Upper Hand (Cedar Tree Book 5)

by Freya Barker

  Without questioning him, I raise my arms and grab hold of the metal rods that make up the top of the bed. Clint grabs me behind the knees and pushes my legs up and wide and I can’t help the sharp intake of breath at the extreme exposure I feel. His eyes flick to mine.

  “You okay?” His voice is gruff with restraint, and I can’t do much more than nod my head and whimper at the overwhelming feelings running through me. A slight shift of his hips has the broad head of his cock sliding along my entrance and poised there, he lifts me by the legs as he straightens up on his knees a little. With just my upper back and shoulder still touching the mattress, he surges home inside me, without warning. The scream leaves me before I can check it and immediately he stops all movement, staring down at me with concern lining his face. I’m not in pain—not really—more overwhelmed with the incredible sense of fullness stretching my suspended body wide open.

  “Please...” The plea falls from my lips as unchecked as the clenching of my core around him; willing him to move.

  “Please, what?” he forces out between his clenched teeth.

  “Please...move. Fuck me.”

  The change in his face is immediate, from worry to a ferocity I’ve not seen before. Although his retreat is slow and measured, the punishing plunge seating him right back to the hilt is as fierce and uncontrolled as the expression on his face. My hands can barely hold on to the bars of the headboard as he unleashes a power that has his balls slapping loudly against my ass.

  Nothing has ever even come close to this feeling of complete surrender to the mercy of this deceptively powerful giant of a man. When his movements become erratic and I can hear his labored breathing, I succumb to my second blinding orgasm as his roar of release echoes in my ears.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The stillness that follows my collapse on Beth’s body, after coming so hard it crossed my eyes, is only interrupted by the shallow panting from her lips. I haven’t exactly found my breath yet, either. Still I roll off her, wincing slightly the moment I slip out of her. Shit.

  “We’re fine. I don’t have the necessary equipment anymore, remember?” Beth mumbles through her still swollen lips, before I even have the presence of mind to formulate a question.

  “Swear I’m safe, Bean.”

  “Figured as much since you were about turned inside out while you were in the hospital. And I can barely count the number of physicals and smears I’ve had since... Well, you get the drift.”

  I roll up on my side, my hand stroking the sweaty strands of hair off her face. Slowly her eyes open and focus on me.

  “What’ya doin’?”

  “Looking at you. You look so... wholesome.”

  I know I’ve said something wrong the moment her eyebrows screw together.

  “Wholesome? Really? Damn, Clint. Just what a girl wants to hear after she’s been fucked six ways to Sunday. Wholesome, huh?” I can tell she’s working up a head of steam as she pushes herself out of my reach and sits up. I can’t help myself, my eyes immediately drop to the movement of those delicious tits.

  “Up here.” Her voice is sharp and if I’m not mistaken she’s pissed. “Let me tell you what wholesome is; a sow nursing a new litter of piglets is wholesome. A plate of healthy vegetables is wholesome. Hell, even a pile of freshly churned earth is wholesome, but it’s not something you use to describe the afterglow of the best sex I’ve possibly had in forever!”

  Fuck. Wait, did she say it was the best sex ever?

  “Best sex, huh?” I can’t stop the conceited smirk I feel pulling at my lips. Fuel to the fire.

  With a cry of frustration she throws her hands up and slips out of bed.

  “That’s what you pick up from that? I swear there’s something wrong with you. A malfunction in your processing center or something. A short in your circuits. I’m going to bed.” With that, she grabs her clothes off the floor and makes for the door, her butt jiggling with each angry step. I know it’s bad, but I can’t help imagining that pliable ass offered up to me as I slide in from behind. May not be the best time to bring that up though, I realize as she slips into the hallway. I jump out of bed to go after her and am immediately assaulted with a wave of dizziness. Too fast, dammit. I wait a second for it to pass, but by the time I step into the hallway she’s already in her room with the door firmly closed. Well, fuck. There may not be a lock on that door, but she has Max in there and I’m not about to barge in there with my dick swinging. A quick step back into my room to pull on some sweats, and I’m back outside her door, hesitating. The muffled sound of sniffles can be heard, making the decision for me. Pushing open the door, I catch Beth just pulling some nightie over her head, and just like that, her amazing, soft, lush, beautiful body is gone. I know right away what I should’ve said. She looks at me angrily but I can see the tears shimmering. I walk right up to her and open my mouth to try and make this right when she holds up her hand to stop me.

  “Go to bed, Clint. I’m tired and you’ll just wake Max up,” she hisses.

  I peek into the cot and see Max sleeping deeply, his thumb firmly lodged between his lips. He’s out good; he won’t wake up, but still I grab Beth’s hand and try to pull her out of the room. Of course she resists, and I turn back on her, bringing my face close enough for our noses to touch.

  “Don’t want to wake up Max? Fine. Let’s go, I gotta have my say and you’re gonna let me.”

  When she threatens to pull away again, defiance written all over her body, I hold her still by the shoulders.

  “You give me trouble and I’ll have you over my shoulder so fast you won’t know what hit you. And Bean? Don’t doubt you’ll be paying for that later.” My voice comes out in a deep growl and she nervously licks her lips. I’m guessing my girl likes the forceful approach because her nipples underneath that butt ugly nightie have perked to attention. Good. I’m never going to walk away from a misunderstanding. Not with her—but her stubborn defiance pushes all my buttons and brings out my controlling side.

  The dramatic eye roll is another challenge but at least she follows me out of the room, only to stop in the hallway when I try to go back to my bedroom.

  “What now?”

  “Not going in there again,” she says resolutely and turns the other way, down the hall to the kitchen, this time leading me by the hand.

  Well, fuck, this relationship may well be the death of me if she keeps on fighting me for the upper hand.

  Flicking the light on she pulls out a stool and sits with her arms crossed under her tits and I instantly loose my train of thought.

  “Well? You had something to say?”

  Oh, that tone is grating on me, but I take a deep breath and try to think through my words.

  “What I meant in there,” I indicate toward my bedroom, “is that you looked amazing, your face was flushed and relaxed, your body beautiful and lush, and the word that came out was wholesome. You want to take that on as an insult, that’s on you, but I certainly never voiced it as an insult of any kind. Quite the opposite.”

  She looks a little uncomfortable and suddenly I get the feeling there’s a bit more going on.

  “You jumped on the opportunity to get out, didn’t you?” The quick flash of her eyes before settling them back on the floor is enough of answer, and I crowd her against the counter with my arms on either side of her.

  “Why?”

  “Dammit. Why won’t you just let me throw a fit and walk away? That would be so much easier,” she says softly, as if to herself. “That side of you—the way you are in the bedroom; I...” She shakes her head and goes quiet, but I’ve got the gist of it and am not about to let her bail.

  “You liked it. You liked giving up control and you’re not happy about that. Am I right?”

  She just shrugs her shoulders, but that’s not enough for me.

  “I’ll need some words, sugar. You liked the way I controlled you in there?”

  “Yes! I did, and it’s so not me. I like control—I need control. I
promised myself I wasn’t gonna blindly rely on anyone, and certainly not allow myself be bossed around, but I gave myself over to you on a platter. It’s weak.” She spits out the last as if it leaves a foul taste in her mouth.

  “First of all, what happened between you and me has fuck all to do with bossing around or weakness, on either of our parts. It does have everything to do with trust. Me trusting you enough to show you a side of me not many have seen, and you trusting me enough to let me care for you. Nothing more, nothing less. Don’t over analyze everything, Beth. Sometimes it just is what it is. It doesn’t need to be boxed up and put on the right shelf.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay?” I want to make sure I heard her barely whispered response correctly.

  “Yeah, but give me some time, okay? This...all this, whatever it is, came up pretty fast. There’s so much going on, I’m just a little overwhelmed.” Some doubt still lingers in her eyes, and I’d like nothing better than to wipe all of it away, but I’m not going to fight her on this. I have a feeling the harder I push, the harder she’ll push back.

  “All this? It’s called a relationship, Beth. I won’t push, but let me just say I haven’t been in one since my marriage. This is the first time I’ve cared enough to want it. With you. Don’t push away because you think you’re the only one a little scared of what it means. Cause you’re not.”

  Her mouth has fallen slightly open at my confession, and I quickly press my lips to hers in a soft kiss before turning around and heading to my room. I know in my gut that she’ll likely be gone tomorrow, back to the safety of her own place, but I won’t stand in her way. Don’t want her to regret any decisions she might feel forced to make later.

  -

  -

  “Dwink?”

  I crank one eye open to find Max standing up in the cot and eyeing me with a big smile on his face.

  “Morning, sweetie,” I croak, my voice rough from lack of sleep, and the few hours of muffled crying I did last night after Clint left me sitting in the kitchen.

  I’m leaving today, and for some reason even though it’s what I want, the thought makes me sad. It makes sense though, I tell myself, it’s Monday and I don’t have to be at work, plenty of time to pack up my shit. I want to get Max settled into his own bed, with his own stuff that Mal dropped off at my house on Saturday. It’s not that I don’t want Clint, ‘cause I do. It’s just that after being stuck in first gear with him for so long, I’m not trusting the sudden move into fifth—it seems a crash is inevitable, and I really don’t want that to happen. I need to regain a little normalcy in my life. At least some part of what I can control. Finding my balance again after having let circumstances dictate my every move for the past couple of months. I’m lying here, convincing myself it’s the best thing, for now, when part of me is wanting to stay so badly.

  “Gammy?”

  Right. Max is thirsty.

  Sluggish from the less than full night of rest, I get up and lift him out of the cot, his little arms and legs wrapping around me. With Max clinging on, I walk us to the bathroom. After taking care of his night diaper and relieving myself, we wash up and head to the kitchen for his ‘dwink.’

  Clint is at the counter, watching our approach. I wish I’d spent some more time mentally preparing for what promises to be an uncomfortable day, judging from the tension hanging in the kitchen..

  “Morning.”

  “Hey.” I try for casual, but there’s nothing casual about the intense look on his face.

  “Did you sleep okay?” He reaches out to lift Max from my arms, who seems happy for the change of scenery, clapping his hands on Clint’s scruffy jaw, making him smile before he turns his eyes on me, the question still there.

  “Not much,” I admit, choosing honesty. “I thought a lot about what you said last night. You’re right; the thought of a relationship scares me. Hasn’t worked so well for me in the past, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want it. With you. Which is why I’m going home today.”

  I don’t know what I was expecting, but the smile Clint sports on his face certainly wasn’t it. Registering my surprise he chuckles.

  “Don’t look so surprised, Beth. If I didn’t believe you’ll be back here, eventually, I’d fight you tooth and nail, but I need to make a point to you; I don’t want or need to control you.”

  I can’t hold back an incredulous huff.

  “Just in the bedroom,” I mumble.

  “Just in the bedroom,” he agrees on a smile, the shadow of his dimple only just visible underneath his scruff.

  “Coffee?” I offer, holding up the pot in an effort to change the subject, and he lets me, nodding his reply.

  Subject dropped, for now, but the atmosphere significantly lighter, Clint slips Max in the highchair and I set about making some toast for us.

  Such a domestic scene. That is until we’re interrupted by a knock on the door.

  “I’ll get it,” Clint says looking me over head to toe. “You go get some clothes on.”

  No, not bossy or controlling at all. Although this time, I don’t argue because I’m not comfortable greeting whomever is on the other side of that door in my nightie. When I go to grab Max, Clint beats me to it.

  “I’ve got him, you go.”

  With a mock salute that has his mouth twitch, I head for my bedroom, while Clint makes his way to the door, Max sitting in the crook of his arm.

  I make quick work of pulling on some jeans and throwing on a shirt and a quick brush of my teeth. I can hear the sound of male voices as I approach the kitchen, where Gus and Neil are sitting at the counter.

  “Hey, guys.”

  “Morning, Beth. Sorry to barge in so early,” Gus says apologetically.

  “No problem,” I wave him off before turning to Neil. “How long are you in town for this time?”

  The youngest of Gus’s team of investigators shrugs his shoulders. “However long the boss needs me here.”

  “Look,” Gus draws attention back to him. “Neil picked up some intel last night. An APB went out on a car with the same description as Dylan’s, after it was seen pulling away from a police raid on a warehouse just outside of Monticello. Cops were in pursuit for a bit, but lost him when they got clipped by a semi in an attempt to blow through an intersection. No one was seriously injured,” he answers before I have a chance to ask.

  “I don’t understand? What’s he doing in Monticello? Was he working there?” I know I’m rambling, but I’m trying to wrap my head around this information. Oh, Dylan, what have you gotten yourself into?

  I feel Clint coming up behind me after putting Max down to play on the living room floor. His arm slips around my waist, providing a much needed anchor for my wobbly knees.

  “The warehouse was a chop shop for luxury cars. A large well-run organization, with the stink of organized crime, which apparently has been on the FBI radar for a while. ‘Collectors’ drive the stolen cars from as far west as Las Vegas and Phoenix and south from New Mexico and Texas. The cars hit the warehouse and are stripped for the expensive parts. Once stripped they’re virtually impossible to trace.”

  Dylan’s words come back to me, ‘I’ve got this job offer that I can’t refuse,’ and sink like a stone to the pit of my stomach. Why didn’t he come to me? I try to stop the sob that’s pulled from my chest by slapping my hand over my mouth, but that only gets half the job done. I had a bad feeling right from the start but tried to ignore it.

  “Sorry, darlin’.” Gus’s warm eyes almost do me in, and I swallow hard as I watch Gus and Clint share some unspoken message. “But there’s something else you should know before the cops or feds come knocking on your door. Seems Dylan got into gambling some time back. We found some pretty compelling evidence that he may have sought the help of the wrong person to settle their debts.”

  This all comes as a shock to me. I would’ve sold my soul to help him out, if he’d only come to me. Even so, there is one detail in what Gus just tells me that nags at my brain
.

  “You said their debts?”

  “Seems your daughter in law had expensive tastes,” Clint rumbles from behind me.

  In one twist, I turn around and slip free of the arms holding me.

  “You knew?”

  Anger bubbles up inside at the thought of something so significant being kept from me and flares even brighter at the guilty look on his face.

  “You knew and kept this from me? You had no right!”

  “Didn’t seem necessary to worry you with it yesterday, Bean.”

  Oh no he doesn’t. Ignoring the audience in the room I react.

  “Don’t use that name! Not now that you’ve shown me what a huge mistake I was about to make. Don’t want to be controlling? Fuck you, Clint. It’s all about control with you, deciding what the little woman can or cannot handle, and manipulating me with sex is so fucking typical. And the play you gave me this morning? I call bullshit. I’m going home.”

  With that I walk over where Max is looking at me wide-eyed, pick him up, and head for the bedroom. Max is surprisingly quiet and letting the anger feed my resolve, it takes me only minutes to grab our stuff together and stomp back out. Making a point not to look at Clint, I give Gus a hard look, knowing he’s the one who went to Clint instead of coming to me with that information. It puts him in the doghouse too, smack beside his buddy. Neil looks only slightly embarrassed, and at this point, I don’t give a flying fuck. I grab a few of Max’s toys off the floor and toss them in my bag, balancing Max on my hip. Without a word I’m out the front door, my grandson in one arm and an overflowing bag in the other. The cold hits me right away, making me realize I’ve forgotten our coats. However, before I have a chance to go grab them, Clint walks out with both mine and Max’s in his hands, but when I try to take them from him he pulls them back.

  “Beth...” There’s a plea in his voice that I just don’t want to hear right now. “Just let me put on Max’s jacket, okay?”

  I stand there holding Max while Clint works his little arms in the sleeves, trying with all my might not to burst into tears right now.