Lana
Once we get to Bates’s trailer, I strip off all my clothes and march straight toward his bed.
“Bates, can you please fuck me until I don’t feel sad anymore?”
He gives me a soft smile, then lifts me into his arms and holds me tight.
“No, beautiful. You’re going to be sad for a while yet. But I’ll fuck you till you don’t feel so angry and then I’ll hold you while you cry. How does that sound?”
I give his neck a little bite. “Do it. Fuck me hard and make it hurt.”
Bates shakes his head and lowers me to the bed. “We’re not doing that either, baby. You don’t need to be punished for anything, and I don’t ever want to make this hurt. I only want you to feel loved.”
He hitches up my thigh and settles between my legs, using his size to spread me wide for his fat cock. It presses at my cum-soaked pussy, reminding me that we’ve already shared so much pleasure today, then he pushes inside and bows his head to press his forehead to mine.
“The hard part’s over now,” he says softly. “Things will get better from here, I promise. I’m going to take good care of you. It’s all going to be okay.”
It’s too early to know that. It feels like I’ve done something irrevocably wrong, so I’m not entirely convinced things will improve, but his words are a comfort. He starts to move, and his body brings me comfort too. And joy and reassurance, and peace.
He makes love to me, keeping every movement slow and rolling until I feel completely safe and warm and loved, but still tears well up and spill down my cheeks.
Bates simply kisses the tip of my nose and whispers that I’m beautiful and good.
It’s hard to believe him, and for a while I just can’t, but he doesn’t give up on me. He simply keeps showing me I’m loved until it’s impossible to believe anything else.
He forces me to the brink of orgasm with every gentle, loving touch, until I finally surrender to the waves of ecstasy that wash through me. I pull him with me, knowing that even though he loves my pussy, it’s somehow my eyes that have tipped him over the edge.
I’m not immune to the things I see in his gaze, either. Trembling and twitching, I’m filled only with pleasure and love as his devotion shines down at me with a tireless and powerful radiance.
We belong here. With each other. That much we know, and it’s a great relief to have that certainty.
Bates stays inside me and arranges us into nesting spoons, wrapping his enormous body around mine in a supportive, protective, and almost possessive way that makes me feel perfectly wanted.
As the little spoon, I can’t hug him like that, so I squeeze my pussy to hug his cock instead.
He moans softly in my ear. “Sleep now, beautiful. Tomorrow’s a new day with new possibilities.
Hawk will have had time to simmer down, and maybe he’ll have come to his senses.
Or maybe we have three flights to catch.
However it pans out, I’m going to keep loving you, and you’re going to need your rest.”
“Bates?”
“Mm?”
“Can we sleep like this every night?”
He nuzzles the back of my head and kisses my hair. “Fuck, yes. You keep having ideas like that, we’re going to do whatever you want for the rest of our lives.”
I smile against the soft skin of his inner wrist. The arm he’s draped over me is cradled upward to act as a headrest for me, and he smells of wood smoke from the fire pit.
When I drag my lips along his arm and then lick the taste of him off them, I’m pretty sure I’ve found my new favorite flavor.
Smoked and salted man. I flick my tongue over his wrist, and his cock moves inside me as if it’s stretching after a nap.
Bates rumbles softly. “Did you just lick me?”
“Maybe.”
He grunts and tugs at one of my nipples as his cock flares inside me again. “Cut it out, or I’ll want to keep you up even later. You’ve had all you can take today, babe. We both have. It’s bedtime. You know we’ll both be up early.”
“Mm,” I agree, snuggling in. “Very early. Lots to do.”
“Oh yeah?” Bates nuzzles my hair. “Sounds like this pretty mind is planning some shit. You want to share?”
“I can’t leave without explaining the consequences of our absence to Dad,” I say, determined not to give up hope.
“All my recommendations will need adjusting. His current decisions are based on emotion, and that’s a recipe for disaster.
He needs to reassess the variables and fully understand the situation before he confirms his course of action.
The wager is huge this year, and he’ll struggle to pay the debt when he loses — which he will.
Without us on his team, my advice to maximize yield could really make or break his season, and I don’t want to give him any more reasons to hate me.
He needs to succeed, and I need to help him do it, because if he fails, he will blame us. Forever. And I’m not okay with that.”
Bates groans softly. “You’re not wrong. If he takes a massive hit this season, we’ll be the scapegoats. He’s got to at least break even. Anything less and he’s going to hate us both.”
“But he doesn’t have to fail,” I point out, already formulating lists in my head from the available data.
“He’s upset — understandably — but he has others depending on him, and he needs to make rational decisions.
I’ll give him the facts. Pure and simple.
What he does with them is up to him, but he won’t be able to say we left him without options. ”
I knock on the door of Dad’s office.
I’d been hoping I could sneak in and out, leaving my recommendations before heading for Dawson without having to see him, but the light is shining from under the door, so I know I’m going to have to face him.
“Might as well come in, Lana.”
He’s shoving a photo frame into his desk drawer when I enter, and the room has the sharp tang of alcohol. He clears his throat and gestures at the chair opposite him, but he doesn’t look up. “You packed?”
“I hadn’t unpacked. I think part of me knew where this was headed and saved the energy.”
“So you did plan this, then?”
“No. I just know when I’m not wanted,” I say quietly. “I’ve got a lot of experience with it.”
Dad stops tidying his desk, but he still won’t look up. “There’s never been a moment I didn’t want you, Lana.”
My heart lifts at his adamant tone, and I know I was right to try and spend the season with him. “I wasn’t really talking about you, Dad.”
He looks up and meets my gaze.
His eyes are bloodshot. It’s obvious he hasn’t slept. His eyes narrow at me, then he shakes his head. “I don’t understand.”
“I know. You don’t really know me, but you’re not wholly responsible for that.
” I open my planner and take out the two business forecasts I’ve written up, placing them both on his desk side by side.
As soon as I’ve done it, I know he’ll pick the wrong one to read first, so I improve my odds by stacking the better of the two on top before pushing them closer to him.
“I’ve drawn up some reports. One holds significant challenges, but the outcomes hold a lot of promise.
The other holds entirely different challenges, and I’m not going to lie, the outcomes are grim as hell.
I hope you’ll consider both options and give adequate attention to where you can make allowances.
I’ve summarized data points on the front sheet, but the working’s all there if you have any doubts. ”
Not taking his eyes off mine, Dad reaches for the reports.
His hand hovers over them, then he slides the top one aside and takes the one from the bottom — the bad one.
The one I don’t want to stay long enough to have him read in front of me.
“I’m going to go now.”
I don’t even make it to the door before he bellows at me.
“Lana Florence Hawkins, you sit your fucking ass back down.”
He left out the Baker part of my name. And even though that unguarded claiming of kinship makes this the closest I’ve felt to him in a while, it’s not enough to make me sit as he’s bid. “I don’t want to.”
“I don’t care. Give me the professional courtesy of telling me what I’m looking at here — because it looks a whole lot like you’re trying to bankrupt me.”
I turn to face him, but I don’t take a seat. “I’m not trying to do anything but show you what your season is going to look like when you send me and Bates away. I did the math. He’s worth more than six men to your operation.”
“He’s one man, Lana. Maybe you think he’s your fucking hero, and the sun shines out of his asshole, but he can’t be in six places at once. He’s replaceable.”
“I don’t think you’ve taken into account the speed with which he works—”
“Oh, yeah. He works fucking fast, alright. You’ve only known each other a day, and he’s got you talking fucking babies.”
“I’ve always wanted babies, actually. Not that you’d know it. And Bates has experience and knowledge that makes him up to three times more efficient than anyone you could hope to replace him with at this point. It’s the start of the season. Everyone who’s worth their salt is already employed.”
“Three times more efficient doesn’t make him six men.”
“You’re neglecting to consider the cost benefits of one of his greatest qualities.
Bates brings out the best in those who work with him.
He recognizes people’s strengths and supports them to take on roles that suit them best. He also offers a stable and nurturing learning environment for newer team members, bringing them up to standard faster and more efficiently than they could ever hope to without him.
According to your own reports, he can get his team dialed in and operating at peak performance in a fraction of the time it would take any of the other workers you have on the books.
The benefits of a fast and functional startup makes your other guys worth more across the season as a whole, but that initial level of efficient functionality originates from Bates — without even mentioning how he sustains that level of production — so he gets the points for the boost in labor force, and that takes his productivity tally to a five-man standard. ”
“Where does the sixth man come from, then?” Dad grumbles, flipping through the report. “Pull that from his ass too, does he?”
Ignoring his sass, I deliver my assessments like a professional, as he asked.
“It’s related to the time and money saved by his reliable safety record.
Of all your employees, he has the fewest serious incident reports and near misses — and that includes you.
When he’s on shift, things run smoothly.
He causes the least amount of downtime during sluicing, and therefore his very presence gets more gold in the box.
There’s a definite disparity between having him on your team and not having him on your team, and you know it.
That’s why you went out of your way to get him here. ”
Dad flips back through the pages and glares at the recommendations and predicted losses on the front sheet. “Well, I don’t want him here anymore, Lana. He’s not on my fucking team now. He’s on yours.”
I open his door and slam it again without actually leaving, even though I want to storm out.
“We’re all on the same fucking side, Dad. We’re all playing to win ‘happy ever after.’ It’s just that some of us want that with you, but you’re too busy bitching about stupid shit to get on board.”
“Stupid shit?” His finger jabs at the report in his hand.
“This out-clause is ridiculous! The season hasn’t even started and you’re demanding I pay you and your sisters the cash bonus you would have received had we won the end of season wager — and you’ve just stated here that there’s no way I can win the fucking thing without you and Bates.
I’ll be out of pocket twice. By an unbelievable margin, because you convinced me to up the fucking ante this season. ”
I swallow hard and nod. “That would be the price of breaking the contract you signed. Martha and Harper shouldn’t be out-of-pocket due to our dysfunction.
We can negotiate a payment plan if you need to.
I’ve made as many recommendations as I can pre-season to help you reach your targets, but I’m not sure it’ll be enough for you to break even at the end. You have another option in the second—”
“Get. Out.” His face has turned bright red, and the report in his hand is beginning to crumple as his fist clenches tightly around it. “I’m too angry to even look at you right now.”
I glance at the other, unread report and nod. “I’m pretty angry too.”
I close his office door quietly behind me, then head out to where Bates is waiting by Martha’s truck with our gear.
Waiting is perhaps not the right word. His head is under the hood, and he’s tinkering with the engine. He steps back when he hears my boots on the gravel.
“I’d ask how that went, but I can see your face,” he says, wiping his hands on a rag.
Not wanting to talk about it, I nod at the truck. “Is this thing roadworthy?”
“She’s fine,” he assures me. “Just giving her a quick checkup to keep my mind busy. You okay?”
I start throwing our bags into the back. “Yup.”
One of my smaller packs flies right over the truck to land in the dirt on the other side, and Bates comes to give me a hug. “I’m thinking maybe you lied when you said yup just now, beautiful.”
“Maybe.”
“We’re still leaving, then?”
“Yup. He chose to ignore the most optimal report.”
Bates swears under his breath. “What the fuck is wrong with the man?”
He kisses my forehead, lets me go, and walks around the truck to retrieve my bag.
My notebook falls out of the front pocket as he’s dusting off the pack, and he picks it up, studying the cover for a moment before absently lowering my bag into the truck bed.
“I’ll be back in a minute, babe. There’s some water on the seat there.
You have a sip and take some deep breaths and shit. ”