Chapter 39
Josh
I’d been waiting all day, my nerves fraying with every minute that passed. She’d texted back, but her responses had been quick, terse.
I’d barely gotten any farmwork done. Instead, I stressed and paced and stressed some more, Wayne following me the whole time.
When Stella’s car pulled down the driveway, I’d headed to the cottage to greet the kids. I sat with the girls while they did homework, and then we’d played street hockey until it started to get dark.
Now that we were all back inside, I was waiting again. And I didn’t bother trying to hide it.
It was dinnertime when the headlights of the minivan swept over the land.
Before she’d shut off the engine, I was down the porch steps, but I pulled up short when she got out, looking unfamiliar in formal clothes.
Bracing myself for who knew what kind of emotion, I walked toward her slowly.
With a sigh, she darted straight for my arms.
I held her close, closing my eyes and breathing in the scent of her shampoo. “You don’t have to tell me anything—”
“Denied,” she blurted. “Parole denied. He’s in for another nine months. Maybe longer. The DA is going to charge him with the violations of the restraining order.”
“You did it,” I said, noting the way the tension uncoiled from her shoulders as I held her. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Have you been here all afternoon?”
“No. Okay, yes,” I admitted. “Hung out with the kids, played street hockey.”
“Thank you.”
I buried my face in her hair. “You could have asked me.”
“Stella offered,” she countered.
I ran my hands along her arms and shoulders, needing to touch her, needing to know she was real. “You can let me in.”
Head tilted, she sighed. “I know. And I think I’d like to. Can we talk? After bedtime?”
“Of course,” I said. “Go inside and see the kids.”
“Thank you. For everything.”
I hadn’t expected her to find me so early. I had planned to head home and shower, but I figured I had time to inventory our tubing before winter, so when she showed up, I was in the barn.
“They can’t be asleep yet,” I said, looking at my watch.
“Stella’s watching a movie with the girls and Julian crashed early.” She walked toward me, clad in her usual leggings and fleece. “And I wanted to see you.”
“I’m right here.”
She was so beautiful, and she looked more unburdened than I’d ever seen her.
“I need to thank you. Today was…” She trailed off, tucking her hair behind her ears. “It was a lot. And I couldn’t have done what I needed to without you.”
My chest constricted. “I didn’t do anything, Celine. You did.”
She shook her head, her hair an auburn color beneath the dim barn lights. “You don’t get it, do you? You’ve done so much for me. You’ve encouraged me to be brave. You make me feel strong and sexy.”
I pulled her against my chest. “You are all of those things.”
“And you helped me get to a place where I could heal. Where I could finally move forward.”
I angled in and gently kissed her. We lingered, our lips close, and just existed for a moment. This close, she was intoxicating.
“You’re strong,” I said, dragging my nose down her neck. “I’d love to take credit.” I nipped at a sensitive spot. “But it’s all you.”
Sighing, she threaded her hands in my hair. “Can’t you just take a damn compliment?”
“Careful there, Matchstick,” I replied. “Or I’ll bend you over that workbench.”
Her eyes widened and heat instantly crept up her cheeks. “Is that a promise?”
Fuck. The way her teeth sank into her plush bottom lip made my knees nearly give out.
I ran a finger across her jawline, tipping her chin up. “Anything. You. Want.” Ducking, I captured her mouth.
She kissed me back hard, her hands running up my chest, then down to my belt buckle. “I need you.”
“Let’s go to the house.”
“No,” she said, tugging down my zipper. “Here and now.”
She didn’t have to ask me twice.
In seconds, my hand was down her pants and I had two fingers inside her. She was so fucking wet. The heat of her made me want to fuck her through the wall of this barn.
As I picked her up to find a spot, my eyes snagged on the crate of syrup.
“Here,” I said, placing her on the massive worktable.
I reached for the crate, removing a glass bottle.
“Josh,” she said, “what are you doing?”
I twisted the cap off the glass bottle. “Playing.” I smirked. “You okay with this?”
She nodded, looking a little uncertain.
I stuck my finger into the bottle and brought it to her mouth. She wrapped her lips around me and sucked, the move making my eyes roll to the back of my head.
“Delicious,” she said.
I leaned down and kissed her, tasting the sweetness on her tongue.
“It’s from my trees,” I said proudly. “I had a dream,” I said, snagging the hem of her shirt and tugging. “Of licking my syrup off your tits while I fucked you.”
Gasping, she quickly ripped her sports bra over her head. “Yes. I want that.”
I smiled at her, though I couldn’t temper the demand in my tone when I said, “Get naked.”
Once she’d shucked her leggings, she was completely naked in my barn, on a worktable surrounded by tools.
She reclined back on her elbows, giving me full access to her body. “What are you waiting for?”
I wasted no time, tipping the bottle at her collarbones and letting a thin stream of syrup run down the length of her body.
I watched, fascinated as it ran between her breasts, down her stomach toward her pussy.
I should have taken my time. Should have catalogued every single second of this experience.
But I couldn’t hold back. With a groan, .
I dove in and licked and sucked at her skin and clamped her nipple between my teeth.
“Josh.” She moaned, tugging my hair.
I poured more. Started again.
I was the one still fully clothed, but Celine was in control.
I savored the sweet taste of her skin and the syrup my trees and hard work had produced, working my way to her clit. It turned me on more than I’d expected.
“Josh, I need you.” She moaned. “I want you inside me.”
“I don’t have a condom.” I looked up at her from between her legs. She was wet and sticky, and those pink nipples I loved so much were rock hard.
“I don’t care. Just fuck me.”
I froze. I couldn’t. We couldn’t.
“Just pull out. Please,” she begged.
I shouldn’t. I should get her off like a gentleman and ignore the base need inside me to fuck her senseless. To feel her come on my cock and then give her more.
She sat up and glared at me. “Joshua Lawrence. Get that fat cock out and fuck me now.”
Without hesitation, I pulled my pants down far enough to free myself. Then I gripped her thighs and spread her wide.
“Now,” she begged, shaking with need, her tits bouncing.
I bent down and licked her nipples again, savoring the maple taste.
As I slid inside her, I was certain I’d died. That this was heaven. She was so hot and wet and soft. Already gripping me hard. Every thrust felt more intense than the last.
I plunged into her, long and deep, pushing her thighs even wider.
“So good,” I growled. “Take me deep.”
“More syrup,” she begged. “It makes me feel so dirty.”
I held the bottle above her and haphazardly tipped it, coating her chest and abdomen. The liquid ran quickly, some of it soaking into my clothes.
I bit her nipples, licking and sucking, relishing the sticky mess.
“Yes,” she cried. “It feels so good.”
This was bliss. I’d lost all control. Fucking her fast and hard, playing with her tits and thanking every higher power for bringing this woman into my life.
“I want to taste some,” she breathed.
I tipped the bottle back again, and it spilled across her lips, dripping down her chin.
She licked her lips and thew her head back, clenching around me. “Yes. I’m close.”
Fuck. If I wasn’t careful, I’d go off the deep end before her. But my resolve was lessening by the minute.
“Good,” I gritted out. Focusing on her face. “I need you to come.”
“It feels so good with nothing between us. I can feel every inch of you. Filling me up.”
As if I needed another reminder. “Yes.” Fuck, I couldn’t control this. But I didn’t want to disappoint her.
“Take it,” I growled. “I can feel you gripping me. Come for me. Show me what a good girl you are. Getting fucked in the barn, covered in syrup.”
She moaned and threw her head back, shaking as I fucked her. Her pussy squeezed the life out of me while I clenched every muscle in my body to keep from coming.
She whimpered and gasped as I begged my body to cooperate, to let her have this moment. She moaned and shook, her orgasm cresting.
I held on with every ounce of willpower I had, but I couldn’t stop what was happening. “I’m going to come,” I groaned. The sensation crept up the backs of my thighs, overtaking me despite my efforts to hold it back.
“Yes,” she cried, still convulsing. “Come on me.”
I withdrew and before I could even reach down to get control of the situation, I came hard and fast. My vision blurred as I spilled my release all over her stomach and the underside of her breasts.
“You marked me,” she said, giggling. “With your syrup. And your”—she giggled—“semen.”
I flushed bright red. Shit, I suddenly felt like a dirty deviant. And I loved it. More than loved it.
I would have never admitted that I was that kind of man. The type who wanted to possess and mark a woman. Fuck her and come all over to make her mine.
But here we were. And I had no regrets.
“Let me get you cleaned up.” I pulled my jeans up and buckled my belt.
All I had was paper towels, and though I worried the paper would be harsh against her skin, she didn’t complain as I wiped her down.
“I need a shower. To get rid of this evidence.” She giggled again, lighter and happier than I’d ever seen her.
Once I’d helped her into her leggings and pulled her sweatshirt over her head, we stood face-to-face, staring at one another goofily, unable to form words.
“I want—” She snapped her mouth shut. “Sorry.” She shook her head and sighed adorably. Eyes closed, she inhaled deeply. “I can’t even talk. Whatever you just did to me? I think it altered my brain chemistry.”
As if that didn’t fill me with pride.
“I want to say things,” she continued. “Serious things. Important things.”
I leaned down and kissed her. “Tomorrow,” I said. “Go home and shower. I’ll walk you.”
“Yes. Tomorrow. Come over in the morning. We can talk. And… I don’t know. Plan.”
Those words unlocked a hope that I’d long ago buried deep in my chest. Plans. Hope of a future. A deep and real and permanent one. One we’d earned together.