Chapter Nine
A dream about Cole wakes me up. In it, he’s pinning me down, telling me I’m his. He’s pushing his cock into my pussy and I’m winding my legs around his slim waist, trapping him between my strong thighs. I moan as I open my eyes and realize with shame that I’m having an orgasm.
What a little slut he’s turned me into. On the heels of one of the most traumatic days of both our lives, I’m turned on just by the thought of him. My body is conditioned to his touch, to the release he gives me. I put my arm behind my head and stare up at the ceiling. He’s asked me to marry him. The joy and weight of the question hits me at the same time as I rise from the bed.
That he’s putting everything aside to focus on me should be flattering. But I know even if I say yes, we’ll have to work through a lot. Our families have a rocky history, but if he’s not holding my daddy against me, can I hold his against him? I love my daddy, but I’ve learned to live without him, without his guidance. Will Cole be able to do the same?
He comes around to pick me up around ten. I’m sitting on the front porch, waiting. To my surprise, he’s driving a pickup. Turns out the media is picking up the story, and word is that bigger outlets from Dallas and even some national cable networks are coming in to do a story on this whole awful mess. I run by the hospital long enough to check on Winona, who’s being discharged. Robert is flying her out to Wyoming to see their parents; she wants nothing to do with the drama.
Cole tells me he won’t stop me from talking to the press; he says it’s not his place to stop me. I’m touched, but agree with Winona, and am relieved when he tells me he’s taking me to a friend’s ranch up in the hills where we can hide out for the rest of the week.
“What about your mom?” I ask.
“It’d be awkward if we took her,” he says.
I roll my eyes. “You know what I mean. Is she going to be okay without you being there?”
“The way I see it, she needs some time to think as much as my dad does,” he says. “She needs to be truly alone, to see how it feels. She’s controlling in her own way, but she’s smarter than my dad. She’s not willing to risk everything to have things the way she wants. All those years of looking down her nose at people like you? It’s coming back to bite her now.”
“It’s hard for people to change,” I say, and imagine bringing our children to see a grandmother who greets me with a tight-lipped smile, or taking them to prison to see Cole’s dad, since he’s likely to end up with jail time for what he did. Of course, my daddy, the ex-con, will be out by the time we have kids. He could teach them poker tricks.
I start to laugh at the absurdity of it, and when Cole presses me for what I find so funny, I don’t want to tell him but finally do when he keeps pressing. He falls silent, and I’m thinking I’ve hurt his feelings, but then he starts laughing, too.
“Darlin’, if I can win your heart, I’ll be fine with our kids having the most fucked-up grandparents in Texas.” He looks over. “I love you, Gina Louise.”
My careful heart leaps. It wants to break free and throw caution to the wind.
“I don’t want to talk about our folks the rest of the day,” he says. “This is our time. Whatever we find waiting for us will just have to be handled, but right now I just want to concentrate on convincing you that we can handle it together.”
“So, you’ve moved from training to convincing me?” I’m teasing him but I can’t help it, and I get a naughty thrill when he shoots me a wicked smile.
“Oh, honey, I’m still going to train you. Don’t you worry about that.”
We roll on, listening to a series of stations that float in and out depending on whether we’re in range. In an age where everyone has an iPod, Cole likes to listen to the radio. He’s old-fashioned like that. He’s old-fashioned in a lot of ways, I think. He wants to take care of me, to protect me. He wants to be my hero on the white horse. I feel myself wondering if I want that, too.
It’s hard, though. Before my dad went away, I depended on him. He let me down and when he went to prison it was like being thrown into the ocean and told to swim. I didn’t think I could do it, but I did, and the last few years on my own have made me afraid to trust anyone else. I’m afraid if I do, and relax, it’ll all come crashing down when I least expect it.
“What do you think?” Cole’s voice breaks into my thoughts. I’d not really been watching where I was going but now I look up and see us pulling into a driveway of a picturesque farm. There’s a realtor’s sign hanging from the gate, and Cole tells me the farm belongs to a friend who is moving to Montana. He has a buyer for the house and will close next week, but will let us use it for a few days.
I can’t help but wonder what a place like this would even sell for. It’s picture perfect, with a white, one-story Victorian farmhouse that sits nestled in between two hills. There are huge Boston ferns hanging from the wraparound porch. A barn sits behind the house to the left. White fencing surrounds green pastures, and there’s even a pond at the head of the manicured lawn with a weeping willow on the bank, its branches so long that the bottom ones graze the water’s edge.
“It’s perfect,” I say.
“I know.” He smiles. “Remember that time in Mrs. Collins’ class when we were asked to describe our dream house?”
I look over, shocked. I’d forgotten about that, but Cole had remembered. I feel a swell of emotion as I look toward the house we’re approaching.
Inside is even better. The rooms are large and airy. The walnut floors have just been refinished by the looks of it. The house is being sold fully furnished, and there’s a homey elegance to the place that’s so different from the sterile pretentiousness of Cole’s family home. And it’s a sight better than the tiny house I’ve been living in.
The kitchen is my favorite part. There’s a reproduction stove that’s made to look like one of the old wood-burning varieties, a double basin sink, and a double door fridge/freezer. The pot rack above the kitchen island is empty, but I can’t help but to imagine copper pots and pans having from the iron hooks.
“There’s a garden tub upstairs,” Cole says. He grins. “It’s big enough for two.”
I turn to him. “Are you sure you’re in the mood? I mean, with all that’s going on with your father?”
He walks over and takes me into his arms. “Listen, honey buns,” he says, and I don’t even flinch because his little names have become endearing. “I’ve watched my dad throw his weight around all his life. He’s a bully, and at this point, his problems are just that—his problems. I can’t help him, and I won’t. I’ve got my own life to live, and a little lady who still has some lessons to learn.”
“What kind of lessons?”
He turns and takes my hand to lead me through the house. I peek through doorways as we walk. We pass a parlor with a beautifully carved fireplace mantel and several bedrooms, two which are empty.
The master bedroom is still fully furnished, though, and the en-suite bathroom is a mixture of quaint charm and modern conveniences. There’s an antique pedestal sink and a charming toilet with a pull chain hanging above that’s obviously aesthetic. But the huge garden tub with its multiple jets? That’s very modern, and Cole is already stripping as he fills it.
“You’re sure the owner won’t mind?” I ask.
“Nah.” Cole grins as he unsnaps the buttons of his shirt. “He’s a pretty easygoing guy.” He shrugs the shirt off then lifts one foot and then the other to pull off his boots and socks. He’s so gorgeous, standing there in the jeans he’s starting to unzip. I see the faint scar on his shoulder and still remember the day he got it. We were all at the lake and he hit a jagged tree branch swinging out on a rope swing over the water. I’m seized by the sudden urge to trace the scar with my tongue, to trace lower and lower, until…
“You gonna stand there, or are you gonna get nekkid?”
I flush as I realize I’ve been gawking as he removed his clothes. Cole is already rock hard, his long, thick cock bobbing from the nest of sandy curls at the apex of his muscular thighs. He’s grinning that wicked grin as he comes over and pulls my shirt up and off. He glides his hands over and down my shoulders, looking at the swell of breasts still encased in my bra.
“You look mighty fine, Gina Louise,” he says. “Mighty fine.”
He speaks to me as if I’m all gussied up, but I’m not. I’m just a cowgirl standing here in her bra and cut-off jeans. He locks his eyes on mine as he undoes the button of my shorts. He pulls the zipper down and I feel them slide to the floor. I step out and kick the shorts and my sandals away as he unclasps my bra. Cole kneels down; he’s face level with my pussy. He kisses the mound through the damp panel of my panties and I shudder. Then he slips the panties down and off, baring me completely.
He leads me to the tub, which is now full. He picks me up and puts me in as he slides in behind me. There’s a panel on the wall behind him and he pushes a button and the jets start.
“Hey,” he says. “This could be fun.”
He leans back and pulls me against him. He spreads my legs wide and slides me toward the jets. I can feel the blast of water against my pussy. Cole’s mouth is against my ear.
“I’m gonna taste every part of you today, girl,” he says. “I’m going to claim every part of you so hard and fast that when you see or hear the word ‘fuck,’ you’re going to think of this day.”
I moan. His words, the jet of water. I squirm, but he holds me fast. His fingers are pinching and pulling my nipples as the jet of water surges against my clit.
“You’re sweet as honey,” he says. “And I’m like one of them… what kind of animal likes honey best of all?”
I giggle. “A bear?”
“That’s right,” he says. “I’m a bear.” He scores the skin at the juncture of my neck and shoulder with his teeth. It’s a playful nip that turns possessive and at the feel of his cock nudging against the small of my back, I come hard, arching toward the jet of water.
Cole turns me around. He winks.
“What say we fill up that clean pussy?” He leans back, pulling my thighs to him until I’m straddling his cock. He lowers me down onto the length of him, lowers me until I can feel our pelvises touching. I’m so full of cock. I can feel him pressing against the limits of my throbbing channel, stretching me. He takes hold of my hips.
“I like watching you ride,” he says. “I love how you move your seat, your legs. Ride me, Gina Louise.”
I begin to move, pushing my pelvis back and forth, undulating my body. I’ve always been a country girl, but he makes me feel like a sex kitten. His hands are on my hips, following the motion. He’s letting me work him this time. I switch up my game, raising a bit to plant my feet on the bottom of the tub. I put my hands on his shoulders, and he supports my upper body as I move up and down on his cock. Riding so many years has given me strong legs and a strong core. I’m able to slide up and down on him with controlled motions, and he’s moaning now. He’s telling me how hot my pussy is, how good it feels, how tight it is. He describes everything he’s feeling in something that sounds like a hot, sexual stream of consciousness. I’m fascinated by him. Cowboys have a reputation for being all ‘wham, bam, thank you, ma’am,’ but Cole is luxuriating in every little sensation. This man is a connoisseur of sex; he observes everything, and I’m starting to think he knows my body better than I do.
He pulls me forward, and I’m back down on my knees. The jet of water sprays against my ass as he holds me to him and fucks me hard, even from his position beneath me. I come again, gripping him hard as he pumps into me. The sensation of the water and the spurts of cum together are surreally delicious.
But he’s not finished with me yet. Cole wants to try the shower next. It’s a doozy, with multiple heads around the perimeter. This time he soaps me up as we stand in the spray, telling me I’m even dirtier after my bath than I was before. He produces a razor and has me put my foot up on the shower seat and I watch, fascinated, as he shaves my pussy. I’ve never had my pussy shaved and am instantly surprised at how sensitive it is once denuded. Cole wipes my smooth mound with a washcloth before licking and sucking me to yet another shattering orgasm.
He has to carry me from the shower. So much pleasure has left me weak-kneed. My skin is warm and damp when he dumps me on the bed and falls on top of me. His mouth is everywhere, suckling my breasts one minute and delving into my slit the next. He flips me over, spreads my ass cheeks and I cry out in horrified surprise when I feel the tip of his tongue push into my bottom hole. I try to move away, but he has me tight. He wasn’t kidding when he said he’d have all of me. For the next thirty minutes, he explores my body like he’s mapping each valley and mound, as if he’s charting the location of each little freckle and mole, as if he’s memorizing just where on my skin to brush me to make me giggle or moan.
I want to touch him, too, but when I tell him this, Cole says it’s all about me.
“You have no idea how hot it makes me to hear you moan,” he says. “My daddy always said power was about money. That’s not power. Power is knowing how to make a woman come again and again, making her come so hard that she’ll lose it sitting in traffic thinking about what you did to her the night before.”
I’d probably wreck my car if I let my mind wander to what he’s doing now. He’s got me on all fours and is playing with my ass with one hand and my clit with the other. His fingers feel slick—slicker even than I could make them—and I look over to see a tube of lube on the bedside table. He’s greasing my ass, rimming my hole as he plays with my clit. His lubricated finger slips inside me, then a second joins it.
“Remember that night I put the trainer in your ass?”
I want to tell him it wasn’t that long ago, but all I can do is moan. It’s obviously sufficient as an answer, because he tells me he’s going to keep his promise to put his cock in me. But his cock is a lot bigger, and I whimper as a surge of fear runs through me. But it’s fear tinged with excitement. What he wants to do to me is bad and dirty, at least according to what some of my more uptight friends say. But I’ll be bad and dirty for Cole. I’ll be anything he wants me to be. I’m sinking into him, sinking into his dominance. I’m letting it carry me away, letting it free me to feel things I never thought I’d experience, both in body and soul.
“Do you trust me?” He’s behind me with the lube, making one last application. His cock is hard again as he swirls the head against the slick pucker of my asshole. I feel him nudge and push. Knock, knock. Let me in. I remember the sensation of the plug, the burning sting, the pressure. But I remember the pleasure, too, the dark thrill of being plundered in a new and wicked way.
“This virginity is mine,” he says. It’s always been my secret regret that Cole wasn’t my first. His words thrill me. I’ve never let a man do this and now I find myself pushing back, determined, ready to receive him.
I hiss at the sting of the invasion. The head of Cole’s cock is breaching my natural resistance to his entry. He took it slow with the plug, and while he’s not rushing, he is moving into me in steady, persistent increments. He talks to me the whole time, telling me how turned on it makes him to see his cock disappearing into my ass.
“You’re going to take it all, baby,” he says. “I’m going to fill this ass with my cock so you’ll know I can take you anytime, anywhere, and any way I want. I can’t get enough of you, Gina Louise.”
My ass is throbbing. It’s not exactly pain I feel, but an unnatural stretch. But despite the odd sensation, I’ve never been more excited. My pussy is throbbing as he begins to move in and out of my ass. I drop my head into the mattress and relax into the sensation. I’m longing for him to fill me here, to empty himself into a place no man has been before, to mark me with his seed.
When he does, we both cry out. I feel his hands squeeze my hips, feel his fingers dig into my skin. We stay locked together until he softens and slips out of me. Then he lies down and pulls me against him, spooning us together.
“I can’t wait anymore, Gina Louise,” he says. He lays me on my back and props himself up on his elbow to look down at me. “Don’t make me suffer any more. Say you’ll marry me.”
I want to tell him it’s not fair, that it’s a dirty trick to ask a girl for something when you’ve made her so weak. I’d jump off a bridge if he asked me to. But as I look into his gray eyes, I know it’s more than just sex. This is a man who will treasure me, who will love me, who will take care of me, who will protect me against anybody or anything that tries to hurt me. What else can a girl say when a man like that asks her to spend forever with him?
“Yes,” I say, reaching up to touch his face. My voice is quaking with emotion that only increases when tears form in his eyes at my answer. “Yes.”