed her long and slow. Found her hands with his and linked them together, then he pushed himself inside of her. She breathed into his mouth, moaned his name, rubbed her hand over his tattoo. Slowly he moved just the tip of himself in and out, then he backed away completely. Rolled her onto her stomach, pulled her hips up. It was loving and soft. It was exactly what she wanted from him right then.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Waverly woke with a start, remembered and smiled. She straightened her legs all the way down to her toes, pointed and stretched. She smiled to herself, he was still here, not in bed with her, but somewhere in her apartment. She was a little surprised he wasn’t still sleeping, they had gone at it all night, it was like they were making up for the time they had spent apart. The man was a machine in the best possible way.

  For a man who was typically quiet, he certainly liked to talk a lot in bed, bossy, dirty talk. He was confidant and commanding, letting her know everything he liked, how much he liked it and what he wanted next, and it made her crazy for him. The night before, though, there were sweet and loving words too, she wondered if he meant them or was it just lust fueled, blathering.

  Rolling out of bed, she cleaned up her face and brushed her teeth. Seeing her crazy sex hair in the mirror, she decided to go with it. She flipped her head a couple of times to fluff it up, pulled on a fitted lightweight tank and a pair of her sexiest booty shorts, practically skipping to her kitchen.

  Holy Shit. Walker was in her kitchen, leaning against the counter. Walker was in her kitchen, not wearing a shirt. His worn jeans, low on his hips, the top button undone, his hair bed mussed and his tan bare feet crossed at the ankle. Holding a cup that said, ‘I’m blonde and smart. Be afraid, very afraid’.

  She stopped, God was he was stunning. He looked at her, his eyes going slowly over her body, to her breasts, then down her legs, then all of the way back up to her eyes.

  “Good morning, Wave.”

  His eyes twinkled as he lifted the mug to his lips and took a drink.

  “Stop eyefucking me, and come get some coffee.”

  “Nice mug,” she responded, then strolled toward him to get herself a mug.

  Surprising her, he laughed loud and deep, then grabbed her, pulling her to him and kissing her. A deep, wet, slow kiss, and while he did, he reached down with both hands to her ass, groping and squeezing.

  She moaned and he pulled back smiling at her.

  “Really like those shorts, Wave.”

  Pulling away from him, she backed up, turned around and wiggled her ass, looking over her shoulder at him.

  “These shorts?”

  He lunged at her, laughing again, a full deep laugh. He grabbed her, sitting her up on the counter, sliding between her legs, his hands squeezing her waist.

  “Stay. I’ll get your coffee,” he commanded, his voice back to low and gruff.

  He moved to get her a cup, filling it with coffee and then milk just the way she liked it, and she watched his muscles moving and flexing, his skin bare. He was so perfectly porn worthy, she sighed. He looked at her, his eyebrows raising questioningly, handing her the mug.

  “Jesus, Walker, your body is amazing, you must work out for hours every day. No wonder panties just drop when you walk by.”

  “The only panties I care about dropping when I walk by are yours. You’re not wearing any are you?”

  She shook her head, her hair flying and grinned at him.

  Back between her legs again, his hands rested on her knees and slid up her thighs, slightly under her shorts and then slowly back down again, he watched his hands intently.

  “You have the best fucking legs, Wave, and your skin is so damn soft.”

  His hands stopped, and he looked up at her again.

  “I run, work out a little. But, I own a farm, a farmhouse. I do a lot of work there. It keeps me in shape.”

  “Really? You own a farmhouse?”

  She took another sip of her coffee.

  “You work on a farm? Is that allowed in the blue blood club, or do you have to keep it a secret?”

  She was a little shocked, it was obvious that he was a man’s man, she just hadn’t expected a farm. A cabin maybe. Did he wear that baseball hat when he was there? Did he walk around with his shirt off? He was a big, strong, man, he could probably lift an entire cow over his head...

  “Waverly, baby, come back,” he squeezed her leg, getting her attention.

  “I’m right here.”

  She wrapped her legs around his thighs, pulling him closer to her.

  “Yes, I own a farm. Can you get away today? Ever had sex in a barn?”

  With her legs still wrapped around his thighs, she set her cup down, so she could glide her hands up his chest to his shoulders, then down to his biceps. She really, really, liked his strong arms. Tracing over his tattoo with her fingers, she watched his eyes close tight and heard him hiss in a breath when she leaned forward and licked over it.

  “What does this mean, Walker?”

  Aut viam inveniam aut facium, was tattooed on his bicep, she had meant to look it up.

  “You go with me today, Hippie Girl, and when I’ve got you in the barn, naked, and wet for me, and I’m just about ready to slide into you, I’ll tell you,” he bargained with her.

  Such a dirty mouth, she thought as he leaned in and kissed her sweetly. This man, such a contrast, his erotic, dirty thoughts coming from a mouth that would then whisper so sweetly. He gently lifted her off of the island, letting her slide slowly, all of the way down his body, then kissed her softly. After handing her the coffee mug, he slapped her on the ass and told her to go get dressed.

  CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

  They drove for an hour and a half, in a huge truck, she didn’t even know he owned. Ordered to pack a bag and dress casually, she complied, wearing her old tight jeans with boots, a short sleeve tee shirt with a full zip hoodie tied around her waist.

  When they finally reached the highway, snatching her hand, he held it safe and warm, comfortably resting on his thigh, using the other to steer. When she asked questions about his farm he seemed pleased taking the time to explain in detail, a list of the changes he made and how long they took. It was impressive and she told him so, earning her another deep rich laugh from him. When she told him that she adored his laugh, that it was special to her because he didn’t do it often. Walker leaned over and kissed her softly, then laughed again, a deep, dirty-sounding laugh, explaining that was exactly how he felt about anal sex.

  During the drive, Walker was different, open and laid back, talking more than he usually did, it was an unfamiliar side of him, and she loved it. Taking turns choosing songs from her playlists, they were pleasantly surprised to find their music tastes were somewhat similar.

  Shocked into silence by his argument that old school country music was more emotional and genuine than the newer genre, she realized again that there were hidden depths to him. Things he kept very close, that were beginning to surface the more they spent time together. Waverly stared at the passing countryside pondering the many sides of him when he turned into a long, gravel road marked private, another mile down his farmhouse was visible. Sitting far back, on a sprawling lawn was a classic, nineteenth century farmhouse. It was impressive, five thousand square feet, with five bedrooms, completely renovated, as he had explained.

  Beautiful reclaimed wood flooring, open rooms, natural light streaming in, a vaulted great room, high-end kitchen.

  She was stunned, it was gorgeous. Warm and homey, yet everything was sophisticated and upscale – there was even a piece or two of artwork hung on the walls Turning slowly to take it all in, she complemented him.

  “Walker this is unbelievable. You did all of this?”

&nbs
p; “Thank you, well I did have two guys helping me and some machinery,” he chuckled, she could tell he was pleased with her approval.

  “But still, you could have just hired someone and told them what to do.”

  “I’m not some rich douche bag who hires people to do everything for him, Waverly. And, we both know I’m good with my hands.”

  She laughed, happy to see him so lighthearted.

  “Hmm, is that you’re way of saying my tour will start in your bedroom?”

  “No, smart ass, I’m hungry. I called ahead and had it stocked up for us. I’m going to give you a tour of the kitchen, and you’re going to make me lunch.”

  He turned her towards what must be the kitchen and gave her a gentle shove.

  They ate, they had a lot of sex, they went for walks and they talked a lot. Waverly, of course, did more talking than Walker, but he truly enjoyed listening to her. The way her voice went up and down, her face and eyes were so expressive, she found so many things, that he had never given any thought to, interesting or odd or maddening.

  He was fascinated by the way her mind worked, there was very little logic or straight lines of thought, conversation jumped from one topic to another randomly, he assumed that skill was what made her so exemplary at her job. When he questioned her about it, she explained that there was a connecting thread in her mind, it just wasn’t obvious to anyone else. They discussed anything, and everything, at one point he argued that something was “just fucking stupid,” she got mad and tried to push him into the pond, he threw her in instead and they ended up having sex on the muddy bank.

  When she begged him to show her how to chop wood, he caved, thinking maybe they would have sex in the barn again. He was annoyed that it had taken him a while to realize, that it was just a pretense to see him working with his shirt off. Unashamed, she admitted that she had zero interest in ever lifting an ax. Moving some of the wood he had chopped for her, he sliced his finger open. It bled like crazy, and she felt so guilty for forcing him out there that she babied him for the rest of the day. He fucking loved it.