19. Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Eighteen
Beau
The second we step through my front door after the BBQ, I lose what's left of my fucking mind.
She's staying. Molly Jennings is staying in Stone River Mountain. With me. Building a life here, taking a job here, choosing me over whatever safe, sensible future she could build somewhere else.
And she said those words.
I love you.
The realization hits me like a freight train loaded with pure need, and before she can even kick off those ridiculous boots, I pounce on her as I slam the door shut.
"Beau—" she starts, but the word dissolves into a gasp as I spin her around and press her back against the door, my mouth crashing down on hers with an entire afternoon's worth of pent-up hunger.
She tastes like sunshine and cherry pie from Betty's dessert table, and underneath it all, she's everything I've been craving since I was seventeen years old and too stupid to know what I wanted.
"Mine," I growl against her lips, my hands already working at the button of her jeans. "I'm so fucking happy you're staying. You're mine now. Forever."
"Yes," she breathes, her fingers clawing at my shirt. "God, yes. I'm yours."
The words shatter the last of my control. I lift her, carrying her the few steps to the kitchen island.
I set her on the edge of the counter, yanking her jeans and panties down her legs in one desperate motion. She's already wet, already ready for me, and the sight makes my cock throb so hard I'm seeing stars.
"Turn around," I command, my voice rough with need. "Bend over. Hands on the counter."
She obeys without hesitation, spinning and bracing her palms against the smooth wood. The sight of her bent over my handiwork—ass in the air, that perfect pussy glistening between her thighs—makes something primal roar to life in my chest.
I don't bother with finesse.
Can't right now.
Not when she's here, in my space, choosing to stay here with me forever.
My jeans hit the floor, and I have to grip the edge of the counter to keep from coming at just the sight of her laid out for me like this.
Jesus Christ.
Molly's bent over my kitchen island, her perfectly plump ass in the air, the smooth curve of her spine leading down to those gorgeous hips that were made for my hands.
Her skin is flushed pink from arousal, and I can see how wet she is, how ready for me.
I wrap my hand around my cock, stroking slowly as I drink in the view. The contrast of her soft curves against the dark wood I carved with my own hands. The way she's positioned herself perfectly for me, trusting and open and mine .
"You're so fucking beautiful," I growl, running my free hand over the curve of her ass, feeling her shiver under my touch. "Look at you, spread out on my counter like a feast."
She whimpers, pushing back toward me, and I can't resist sliding the head of my cock through her slick folds, coating myself in her slick arousal.
"Please," she gasps, and that single word shatters the last of my control.
"Tell me again," I demand, gripping her hips hard enough to bruise. "Tell me you're staying."
"I'm staying," she gasps, pushing back against me. "I'm staying, Beau. Forever."
Forever.
I slam into her with one brutal thrust, burying myself to the hilt in her tight heat. She screams my name, her back arching as she takes all of me, and I lose whatever was left of my sanity.
She's staying. She's staying. She's mine.
The mantra pounds through my head with every thrust, every stroke driving deeper into her perfect body.
This is claiming. This is possession. This is me making sure she understands that there's no going back now.
"This pussy belongs here," I growl, my fingers digging into her hips as I fuck her harder. "In my cabin. With me. Forever."
"Yes," she sobs, meeting every thrust. "Oh God, yes! Beau ! Only yours."
Her words drive me wild, make me want to mark every inch of her skin, fill her so full of me that she'll never forget who she belongs to.
I reach around, finding her clit with my fingers, and she explodes around me with a scream that echoes off the cabin walls.
"That's it," I rasp, feeling her pussy clench around my cock, squeezing me. "Come for me. Show me this sweet cunt knows who owns it."
She shudders through her orgasm, but I don't stop. Not when she feels this perfect, not when she's making those gorgeous sounds, not when she's mine and staying and everything I never let myself dream about.
I pull out suddenly, flipping her around to face me, lifting her onto the counter. Her legs wrap around my waist as I drive back into her soaked core.
"Fuck," she moans against my mouth, tongue diving into mine, tasting me. "Yes, right there, Beau. Right there."
I pound faster, deeper this time, watching her face as I stretch her around my cock.
"Look at me," I command, one hand tangling in her hair. "I want to see your eyes when I fill you up."
Her green gaze locks with mine, wide and dazed and full of love, and that's when I lose it completely. My rhythm becomes erratic, desperate, chasing the release that's building at the base of my spine.
"Come with me," I growl, my thumb finding her clit again. "Come on my cock while I fill this perfect pussy."
She detonates around me with a cry that makes my ears ring, her entire body convulsing as wave after wave crashes through her.
I bury myself as deep as I can go and let go, pumping rope after rope of come into her welcoming heat. The pleasure is so intense it borders on pain, my entire body shaking as I empty myself inside the woman I love.
For a moment, we just cling to each other, both breathing hard, both slick with sweat. She's still wrapped around me, my cock still buried inside her, and I never want to move.
"Holy shit," she finally whispers against my neck.
"Yeah," I manage, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Holy shit."
She pulls back to look at me, her hair a mess, cheeks flushed, and she's never looked more beautiful.
"So," she says, a grin tugging at her lips. "I guess we couldn't wait until we actually made it to the bedroom."
"Are you complaining?" I ask, running my hands over her curves.
"God, no. I've been wanting to jump you since you showed up at the BBQ with all that lumber." She laughs, shaking her head. "Do you know how hard it was to make small talk with the entire town while watching you build things with those talented hands?"
"About as hard as it was for me to watch you charm Jamie Striker while wearing that little sundress," I growl. "I wanted to drag you up here hours ago. She the world just who you belong to."
"Why didn't you?"
"Because your niece was critiquing my construction techniques and half the town was watching us." I nip at her jaw, laughing. "But I knew the second we got through that door..."
"What? That you would turn into a caveman?" she teases, sliding her hands over my shoulders, across my scars and gripping my muscles. "Not that I'm complaining."
"Good," I say, already getting hard again just thinking about her watching me all damn afternoon. "Because we've got a lot of lost time to make up for."
She grins wickedly. "Well then, we should probably clean up so we can get started on that."
I grin and lift Molly, throwing her over my shoulder. "Caveman style it is."
Molly laughs as I carry her into the bathroom and plonk her down on her feet.
I start the water, adjusting the temperature to a stinging heat while Molly leans against the wall, still flushed and gorgeous from being thoroughly fucked on my kitchen counter.
When I turn back to her, she's watching me with an expression that makes my chest tight.
"What?" I ask, suddenly self-conscious.
"Nothing," she says softly. "Just... I can't believe this is real. That I'm here. That you want me here."
"Want you?" I cross to her, cupping her face in my hands. "Molly, I don't just want you. I need you. Like I need breathing."
Her smile is stunning. "Good. Because if Jamie has his way, I'm not going anywhere."
I grunt, my jaw tightening.
"Jamie can keep his hands and his suggestions to himself. The only person who gets a say in where you go is you." My fingers flex possessively against her skin. "And maybe me. A little."
Under the hot spray, I worship every inch of her skin with soap.
Starting with her hair, working the shampoo through those honey-blonde strands until they're slick and perfect. Then her shoulders, her arms, the curve of her waist.
"So about your new job," I say, my hands sliding over her bare ribs. "I might be protective over you, but Jamie's a good man. You'll like working with the team."
"I'm excited," she admits, leaning into my touch. "It feels like something I could actually be good at."
"You'll be incredible." I mean every word. "But what about living arrangements? If you're staying, you should probably start looking at places for you—"
"No." The word comes out sharp, surprising us both as steam swirls all around us. Molly turns in my arms, pressing her palms against my chest. "I don't want to house hunt, Beau. I want to stay here. In this amazing cabin. With my amazing man."
I swallow hard. "Y-you want to stay here? With me?"
"If you'll have me." There's vulnerability in her voice that makes something crack open in my chest. "I know it's fast, and maybe I'm being presumptuous, but this place... it feels like home. You feel like home."
I stare down at her, water streaming over both of us, and wonder how the hell I got so lucky. Two weeks ago, I was a broken mess, ready to give up on everything.
Now I have this incredible woman telling me she wants to build a life in the space I created with my own hands.
"Of course I'll have you," I say roughly. "Christ, Molly. I'd give you anything. Everything."
She goes up on her toes to kiss me, soft and sweet, and I melt into her touch. When we break apart, I notice something glistening on her thigh—evidence of what we just did in the kitchen.
An idea hits me, dark and filthy and perfect.