Unstable (38 page)

“God damn,” he roars, burying himself fully inside me in one powerful thrust with a pinch of delicious pain. “You give so good. So fucking good.”

He didn’t say no when I mentioned using my hands, so I caress his back, push on his ass to encourage him impossibly deeper inside me and kiss every part of him my lips will reach. He hooks his arms under my knees and changes the angle, lifting me off the bed, grunting in the sexiest way as he slides in and out of me.

“Tell me where, baby. Tell me when I hit your spot, and I’ll hammer it.”

I move a little, guiding him, and feel it—the first tingle of pure euphoria. “There, Keaton, right there.”

His chest rumbles and he slows his pace, making sure to hit exactly where I’ve told him with each thrust. “Yeah, just like that, I feel ya quivering on my cock. Let go, Henny. Come all the fuck over me.”

I scream, my pussy pulsing in and out around his thick girth as I come violently, and what seems, endlessly. An orgasm from beyond my deepest depths, thorough and started internally. Unbelievable.

A far, far cry from a topical, clitoral orgasm. Although those are great too.

My poor man, I see the wince of regret on his face—knowing he’s got to pull out. But the new, unabashed sex kitten I’ve admittedly become has an idea…and an undeniable need to please him as much as he does me.

He plunges deep a few more times, then pulls out quickly with a muted grimace. But I’m ready, sitting up, and taking his dick in my mouth before he even sees it coming. No pun intended.

The feral groan that comes from him while gripping my hair—so loud and savage—almost sets me off again. I’m making him crazy. And that makes me heady with power, spurring me on further.

I tighten my lips and move along his length in time with his hand, swallowing every drop of his cum. When he’s no longer twitching and pulsing, I slowly pull off, keeping the seal tight and then look up at him.

His cloudy gaze is already on me, his beautiful, sweaty chest heaving. “Fuck me, baby. That was amazing. Can’t ever go back to anything less. Maybe you could…”

“Get on birth control?” I cut in. “Sure, but we’re finding a doctor at least three towns over. No way I’m airing my business in Ashfall.”

He laughs, then cups my cheek. “I’ll drive you to the end of the globe if it means I get to stay inside you, come with you, in you. And moving has just been postponed. This is
far
more important and is happening first.”

“Agreed. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna walk up those stairs, if I can walk at all, and take a long, hot bath.”

“Right behind ya.” He swats my ass. “I’ll even wash all my favorite parts for ya.”

THE NEXT FEW WEEKS
are a dizzying frenzy of activity. Exhausting, but exciting. And almost never do I have time to stop and overanalyze, get sucked back in to my habitual habit of psyching myself out or let myself get even the tiniest bit scared or worried. Which is good, because deep down I’m not, so keeping my mind too busy to concoct up trouble for no reason is one less thing I have to worry about.

Together, Keaton and I took two more trailer loads to the sale barn, earning me close to twenty grand. And after a long argument where he tried to act all macho, blabbering about how he’s the man and wouldn’t take my money, then his attempt to fuck me into submission (which I pretended to protest against for…all of five minutes) and finally, me laying down the law, the final word, I deposited that money into his account, to provide my share toward our soon to be combined expenses.

We moved the cows I was keeping, about fifty head, to Keaton’s land, but as promised, I left the bulk of them, the bull, hay, and horses for the Kings.

Truth is, neither Keaton or I need the stock, or money, but it’s important to me to not only give—to the Kings and my share to Keaton—but also to
keep
, a small slice of my independence. And my farm. Which technically, I am keeping. Forever.

I finally find a moment to sit down, and of course, my phone rings.

“Hello?”

“Henley, how are you? It’s Mr. Boles.”

“I’m good, you?”

“Can’t complain. I was just calling to let you know I have the rental agreement, with all your altruistic provisions, drawn up. Please take no offense, but I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t at least say that I’d advise against a lot of them.”

“I appreciate that, you looking out for me, but I won’t be changing my mind. Shall I come by and pick them up?”

“Anytime. Go ahead and bring Keaton with you. I also have the final documents ready that will settle all matters with Mr. Watson for good. You both need to sign them. Quite big-hearted of you on those matters as well.”

“Let’s just say,” I laugh hollowly, “I’m making up for a lot of lost time where I wasn’t exactly the person I wanted to be.”

“Well, you’re doing more than a fine job. So, I’ll see you both soon?”

“Yes, Sir. I’ll call when we’re coming. Just need to see when Keaton’s free.”

“Very good, I’ll have everything ready.”

I thank him and hang up, resting my head back on the couch. Everything is finally falling into place. No more Merrick and his bullshit, soon Brooke and her family will be living here on this farm and I’ll be living with Keaton.

Using every day to appreciate every day.

“Did I hear ya on the phone?” Keaton walks up behind me, rubbing my shoulders.

“Yes,” I moan. “And please don’t stop doing that, feels great. It was Mr. Boles calling. We both need to go sign the papers on the Merrick deal and pick up the contract for the Kings while we’re there. Maybe tomorrow? It’s late today and I want to get the farmhand cabin cleared out. Bri and Mike might want to use it, and I haven’t even looked inside to see how Gatlin left it.”

His hands stall and tense for only a moment, him quickly recovering, but I catch it.

“What?” I ask.

His tone plummets to a sultry timbre. “I have a better idea. Why don’t I take care of that while you go take a hot shower or bath? You’re tired and your muscles are bound up pretty tight, baby.”

“I suppose that’d work,” I sigh. “Thank you. Just make sure you box up anything personal he left, in case he comes back for it. We can put it in the shed out back.”

“Yeah, I’ll do that,” he mumbles and clears his throat, then comes around and holds out a hand. “Don’t worry, I got it. And you have a date with…what’s it gonna be? Bath or shower?”

“Shower,” I respond automatically. As good as a long, hot bath sounds, I just don’t have it in me to brave the upstairs bathroom right now. Although I did fine with it before, for which I was quite proud of myself, I’m too weary and physically exhausted to chance those factors very easily helping me into a full breakdown if I test myself too much.

“Alright,” he tries to hide his concern, knowing the thoughts that made my decision. “Hop to it then.” He pulls me up off the couch. “I’ll go clear out the cabin, shouldn’t take me long. We’ll fix something quick for dinner when I get back.”

He leaves me at the bathroom door with a languid kiss and parting swat on the butt to propel me toward the shower.

While I bask under the hot spray, an eerie feeling comes over me out of nowhere. Not the “you’re about to be killed in the shower” kind…but more an uneasy lump suddenly forming in the pit of my stomach, warning me not to get too comfortable with being comfortable.

The wave of contentment I’ve been riding is too high, and something tells me, it’s about to crash, sending me flying onto the shore so hard, there’ll be scars.

THE NEXT MORNING, I
wake in the safe haven of Keaton’s arms, but the overwhelming sense of dread remains, churning in my stomach.

After getting ready for the day, taking care of Bourbon and eating breakfast with Keaton…it’s still there and I can’t shake it, no matter how many times I reassure myself I’m being silly.

Keaton picks up on something going on with me, giving me a worried side-eye as we load up in his truck.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, baby?” he asks once we’re on the road.

“I honestly don’t know.” I rub my forehead, the pills I took not touching my rapidly building headache. “I just have this gut feeling. Something’s off, or about to be off. As in, terribly wrong.”

“Henny,” he reaches for my hand, “you’ve always been a worrier, which is fine, I love you just the way you are. But you don’t have to do it anymore. Now that you actually
let
me, I’ve got you. Always have, but since you’re finally acknowledging that you’re mine, that means taking care of anything you want or need. There’s not a damn thing that could go wrong that I wouldn’t die fixing for you. Do you trust me when I tell you that?”

“Yes,” I answer lowly, but honestly.

“Could it be you’re just skeptical that things can really be this good? That you’re worthy of being happy?”

“Maybe,” I shrug, “but I know what
that
feels like, the certainty that life will never be good or happy again. This feels different.”

“Are you having second thoughts about your farm arrangements with the Kings?”

“No.” I shake my head. “Absolutely not.”

“Are you,” his voice softens, “having doubts about us? Living together? Being together?”

“God, no.” I squeeze his hand. “I love you, Keaton. That love is the surest thing I’ve ever felt.”

“Okay,” he whooshes out his relief. “Glad to hear it. At least both of us don’t have to be worried,” he half chuckles. “And I love you too, baby girl. So, what else could it be? I’m out of ideas.”

“I told you, I don’t know. But I feel sick because I have the distinct sense that we’ll be finding out soon enough.” I stare out the window, fighting for a calming breath, deciding a change of subject might help.

“So, you never told me, how’d Gatlin leave the cabin? Was it a mess? Any damage?” I already know the answer—Gatlin would never be that disrespectful, but it’s the only conversation piece I can come up with at the moment, my mind still stuck on the foreboding unknown.

“Nope,” he pops. “Everything was fine.”

Alright, so much for that occupying much time. Now I have to think of something else to talk about.

Or not.

“Say, did you ask Bri about furnishings? They might need stuff, if you don’t mind them using it that is. Sure save with a lot of packing,” He asks—excellent choice—this could take up some real time. And be fun…‘cause I can use it to make him squirm, which I always enjoy.

“No, I was waiting until I knew exactly what could be left. You know,
after
you remove all items of former debauchery from your place.”

I face the window again to hide my smile.

Does it make me angry to think of Keaton having sex with other women? No, that’d be unreasonable—I was gone, having left on not exactly amicable terms with him, and he’s only human.

Does that mean I’m going to overlook it and fuck him in the same spots? That’d also be a resounding Hell. No.

And there’s the squirming in his seat I was expecting. I glance over and smile, getting way too much delight from his creased forehead and quickly bobbing Adam’s apple.

“So, what’s it gonna be ‘Ashfall’s Infamous Ladies Man?’” I giggle. “Couch, kitchen table, every chair, desk? I can’t rip out my bathtub, shower, or countertops. We need to get those replaced over at your once bachelor pad?”