Chapter 9
nine
Archer
S unlight chases away my sleep and I wake more refreshed and alert than I have in a long, long time. I stretch and can’t keep the grin from my face. My restful night was because of her. My beautiful Bailey.
As is my morning wood. It’s been awhile for that, too. Wishing it was her hand surrounding me, I give my dick a few long, slow strokes while I listen for sound in the apartment. It’s quiet so I rise and take my self-pleasure into the shower.
I don’t want her to hear what I’m doing but holding back my groan and the aching need to shout her name as I come is damn near impossible. When I hear her in the neighboring bathroom, I rush to dress. Hopefully she has ingredients I can use to make breakfast. She’s done so much for me and I want to start showing my appreciation. Breakfast is just the start.
I’ll do anything for the woman I love.
Pausing with my hand on the door knob, I glance back at the bed. Fuzzy memories of last night begin to solidify. I’d been poor company when we started a movie since I hadn’t recovered fully from my composition exhaustion so she’d sent me to bed. Given my forehead a tender goodnight kiss. I’d said, ‘I love you’.
I said—? Fuck.
I do love her. But it’s too soon. Keeping my feelings under wraps until I sense what she feels for me had been my plan. As long as she doesn’t read the lyrics to the new songs. Holding myself back should have been no problem. No problem. Shit, I don’t even know if she heard my declaration.
What do I do now? How should I act this morning? Like a man in love or like I never said the words? Briefly, I wonder what my brother would do. Best I can hope for is to gauge her behavior and react accordingly.
It’s a fuckin’ stupid plan.
But it’s all I’ve got, so I make my way to her kitchen and find eggs, cream, and a loaf of unsliced bread. French toast it is. A pint of blueberries will make a great compote topping. I chuckle when I discover a can of aerosol whipped cream in the fridge and barely resist the urge to spray myself a mouthful.
I’ve got the bread soaking in the egg mixture and the compote simmering on the stove when Bailey exits her room.
“Marcus, what is all this?”
“Breakfast. To thank you for taking care of me and to apologize for falling asleep on you last night.” I study her expression but she gives me no clues to her thoughts.
“I really love French toast,” she sighs. “But seldom take the time to make it for myself.”
She watches as I transfer the thick slices to a skillet and remains silent until I set our plates on the island. “Oh, this smells heavenly.” She grabs my hand, tugs me close and blesses me with a sweet kiss. “Thank you for breakfast.”
There’s a little batter left in the bowl so when she pouts and stares at her empty plate, I fix her another slice. I love how she enjoys her breakfast, making sure to get every drop of compote on the last bite. Unlike my brother’s taste in thin, angular women, I love curves, full hips, thick thighs, and generous tits. I’ve found all that, and more, with this woman. My fingers itch to explore her soft body.
Soon, I silently promise myself. And her.
Bailey loads the dishes into the dishwasher. “You remember that I need to harvest plums today?”
“I do. I want to help.”
“It’s not necessary. It’s hot work.”
“If it’s part of what you do as a vintner, I want to experience it with you.”
“The plums aren’t for wine. I’m trying to create special mead.”
“Will you show me how? What you do in that secret workroom of yours?” I press my lips together at her expression. I only meant to tease, not make her uncomfortable or angry. “Bailey, I’m sorry. If you don’t want me anywhere near your work, I understand. It’s no different than not letting anyone see my compositions right away. Showing someone what you’ve created is scary.”
She shakes her head and circles the island. Taking a chance, I hold out my hand and ease her between my thighs. She strokes my shoulder. “In my last job, I trusted the guy I worked with. He stole my recipes. My processes. Trust is not the easiest thing for me to give after that.”
“Ah, Bailey.”
“For some reason, though, I trust you, Marcus. Not that stealing my work would do you any good.” Her grin releases the tension across my shoulders. She dances her fingers into my hair. “If you want to get hot and sticky picking wild plums, then let’s get going. I’ll show you how I’m going to use them when we get back.”
With her hands on me, my mind remains stuck at ‘hot and sticky’.
“Come on, rock god. Let’s get going.”
She has a hand drawn map from one of the ranch kids showing how to get to a pond with a thicket of wild plums. After stopping by my room for a long sleeved shirt to protect my arms from scratches, we take the ATV and quickly reach our destination. The shrubs form a dense line a few yards from the pond.
“What do wild plums taste like?” I ask as I reach for the plastic buckets we’ll use while picking.
“There can be a variety of flavors,” Bailey answers. “It’s still early in the season and the locals tell me the plums are sweetest then. The skin can be tart. Go ahead and try one. The plum should be firm but still a little soft when you squeeze it. A good one will almost harvest itself with just a little twist.”
I study the thickly fruited branches. Dusty looking oval fruits in deep shades of red, purple, and even a bit of yellow contrast with the dark green leaves. Avoiding one of the dull thorns lining the branches, I pick a plum, rub it softly against my sleeve then, with her watching intently, take a careful bite of the small, sun-warmed fruit.
The tart skin puckers my mouth before the sweet flesh slides over my tongue. “Good,” I say and finish the plum in two bites. They’re really not very big. “Tastes a bit like a regular plum. But with some… hmmm… cherry thrown in.”
Bailey’s smile is brighter than the sun. “Exactly. And I’m hoping to bump up that cherry flavor with some sand cherries. Wild cherries like the sandy soil of this area.”
Her excitement is contagious and I hold up my bucket. “Let’s get foraging.”
It doesn’t take long to fill our buckets. I’m ready to pick more when Bailey shakes her head. “There’s others, like Georgia, who use these for jams and other preserves. We need to leave plenty for them. And for the wildlife.”
When we return the buckets to the ATV, she holds up a thermos. “Iced tea before we head back?”
“When did you pack that?”
“That’ll be my little secret,” she says with a grin and pulls a blanket from the vehicle. “I noticed there’s a spot near the pond that’s shaded. A nice place to relax for a while.”
Conscious she’s probably taking it easy because of me, I agree and we spread the blanket then sit side by side looking out over the clear water in the small pond. The soft buzzing of insects and an occasional plopping noise from the pond are the only sounds. Other than a few horses grazing on a distant hill, it feels like we’re totally alone out here. Planning to take advantage of that, I lean back on my elbows.
“Know what, beautiful?” I wait until she focuses on me. “I’d really like for you to kiss me.”
Her eyes grow dark. “What kind of a kiss?”
“Lady’s choice.”
There’s a subtle shift in her breathing and she rises to her hands and knees to crawl over me, trapping me between her legs and arms. Almost no place I’d rather be. Other than sinking deep into her.
“Bailey.” Her name is a sigh. A prayer.
Finally her lips skim my jawline before pressing hard to mine. Her tongue slips into my mouth, igniting a fire that shoots straight to my cock. She’s determined and a little wild, nipping at my lips. A wild hope surges as she trails kisses down my neck.
I need her to mark me like I marked her yesterday.
I’m hers. From now until forever. When her sharp, nipping teeth nearly reach my shoulder, I cup the back of her head to hold her there and moan my wordless request. She stills a moment, the circle of her lips hot against my skin. “Please,” I whisper.
“Mine,” she replies then sucks softly.
“More.” I roll us to the side and, closing my eyes, arch my neck. My entire being is centered on the pressure and pull, the slight movement of her lips as she takes her time with her mark.
With a slight pop of her lips she eases back. When I open my eyes, her lips are red and smiling. She waggles her eyebrows.
Accepting her inviting challenge, I push her gently to her back and hover over her. “My turn, beautiful.”
“You already had that turn,” she teases while dancing her fingers along her neckline to expose my love bite.
“Different game, Bailey.” I swoop in for a kiss. Once she’s breathless, I hold her hands over her head in one of mine and lift her shirt. The rise and fall of her dark nipples beneath the half-lace cups of her bra invite me to play. I pinch and tug first one, then the other. When they’re thick and firm, I suck one into my mouth, pressing the lace against her with my tongue.
My hand roams lower, my fingertips brushing over her navel then slipping under the waist of her jeans.
“What…what are you doing?” Trying to free her hands, she struggles. But not too much. I doubt she really wants to be free.
“Taking care of what my beautiful Bailey needs.” The button easily slips open, the zipper lowers with just the gentle nudge of my knuckles. “Open your legs for me, beautiful,” I say and return to worshiping her nipples with my mouth.
“We’re outside. We… can’t do this here.”
I lift my head and take a cursory look around. “I doubt the horses will care.”
“But…”
“Shh, baby. Let me. Please? Let me give you pleasure.”
My fingers slip under the elastic of her panties and curl down over her mound. “I will stop if you tell me to.”
It would kill me to stop, and she takes so long to answer, I’m beginning to doubt she really does want me.
“Don’t stop.” Her words are soft and barely there. Her eyes are closed and she’s caught a bit of her lower lip between her teeth. I’ll soothe that sting later. First, I have my woman to please.