Chapter 29 – Cow Daddy

Crew – Four weeks later

With my shoulders against the headboard, I gather her hair in my hands. As much as I love her rich brown hair spread across my lap, I want to see her mouth work me. Some days I think she loves my cock more than me. I feel like I’ve gone to heaven, won the lottery, and was named the number one draft pick in the NFL all at the same time. How could I have gotten so lucky? I’ve gotta muster all the control I can to prolong it, to have her mouth as long as I can instead of exploding in two point five seconds like a hormone-raging teenager.

With her hand wrapped around the base of me, her other plays with my balls. Fuck. I breathe deep and pull her head up enough where she only gets the tip. That wins me her beautiful eyes and a scowl.

“Suck the tip, baby.”

But she doesn’t do as I say. She raises a brow and flicks the tip with her tongue, before mocking me, her voice dipping low and sultry. “Okay, baby.”

I narrow my eyes, shaking my head. She certainly doesn’t comply all the time, but then again, it might become boring if she did. I wouldn’t want her any other way.

Her perfect pink tongue peeks out, circling the tip before she asks against my raging hard-on, “Why do you always talk about it in the third person?”

My muscles tense and I have to breathe deep to control myself. Having a conversation with her breath and words coming across my cock isn’t easy.

“Because my cock is its own person when it comes to you.” I trace her bottom lip with my thumb before dipping my hand into her hair, pulling gently to get her attention. “And it wants you to suck its tip.”

“But,” she starts before running her tongue up the length, making me crazy and doing it on purpose. She knows exactly what she’s doing, she’s playing a game I doubt she’ll mind losing in the end. “What if I want more,” she kisses the tip with her perfect puckered lips, “than its tip?”

I soften my voice. “You want more?”

She smiles and when she does, her lips brush across my cock. “I always want more, Crew.”

I shake my head slowly before I move. I move so fast—she yelps in surprise. Before she knows it, she’s flipped to her back where I’ve shifted over her, straddling her face. I quickly spread her legs high and wide for me, her bare pussy wet and glistening. I can see everything clear as day since I turned all the lights on before stripping her bare. I wanted to see every bit of what I was in the mood for, but I didn’t plan this. This is even better.

I dip my hand under her ass, lifting her hips to my face. Sliding my tongue through her wetness, she drops her knees wide, giving me what I want. When I rub my cock against her cheek, I say, “Take what you want, Abby.”

She fists me as she moans, and I don’t waste any time pulling her clit into my mouth. Just for teasing me, I don’t give her what she wants, and barely offer her the tip of my cock. Her fingers dig into the muscles of my ass and she finally sucks. Fuck, that feels good and I give her more. Her hips start to move, pressing into my mouth, and there it is—her whimper. But this time I not only hear it, but feel it around my dick.

I give her more as I take. Her noises, her pussy grinding against my mouth as I fuck hers, it’s a wonder I haven’t exploded.

Just like always, I get her there first, and the suction around my cock goes slack when she moans and gasps, breathing hard against me.

I can’t take another second.

I climb off her and flip around. When I look at her face, her eyes are closed and her breathing labored, spent from her orgasm. Sliding between her legs with my knees to the bed, I pull her hips to me, and finally, I’m there.

My Abby.

“Yes,” she breathes as I slam into her, not able to hold back or keep it slow. There’s nothing more beautiful than seeing her take me.

When I finally come, driving into her one last time, I stay deep inside as I drop my body to hers. Giving her only the weight she can handle, I take in the feel of her under me as I kiss her. Her hands slide through my hair and when I release her lips, she breathes against mine, “Wow.”

I ignore her compliment and look into her eyes, delivering the truth. “You didn’t comply very well.”

A knowing smirk floods her features. “If that’s what I get, you can count on me not complying more often.”

I shake my head and kiss her again. “Love you, Abby.”

Her smirk disappears, contentment and happiness taking over. “Love you, too.”

*****

Addy –

I pop a green apple Laffy Taffy in my mouth, but before I look back to my sales projections, I smooth out the green wrapper on my desk.

I smile. Today’s a good day, but then again every day for the last month has been a good day.

I’d say everything’s back to normal, but who am I to know what normal is? I’ve never had normal. When one grows up the way I did, with their real identity buried deep, and they meet the love of their life who happens to be a retired killer one day while walking their cows, that’s not normal. Throw in treacherous acts against our country, cold-blooded murder, and deep-seated KGB stalking my internet searches, I know this is not what fairytales are made of. At least not for someone normal.

Which makes me very not normal.

Because I would travel my dark road a million times over to be right where I am.

It’s been a month since Grady blew Marc Whittaker’s brains out in the middle of my vineyard. A month since Sheldon was almost killed on my land and a month since the CIA ended one of its longest running investigations into known espionage against our country. They did their best to try and spin that story, but still, in the end, it didn’t look good for the CIA. What wasn’t featured in the news was what Crew was able to tell me from his sources—the entire old-school KGB group who were paying O’Rourke and Whittaker are gone.

Gone.

Six months ago, I wouldn’t have known what that meant, but that was before I was sleeping with a killer. I’m all in the know, now.

Most importantly, it’s been a month since Crew and I have fallen into our new normal. A normal where I can come and go as I please, where I wake up and go to bed with Crew, without any dark clouds looming over us. It might not be normal-normal, but it’s normal for us, and I love it.

Today is a good day because I struck gold with my Laffy Taffy. A cow joke.

What do you get from a forgetful cow?

Milk of amnesia.

Cow jokes. Who knew they’d make me so happy? Then again, who knew I’d ever own cows?

“Addy!” I hear and I can tell she’s in a rush.

Swiveling my chair, I turn to my bulletin board which is designated solely for green cow jokes, and add it to my collection. I don’t have a ton, but there are more than you’d think. Finding a green cow joke is like finding a diamond in the rough, but I eat a lot of green Laffy Taffy.

“Addy!” Bev rushes into my office. “Come quick, you’ll never believe this.”

“What’s going on?” I get up and follow my enthusiastic friend who’s practically skipping ahead of me down the hall toward the tasting room.

We’re halfway between Halloween and Thanksgiving, there’s a chill in the air, and most of the leaves have fallen. Even though I’m sad the harvest is over, I love fall. The dry air is really good for my hair.

We make it through my tasting room, which is busy for midweek afternoon. We’re ramping up for our annual Thanksgiving Tasting this weekend. Last year was so busy I decided to up my game, have it catered, and take reservations. It booked quickly, the event should be twice as big as last year. If we make in sales what we did last year projected on attendance, November will be off the charts.

“Come on, Addy!” Bev is at the door holding it open for me.

The second the cool air hits me, I stop in my tracks. Not because of the crisp breeze, but because of what I see. Crew’s dilapidated truck is again pulled right up to the porch.

I quickly came to love the turquoise beast when he told me it was his dad’s and he planned to keep it running forever. When he informed me of this, I had Morris clear out a section of my barn that was only used for storage. It’s now protected from the elements every night and Crew has a place to work on it. His brand new black Jag F-Type, though, is parked next to my Audi in the garage. Everything of Crew’s now resides in my farmhouse. Most importantly, Crew is here for good, and my home, that’s going on four centuries old and listed on the Historic Register, doesn’t seem as big and vast as it used to.

However, the sight in front of me is so much more than his truck. Whining and slurping noises fill the air with Bev clapping from my side.

Crew’s standing in front of a cattle trailer hitched to his truck. Holding her with a rope around her neck as a makeshift leash, his other is gripping an enormous bottle of milk, and he’s feeding the cutest calf I’ve ever seen. Not that I’ve paid much attention to calves in the past, but this one is perfect. She’s a black baldy, like all my cows, and her markings are beautiful. With a pure white face, she’s got a strip of black right across her eyes. She looks like she’s on her way to a fancy masquerade ball.

I can’t take my eyes off her until Crew’s voice cuts into the cuteness. “I got her at the auction, she’s an orphan. You’ll have to feed her for a while yet.”

“She’s precious, go see her!” Bev gives me a push and I skip down the steps quickly to meet my new cow.

When I get to her, she startles and leans into Crew to get closer to the one feeding her. I try and pet her, but she wants nothing to do with me.

I smile big and look up to him. “She loves you.”

“She should.” He shakes his head. “Not very many cows get to be pets. You’re never allowed to go to the auction, by the way. We’ll end up with a herd.”

My smile grows into a huge grin and just when I’m about to name her, Crew must’ve read my mind. “Batman.”

My face falls. “Batman?”

“Yeah, look at her. She’s a batman.”

“But,” I stammer before throwing out my idea. “I was thinking Erik, from Phantom of the Opera.”

“Baby, I’ve never seen that.” I open my mouth to suggest we watch it, but he proves to be a mind reader. “I’m not watching anything with the word ‘opera’ in it. Her name’s Batman.”

I look down at our new mini masked cow and suggest, “Batgirl?”

“Whatever.” He shrugs but does it with a smile. “Batgirl.”

I lean up to kiss him, but our new Batgirl doesn’t like it, struggling to get between us and closer to her caretaker.

I laugh and give her a scratch before teasing Crew. “You might regret this. I think you’re a cow daddy now.”

Not caring about our cow baby, he leans down to kiss me. His voice turns dark and even though I know he’s teasing, still, he’s sort of not when he murmurs against my lips, “I’d rather just be your Daddy.”

This from the man who pretty much does what he wants with me—even though I can’t deny I’ve loved it all—makes me laugh out loud. Because there’s no way in hell I’ll ever call him Daddy and he knows it.