Big Man’s Happily Ever After

by Wylder, Penny

  He hangs his head. “Dear God, yes. I will do whatever you need to help but I’m such a cliché. The bachelor who’s an awful cook.”

  I roll away from him and grab my clothes. “Then I can’t very well let you starve.”

  12

  Casey

  The sight of Carley in my kitchen is something I don’t know how to process. It’s…everything.

  She’s wearing my mother’s apron, and it looks like it was made for her. I thought it might bother me to see someone else wearing it, but it doesn’t. Instead, it feels right.

  I put music on in the background, and Carley is swaying her hips along with the music and singing when she knows the words. I’ve cracked open a beer and she has one too. I’m just leaning against the counter watching her, and it’s filling my heart.

  Not in a sexual way, this is deeper. This moment feels far more meaningful than just us acting out our lust with each other. It’s perfect.

  I feel like I’m catching a glimpse of what could be our future, if we wanted it. But I don’t know what Carley would think about that. It hasn’t been long since she left her prick of a fiancé. I don’t think it’s too soon. Will she?

  When we walked into the house, she made herself right at home in the kitchen, grabbing ingredients and pans like she owned the place. That made me smile. Carley is welcome to make herself at home in my house and my life however she wants to.

  She turns around and looks at me. “You’re staring.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “You should be chopping the carrots and not staring at my ass.”

  I raise one eyebrow. “Who says I was staring at your ass?”

  “Were you?”

  I chuckle and take a sip of my beer. “Yes. Absolutely.”

  “Thought so.” She cocks her hip and turns so that I get another view of that glorious ass. I love it. I would have my hands on it right now if she weren’t in the middle of cooking. “Now chop the carrots.”

  Her eyes fall on the little bit of work that I’ve done, and her eyes go wide. “Oh my God. Never mind. What the hell have you down to these things?”

  “They had it coming,” I mutter as she takes the knife away from me.

  “It’s amazing that you haven’t starved to death,” she says, laughing and making quick work of the carrots.

  I shake my head. “I get by.” Mostly due to the kindness of others. My fridge and freezer are stocked with casseroles and lasagnas as favors for handy work or the wood deliveries. I could cook very basic chicken and pasta, and when all that fails, I’m not above eating a frozen dinner or two. Or ten.

  “You know, I heard a rumor in the gossip mill about you this morning.”

  “Oh?” I take another sip of my beer and grin. “What did the grand people of Elgin say about me today?”

  “They said that you were taking Megan Gingham to the fireworks.”

  She’s not looking at me when she says it, and her tone is light. Like she doesn’t care. But I call bullshit. She does care, and this is her way of asking. “In a very literal way, yes, I am,” I say, rolling my eyes. “I buy the cow feed from her grandfather. He asked me if I could give him a ride to the fireworks along with Megan. He probably hopes something will happen, but I’m just giving them a ride. That’s all.”

  “Oh.” Her shoulders drop in relief.

  I smirk and catch her eye. “Are you taking anyone to the fireworks?”

  She shrugs. “I don’t know. I kind of thought about asking this one guy, but I don’t know if he’ll say yes.”

  “Whoever it is, he’s a lucky man, and he damn well better agree.”

  Carley scoops up the carrots and dumps them into the pan with the chicken that she’s cooking. “Well?”

  Stepping up behind her, I catch her around the waist and press my lips to her neck. “If you were planning on going with anyone else, I can’t say that I wouldn’t be jealous. And I would be very happy to take you to the fireworks.”

  “Good.”

  I step back from her and she reaches for more vegetables to chop. “Here, let me help you.”

  “Ah, no.” She’s grinning as she pushes me away. “Get out of my kitchen.” Carley goes stock still at her words. “I mean, it’s your kitchen but I’m in charge right now. You know what I mean.”

  I put down my beer and pull her close to me again. “It could be your kitchen.” The words are soft. She still smells like sex and hay and that sweet scent that goes deep and is entirely her. “You could stay.”

  Carley pushes me away gently. There’s regret on her face and in her eyes, but she doesn’t say anything.

  “You miss it here, Carley. You miss the people. I saw it today when you were talking to everyone. This place brings you joy.”

  She’s looking at the pan on the stove. “My life is in Chicago.”

  “What do you do there that’s so unique it’s worth your happiness? Go to the big museums on the weekends? See a show? Go out to the movies every night of the week?”

  She swallows. “I have a job. A few friends. And most of all, I have privacy. I can go to the store without getting asked about how I broke my foot when someone saw me stub my toe and blow it out of proportion.”

  “And you like that?”

  “Maybe I do,” her voice is frustrated. “Maybe there’s something nice about just a little bit of anonymity. Maybe I like being in a place where no one tells me what to do or how to think or who I can spend time with.”

  “Except for Tyler.”

  As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I regret them. I shouldn’t have brought him up. He’s caused her enough pain, and that’s not her fault.

  The hurt in her eyes isn’t worth the jab. “That’s not fair,” she says quietly. “I love—loved him. And we were happy for a while. I thought he loved me.”

  “I love you,” I say.

  The admission cracks through the air like lightning. We’re both silent, no sound but the hiss of food cooking and the soft music. Carley is staring at me, lips parted, her eyes wide in disbelief.

  “I love you,” I say again. “Forever. I’ve loved you since we were both in seventh grade. I never wanted to admit it, but I did. Maybe longer than that. And it’s not going to change. I don’t—” I step closer and stop. “I don’t think I could ever love someone else, Carley. Not the way I love you.”

  She’s still just staring, and for once, I can’t tell what she’s thinking.

  “I’m asking you, not telling you or commanding you. I’m just asking. Please stay with me.” My voice nearly breaks, and I wrap my arms around her. “Love me back.”

  Carley rests in my arms for a moment. She’s so warm and fits against me so well that it makes me ache. But then she gently slips out of my arms again. “This needs to be stirred.”

  She’s facing away from me now. Focusing entirely on the food on the stove. But that’s not an answer. “I’ll go with you,” I tell her.

  “No. You love Elgin,” she says. “You’d be miserable in Chicago.”

  “I love you more than I could ever love this town, Carley. I’ll be miserable when you leave. I have been miserable here without you and just didn’t have the words for it.”

  Turning to me, she puts down the spatula she’s stirring with. “You’re just lonely now that your parents are gone.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “It is true, Casey,” she sighs. “I’m the one that got away. A novelty. I’m a brand new shiny thing along with an old flame tied up into one and that makes me something irresistible. You only think that you love me. But you don’t. You’ll get tired of me, and then you’ll be stuck with me and I’ll be trapped again. The whole fucking valley will be gossiping about our failed marriage in two years, and for the rest of my life stuck in this town I’ll get those looks. And you can’t tell me that you don’t know exactly which ones I’m talking about either.

  “So no, thank you. Let’s just let this be what it is. Amazing, hot sex between two consentin
g adults.”

  I think my heart is cracking in two. This might be worse than her avoiding me. At least then I had the opportunity to wonder what I had done or if I could have done something differently. Not be dismissed completely when I’m laying my heart on the line. “Is that really all this is?”

  There’s no mistaking the sadness—the grief—in her voice. “It’s all it can be.”

  “Then I’ll take it.” I feel numb inside, but I’m not going to waste time. I do love this woman, and I’d rather have any part of her than nothing at all. “And I’m not going to waste another minute on anything else.”

  I switch off the stove burner and kiss her. She tastes like cinnamon and sugar—the glaze that she was making for the carrots. Carley kisses me back. It’s not a reflex, but a choice. She wants this too.

  The music that’s playing slows down and there’s a love song playing like the universe knows exactly what’s happening and has given us the perfect soundtrack for it.

  I slip one hand up under her shirt and let the other roam down over her ass. As long as I live, I’ll never get enough of her curves. They fit perfectly in my hands, and the softness under my fingers makes me hard.

  Holding her against me, I capture her mouth. I draw her tongue out and brush it against mine, savoring the taste of her and the way we dance with each other. This time we undress each other, not bothering to be slow. We’re moving without a destination, naked in the living room. Together, we make it to the couch, and I fall onto it and bring her down with me, arranging her to straddle my lap. She fits me against her and sinks down, biting her lip as she stifles her moan.

  I cradle her face in my hands. “I don’t think so. Don’t hide from me. Not after today. I know that you can scream, and I want to hear you. Let it out, Carley.”

  Her mouth falls open as she begins to move, the moans coming from her low and throaty and so damn sexy I get even harder inside her.

  Carley’s pussy feels so good, gripping me and slipping against my skin. My hands are on her hips. Pulling her down and making her rock deeper. Further. Everything. My orgasm is coming faster than I want it to. This needs to last, because once Carley walks out of my door, I have no idea if she’s ever coming back.

  Another moan drives blood to my cock, and I’m so close…I lift Carley, flipping us so that she’s on the couch. I kneel in front of her and push her thighs apart before I devour her. She tastes so fucking good. I need to memorize this taste. Burn it on my brain so that I never forget her sweetness.

  I reach up and tease her breasts, kneading them before I pinch her nipples. Pull them. I’m ruthless, circling my thumbs, pinching and rolling until they’re hard as diamonds under my fingers.

  Sealing my mouth over her clit, I suck her deep. I work her with my tongue until she’s gasping and moaning. And I don’t fucking stop. I’m going to make sure that she never forgets this moment. She may not believe that I love her, but any chance that I can show her or make her remember, I will.

  Carley’s hips jerk under my mouth. She writhes. Moans. Grips my hair and holds me closer as I ravage her pussy with my tongue. I’m relentless.

  I pull her nipples one more time and graze my teeth over her clit, and she comes. She screams, throat raw with the sound, and I’ve never heard anything quite so fucking gorgeous. It’s beautiful. Savage. Real.

  Mine.

  That’s the reaction my soul has. It goes deep. And for this moment, I lean into it. Standing, I slam my cock into her hard. This isn’t gentle. It has shades of our barn fucking. Carley’s eyes are glazed with pleasure, limp as I thrust myself fully to the hilt over and over.

  Our mouths are close together and her eyes are locked on mine. “This is what you need, Carley Farrell. You need someone who will let you scream. Let you be you. Who will push you to do the things you’ve always wanted but didn’t know how to ask for. Someone who fucking adores you. And adores fucking you.” I bite her shoulder, driving harder so she cries out, fingernails scratching down my back as she tries to hold on.

  “You need a partner. Someone who will keep your secrets. Protect you. Someone who makes sure that you’re experiencing every good thing in life.”

  I’m close now. We both are. But I’m not going to send her over. Not until she tells me the truth. “Tell me this feels good.”

  “Yes.” The word is breathless and desperate. “So fucking good.”

  Slowing my cock down to near stillness, I wrap my hand behind her neck and weave my fingers in her hair. I make her look at me. Carley is so open when she’s like this. There won’t be any lying to me. Not when I can see her face to face like this. “Tell me the truth,” I say. “Do you want this?”

  “Please,” Carley moans. “Yes. I want it. I want all of it.”

  “Do you want me?” I ask.

  She’ll think I’m talking about this moment right now, and I am. But just once I want her to say that she wants me and imagine that she means forever.

  “Yes.”

  “Say it.”

  I take her again, and her voice is a strangled cry. “I need you Casey,” she says. “Please give me more. Give me everything. Make me come. Please. Again.”

  When she asks like that, I can’t deny her.

  I keep my hand in her hair, never letting her look away from me. I let myself go, taking what I need from her. Because taking what I need will give her exactly what she wants. Pleasure and sex and escape from the problems that she’s facing in her own life.

  When she comes, I feel it. Her pussy locks down on my cock like a vise. I’m nearly blind from the fierce pleasure, but I hold myself back, barely hanging on to my orgasm. Carley’s cries echo off the walls. I’ll remember these sounds forever.

  “Please, please, please.” She chants the word like a mantra. Begging for more. But I slow down, teasing her. I like watching her body shake with the aftermath of her pleasure. Uncontrollable shivers and shudders moving up and down her body.

  She opens her eyes and looks at me, chest heaving and eyes wild. Her pussy squeezes me, and she realizes that I’m still inside her—still hard.

  “You didn’t come,” she manages.

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “Why—”

  I don’t let her finish the question. “Because we’re not finished. Not even close.”

  Driving deep into her again, I savor the sound of her moan, and the fact that she’s already begging me for more.

  13

  Carley

  This is all too soon. Too much and too soon. The feelings that are running through me now are far more than what I told him. This is more than just sex. It is, whether I want it to be or not. I’m terrified of the feelings resonating in my chest right now. How in the hell did it get to this point already?

  I’ve only known this new, adult Casey for a few days. It’s impossible to feel what I think I feel, right? But then, I’ve known him my whole life. There are very few memories from my childhood that don’t include Casey. And what he said…that he’s loved me since the seventh grade…

  I get that. Even when we were being teased by people for being ‘Carley and Casey,’ I still felt it. I pushed it down and ignored it. And Firework Night broke it completely. But it’s back. And now lying with him wrapped around me, I can’t imagine being anywhere else. And his arguments about Chicago make more sense than I want to think about.

  What about my fear? Of being stuck in Elgin permanently. But the thing that I know is that choosing to stay in a place is different from being trapped there. Elgin wouldn’t have to be home forever. Maybe Casey and I would move somewhere else if we got tired of this small town. We could travel, and I could show him my favorite places in Chicago. Those museums and shows that he talked about.

  Casey is completely wrapped around me, and I love it. I love lying with his heat surrounding me and the fact I’m so comfortable and relaxed. I love knowing that he likes holding me, and he isn’t thinking about when he’ll have an opportunity to escape.

&nbs
p; My stomach drops deliciously when he starts singing, that same song that I sang earlier today in the car. But the lyrics are different. This time, all the words are about me, and I can’t fight the butterflies. Casey is a good man. That can’t be denied.

  My heart thumps in my chest. What the hell am I doing?

  Casey’s stomach growls loudly, and we both laugh. “Seems my body doesn’t like my performance.”

  “Or your body realizes that between hauling wood and two rounds of sex, that it’s time to fucking eat.” I’m hungry too.

  I gather some of my clothes, my shirt and panties and bra, and put them on before I turn on the stove again. I don’t need burns from the oil spitting all over me. Casey pulls on his jeans, and the sight of him and nothing but them is fucking mouthwatering. It’s almost enough to make me forget about the food again.

  Almost.

  “Get your guitar,” I say. “Sing for your supper.”

  He chuckles. “Yes, ma’am.”

  The calming sound of his guitar and voice fill the kitchen as I cook, and I’m trying very hard to ignore the domestic, comfortable feeling of it. I can’t afford to dwell on it for too long.

  Pounding on the door makes me jump, and my stomach plummets to my toes. I know exactly who that is, having heard that same pounding on my bedroom door as a kid. Fuck.

  Casey is already walking toward the door. “Put a shirt on,” I whisper desperately. The last thing I need is for my mother to figure out that we just had sex. Snatching my jeans off the floor, I wiggle into them faster than I ever have in my life, grateful that I didn’t decide to cook completely naked.

  He’s grabbed a shirt, and I hear him answer the door with a charming word. Followed by two sets of harsh footsteps. My mother finds me in the kitchen, followed closely by Jessica.

  She holds up my phone, which I left on purpose because I didn’t want incessant text messages about when I would be back. “Where have you been? You need to keep your phone on you. You scared us to death. We thought you were dead in a ditch or…God knows where.”