25. Cole
COLE
Rinsing the shampoo from my hair, bubbles stream down my face as steam swirls around me, the hot water cascading down my back, easing the constant ache in my muscles just enough for me to relax.
Not only was today a hot one, fixing the leak in the roof down on the overflow barn, but tonight’s my date with Clara, and hell, I’m nervous as fuck.
I ain’t ever been on a date before. I lean my head forward, resting it against the tile, eyes closed as I bask beneath the steady spray in the hope that it might calm me the fuck down.
I know whatever it is that we’re doing, we need to go slow—I need to go slow—but it’s torture because this woman.
Fuck. The things she’s capable of doing to me without even realizing.
It should be studied in a lab. I’ve never felt the need to drop to my knees for any woman before, but for Clara, I’ll kneel, crawl, bark like a fuckin’ dog if she asks me to.
It’s torture. Pure agonizing, confusing torture, in the best possible way.
Opening one eye, I look down to find my dick unsurprisingly hard as steel.
And I know I shouldn’t—jerking off in the bunkhouse showers is fuckin’ disgusting considering the miscreants that pass by here—but honestly, it’s probably a good thing considering how fuckin pent up I am.
I can’t risk my hormones getting the better of me tonight.
The last thing I would ever want is to make a move she ain’t ready for.
Also, I can’t seem to help myself; I am just a pathetic man, after all.
Placing my hand flat against the tile, I anchor my legs and lock my thighs.
Squeezing my eyes shut tight, I wrap my hand around my cock, giving it a squeeze.
I stroke myself slowly from root to tip, swallowing the groan that climbs up the back of my throat, and as if I have no self-control whatsoever, my hips piston of their own accord and I’m suddenly fucking my fist like a man deprived.
I imagine Clara here with me, pressed up between me and the tile, her soft body flush with mine, tits heaving with pretty, breathless pants as I fuck her firm yet excruciatingly slow.
I’d hold her hands up above her head, one hand clamped around her wrists, and I’d slide my other hand between us, down her soft stomach until I’m met with her slick center, and I’d circle her perfect little clit making her back arch and her thick thighs quake with need.
Fuck, I bet she makes the sweetest fuckin’ sounds when she’s close.
My hand works faster now, my strokes a little less controlled as that telltale tingle starts to bloom at the base of my spine, my balls pulling up tight.
I mutter a curse, imagining Clara take all of me until she’s begging for more, both of us desperate for our releases.
I’d reach down, wrap my hands around the back of her thighs and lift her up off her feet, opening her as wide as I can, and I’d stare into those pretty blues while I slip into her, hitting her a little deeper with every thrust until those eyes that have me in a fuckin’ chokehold start to roll back into her head.
I’d look down between us, watching my cock sink into her perfect, glistening cunt. I’d spit, watching my saliva fall onto her pussy, and then I’d rub it into her clit, reveling in the way my name rolls off her tongue on a soft, mewling whimper.
My cock is throbbing as I work my hand up and down, my orgasm starting to crest.
“Fuck, Clara,” I mutter under my breath.
If she were here, I’d drop my head down and attach my lips to her throat, mark her as mine.
She’d hiss at the bite, and I’d soothe the sting away with my tongue.
Then I’d look up and meet her eyes, and I’d see the way her pupils blow up, the way her plush lips part on a gasp, the way a pretty flush paints her skin.
I’d feel the way her pussy starts to clench around my cock, and I’d slam my lips to hers, swallowing her sounds like a greedy motherfucker as she falls apart, milking my dick with her orgasm as wave after wave of relentless pleasure plows through me.
I suck in a gasp and choke on a groan, opening my eyes in time to see my cum shoot out of my cock, hitting the dark blue tile, my release never-ending, barely catching myself before my knees buckle.
“Holy fuckin’ shit,” I grit out the second my orgasm ebbs, sagging against the tile and trying to catch my breath. I have never in my life come as hard as I just did. My whole body feels boneless, every limb trembling with aftershocks and all from jerking off to thoughts of Clara.
Fuck, I’m as good as done.
The second I walk out of the bunk room and into the shared living space, I’m stopped in my tracks by the sight of three smug-looking motherfuckers standing around staring at me with matching fuckin’ smirks on their faces. Fuck’s sake, here we go.
“That’s what you’re wearin’?” Brady snorts, eyeing me up and down.
“Them boots need a scrub, boy,” Wyatt chortles.
“You got condoms?” Brady arches a brow.
“Fix your collar, son,” Webber gruffs.
I narrow my eyes, jaw clenched tight when they all start laughing, but honestly, it’s my own fault. This is what I get for telling these assholes that I’m goin’ on a date.
“Fuck you guys,” I mutter, biting back the grin that threatens me as I pocket my phone and swipe my keys from where I left them earlier.
“Don’t do anythin’ I wouldn’t do,” Brady calls behind me as I reach the door.
“My guy, that don’t leave a hell of a lot of options,” I hear Wyatt say through a chuckle as the door slams closed behind me. Fuckin’ assholes.
There ain’t a lot of date-worthy places in Summer.
The only fancy restaurant without peanut shells on the floor, Arancini’s, shut down a few months back.
So, tonight, the best I could manage was Comuna Cantina, a food truck that goes from town to town, serving up Mexican street food.
But they make the best fuckin tacos in Texas, so not all is lost.
When I pull into the driveway of my house, those damn butterflies are back, running amok in my gut, and I’m forced to take a few moments to collect myself.
“Get your goddamn shit together,” I mutter at my reflection in the rear vision mirror before I hop out of my truck.
Smoothing down the front of my shirt, I take a deep breath before starting up the porch steps, but when the screen door opens and Clara walks out, I misstep and almost face plant into the goddamn porch planks, catching myself at the very last second.
Holy. Fuckin’. Shit.
Dressed in a frilly white sundress with skinny straps that show off her smooth, tan shoulders, and a hem so short it should be criminal, she’s got motherfuckin’ cowboy boots on and hell, thank fuck I jerked off in the shower, because she’s a wet fuckin’ dream come to life.
Her long honey-blonde hair blows in the breeze, her skin dewy, lips painted a pretty pink that matches the slight tint on the apple of her cheeks.
When I reach the top of the steps, I don’t know where to look first. And fuck it, when she smiles up at me, my knees almost give way.
She’s a sight for sore eyes, that’s for damn sure.
“Hi,” Clara says, her voice soft and sweet, spearing me straight in the chest.
“How you doin’?” I barely manage to grit out, my voice croaky and broken. I clear the bubble of nerves from the back of my throat because of course I seem to have lost the ability to form words. This woman renders me fucking speechless.
“You okay?” Clara asks, a flicker of worry flashing in her gaze.
Lips pressed together, I offer her a tight smile, nodding once.
“Ready?” She quirks a brow.
I nod again, my gaze flitting to the house. “You gonna say goodbye to the kids?”
Clara grins. “Mama Joy took ’em to Pip’s for a treat.”
“Oh,” is all I can think to say. The fact I now know it’s just us, that there’s no risk of one of the kids running out or worse, Mama Joy butting in to say something just to embarrass me, my shoulders ease.
She sniffs a laugh. “You were nervous, huh?”
I puff air from my cheeks, nodding sheepishly.
She giggles and the sound alone relaxes me enough to take a step forward and close the distance between us. Clara’s smile falls, her lips parting as she gapes up at me. I place a hand on her hip, noticing the way her breath hitches as I stare down at her.
“You look… beautiful,” I say, leaning in close enough to press a soft, lingering kiss to her cheek. I don’t miss the slight shudder that rolls through her, and when I pull back, her eyes are closed, and fuck me if she ain’t the prettiest damn thing I’ve ever seen up close.
“You ready to go, darlin’?”
With a trembling exhale, her thick lashes flutter and her eyes open. When I see the flush creep up her chest, her neck, I’m a smug motherfucker at the thought that it’s me causing her body to react this way. No one else. Just me.
“Yeah,” she breathes out.
“I hope you like tacos,” I say, taking her hand in mine.
“I do.” She grins up at me and my god… the sight of that smile. Like I said, I’m a goner for this girl. A fuckin’ goner.