Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
The chairwoman, who looks like a cross between a forest fairy and a librarian with her wireless spectacles and rosy cheeks, asks us to stand and clasp hands to close the meeting. I’ve only let go of CJ’s hand once, when he stood to introduce himself.
Hi, I’m CJ, and I’m an alcoholic.
Hi, CJ!
I take the hand of the person next to me, a wiry man in his sixties with a silver ponytail and dry, chapped skin, and bow my head as the chairwoman recites a prayer by heart.
Most of the members join in, filling the spare and slightly over-warm basement with a chorus of voices.
The sound is rich and steady and hopeful and their commitment fills me with awe.
After CJ thanks the chairwoman and she offers him a flyer with meeting dates and times, we walk hand in hand to my car, the soles of our shoes crackling on the gritty pavement.
“Better?” I ask him.
He’s quiet for a moment, our hands swinging lazily between us. “Probably the least sexiest date you’ve ever been on, yeah?” His tone might be carefree but I can read the insecurity beneath it.
I cock my head at him. “How many other girls have you brought to a meeting?”
He huffs a laugh. “Zero.”
I squeeze his hand. “I’m honored you trusted me enough to share it.”
“Do you mean that?” His words roll out with such tender vulnerability that my eyes prick with emotion.
“Somebody I really respect once told me that it’s okay to not be okay.” We’re almost to my car so I slip my keys from my pocket and click the locks open.
He pulls me to him, leaning back against the side of my car. “Respect, huh?”
I hug his waist and nestle my hips against his. How is it that even though our bodies are different in so many ways, we fit like two halves of a whole? “It’s making it impossible to quit falling for you.”
“Hmm.” His eyes shine in the streetlight’s glow. “Bout time you caught up.”
He combs his fingers into my hair to cradle the back of my head, tilting my face to meet his kiss. I savor the lingering scent of cloves and cotton on his skin as our lips meet, his mustache adding that hit of friction that scrambles my awareness in the best way.
“Stay with me tonight,” he says, kissing along my jaw while the hollow between my thighs gives a needy throb.
I tuck my hands into the back pockets of his uniform pants, his warmth and the taut muscles of his backside turning me on even more.
Though we’ve fooled around plenty, covered the topics of birth control and health checks, CJ and I haven’t had sex yet.
I’ve been terrified of going too fast. But something changed tonight that has me wanting to throw caution to the wind.
If I really dig down, it’s how I’ve felt with him since the beginning. I just didn’t trust myself.
And he’s patiently waited for me to realize it. Without being pushy. Without judgement. Without an agenda.
“I’d like that,” I manage as a rush of emotion swells inside my chest.
We kiss again, our tongues languid, sensual, before CJ gently pushes us off the car. “Let’s go home, Linnea Jaymes.”
During the short drive to the bunkhouse, we hold hands but don’t talk, the sleepy streets fading in the rearview, replaced by the narrow country road and the starry sky. My mind is skipping ahead to being with him, to sharing everything of myself.
Each caress from his thumb over my knuckles sends sparks dancing beneath my skin. So much so that I squirm in my seat, the ache and anticipation turning bright and hot inside me.
At the bunkhouse, he meets me on my side of the car, a dark glint in his eyes.
He takes my hand and leads me inside. The living room has the TV on, and there are two guys in the kitchen, bantering in loud, boisterous voices.
I’ve met his rowdy cowboy bunkmates before and though they’re decent company, I’m not interested in sharing CJ with anyone.
I take the lead, pulling him to the stairs.
“Not hungry, huh?” he asks, our breaths echoing in the narrow space.
At the top, I curl my arm around his waist and sigh. “I might have a bit of a one track mind.”
He kisses my temple. “Welcome to the club.”
Inside his simple room, he shuts the door and unzips his coat, then unzips mine, and tosses them both to the chair facing his desk. I grip the front of his shirt and pull him to me. Our lips collide as I hit the back of the door.
Our kiss quickly turns heated, and sensual.
His fingertips skim my waist, tugging my shirt free.
The touch of his fingertips on my skin makes my smoldering craving explode.
I unbutton his shirt and slide it off, only breaking from his kisses to kick off my shoes, then slip off my pants.
He caresses up my sides and strokes my breasts over the fabric of my bra while I kiss him back and shuffle him toward the bed.
I get his buckle undone, the metal clattering in the quiet room.
He dips both hands into the back of my underwear, caressing my ass.
We kiss and undress our way to the bed, and when he tumbles back, taking me with him, I kiss my way down his bare chest, licking and savoring the firm planes of muscle and the heat of his skin, the desire hitching his breaths.
He combs his thick fingers through my hair.
“Linnea,” he groans, his tone low and sultry. Needy.
I kiss to the waistband of his briefs and slip the waistband down, freeing his gorgeous cock. When I suck the salty bead of his arousal into my mouth, he hisses in pleasure.
“Fuck, baby. Your mouth. God.” He rolls up on his elbows to watch me as I take him deeper. He’s so firm and thick. That I could do this to him, and make him feel so good, so wanted, is as powerful as the heady, almost carnal yearning in his eyes. Yearning he has for me.
“Look how fucking perfect you look swallowing my cock. Eager little thing, aren’t you?”
I stroke him, my fingers slick from my mouth. “I’ll bet not as eager as you,” I taunt.
A wicked gleam sparks in his eyes. “You got that right, but it’s always that way with you. I can’t ever get enough.”
I lower down again, swirling with my tongue, but he urges me off, grabbing me by the waist and rolling us sideways.
We kiss, our tongues lashing and teasing, our quick breaths filling the silence.
When I slide my thigh over his to bring us closer, feeling his hard length against my belly makes me whimper.
He rolls me to my back and flicks the clasp of my bra, the cool rush of air only making the contrast of his warm lips that much more intense.
He tugs the fabric off my shoulders, then kisses and strokes me until I’m arching to him and squirming against his knee.
“CJ, please,” I beg. “I want—” I have to break away because he rolls me to the side and spoons against my back, his warm breath at my neck while his fingertips brush up and down my body.
“What does my girl want?” he teases, sucking on that magical place behind my ear that makes my toes curl.
“No more slow.” I arch my body to grind against his erection while his endearment bounces through my mind.
“You want me inside you, sweetheart?”
“Yes.” The whispered word is edged with desperation that he must hear because he eases my underwear down. I’m so wet the cotton sticks to me.
“You’re fucking dripping.”
I clamp my legs together in embarrassment, but he hums into my ear, then teases my earlobe with the edge of his teeth. “Maybe I need to show my appreciation.” He glides his fingers against me, thick and rough where I’m desperate, every nerve ending lighting up from his touch.
All I can manage is a quivering sigh.
Another contented hum, and then he’s rolling to his back and guiding me into place above him, my thighs straddling his shoulders. He strokes up my inner thighs while gazing up at me with a sultry grin. When his thumbs tease my clit, my hand flies to the adjacent wall for support.
“CJ,” I breathe, gooseflesh pricking my skin, though I’m not cold. My pounding heartbeat drops into the hollow between my thighs, bringing on an exquisite, almost painful ache.
He grabs my waist and urges me lower, forcing my knees wider while he kisses his way up, sucking my skin just hard enough to keep my focus on him instead of what comes next, that extra friction from his facial hair on my quivering skin heightening my awareness in the best way.
When his mouth and that silky mustache make contact with my hot flesh, I release a startled cry.
“Put your face in the pillow, so I can make you scream.”
God, this man. I fold forward, landing on my elbows, and lower my head. With my hair pooled to one side, I rest my cheek on the cool pillow, panting while he sucks and teases, his wicked, expert tongue so sensual. Relentless.
I can’t help the way my hips roll to meet his mouth, or the gasps that turn to ragged whimpers, my muscles tensing.
The part worrying about suffocating him or being embarrassed by how badly I want this fades into the background, and what blooms in its place is so freeing.
It’s playful and genuine and powerful. I rock harder against him, needing the friction of his mustache and the slick softness of his mouth all at once, everywhere.
I bury my face in the pillow as my climax rips through me, my screams swallowed by the fabric.
Aftershocks rattle my frame as I try catch my breath. CJ slips down the bed, then climbs on behind me. He takes his time caressing up my thighs, stroking my back, planting kisses, his lips so soft.
“So fucking perfect,” he praises.
When he caresses me from behind, a needy groan escapes my lips, renewed desire sparking inside me.
“You like being on your knees for me, hmm.”
My hazy thoughts sharpen as heat flashes beneath my skin. “It’s not weird?”
“Are you kidding me?” He caresses up and down the back of my thigh, then rounds the curve of my ass, his touch slow, reverent. “It’s fucking hot as hell.”
He plants a kiss at the base of my spine, then down, taking his time. When his mustache tickles the sensitive skin at my most private place, followed by the warm caress of his lips, I whimper.
“You ever had someone touch you back here?”
I was always curious, but Nathan made me feel dirty for asking. “No.”
He hums, the vibrations like a tease, making me squeeze my thighs together. He kisses back up while he caresses me, the shock of how good it feels stealing my breath. “Such a good girl letting me play.”
His praise is like being swept away by a soft, warm cloud, and I sigh.
With one hand on my lower back, he glides between my thighs, the tip of him so full and thick where I’m throbbing with need.
“Nice and slow, baby.” His rough palm on my lower back steadies me while he rocks closer, the stretch of him intense but exactly perfect at the same time.
He’s going to ruin me, and all I can think of is hell yes.
“More,” I pant, my fingers curling into the sheets.
With another low hum, he rocks back then thrusts again, filling the empty, desperate ache inside me.
“Fuck,” he grits out, sliding his hands to my waist. “Look at you, bent over, taking me so fucking good. Like you were made for this.” He thrusts again, tapping the heart of me. A low groan rumbles past his lips. “Made for me.”
“I think your cock was made for me.” I rock my hips because if he doesn’t keep moving, I’m going to combust.
We start slow, like he promised. He dips down to kiss my shoulder while he thrusts.
I turn and capture his lips with mine, my eyes closing for an instant, but then he’s back to caressing me, cradling my hips, his touch firm, like he needs me to keep him grounded as much as I need him in control.
Because this feeling is unlike anything I’ve ever known.
A mix of wild desire and that steadfast trust, the beginning of something tender and hopeful.
Like we’re creating our own little universe where it’s safe yet so big and beautiful, endless.
Real. The craving to hold onto it, nurture and protect it, is so powerful I have to squeeze my eyes shut as I come undone.
Because I never expected to feel like this.
Even that first night when I gave him my list of qualities I longed for, it was a pipe dream.
Make-believe. But he’s proven me wrong again and again.
Maybe I can be loved by someone who’s humble and honest and good with his hands.
Who’s playful and sexy, with magical kisses I feel in my toes.
Who looks at me like I could be his whole world, if only I’d give him a chance.
Maybe now, I’m ready to let him.
For the second time tonight, I scream into the pillow, though I’m sure the slap of skin and his sharp breaths are loud enough for his bunkmates to hear us. There was a time I would have cared about that. Felt ashamed. But that feels like an old story, one I’m more than ready to leave in the dust.
With a low groan, CJ comes, gripping my waist to keep our bodies locked together while he pulses hard inside me. Our quick breaths fill the silence, my sides heaving into his hold.
He bends over me to plant kisses between my shoulder blades, then carefully withdraws. The tender emptiness he leaves behind cramps with a sudden ache for more, making me sigh.
After cleaning himself up, he dives in behind me, wrapping his arms around my middle so we’re spooned on our sides in the middle of his bed.
We kiss and touch in the darkness, then we sneak down to the shower. Under the warm spray, with his arms around me, I bury my face in his neck, more at peace than I’ve felt in so long.
It’s time I tear down the last of my walls and let CJ inside. He’s waited so patiently. Now I’m restless to take that step.
Which means I need to tell Dad about us.