Cowboy Redemption (Down Under Cowboy Book 6) (12 page)

We tear at each other’s clothes, tossing them away with wild abandon.  From the corner of my eye I see my bra hanging from the rafters.   A grin creeps across my lips because right beside it is Kye’s jocks.

“You make me lose my mind, woman,” he growls.

“Ditto.”  I try to sound snarky, but my voice comes out hitched and breathy because Kye’s thumb had found my clit.  He fucks me with his fingers while his mouth works my nipples.  I’m hurtling fast toward my orgasm, but part of me wishes I could hold it back just to piss him off more.  This is nothing like the angry makeup sex I have had in the past and I am enjoying it far too much to let the feeling go that quickly.

“Come, Kennedy, dammit,” he snarls, curling his fingers up and massaging that tender bundles of nerves.  My back arches and then I’m coming.

“Yes, god,
yes.
”  The shudders are still rippling through my body when he picks me up, spins me around so I am on my hands and knees and positions himself behind me.  He gives my arse a sharp slap, the sting radiating through my behind and then he slides in, fully sheathing himself in one quick thrust.

The sound that comes out of my mouth is halfway between a yelp from the slap and a deep, throaty moan from his invasion.

“Fuck, yes,” he hisses, pumping into me hard and fast.  His fingers dig into my hips so hard I’m positive I’ll have bruises but it feels too good to stop.  I push back against him, intent on taking him as deep as possible.  My fingers fist the straw below me and my cries of pleasure echo through the barn.

“Harder,” I pant.  He fucks me harder.  Every single thrust is measured and precise, his cock massaging the delicate nerves inside me.

“Faster,” I moan.

“You want it faster, baby?” he grits out.  “You want it dirty?”

“Yes,” I hiss.

“You love taking my cock?”

“Yes, god, yes.”

“My cock fucking loves this pussy.  This cunt is
mine,”
he growls.   He slaps my arse again.  “That’s right, naughty girl.  Take my cock.”

“Kye, please, baby.  I need to come,” I whimper.

“You’ll fucking come when I say you can.”  He grips my hair, tugging me back and it feels so fucking good.  My moans get louder as my body reaches its peak.

“I can feel it.  You’re pussy is huggin’ my dick, baby.  I can feel the ripples, you’re gonna come.”  He reaches around and flicks my clit and I’m sent hurtling over the edge on a shout that leads into a panted moan.  He follows me over a few seconds later, shouting my name as his cock jerks inside me.

I slide to my stomach, totally spent and Kye comes down on top of me, making sure to keep the majority of his weight off me.  His harsh breathing is close to my ear and I close my eyes, loving the feeling of him
in
me,
on
me and all
around
me.

“I’m sorry for being an arsehole,” he says quietly.

“I’m sorry for being a bitch,” I reply.  “But, if this is the way makeup sex is going to be, I’m thinking you should be an arsehole more frequently.”

He bursts into laughter, his body shaking me on me and
in
me.  It feels
awesome.
  A contented smile spreads across my lips and I bask in the feeling.

What were we arguing about again?

“Let me in!  I’ve got cake,” I shout from the doorway of Jules’ home.

“Coming,” she calls back.  Answering the door, she greets me with a smile and a quick hug, careful to mind the two boxes I’m holding.

“Here, let me take one of these off your hands.”  She takes the top box – the one holding the deliciously moist chocolate mud cake – and I follow her into the kitchen.

“Hey, girls,” I say with a smile.  Setting the box down on the bench, I go around the table and give each of the girls a quick hug.  We have all congregated at Jules and Clay’s house tonight since the boys are in at the Cow and Calf participating in a darts competition for charity.

“How’s things?” Laura asks me.

“Going well.  As usual, things at work are busy, but good.  And things with Kye are going great.” I couldn’t stop the smile if I tried.  Things with Kye
have
been going great.  It has been four weeks since he moved into the cottage and I have spent some nights there with him.  Sometimes he stays at my hut, but I prefer him not to, simply because it feels unprofessional.  I know the residents are old enough to know about sex education, and most of them have actually
had
sex.  Still, I don’t like behaving like that in front of them.  So the nights we do spend together, we generally stay at the cottage. 

“Glad to hear it, girl,” Edie says.  “Kye’s great.  He’s been helping Jack build us a new gazebo.  He’s really talented.”

“How are you guys?  Where are the kids?”

“They’re all in the rumpus room watching a Lion King trilogy,” Sienna answers. 

“The babies are all asleep,” Ava adds, holding up and wiggling a baby monitor.

“Ahh,” I say knowingly.

“Coffee anyone?” Jules asks.

“Yes please,” I reply instantly. 

“You can’t have great cake without good coffee,” Sienna adds, and the others agree.

As Jules makes the drinks, I take out some plates and cut up the cake.

“That one looks yummy.  What is it?” Edie asks.

“Strawberry Finger Sponge Delight,” Ava and I answer simultaneously, then we start laughing.  The other girls look confused.

“I thought you might appreciate it,” I tell her.

“This was Kennedy and my favourite cake from when we were kids.  Mum used to stock it at the Coffee House and when we used to walk down after school, we would always sneak a piece when we thought she wasn’t looking.  Of course she always knew, but she never chided us for it.  It’s delicious,” Ava tells the girls.

I serve everyone a slice of cake and Jules hands our coffees out. 

“Mummy, can I have a drink?”  Olive asks Edie.

“Sure, sweetheart.”

“Gosh, she’s adorable,” I say.  She looks just like her daddy, with her tan skin and dark hair.  But, she’s got Edie’s spunk, and her plump lips.

Olive drinks her water, kisses her mother and then plods out of the kitchen and back to the rumpus room to join the others.

“How’s the salon going, Laura,” I ask.

“Oh! I need to book another massage,” Jules says.

“Sure thing, Jules,” Laura says through a laugh.  “It’s going really well, Kennedy.   It’s busy, especially now I’ve added the hairdressing side, but it’s great.”

“That’s awesome. I need to make an appointment to get my waxing done.”

“Drop in anytime,” she assures me.

“Laura does the best waxing.  It’s practically pain-free,” my sister tells me.

“Really?” I ask dubiously.

She nods.  “I get a Brazilian every month and it doesn’t hurt.”

“I’m not sure I could get my entire vagina waxed.” I wince.  “I had my lip waxed once and nearly screamed in pain.”

“Don’t have a baby, then,” Jules mutters.  “That shit hurts like a bitch.”

“It can’t hurt too bad, you went back for more,” I say.

“True.  I think there are some magic amnesia-like chemical in the female hormones that make you forget the pain as soon as you’re holding that gorgeous bundle in your arms.  That’s the only reasoning I can come up with anyway.”

“You soon bloody remember it again when you go into labour with your next child though!” Edie exclaims and we all start laughing.

We laugh and chat for hours and finally, with aching cheeks from smiling so much, I wave goodbye to the girls and drive home with a massive smile planted firmly on my lips.

What I didn’t know was, my world was about to come crashing down around me.

Kye

“Bullseye!” I throw my arms in the air to celebrate and accept the high-fives the boys give me. 

“Good shot, bro,” Jer says, slapping my back.

“Zeke, you’re up,” Luke yells to his brother.

“Hang on,” he shouts back from the bar.  He jogs over a second later and sets his fresh beer on the table before picking up his darts. 

“Come on, man.  You’ve got to win this for us!” Jack cheers, clapping his hands together. 

“You got this, bro,” Luke says.

Zeke lines up his shots, and on the final one he hits the bullseye, making us the winners.  After a quick team celebration, we shake the hands of our competitors and move to the bar to order a round.

“Let’s do a celebratory shot!” Clay announces.

“Nah, I’m good, thanks, mate,” I say when he offers me one.

“Come on, man.  We’re celebrating. We kicked those fuckers arses.”

I shake my head.

“Shot! Shot! Shot!”  the boys cheer.

Surely one won’t hurt…

I take the tiny glass of liquor and tip it back.  The bourbon slides down my throat easily, the heat burning a trail as it goes.  I slam the glass back down on the bar, empty.

“Here, man, drown that burn out with a beer,” Jer says, putting the glass in my hand.

I look down at the glass of icy cold amber liquid.

I can have just
one
beer. 

One beer won’t hurt.

I can control myself.

“Drink up, buddy.  It’s getting hot,” Zeke jokes, slapping my shoulder.

Just one.

I bring the glass to my mouth.

“Ahh.”  I lick the foam off my top lip.  “Tastes good,” I murmur.

We all move to the tables outside and sit around telling yarns and bullshitting like us men do.

Before long, another beer is placed in front of me.

Another one won’t hurt.

It’s just one more beer.

I can control myself.

I’m not the guy I was before. 

I’m older, wiser. 

I know how to handle my grog now.

We order some food and more beers are passed around.  Since I feel alright and I’ve only had one shot and two beers, plus I’ve eaten some food, I decide to have another beer.

This will be my last one…

Before I know it, I’m staggering to the bathroom. 

“You think you’re a fucking hero.  You’re nothing but a fucking has-been piece ‘a shit,” a drunken old bastard slurs at me as I am taking a piss.

“What’d you say, arsehole?” I ask, immediately burring up.  What kind of fucking prick does he think he is?

“You heard me, dickhead.  Fucking pussy-arsed wanker,” he mutters.

“Say it again? I dare ya.” I tuck my dick back in my jeans and start to walk away. 

Don’t listen to him.

Don’t listen to him.

He’s baiting you.

You’re better than him.

Walk away.

“Yeah that’s right.  Walk away like the fucking pansy you are,” he jeers.

The next few minutes are a blur, but the repercussions are monumental. 

“Oi! Oi!”

“Kye, man, calm down!” 

“Cool it, bro!”

“Get it together, Kye!”

I hear the boys yelling at me and I feel them as they pull me off the drunk, but I fight against them, desperate to keep punching the fuck out of him.

“Get out there and cool off.”

I’m pushed outside into the open air and taken around the corner.  I’m panting.  Furious.  Dripping with sweat.  Covered in someone else’s blood.  My knuckles are grazed.

Sirens sound in the distance.

Fuck.  Fuck.

Fucking shit.

Fuck.

Kennedy.

I’ve fucked it all up.

FUCK!

~*~

“Mr Austin, we understand you are currently on a good behaviour bond for alcohol-related offences, is this correct?” Sargent Nichols asks me.

“Yes,” I reply solemnly.

“Do you understand you broke the conditions of your good behaviour bond by consuming alcohol and brawling?”

“Yes.”

I’m fucked.

“You’ll be sent back to Canberra to complete the remaining time of your sentence in jail.” 

I knew that was coming, but still, it feels like a punch to the gut.  He leads me to the phone and, despite it being the early hours of the morning, I phone my lawyer and explain the situation to him.

“Stop by my office tomorrow, Kye.  We’ll handle this, don’t worry.  I’ll contact your parole officer first thing and inform them of the situation.”

“Thanks, Larry.”

“See you tomorrow, Kye.”

I set the phone back in the cradle and drop my head against the wall. 

I’m put in a holding cell at the police station until I fly out.  Sitting on the hard wooden bench in the cell gives me a lot of time to think.  The only person my mind wants to centre around is Kennedy.  I’ve let her down.  I’ve let
myself
down. 

Kennedy is a beautiful woman, inside and out.  She deserves so much better than the life I can give her.  She deserves a better man than me.  When it all boils down, I’m just a has-been football player with a criminal record and alcohol issues.  She doesn’t need that kind of shit in her life.  Plain and simple, I love her.  There is no way I’m going to drag her down with me.  As much as it kills me to realize, I’m going to have to let her go.

The door unlocks and opens and a police officer appears holding a tray.

“Breakfast.  Eat fast, you’re leaving soon.”

“Thanks,” I mutter.  “Is there any chance I can make one last phone call before I leave?”  He gives me a suspicious look, so I carry on.  “I really need to tell someone what’s happened.  Please?”

“You’ve got one minute,” he finally says, handing me his phone.

“Thanks, man.  Thank you.”  I dial up Kennedy, praying to god she answers. 

“Hello?” she says, her voice husky and thick from sleep.

“Kennedy.” My voice cracks.  “Hey, darlin’, it’s me.”

“Kye?”

“Yeah, baby.  Sorry to wake you.”

“Is everything okay?”

“No, baby, it’s not.  Something happened tonight.  I fucked up and I have to go back to Canberra…to jail.”  I feel like the biggest piece of shit to walk the earth.

“What?  Are you coming back?” I can hear the tremble in her voice.

“Not sure, Kennedy,” I reply quietly, my throat clogging.

She doesn’t say anything, the silence stretching between us like the Pacific Ocean.

“Kennedy?” I ask, checking I haven’t lost the connection.

“I’m here,” she whispers.

“Thirty seconds,” the officer reminds me.

“I don’t have long.  I just wanted to speak to you before I left.”

“Can I see you before you leave?” she asks hopefully.

“That’s not possible.  It’s best if we don’t have any contact from now on.”  The words leave a terrible taste in my mouth, but I know it’s for the best.

I hear her sniffle through the phone.  “Don’t cry, baby.”

“I knew this was too good to be true.”

“Ten seconds.”

“I’m sorry, darlin’.”  My words hold the weight of the world, heavy with regret.

“Me too, Kye,” she says regretfully.  The line goes dead.