Chapter Twenty-One
Diana
The next morning. Mags’ Cabin.
The rain had started in the middle of the night. I knew that if I didn’t leave now, the road into town would be flooded for the rest of the day. Then, I would be stuck here, in this cabin, with a man who said he wanted me but couldn’t—no, wouldn’t—do anything about it.
After staying up half the night, drowning in my thoughts until lightning flashed outside the spare bedroom window, a powerful clap of thunder following it, I made a new pact: Get the hell out of Hallow Ranch, teach the semester in Denver, monitor my clients remotely while Thomas handled things I couldn’t, and call Yale.
It was time to move on.
Time and distance were the only things able to heal this pain, and I was going to get both. The opportunity was right there, and it was time—well beyond time. Last night, Mags’ confession struck my soul, like lightning struck the ground, searing it deep. Even though our conversation was interrupted by Denver, I knew what was coming.
The “but.”
The secondary rejection.
I didn’t have the strength to endure that again, and last night, I sure wasn’t ready to face it. Thankfully, the universe knew me better than I knew myself. Denver’s interruption was divine intervention. There was no other way to explain it. Instead of going to sleep, I quietly got up and packed my things, planning to sneak out in the morning. Luckily, the rain kept coming, as if the universe was trying to keep the cowboy asleep as I hobbled through his perfect cabin, snatched my car keys off the hook by his hat, and left.
It took me a good three minutes to get down the porch steps, but after keeping my ankle elevated most of the night, the swelling had dissipated and the pain was minimal. It was just a minor sprain. I could get by with that. Just no heels for a bit, which sucked, because despite being tall, I loved all my heels.
Now, here I was, bags in the car, keys in hand, standing in the rain, unable to move. My chest heaved as the rain soaked my clothes, sliding down my skin, drenching my hair. All at once, my brain was flooded with every single memory of Mags, from our first look to the devastation on his face last night.
My eyes squeezed shut as my heart thundered, matching the anger in the sky above.
My life was supposed to be better than this—more than this. Yes, I created it for myself, but I craved romance. I craved the love every person wanted, and when I found it, I was set on waiting.
Waiting was a fool’s errand.
A loud clap of thunder made me jump.
Okay, enough of this, Diana. Get in the car.
I knew I shouldn’t look back.
I knew it, and yet, I still did. My hair hung down my back, my clothes heavy with rain water as I looked over my shoulder to take one more look at his cabin.
A whimper flew from my mouth at the sight of him standing on his porch, arms hanging down at his sides, his dark eyes on me. He was barefoot with a pair of jeans on, the top button and his belt still undone, a dark gray T-shirt on his chest, his hat on his head. His beard was now trimmed, but his hair—God, his damn hair—-was still wild, hanging just past his shoulders.
The wild, silent cowboy, beautiful and damning all at once.
Go, Diana. Get in your car and leave.
There was nothing for me here. I knew that.
And yet?
I was leaving my heart with him, unable to take it back. She was his prisoner now.
My bottom lip trembled as I turned back around to grab the door handle—
“Where do you think you’re going?” His question weaved through the steady stream of rain falling from the heavens, jagged, filled with rage, but still oh so warm.
I didn’t get in the car, some unknown force—perhaps stupidity—preventing me from doing so. Instead, I whirled around, watching him descend from his porch into the cold rain. He stalked towards me, jaw set, eyes heated.
I couldn’t do this. Not again.
“Stop,” I rasped, holding my hand up.
He did, three feet from me, drops falling from the brim of his hat. “Where the hell are you going, Diana?” he demanded, his voice hard, chest heaving, nothing but heat in his eyes.
My tears mixed with the rain as I shook my head, my hair sticking to my face.
He took another step, his presence alone making the world around us look small. “Where the fuck are you going?”
“It doesn’t have to be this way,” I tried, my voice cracking. “If I leave now, maybe in the future, we can work on our friendship.”
“We were never friends, and you fuckin’ know that,” he seethed, taking another step forward.
I swallowed the glass in my throat before I rasped, “I don’t belong here, Mags.”
My words rocked him so much, he jerked back. Then, time all but stopped when he growled, “You’re exactly where you belong.”
In a flash, his hand shot out, hooking the back of my neck, pulling me to him as the rough pads of his fingers dug into my flesh. Our bodies collided, and a gasp left me as he bent his neck, his eyes ablaze. His other arm banded around my waist, hold me tight against him, the heat of his touch spreading across my skin as my heart shouted for joy.
“You’re exactly where you fuckin’ belong, my sweet firefly.”
Then, God, then, his fingers slid into my hair and yanked my head back as his lips slammed down onto mine. My soul whimpered, my heart cried out, and my body crumbled against him.
Eleven years.
Eleven years, three hundred and fifteen days.
That was how long I’d waited for him.
My knees nearly gave out as I latched onto him, a moan climbing up my throat as my arms anchored around his neck. His lips commanded mine, his beard scraping my skin as his tongue stroked against the seam of my lip, begging for me to let him inside. Another small sound left me as I opened for him, my fingers weaving into his long hair at the base of his neck, feeling its softness as his taste—a mix of cigarettes and mint—flooded my senses, his tongue dancing with mine.
“Mags,” I rasped, gasping for air.
A growl climbed up his throat, forcing our lips back together as he drank from me, consuming me. My back was against my car then, his hands cupping the sides of my face now as he slanted my head, taking control, kissing me with abandon as the rain pelted down around us.
Thunder clapped in the distance, but neither of us cared.
We’d waited long enough for this, the storms around us be damned.
My hands slid up further, pushing his hat towards me as my fingers held on, my body finally coming alive. His body was against mine, caging me in and chasing away the cold as the brim of his hat shielded our faces from the rain. His hands dropped down to the sides of my neck, his thumbs hooking underneath my jaw, forcing my head back.
He pulled back, and my eyes fluttered opened. Suddenly, I was drowning in his darkness. “My beautiful little light,” he murmured. “My Diana.”
Before I could respond, his lips were back on mine, stealing my logic as well as my breath.
Seconds, minutes, years, decades, centuries later, who knew—he pulled away with a low grunt, our foreheads pressed together.
“Stay for me, Firefly,” he begged in his jagged voice, his eyes holding mine. “Please fuckin’ stay for me.”
Stay for me, Firefly.
Stay for me.
I kissed him again, my hands sliding down over his shoulder to his chest, my fingers gripping the wet fabric of his shirt. With a growl, his hands left my face, gliding over my arms, snaking around my waist and down, cupping my ass. I broke away, gasping as my body ignited. My nipples pebbled as my core constricted, wet for him, needing to be touched, to be filled.
“Christ,” he grunted, lifting me up.
Without a thought, my legs wrapped around his waist, my hands coming to cup his face, his beard wet but still rough. “Mags,” I breathed, feeling the bulge against his zipper, the buckle of his belt digging into my leg.
He pulled away slightly, looking up at me. “If I was less of a man, I’d fuck you on your car,” he growled. “Rip those little shorts off and finally sink into you, finally fuckin’ feel you.”
Oh, God.
“But when you milk my cock for the first time, I want it to be in my bed, you laying in the same spot I do when I jack myself to the thought of you.”
More wetness flooded me then, my clit pulsing.
He didn’t give me a chance to speak, pulling me down again, our lips colliding.
My cowboy turned us, carrying me in the rain towards his cabin, and when I heard his boots land on the step, I pressed my lips harder against his. When he stepped into the warmth of the house, his tongue pushed into my mouth after growling my name. When he kicked the door shut, I moved my lips from his mouth to his cheek, peppering him with kisses as I pulled off his hat, dropping it on the hook by the door. His eyes held mine, our breaths labored, the air thick with need as he carried me down the hall, slamming me into a wall to kiss me until I was breathless and damn near ready to beg. His fingers kneaded my ass as I moved, grinding against him, desperate for friction.
“That’s it,” he praised, his lips trailing down my jaw to my neck, his teeth grazing over the sensitive skin there as he started to flex his hips against me.
It felt so good.
Too fucking good.
My fingers weaved through his hair holding him to my neck as he helped me grind against him, his arms flexing at my sides as we shamelessly chased our pleasure. “God, yes,” I breathed, my head falling back against the wall, my nails scarping the back of his neck. “You feel so good, s-so amazing.”
“Gonna stretch you, beautiful,” he promised, moving up to my ear. “Been dreaming of your little cunt for over a decade.”
“Yes,” I whimpered as he moved my hips faster.
“Make a mess for me to clean up, baby,” he grunted, his harsh breaths in my ear. “Fuckin’ need it, Diana. I’d spend a lifetime in hell just to have you once, beautiful. Give it to me.”
My legs began to shake, and my mouth opened on a silent cry.
“Most fuckin’ beautiful woman on this fuckin’ planet, coming undone in my arms, grinding her little needy pussy against me,” he whispered, voice jagged.
“M-Mags, I’m— oh, God! ”
“Give that to me,” he practically begged, licking the shell of my ear. “ It’s mine, Firefly. Give it to me.”
It hit me then.
It hit me, and my entire body shuddered as I cried out his name, my hips moving erratically now. He kissed up and down my neck. I was still coming down when he pulled me from the wall.
“Jesus Christ,” he grunted as he kicked open the door at the end of the hall—his bedroom. I didn’t get a chance to look around before he stopped in front of the bed. “Eyes on me,” he commanded, his hand going up my spine, halting my movements.
I brought my eyes back up to his, my heart racing, my body drunk on pleasure as I held his gaze, hypnotized by the darkness.
“Been dreaming of this day,” my cowboy rumbled, the rain coming down hard outside now, hitting the bedroom windows.
“Yes,” I breathed.
He shook his head, looking tortured. “Want you, baby. Always fuckin’ wanted you. I need to know—”
I nodded, kissing him before whispering against his lips. “Yes.”
“Diana—”
“The answer is yes, Mags,” I rasped, reaching down and pulling the shirt over my head, along with my sports bra from yesterday. My breasts hung free, heavy and aching with need as I tossed them both on the floor.
His dropped, his jaw tightening at the sight, hunger in his eyes. In this moment, I didn’t care about my pudgy belly or love handles. In this moment, all I cared was about giving him consent.
“You have my consent, handsome,” I murmured, wrapping my arms back around his neck as his gaze collided with mine. I kissed him then, slowly and softly, savoring him. When I pulled back, I breathed, “I’m yours.”
Suddenly, I was flying through the air, landing on the bed with a yelp.
Before I could get my wits back, his hands were at the waistband of my shorts, peeling them down my legs. A raw sound left him when he discovered I didn’t have any panties on. I brought my knees together, the sight of him standing above me nearly too much. Without thinking, I brought my hands up, gliding my fingertips over my imperfect belly and up to my nipples, rubbing and pinching them.
I whimpered, arching my back, and just as I closed my eyes, his hands pried my knees open.
My eyes shot open just in time to see him climb onto the bed, his eyes on my pussy. “Mags,” I pleaded.
The cowboy’s dark eyes flicked up to mine. “You’re going to scream for me, baby,” he murmured gruffly. “You’re going to scream and scream, begging for me to stop because the pleasure will be too much, and I’m not going to.”
My lips parted on a needy whimper.
“I need you to understand that, Firefly,” he said gently, his finger tracing down the inside of my thigh, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. “What you just gave me, I’ll never forget, and now, I want more of it.” When it landed on my mound, he looked back down, watching his hand drive me insane. “See that honey coming from you?”
“Mags,” I cried, his finger on my clit now, lightly rubbing.
“That same honey just soaked the front of my jeans.” His finger started moving in small, slow circles. I cupped both my breasts in my hands, moving my hips, seeking more from him.
“Wanted that honey for a long, long time, beautiful.”
“Oh, God,” I moaned, my eyes rolling back.
“Want it soaking my fingers now, baby,” he groaned, dropping down and slowly pushing one inside me. That raw sound came from him again as he pulled it out and then eased it back in, over and over as I squirmed. “Better than my dreams,” he muttered.
My body moved, back arching, hips grinding, my hands twisting and plucking at my erect nipples, needing his mouth on them. I need his mouth all over me. “I can’t—I can’t.” I sucked in a breath. “I need you, Mags.”
“All the dreams, Diana, in all those fantasies, you were a good girl for me,” he rumbled, his breath near my thigh as he added a second finger. “You let me have that sweet honey whenever I fuckin’ wanted—whenever I needed.” I opened my eyes, finding him lying down, his head between my legs now. He pressed a kiss to my mound, his eyes snapping up, watching me pant. “What are you going to do for me, Firefly?”
I whimpered, feeling my climax slowly start to build. “I’m going to scream for you.”
A slow, breathtaking, wicked smile stretched across his face. It was the happiest I’d ever seen him. “Atta girl.”
Then, as he continued fucking me with his fingers, he hooked my legs over his shoulders, keeping his eyes on my face as put his mouth on my core. My body arched, my hands leaving my breasts as I cried out, weaving my fingers through his hair. As his tongue slid up my sex, his fingers tightened on my thigh, indenting the softness, and the sound that came from him, primal and deep, had my eyes rolling back.
He dragged his tongue all the way up to my clit, flicking it twice before pulling away, his other hand still fucking me. His dark eyes flicked back up to me as he confessed, “I knew you would taste like beauty, knew I would want to drown in it, baby, but fuck —” He didn’t finish his confession as he latched onto me again, curling his fingers to press against my G-spot.
“M-Mags,” I stammered, pulling at his hair as he continued to suck, lick, and flick at my clit, his hand moving violently now, the sounds of my wet sex filling the room. “Mags.”
“Fuck. Fuck ,” he growled against me, his arm shifting as his free hand went to my stomach, pressing down, holding me still.
“Oh, God! ”
“God ain’t the one with his tongue in your cunt, Diana,” he bit off, his teeth dragging against my sensitive flesh. “You cry out my name in my bed. No one else’s.”
He removed his fingers and dropped down, his tongue entering me. I was on the edge, ready to fall into the abyss of pleasure. His thumb found my clit and stroked in fast, hard circles as his tongue plunged in and out, drinking from me.
The cowboy pulled back slightly, his hand still working my clit as his teeth sank into my thigh. The pain, mixed with the overwhelming pleasure he gave me, was too much.
And I fell.
I fell into a state of pleasure I’d never experienced, and as I screamed his name, I heard his dark chuckle before I felt his mouth on me again, lapping at the mess he’d caused. My legs began to shake, and by the time I started to come down, both of his hands were at my thighs, his dark head between them, still eating me.
He didn’t let up. He didn’t listen to my pleas for mercy.
My cowboy ate my pussy like a man starved, not stopping until I was coming again. Again. Again.
I’d lost count of how many climaxes he gave me, but when he finally pulled his mouth away, my body was spent and shaking. My head rolled side to side as a breathless laugh left me, my knees coming together.
“Look at me,” he said gruffly.
When I did, I found him standing again, his eyes soft, his lips and beard glistening with me. “Hi, cowboy,” I whispered, my heart about to explode.
His eyes dropped from my face, scanning down my body slowly, studying every dip and curve before coming back up to my face. “Still trying to decide if this is a dream,” he said, his voice thick.
I nodded. “Me too, handsome.”
“If it is a dream, beautiful, then I pray to a God I don’t believe in that we never wake,” he murmured.
I said nothing as I sat up, getting to my knees and moving to him. He did nothing, remaining still and silent as I brought my hands to his waist, fisting the sides of his wet shirt. He stared down at me with an intensity I’d never seen from him as I began to pull it up, careful not to touch his skin. He let me, thank God. He let me, and when it was time, he lifted his arms up and pulled it all the way off. I kept my eyes on his face, knowing I wouldn’t look at his body until he gave me consent.
Goosebumps spread across my skin, running from the heat radiating from him now. My nipples were peaked, only inches from his chest, our breaths quiet, quick.
“You can look,” he said softly.
The shards of glass were back in my throat, and when I finally broke our gaze, my eyes dropping to his chest, the glass began to shred me from the inside out.
The right side of his chest was covered in dark hair, trailing all the way down between his abs before disappearing into his undone jeans. The left side of his chest, though, had less hair, the skin a dark red, almost purple, raised and bumpy. It stretched over and down his left side. My eyes trailed back up, finding it stretched underneath his arm and over to his back. Wrapped around his left bicep was a tattoo, a small, thin line with names etched across it in a delicate cursive.
In my gut, I knew they were the names of people he’d lost when he was in the military. My eyes slowly lifted back up to his, finding nothing but patience and warmth lingering within them.
All I wanted was to touch him. To kiss him. To cherish him.
“Please,” I whispered, leaving my plea to hang in the air between us.
Little did I know, he was about to gut me.
“Haven’t had a woman in my bed in over a decade, Diana.”
My lips parted, my spine stiffening.
“Haven’t felt a woman’s touch in over a decade.”
“I—”
“Came to Hallow Ranch knowing I’d never have either of those things again,” he continued, as if I hadn’t spoken, reaching out and cupping my face, his thumb stroking my cheek. “I was willing to survive without them, baby.” My throat closed as his eyes dropped to my lips. “Then, on a day when I was lost in my head, battling demons I didn’t know if I would survive, my eyes landed on you when I came out of the barn.”
Both of my hands went to his wrists, my bottom lip trembling.
“Prettiest fuckin’ thing I’d ever seen, in that yellow dress in the middle of the snow. A little light shining bright in all my darkness,” he murmured. He paused, looking back into my eyes. “Wanted nothing but your heart, your body, and your touch since, Firefly.”
“Stop,” I begged, my voice unsteady.
“Wanted all that knowing I didn’t deserve any of it.”
“Mags, please—”
“Now, you’re here, in my bed, letting me give you pleasure, waiting patiently for me to let you return the favor.”
A single tear fell onto my cheek, and he caught it with his thumb.
“Y-you’re the most b-beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, Mags,” I stammered, my breath hitching.
His lips curled up slightly before he touched his mouth to mine. “Touch me, Diana.”