21. Ava
CHAPTER 21
Ava
BONFIRE
Sawyer looks—smells—good enough to eat. The Stetson is just … yeah, chef’s kiss. And the flowers? I don’t think I’ve stopped smiling since.
He also drove over twenty miles out of his way to pick me up.
Not only that, he was an enthusiastic participant in duck duck goose. He and his mustache even charmed my nanny, for God’s sake.
Then there’s the fact that his truck is neat as a pin. No disgusting cups of discarded tobacco in the cupholders—Dan left his everywhere, even in my car. No trash on the floor. There’s not even a stray Goldfish or hair tie in the back, where Ella’s plum-colored car seat is strapped in.
It’s also a really nice truck. New. Safe. Cushy, even, with heated leather seats and a stellar sound system that pumps Teddy Swims songs as we drive through the deepening twilight.
“I had a cool, old F-150 before,” he explains. “But once I could afford something newer—something safer and more comfortable for Ella—I got this truck. When Mollie and Cash combined our ranches, they made my brothers and me equal partners in everything. Got a big pay raise that day.”
So that explains why he was able to splash out on all that champagne in Austin.
Also. It’s obvious Sawyer cares . Not about luxury or showing off his newfound wealth. But he takes care of his things the same way he takes care of his people.
He’s aware—he pays attention—in a way that makes my chest ache. He carries his weight. Takes on his fair share of life’s work and then some.
I’ve never met a man like him.
To be honest, I wasn’t sure they existed until—well, I met Sawyer.
“You feel all right leaving Junie tonight?” He drapes his wrist over the top of the steering wheel. He puts his other hand on my thigh, awareness blooming to life between my legs.
I love the way this man touches me. How casually, confidently possessive he is. I don’t think he could play games if he tried. He likes me, he wants me, and he isn’t afraid to show it.
“I’m getting better about it. I definitely needed the break. I’m a better mom when I can put my oxygen mask on for a bit, you know?”
“I know. I find myself snapping at Ella because I’m just so burned out. It’s not fair to either of us.”
I put my hand over his on my leg. “Still hard not to feel guilty.”
“Really hard.” His Adam’s apple bobs. “But I’m hoping I’ll get in the habit of going out more.”
“Preferably with me.”
He smiles at the familiar line, a handsome flash of white teeth and those fucking dimples. Could he be more devastatingly delicious?
“That’s the hope, pretty girl.”
My turn to swallow. “I’m not sure I remember how to date.”
“I got no fuckin’ clue what I’m doing.” He turns his head a little to glance at me. “Maybe we can learn together?”
I curl my fingers around his and give them a squeeze. “You don’t give yourself enough credit. You’re already killing it.”
His smile morphs into a smirk. “I’ve never thought of myself as an overachiever?—”
“Stop. You’re good at what you do, and you know it.”
“Well, I’m good at doing you. I know that much.”
The spark in my core flares into an all-out bonfire. How do I not devour this cowboy?
How can I stay focused and smart and rational when he’s in the room?
You don’t. You go wild, just like you want to. It’s who you are.
Trusting the universe to keep me from falling on my face—trusting the belief that I should be proud of who I am, not ashamed—will take lots of practice. But it’s a practice I want to commit to. Because the ability to be myself with Sawyer has been such a gift.
Maybe his adoration of my free spirit ends. Maybe it doesn’t. Either way, I want to like who I am. I want to honor that woman by giving her the freedom she’s always craved.
Always deserved.
By the time Sawyer pulls off-road and drives at least half a mile into a rolling field of trees and grass, I’m sick with want.
I’m vibrating with the need to have this man. Have fun.
Have the best first official date ever.
He parks in the middle of nowhere beside a gnarled old oak tree and hops out of the truck, jogging around the front to open my door.
When he holds out a hand, his hat casts a shadow over his face. For a split second, he looks like an outlaw from one of those ’50s Westerns—determined set to his square jaw, danger lurking in eyes I can barely see.
Sawyer is dangerous. Just not in the way I thought he’d be.
I take his hand and let him help me out of the truck. I close the door behind me. The air out here is crisp, slightly chilly.
Then—because why the fuck not, because I want him and I want this and I’m done denying myself—I put my hands on his chest and give him a hard shove.
He falls against the truck, his back meeting with the passenger door. Grinning, he holds up his hands. “Whoa whoa?—”
“Since neither of us knows how to date”—I hook a finger into his belt loop —“there are no rules, right?”
His eyes darken. “Right.”
“So why not come first,” I say, unbuckling his belt as I drop to my knees, “and eat second?”
“Long as you let me eat, pretty girl.” His jaw tics. “You don’t have to?—”
“Finish what we started back at your place the other morning?” I unzip his jeans to find him already hard, his erection straining against his briefs. “Yeah I do.”
Nostrils flaring, he reaches down to cup my jaw. “You come to play, pretty girl?”
“Uh-huh.” I tug down his briefs so that his dick springs free. The rocky ground digs into my knees, but I don’t care. “It’s your turn to have some fun.”
I wrap my hand around his root and give him a pump, humming with pleasure when I draw a bead of pre-cum onto his head.
“Aw, baby, this is the kind of fun I like.” Gathering my hair in his hand so it’s out of my face, he tugs. “You’re gonna look so pretty with my dick in your mouth, aren’t you? Show me. Show me right now what you can do.”
I lick his crown, lapping up his cum. He tastes salty, clean, like the ocean.
He hisses. “You like my cum.”
I murmur my assent, opening my mouth and flattening my tongue. Meeting his eyes, I silently invite him to do what he wants.
His nostrils do that thing where they flare. He looks huge, unhinged, the sinews in his neck popping.
“Then I’m gonna give it to you.” He firms his grip on my hair. “But only if you do what I tell you.”
I wait, my hand still wrapped around his dick.
“Put me inside your mouth. Go slow. You wanna suck my dick, you’re not gonna rush.”
I do as he told me, guiding his head into my mouth. I give him a gentle suck that has him cursing, using the hand he has on my hair to push himself a little deeper.
“You’re gonna let me fuck you hard here, yeah?” he says through gritted teeth.
I hum again. He pushes deeper. I swallow his saltiness, keeping eye contact the whole time. My nipples harden, suddenly sensitive to the nubby fabric of my sweater.
“That’s a good girl. Such a good fucking girl, Ava. My God.” He sucks in a breath as he pumps his hips. At the same time, he pushes my head forward.
I gag, tears flooding my eyes, but I don’t pull back. Instead, I swallow, and his tip meets with the back of my mouth. My pussy throbs when he gives my hair a hard pull, a tingly wave moving over my scalp.
“Stay still. Right there,” he says. “You gonna let me do what I want?”
I give him a nod.
“Good. Keep breathing. I want to feel you working for it, yeah? You want my cum, you work for it.”
This guy is good at being filthy. It turns me on to no end.
I hold still as he draws out a little, then thrusts back in. I gag again. He pulls back, thrusts. Pulls back and thrusts, picking up speed.
“Aw, baby, you feel so fucking good. Almost as good as you feel between your legs. You’re sweet everywhere, pretty girl.”
Encouraged by his praise, I give his head a quick, hard suck when he pulls back. In reply, he slams forward.
“Fuck that feels good. Fuck. I’m gonna come and you best swallow all of it. Show me how much you want me, baby.” His thrusts become shallow, uneven, and then he’s closing his eyes and shouting my name. “Fuck, Ava. Fuck .”
He pulls back just enough to spill inside my mouth. There’s so much cum that I’m worried I’ll choke, but he pulls back a little more so I’m able to swallow.
Opening his eyes, he watches me take all of him, just like he asked. His blue eyes are wild, bright even in the barely there light. His shoulders are relaxed, rolled back, and his lips are parted as his chest barrels out with deep breaths that begin to slow.
It hits me just how much he needed that.
Just how much he enjoyed it. Just how much I did too.
I’ve never thought about it this way, but in my work life, I break horses and train riders all day long.
With Sawyer, I’m doing the opposite. I’m bringing out his wild. I’m not breaking him, I’m bringing him back to life.
I think he’s doing the same for me.
We look at each other for a full beat. It really is chilly out here, but I’m burning up. Judging by the sheen of sweat on his neck, he is too.
Loosening his grip on my hair, he pulls out of my mouth and grabs my elbows, helping me up to my feet. My knees hurt and so do my toes, but that’s nothing a few drinks and maybe an orgasm or two can’t fix.
Sawyer brushes the hair out of my face and tilts his head, pressing a hot kiss to my mouth. “Hey, baby.”
“Hi.” I tug on his bottom lip with my teeth.
“You’re real fuckin’ good at that.” Breaking the kiss, he thumbs the corner of my mouth. “Not a drop to spare.”
“You’re not the only overachiever here tonight.”
His lips twitch. “Bet I still got ya beat.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Before I know what’s happening, he’s circling my waist with his hands and he’s tossing me onto the hood of his truck like I weigh as much as a feather. Sitting me up, he parts my legs and steps between them, cupping my ass so he can pull me even closer. I loop my arms around his neck and play with his hair.
Then he’s kissing me, slipping his tongue into my mouth in a way that makes my skin feel two sizes too tight. He’s unbuttoning my coat and slipping a hand inside my sweater. He curses when he finds my bare breast.
“Pretty girl, you best not be lyin’ about leaving your panties at home too.”
“You forget, I’m a naked person.” Laughing into his kiss, I grab his hand and put it on the fly of my jeans.
He makes quick work of the fly. “Lift your hips.”
I do as he said, and then he pulls down my jeans a little. He settles my bare ass on the hood, which is still warm from the drive here, and reaches between my legs.
I cry out when he finds my center, pushing his first two fingers through my slit.
“You were telling the truth.” He smirks. “See? I’m the true overachiever, always getting you soaked.”
I nod, hanging on to his neck for dear life. “It’s the hat.”
And the mustache. And the emotional intelligence, and commitment to family, and the perfect dick and blue eyes and the ability to think ahead and and and …
I could go on forever. Truly.
He sinks his middle finger inside me and his expression contracts. “Aw, pretty girl, you’re burnin’ up. So hot and tight.”
I pull him in for a hungry kiss. My eyes roll to the back of my head behind my closed eyelids when he presses the heel of his palm to my clit. At the same time, he slips another finger inside me. The pressure is unreal.
Unreal, and wonderful.
He curls his fingers so that he’s pressing against my G-spot. My hips begin to rock as sensation rises through my core, a tight spiraling that scatters my thoughts and clears my head. I am one huge, throbbing heartbeat, and I lose myself in the joy of just being .
I lose myself in Sawyer’s kiss and his touch, the way he knows how to handle me with just the right amount of urgency and roughness. He kisses me like the world is ending, drinking me in deeply as he grinds his palm against my clit.
I press into his touch, dying for more friction. He trails his mouth over my cheek and jaw and onto my neck, kissing me there while I ride his hand. The pressure in my core is sweetly painful.
“Oh, honey,” I pant, curling my fingernails into the hair at the nape of his neck. “I like this.”
“You like me,” he growls, sending a hot gust of air over my throat. “Only me.”
The swift, heady sense of relief—of arousal—that swoops through me at his words takes me off guard. My heart is lodged somewhere in my throat.
All my talk of freedom. My adamant belief that commitment leads to the death of self. Yet here I am, turned on to an absurd degree by Sawyer staking his claim on me.
By Sawyer’s insinuation that we’re exclusive.
Is that what I want? I think wildly. Can I be free and faithful at the same time?
The orgasm tears through me. I yell his name on the hood of his Chevy like the animal I am. My toes curl inside my boots as I hold Sawyer against me in a death grip. He laughs into my neck as I come, and come, and come .
When I finally float back to earth, I ease my grip and open my eyes. Sawyer’s looking at me. The expression in his gaze—tender, adoring—has my heart falling a hundred stories.
A beat of stillness passes between us as he searches my gaze and I search his.
I’m falling for you , my pulse thunders. So fast and so hard that it’s terrifying. I’m scared. I’m scared. I’m so fucking scared, but I can’t stay away.
Maybe because freedom and fidelity don’t seem like such mutually exclusive concepts with Sawyer, the way they were with Dan.
The idea shakes me to my core. I’m shaking.
Sawyer loops his arm around my middle and pulls me against him, saying in my ear, “I’m right here, pretty girl. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Okay.” I’m embarrassed by how choked up I am. Part of me wants to smile. I am smiling.
Another part wants to cry. So I do. Tears silently streak down my face. I wait for Sawyer to pull away. To tell me to get it together.
But Dan was the one who’d do that. Sawyer just holds me until my heart rate evens out.
“You called me honey,” he says.
I squeeze my eyes shut. I already know the answer, but just to be sure, I still ask, “Too much?”
“That’s how you taste, you know.” Pulling back to look at me, he slips his fingers into his mouth, his tongue making an obscene smacking noise as he licks them. “Like honey.”
“You’re rude.”
“You don’t mind.”
My face hurts from smiling so hard. My eyes feel tired from tears. I press my finger into his dimple. “Not one bit.”
“Can I feed you now? Real food.”
He tucks my hair behind my ear. The tenderness of the gesture turns the stuff inside my chest to mush. He is absolutely not turned off by my show of vulnerability, and that fact hits me in the back of my knees, making me feel lightheaded and swoony.
“I’ve got quite the spread if I do say so myself.”
I blink back the burn in my eyes. “I’d love that, yes.”
“Hey.” Crooking his finger underneath my chin, he tips up my face. “You okay?”
God, why can’t this guy get at least one thing wrong? Why can’t he be, I don’t know, dismissive of my feelings, or at the very least turned off by how emotional I’m getting? Most guys I know would be hightailing it out of here right now. But Sawyer is staying.
He’s listening .
I swallow the lump in my throat. “Not to get too deep here—I know this is our first date?—”
“I like deep.”
Of course you do.
He grins, cupping my face in the warm mitt of his hand. I tilt my head so I can lean into his touch. I even place my hand over his.
Safe. This feels safe. And good. And right.
“I’m not used to being treated this way is all.” My voice is tight and small.
His brows pinch together. “What do you mean?”
“You just—you let me be myself. You like it when I’m myself. You pay attention and you take care of my needs and you …” I sigh. “You never judge. You make me feel like I’m a whole, complete person. Not some half-baked mess of things I need to change or work on.”
He looks at me for a long beat, adjusting his grip on my face. “You are a whole person. A person I like very much, just as you are. I hope I’ve made that crystal clear.”
I wait for the panic to set in.
It doesn’t.
I’m struck by the fact that I keep doing that—waiting, breath held, for the disappointment to happen. For the shame to come raining down. It’s so deeply ingrained in me, this idea that I’m going to be punished for talking and acting freely, that I’m shocked when the shame doesn’t hit.
It never does when I’m with Sawyer.
“I’m worried you’ll want me to change.”
The creases between his brows reappear. “Why would you say that?”
“Because no one’s ever liked me for me. I’ve always been a free spirit?—”
“Who? The girl who likes having sex in public?” Sawyer scoffs. “Nah.”
“You enjoyed it.”
“I loved it. Can’t wait to do it again.”
My eyes burn. “But not everyone likes that side of me. So for a while, I buried it. I was—God, so unhappy. So I chose freedom, which I’m very much enjoying. I never want to go back to feeling ashamed for who I am, or pretending to be someone I’m not.”
Sawyer’s eyes glimmer with emotion. “Who the fuck would ever want you to change? Being around you, it’s been a breath of fresh air for me. Your free-spiritedness—is that even a word?”
“I think so?” I laugh.
“Your free-spiritedness, it’s made me want to loosen up and have some fucking fun. You ever change, I’ll be mad as hell. Because then I’ll have to go back to being bored and lonely and just, yeah. Worse off.” He holds my eyes. “You make everything better, pretty girl. Just by being you.”
My heart thumps in my throat. Do I run? Assume that, no matter what this cowboy says, he’s eventually going to put me in a cage?
Or do I believe that he really and truly is different?
That this story, his and mine, has a different ending than the story I shared with Dan?
My stomach interrupts the emotionally charged silence by growling. Because of course.
Laughing, Sawyer pulls up my jeans and buttons them. “Glad you’re hungry, because I am too. I’ll build a fire, and then we’ll eat. Sound good?”
My heart has wings. “Sounds perfect.”