10. Cag #2
I’m feral now. The restraint I’ve been holding onto for days, for years, just snaps.
I’m a beast, a predator claiming his mate.
I’m thrusting harder and faster, my breath coming in ragged snarls.
I’m marking her with every movement, letting her know that every inch of this cabin, every acre of this ranch, and every beat of my heart belongs to her.
“Cag! Oh god, Cag!”
She’s spiraling. I can feel the tremors starting deep inside her, the way her walls are pulsing around my cock, begging for the end. I pick up the pace, my movements frantic and powerful. I’m holding her against the studs, the wood groaning behind her, but I don’t slow down. I can’t.
I’m seeing stars. My vision is blurring into a tunnel of chestnut hair and magnolia scent. I’m close. So fucking close.
“Come for me, Juliette,” I command, my voice a roar. “Let me feel it.”
She shatters.
Her body convulses, her inner muscles clamping down on me in a series of rhythmic, agonizingly perfect squeezes. She’s screaming my name into the night, her voice echoing off the unfinished walls.
The feel of her climaxing around me is the final straw. I growl, one last, deep thrust that pins her to the timber, and I let go.
I’m pouring myself into her, my seed a hot, thick flood that marks her as mine in the most permanent way I know how. I’m pulsing inside her, my eyes squeezed shut as the world explodes into white-hot light.
I stay there, buried deep, as the world slowly comes back into focus. The sun is gone now. The cabin is bathed in deep indigo shadows. The only sound is our labored breathing and the distant, lonely call of a coyote.
I slowly let her slide down my body until her feet touch the floorboards. Her legs give out immediately, and I catch her, pulling her into my arms. I sink down onto the wood, pulling her into my lap, wrapping my bare arms around her.
The floor is hard and dusty, but I don't care. I’ve never been more comfortable.
"Here," I murmur against her temple, holding her close. "Stay here with me."
She nods against my chest, her breath finally slowing. “I’m here.”
I look out through the gaps in the studs toward the western horizon. The upstream flow is still restricted, and the easement still has to survive a courtroom. But as I hold this woman in the shell of the home I’m finally going to finish, I know one thing for certain.
I’m Cag Kramer. And I’m not done yet. Not by a long shot.
I reach into the pocket of my discarded jeans, my fingers brushing the finished cottonwood hawk. The wings are smooth beneath my thumb, spread wide in a moment of flight.
I carried it unfinished for years.
Then Juliette climbed into my truck and reminded me that some things are worth seeing through.
I found the shape hiding inside the wood.
And I found mine.
I look down at Juliette, her eyes closed, her head resting on my shoulder.
She’s breathing softly now, the tension of the day finally bleeding out of her.
I think about the easement we found. I think about the look on her father's face when he realizes he’s lost his greatest asset to a cowboy with a scarred jaw and a half-built cabin.
I feel a grim sort of satisfaction. Let them come. Let the Black Aspen suits try to take the water. They don't know what it's like to fight for something you love. They don’t understand what a man will endure when walking away is no longer an option.
I’m going to raise this cabin with her, board by board, until it becomes the home we choose together. I’m going to make sure the world knows that the woman who walked away from a banking heir and a billionaire’s empire chose a man who works with his hands and loves with his whole soul.
My hand moves over her hip, my thumb tracing the curve of her bone. She’s mine.
I think of the water upstream. The water restriction is real. The western tanks are dropping faster than we can refill them. I can feel the thirst of the land beneath my boots. It’s like the land is waiting, just like I was. Waiting for someone to fight for it.
Andy’s worried about the cattle. Benjamin’s worried about how long the emergency hauling can hold. But I’m worried about the future. I’m worried about the life I’m going to build for Juliette.
I’ll haul water to every trough until the court enforces the easement. Black Aspen doesn’t get to outlast us.
I shift her slightly, pulling her closer, my chin resting on the top of her head. The magnolia scent is fainter now, mixed with the smell of our sex and the cooling night air. It’s the best thing I’ve ever smelled.
In the distance, I see the lights of a truck moving along the perimeter road. Probably one of the Black Aspen scouts. They’ve been circling this place for months, waiting for us to weaken. They think the water is our lifeblood. They think if they cut it off, we’ll fold.
They’re wrong.
The Kramers don't fold. We dig in. We fight. And when we find something worth keeping, we never let go.