6
JESSE
GOOD GIRL
Taylor”s up with the dawn chorus, making a huge breakfast that smells like heaven. Buttermilk pancakes with blueberries rest in a tower on the table next to a platter of eggs, crispy bacon, and sausage. She”s even squeezed fresh orange juice chilling in a glass jug. The table is set, and the radio is playing my favorite country music station as I stare at the young woman I chose with barely any information to go on. I”m generally a good judge of character, so when Maverick questioned my logic in bidding for Taylor as a wife for us to share, I wasn”t concerned. I had a gut feeling about her, and it looks like I”m right. She”s everything I want.
“This looks perfect,” I tell her as I sit at the long table that has been in my family for three generations.
She jumps and turns, holding a soapy dish in hand. Her eyes widen at the sight of me. Maybe she was expecting one of the others. Maverick noticed a very faded bruise on her cheek. He also picked up on her quick apologizing and nervous body language. He’s more sensitive to these things than I am, because of his own family history. He suspects she’s come from a difficult background. Sometimes I think he’s too sensitive for his own good, but I’m going to keep an eye out for signs.
“I”m glad.”
She”s dressed in leggings and another shapeless top that looks like it was picked out at a thrift store. Her hair is twisted into a bun at her nape, and her face is scrubbed and fresh. There were other girls at the auction who cared more about clothes and makeup, but ranch life is busy and practical. Taylor”s pretty in an easy, low-maintenance way that appeals to me. Her innocence appeals to me, too.
Yesterday, when I returned from inspecting the ranch”s perimeter with Maverick, Clint was relaxing with a glass of neat whiskey. It was our first opportunity to discuss what happened after the wedding ceremony. It turns out that Taylor isn”t a virgin, but Clint is sure her experience was very limited. In fact, he was concerned about what her experience might have involved, but he didn”t ask her for details. Virginity isn”t important to me. I”m looking for a woman who”s happy to submit, and everything about Taylor, from her quiet, fragile demeanor to her willingness to please tell me she”s perfect.
Clint was cagey about the sex, mumbling something about sacredness between man and wife. I reminded him that his wife belonged to me, and Maverick, too. His territorial attitude is a surprise. Clint hasn”t been possessive of any woman in all the years that I”ve known him. He chooses now, with a shared woman, to want to stake his higher claim. Well, I”m the boss, and this is my house and my plan.
Maverick and Clint might take longer to see what I see in Taylor, but they”ll come around.
Her cooking abilities will speed up the process.
Maverick is the first to join me. As predicted, his eyes bug out at the best breakfast spread we”ve had in years.
“Jesus, Taylor. Have you been up all night?”
She shakes her head. “It took me half an hour.”
“Are you serious?” Maverick pulls his chair out but stacks his plate full before he sits. “I don”t think me, Jesse, and Clint could put a spread like this together if we had twenty-four hours and a gun to our backs.”
“Speak for yourself,” I grumble.
He”s moaning around a mouthful of pancakes drizzled with maple syrup when Clint arrives. He left Taylor to sleep in her bed alone last night. We all did. The girl needs time to acclimate to what her life”s going to be like from now on.
This isn”t temporary. It”s forever.
We own her. The thought sends a shiver up my spine and a slide of warm heat into my dick.
When Clint sits at the table without acknowledging Taylor, he gets my hackles up. I know the marriage wasn”t his idea, but he could at least try to go along with it. I don”t want Taylor getting confused. I tap him on the shoulder and nod in her direction. “Aren”t you forgetting something,” I mutter, as quietly and surely as my deep voice will allow.
Clint rests his plate back on the table with just one rasher of bacon in the center, rises, and makes his way over to Taylor. “Did you sleep well?” he asks her.
She nods, her eyes wide with surprise.
“That”s good.” He presses a kiss to her cheek like she”s his cousin rather than his wife. I curse internally. Sometimes, I feel as though I have to do everything around here.
We eat mostly in silence, although Maverick”s moans reach pornographic levels at one point, much to Taylor”s amusement.
She”s busy at the counter and then presents us with paper-wrapped sandwiches, slices of her homemade cake, and an apple. “Lunch,” she says simply. “I wasn”t sure if you”d eat out or come back, so I thought I”d better be prepared.”
“You”re a regular girl scout,” Maverick tells her with a wink.
Taylor”s blush is adorable, if adorable is hard-on inducing.
Right then and there, I decide that I”m going to leave Clint and Maverick to handle all the duties this morning. Putting Taylor at ease with the house and our expectations has to be my priority today. And maybe putting her at ease with me. I should have more control, but with Taylor standing at the sink with bare feet and sweetness pulsing from her, I”m rendered weak.
Clint and Maverick are surprised when I tell them I”m staying home for the morning. They share bemused looks as they pull on their boots by the door, remembering to take their lunches with them. “Focus on shoring up the fences,” I tell them. “And keep an eye out for any trouble.”
After they”ve left, the silence between Taylor and I feels like a bridge that I need to cross, but before I get a chance, Taylor begins to bustle around the kitchen, pulling out ingredients and bowls. She”s trying to keep busy with chores, so she doesn”t have to deal with me, and that”s fine. It”s going to take time for her to feel completely comfortable with all of us.
But she will.
“What are you making?”
“Blueberry muffins,” she says quickly without turning.
“Can I help?”
She turns, surprise forcing her eyebrows high. “You like baking?”
“I used to bake with my momma. She appreciated my mixing skills.”
“I have the electric whisk,” she says, but then, as a people-pleasing afterthought, she adds, “But you can stir if you”d like to take a trip down memory lane.”
I rise from the table and approach the counter, standing close enough to watch Taylor”s confident progress but not so close to be intimidating. She passes me the bowl of sugar and butter, ready to mix. I roll up my sleeves and get to work, reliving all the times I did this with my momma”s gaze resting on me.
We continue in that vein until Taylor empties the blueberries into the completed mixture and scoops it into paper muffin cases that she seems to have made with parchment paper, with a level of professionalism that I hadn”t expected from a girl her age.
“Did you work in a bakery or something?”
“Yep. For a couple of years.”
“Wow.” I rub my beard, smiling at our good fortune. “You should have bragged about that at the auction. You”d have had the whole place engaged in a bidding war.”
She rests the spoon on the edge of the bowl and purses her lips. I sense there”s something she wants to say but is hesitating. “Then you would have had to pay more for me?”
“I had more for the right girl.”
“So you got me cheap?”
I fold my arms over my chest as she keeps scooping. “I think we were all very fortunate with the outcome.”
Taylor nods, gripping the tray and taking it over to the oven that”s been preheating. She sets a timer and places it on the counter. “Would you like more coffee?”
“Sure.”
When Taylor”s done pouring me a cup and adding cream, she hands it to me. Before she can put distance between us again, I gently take her wrist in my hand. “I want you to be happy here,” I tell her. “Really happy. I”ll do anything in my power to make it happen.”
She blinks her pretty hazel eyes that are wider than they should be. I”m unsure if she”s surprised that I care one way or another or fearful of what happiness might involve. Maybe other cowboys would see this as a one-way arrangement. She”s here to serve us and to make our lives easier. But I”m old enough to know that nothing comes for free. I don”t want to feel her nervous energy anytime I go near her or watch her stumble over her words, desperate to say the right thing. I want her to look at me like I”m the big bad wolf and want to surrender to me. I want her to feel safe because I have the teeth and the strength to protect her from any danger out there.
“Happy?” She says the word like she has no idea what it means.
“Clint told you about the arrangement?”
She nods and licks her bottom lip. “Why do you want that? Was it the money?”
“You think we couldn”t afford three women if that”s what we wanted?”
She shrugs. There are many things I could tell her. Clint is her legal husband, not me, because my sister”s a joint owner of the ranch, and she”d never agree with me risking my share on another relationship. Maverick never wanted a wife, but his loneliness spills out with every sad song he sings. Clint would spend his whole life punishing himself for something he didn’t mean to do. This is the only way I can force them to try and live the kind of life they deserve. I want Taylor to be happy, but most of all, I want my friends to find love.
I shake my head. “We”re a family—me, Clint, and Maverick. We”re not a blood family, but we”re as good as any. We want to stay that way.”
Her eyes widen even further.
“Now, you”re a part of it.”
I let go of her wrist and reach out to cup her cheek. Her skin is soft and warm, peachy with a light dusting of freckles. Her lids drop at the contact, and my eyes zero in on her slightly parted lips. I wasn”t sure how far and fast to push her, but maybe she”s more comfortable with me than I thought. Or maybe she”s more comfortable about giving into my needs than I anticipated.
I brush her bottom lip with my thumb, and she cools my skin with a quick inhalation. She seems to teeter, and her hand flies up and presses into my chest as she seeks stability. I place the mug of hot coffee on the counter and lean in to kiss her mouth with as much gentleness as I can muster.
It takes a lot to hold back the powerful urge I have to claim her. In a heartbeat, I could lift her off her feet and carry her up the stairs. I could tear her clothes from her sweet body and explore and taste every inch of her. I could fill her, but I need confirmation it”s what she wants.
Her breathy moan as I pull away, and the curl of her fingers to grip my shirt, tells me all I need to know.
She”s ready.
She wants this.
And I”m going to eat her up.
“Hold that thought,” I say gruffly, already imagining peeling her out of her frumpy outfit and destroying her. “When the timer goes off, and those muffins are safely out of the oven, it”s on. I”m going to take you upstairs and show you what it means to be my woman.”
She nods, but there”s a flicker of fear in her eyes as I take a step back, needing to put some distance between us before I risk burning the house down for another kiss that”ll end in me carrying Taylor to my bedroom.
The minutes it will take for the muffins to bake are minutes she can sort through her thoughts. When I go back into the kitchen, I”ll ask for her confirmation. There will be no doubt either way.
I have some paperwork to deal with, so I head to the backroom, where my desk is positioned looking out over the yard. I can barely concentrate on what I”m doing, and my ears strain for the ring of the timer. Between my legs, my cock is semi-hard in anticipation but a little delayed gratification never did a man any harm.
I”m filing the last of my paperwork when the noise I”ve been waiting for travels from the kitchen.
It”s time.
I find Taylor placing the cooked muffins on a wooden board to cool. The warm cinnamon, vanilla, and berry scents are enough to get my taste buds going again, but what I really want to put my mouth on is Taylor.
She hears my footsteps and turns, facing me with parted lips and flushed cheeks. I cup her jaw and lean in close. Her pulse thrums against my hand, a nervous pounding that sends a shiver up my spine.
“Can I take you upstairs?” I ask.
Without hesitation, she answers, “Yes.”
When I scoop her into my arms, she grabs my shoulders for stability, but she”s safe in my embrace. Safe until I decide otherwise. I climb the stairs fast, like a firefighter on his way to a rescue. I take her into my room and lay her on my bed, kissing her mouth as I run my hand under her shirt, finding the soft, warm skin of her rounded breasts.
She moans, grabbing onto my shoulder, her hands moving over my flanks until they rest on my ass.
I silently curse at her perfection and my desperation to explore. Finding myself losing control isn”t where I like to be. I”m forty, so nothing should feel this burning and new. I”ve had more than my fair share of women. I even loved some of them. But the urge to fill Taylor with my dick and my child is primal. My desire to hear the happy sounds of children in this house is so deep I’m crazy with it.
My desire to claim this woman so that she knows running isn”t an option makes my hands tremble.
“Taylor.” I murmur her name against her neck, and she sighs as my erection presses against the apex of her thighs. “This is okay?”
She nods, and I kiss her deeply, wondering about her acceptance of this strange arrangement we”ve brought her into. She”s gone from being single to married to having three lovers without any objection. She”s willing to take us all despite our differing looks and ages. I”m old enough to be her daddy, but her hips are shifting against me, seeking friction. I know I can take care of her in a way that no boy her age could. I know she’s safe with me, and I want to show her.
“I”m going to make it feel so good,” I tell her, pushing up her shirt and pressing a kiss between her breasts. She”s spilling out of her bra, as though she”s outgrown it but hasn”t updated her size. She needs clothes and it”s something we”ll rectify as soon as we can. No woman of mine will ever go without what she needs.
When I ease her nipple free and circle it with my tongue, she grabs my shoulder and holds me in a vice-like grip.
Oh, my sweet girl likes that. She likes it a lot.
I move between her nipples, teasing with circling licks and nipping with my teeth. Taylor squirms beneath me, craving more, and I grind into her pussy like she”s my prom date and dry humping is our only option. But her whimpering drives me crazy, and soon, I”m tearing off her shirt and mine and struggling us both out of our pants.
I loom over her when she”s naked. She rests her arms over her chest, shy of my gaze. There”s no artifice in her action, no coyness. Her innocence throbs between us like a pulse.
Even though Clint has already claimed her, this still feels like a first time. My hand on her thigh is so tanned and rough, and her skin is so pale and smooth. Her youth sings from every part of her, as my maturity does from me.
“Show me,” I say, nodding at her concealed breasts. A flush climbs her cheeks, but she acts on my instruction perfectly, revealing her tight, rosy-tipped nipples and gently curved tits. There”s a mark left behind by Clint that swells my cock. “Good girl,” I whisper, letting my fingers explore the wet, warm place between her thighs. She shivers at my praise, her eyes holding mine, searching.
“Play with those sweet nipples,” I urge, and when she does, tentatively, making my cock kick between my thighs, I reward her with more praise. “That”s it. That”s so perfect, Taylor. You”re so perfect.”
She shivers again, and a little gasp escapes her lips. She likes words of affirmation, but it”s more than that.
“Tell me how it feels.”
“Good,” she whispers, gasping again when I push two thick fingers inside her. “Oh…” Taylor pinches her nipples in time to my thrusts, losing herself in sensation and forgetting all her restraint. In no time at all, she comes like the crack of my whip, her whole body straining as I continue to pump into her, prolonging her pleasure.
When she”s done, I lean over to kiss her pouty lips. Our breaths mingle as my cock slips through her wetness, notching at her entrance.
“Are you ready for me?” I ask.
“Yes,” she whispers.
The shyness is back, and I bring my hand to clasp her chin, forcing her to keep eye contact with me.
“Are you sure?”
She nods and I use my weight to push my cock deep, spreading her open. It”s like sliding into a warm bath after twelve hours of hard graft, like redemption after a lifetime of sin.
We”re skin-to-skin. Wet heat accepting my rigid, aching cock. I don”t care what anyone says. There’s nothing sweeter than going bareback, knowing there”s nothing between you and your woman. Knowing that when you come, she”ll carry something of you around after. It”s the most primal and territorial way of marking possession a man has. I should know.
“You feel so good, sweetheart,” I tell her. “You take me perfectly. Does it feel good?”
She nods, and her eyes roll as I start to move, giving her long, slow deep thrusts that grind against her sensitized clit.
“Good girl,” I whisper close to her ear. “Good girl…you take my cock so well.”
She moans, bringing her arms around my body and pulling me closer. If I had doubts about whether her acceptance of this was out of duty or desire, I don”t anymore. She craves this feeling as much as I do. My excitement builds, fogging my thoughts with lust.
“You love it, don”t you?” I move harder, grinding deeper. “You love Daddy’s big cock.”
The word slips out of my mouth before I have a chance to censor myself. The last time I brought it into my sex life, the woman I was with decided I wasn”t right for her. I can”t risk that happening with Taylor, not when so much is riding on this working. My breath hitches because I”m a stupid man for risking everything before we”ve even started. Her sweetness has clouded my mind, made me weak, and made me forget myself and what”s important. Braced for rejection, I stop moving.
“Yes,” she gasps, tugging at my hips, urging me back into the same rhythm.
My eyes widen. Maybe she didn”t hear what I said. But if she did, and it doesn”t bother her… or maybe she liked it?
Do I risk trying again?
“Good girl,” I say, giving her hip a gentle squeeze. “Work yourself on my cock. Give it to Daddy.”
From beneath me, Taylor begins to undulate her hips, searching for the friction she needs as her chest flushes with exertion and arousal.
I spread her legs wider with my thighs, driving harder and deeper. When she comes again, gripping my dick with her spasming muscles, I finally let myself release deep inside her, and it feels so good, I groan like a dying animal.
Her hands press against my ass, urging me closer even though I”m as deep as I can get. Our sweat mingles, and breaths come in pants. I cant my hips gently, easing my cum against her cervix. She”s so ripe and ready for breeding. Her wide hips and curves tell me everything I need to know about her readiness for a family.
“Taylor,” I murmur against her lips. “My sweet girl.”
Taylor shivers, kissing me back, sliding her tongue over mine. I stay inside her for the longest time, wanting to make sure my seed doesn”t slip from her pussy too quickly. I touch her hair, marveling at its softness. I caress her face, mapping her pretty profile with my fingertips. Her lips are swollen from my kisses, and the freckles that dust her nose and cheeks are glitter-like. “You made Daddy feel so good,” I say, looking directly into her eyes. Just from those simple words, her pupils dilate, and her pussy contracts. I knew she was the right one from the moment I saw her and heard her speak. I knew she’d be perfect for me. “My good girl,” I whisper against her jaw as my body shudders from the comedown.
When I roll from Taylor, I tuck my arm beneath her and pull her into my body. Her fingers stroke through the hair on my chest and over the tight skin that dips between my abs. I might be forty, but my body is still in peak condition. I close my eyes, relishing the peace that”s settled over the house and the comfort her body gives me, curled against my side.
She didn”t question whether I should have worn a condom. She doesn”t seem bothered that I came inside her. I can only take that as a good sign, a sign she wants what I want.
“Who”s that?” she asks suddenly, jolting me from my internal deliberations.
When I open my eyes and follow her gaze, surprised at her question, I realize my mistake.
I should have taken the photo down before I brought her upstairs, but it”s too late now.
“My son,” I say.
Taylor stiffens and is silent when I don”t elaborate, but I can almost hear the whirring of her brain. I can”t leave that hanging without explaining. It isn”t fair, after we”ve done something together that takes so much trust.
“He lives in Spain with his mom.”
“Do you see him?”
“No.”
I don”t tell her that the loss of him is like a permanent fracture to my heart or that having a child to fill the gap in my life is the reason she”s here. She doesn”t need the burden of my grief right now.
What Taylor needs is three men to take care of her. She needs kindness and protection. She needs to be provided for better than her family has managed. She”ll want for nothing, and in turn, she”ll give me everything I need.
I pull her closer, kissing the top of her head, murmuring a silent prayer to the universe that I”ll get everything right this time.