Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Goldie

I feel so strange.

Euphoric.

Like I’ve run ten miles, but I could run ten more. I want to rest, but I also feel energized.

Mostly, I want to stay here, on his lap, with his fingers softly combing through my hair.

What he said just registered in my still-tingling brain.

“It’s your birthday?”

He laughs. “Was. Yesterday.”

“Happy birthday,” I sigh. “I wish I knew how to bake.”

Barrett laughs, and the vibration against my side is pleasing and makes me want to burrow under his skin and wear him like a suit. Serial killer, party of one.

“Why?”

“So I could bake you a birthday cake, silly. Olivia makes good birthday cakes. You’d like her. She’s good at almost everything. It’s very annoying.”

Barrett chuckles and engages as I ramble on about Olivia and Louisa. I tell him all about Olivia and her skills. Louisa and her bookishness. How we grew up together and how I was always a bit of a misfit.

“They always took up for me,” I say. “You’ll like them when you get to meet them.”

I stiffen when I realize what I’ve said. “I didn’t mean…” I trail off because I don’t know what I’m trying to explain.

“What didn’t you mean?”

“I didn’t mean to imply that you had any obligation to anything. Or that we have a future together. I was just having a moment.”

After a quiet moment during which Barrett strokes my hair, he says, “I like listening to you talk about your friends. I like hearing you talk about whatever you want.”

“You don’t have to be my boyfriend or anything,” I say. “I know this is just a fling.”

“You can think whatever you want. I’m not worried about you claiming me as your boyfriend. In fact, you can introduce me as your boyfriend when we meet your friends one day.”

I have no reason to hope that I’ll see Olivia and Louisa again.

But the way Barrett talks to me feels like everything is carved in stone.

“I like you,” I say.

He pauses playing with my hair, then moves on to weaving his fingers through mine. Our two hands are locked together.

The moment is perfect.

“How do you feel now?”

“I feel like I want to do more with you,” I say, blushing and burying my face against his shoulder and neck. “But my hips are a little sore from that position.”

Barrett growls, running his hand over my aching hip, massaging the sore muscles.

“I got you,” he says.

Without another word, Barrett stands, sweeping me up in his arms. Unlike me, he has zero struggles with the stupid recliner.

He carries me to the bedroom. I would never let anyone baby me or physically manipulate me the way he does now. No one should trust a mountain man they just met, but my body is in charge now. I meant what I said when I asked him to do what he wants with me.

The bed is still warm when he sets me down on my side. I sit up and watch him position a fluffy pillow in front of me.

He’s already seen and touched nearly all of me. I’ve never been naked in front of anyone before—not even my friends when we’ve sneaked away to swim in the creek—but I feel no shame when I whip the flannel shirt off over my head.

“Lie down on your stomach,” he says, patting the pillow.

It would all feel very clinical if I couldn’t see the dark need in Barrett’s pale eyes. His lightly fuzzy chest heaves as he watches me.

I do as he says, lying on my stomach, the pillows under my hips. I look back at him. He scrubs his hand over his chest—that hand he used to pleasure me a minute ago. The thought sends a shiver of pleasure and wonder down my spine.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Wearing your pussy scent on me.”

Well, I did ask. Weirdly, it fascinates me more than unsettles me.

“You mean…you like that?”

“Sweetheart, you smell like heaven to me. And I know you’re going to taste like it too.”

My mouth drops open. “Taste?”

“Tell me if you don’t want that.”

I never thought about it before.

“I do if you do.”

“It’s my favorite thing in this whole godforsaken world.”

“Will I enjoy it?”

He lowers himself on the bed, hovering over me on his knees while he massages the backs of my thighs. It feels so good that I’m starting to get deeply aroused all over again.

“Remember what we talked about?”

I nod. “If I don’t like it, then you stop?”

“That’s right, sweetheart.”

“What do I…do, though? To make sure you like it?”

He laughs. “Be my pillow princess. Head down, booty up. Let me take care of everything.”

I rest my cheek on a pillow just like he says, with my arms relaxed next to my head. I wasn’t expecting a full-body massage, but the special attention he pays when he reaches my hips is so lovely and thoughtful, my eyes well up.

I dab away the tears on the pillow because I don’t want to have another discussion about my possible non-enjoyment of this. I swear to god, if he says anything about consent again, I’ll mule-kick him.

Maybe I should talk to someone about my violent impulses.

Suddenly, my mind goes to another planet because the tickle between my legs is unreal.

Barrett has me spread just a little. Barely an inch— but he’s … in there. His beard and mustache rub against my thighs, and I can even feel parts of him touching me all over my back side. But the tongue—oh god, that tongue—is doing the Lord’s work.

Electricity pulses through me in waves as he laps at me from behind. It’s warm and wet and ridiculously soft. And so, so good. That tight coil of need is getting close to snapping again, putting thoughts into my head. Thoughts about what I need to do while he licks, sucks, and owns me with his tongue.

I reach down between my thighs and find my clit. It aches once again, just the way it did up until the moment he wrecked me on the recliner. It is so strange for such a small thing to own my pleasure entirely. I rub it and rub it as Barrett’s mouth claims me. He devours me like a five-dollar rotisserie chicken.

I break wide open as my orgasm hits me unexpectedly. I scream, but it comes out as more of a raspy, throaty sound. I don’t recognize myself.

“Barrett! Oh my god, it’s happening again!”

He growls on my pussy, sending such intense shock waves through me that my release intensifies.

By the time I finish, with his tongue inside me and one finger in my ass, I’m silently sobbing for joy into the pillow.

“You’re ready, pretty girl.”

I’m still twitching when Barrett positions one of his legs between mine and opens me up, just barely another inch.

I hear shuffling at the foot of the bed, then the sweatpants hit the floor with unnecessary force.

Oh, this is going to be something.

The feel of him covering me from behind feels like home, with his lips against my neck whispering, “Pretty girl…good girl…you taste so fucking good.”

The tip of his cock slips into me, inch by slow inch.

My body sings when he gets into position, pinning me down, his arms covering my arms.

Barrett’s ten fingers knot through mine. My heart cracks wide open.

He holds on to me just like that while he slides in.

It is a fastening that no one can untie.

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