30. Jackson #2
He starts scrambling to his feet, stammering some apology, but I already have the hammer again, and I’m gripping it tight enough the wood creaks in my palm.
“You so much as breathe her name again, I’ll fucking end you,” I snap, turning back toward the post.
“Scaring the help this early in the day?” Theo’s voice cuts in as she strolls up, chewing on the end of a granola bar like she hasn’t just walked into a damn minefield.
I don’t answer.
“Morning to you too, sunshine,” she snorts, then glances at Nick. “Aw, look at him. Done scared the piss right out of him.”
“I was just…” Nick mutters, fumbling, “…asking about Ozzy.”
“Asking?” Theo tilts her head, amused. “Is that what you and the boys are calling it now?” Nick’s face goes ghost-white. “Pretty sure I heard y’all placing bets earlier.” She crosses her arms. “Something about who could make the ol’ cow moo first, wasn’t it?”
“You’re fucking dead,” I growl, spinning toward him again, but Theo steps in front of me, grinning ear to ear.
“Down, big guy. I like this shirt. Don’t get blood on it.”
Nick bolts like a scared rabbit, and Theo just watches him go, smug as hell.
“He and the rest of those fucks are fired.”
“Oh please. You fire them, I’m back mucking stalls.”
I glare at her, jaw clenched, mood ruined. “What a tragedy that would be.”
“You’re grumpy,” she sing-songs. “I’d think getting laid by a woman like Ozzy would make you a little less murdery.”
“I was in a great mood until that halfwit and your ass showed up and ruined i–” I’m interrupted by Ozzy in… god dammit .
A robe and flip flops. I watch her walking towards the pen where the pigs are with their feed container.
“Good morning,” she calls out, half annoyed as she opens the gate and steps in as one of the pigs goes between her legs. “Uh uh! Trip me again, and your ass is bacon!” She scolds while throwing the food in the trough before walking out.
Theo whistles. “Hey, pretty thing! You wanna give us a show?”
I slug Theo in the arm for her comment but snap my head back as Ozzy takes off the robe.
I drop the hammer.
Denim shorts that might as well be underwear. A red bikini top that barely covers her. Her tattooed skin catching the light, curves framed like sin.
She knows what she’s doing. And god help me, it’s working.
She starts prancing toward the barn her chicks are in like nothing’s out of the ordinary. Like she isn’t walking around in goddamn pornographic slow motion while I’m two seconds from staking claim to her right here in the dirt.
“Oh no, you don’t,” I mutter, already moving, already stalking after her.
I catch up quick, grip her wrist, and growl into her ear, “I’m three seconds from throwing you over my shoulder and locking you in the house. No doors. No windows. Just me, and a sack to keep you from driving me insane.”
She smirks up at me. “Bet I could still make your dick hard in a sack.”
She’s right. And she knows it.
“You keep playing,” I warn, voice strained. Her tits bounce with every step, the top doing absolutely nothing to keep my brain from short-circuiting.
She smiles slyly as she goes for the kill.
“Why don’t you carry me into that house,” she purrs, lifting onto her tiptoes and licking my lips while pressing on the spot on my hip that she bit me this morning. “and fuck me senseless?”
I stop breathing. My heart pounds like a war drum.
“W-what?”
“Take me to that little house you’ve been working on.” She drags her finger down my chest. “I want you to fuck me in it.”
That’s it.
She’s airborne in the next second, tossed over my shoulder with a moan and a laugh. I storm toward the truck, rip the door open, and slide her inside.
The moment I get behind the wheel, she’s on me.
Straddling me. Untying the bikini top with maddening slowness.
The red slips away, revealing those perfect tits—pierced, heavy, flushed with arousal—and fuck me, I nearly lose it right there.
They are begging for me to touch them, to taste them. Later, ladies, I promise .
“Mother of Christ,” I groan, hands gripping her waist, trying to decide if I want to drive or take her right here.
“If you don’t drive now,” she whispers, brushing my cock through my jeans, “I’m going to ride you before we hit the driveway.”
“D-Don’t threaten me with a good time.” In my head, it was a low growl. In reality, it was a horny whimper. She chuckles while flicking her tongue over my earlobe as her hand reaches between us and I feel my zipper sliding down.
“You making me come here or in the house, Rowe?”
I mash the gas and the truck peels out.
And I don’t stop until we’re at the cottage.
I need her. Need her naked. Moaning. Ruined.
And I need to remind her—and every man on this goddamn ranch—that she’s mine.
She steps into the house like it’s sacred ground.
Sunlight pours through the uncovered windows, hitting the dust motes like glitter in slow motion.
Her flip-flops slap against the old wooden floor as she glances around the unfinished cottage, curious but calm, that little satisfied smile curling her lips.
She's still topless, her bikini top long gone, her breasts flushed and free and taunting me with every goddamn movement.
“So,” she says casually, eyes scanning the exposed beams, “how long you been working on this place?”
I blink at her. “Tink,” I mutter, voice low and already strained. “Baby. You’re standing half-naked in front of me. Do you honestly think I have enough blood flow left in my brain to talk about renovations?”
She laughs, soft and breathy, and I step forward and kiss her—slow and lingering. My hand cups her jaw, my thumb grazing the hollow beneath her cheekbone, and I murmur against her lips, “You sure about this?”
She nods, tilting her head so I can mouth her neck. “I want you,” she whispers. “Even if I’m nervous. Even if I still get nightmares. I want you. Because I trust you. And I know you’ll keep me safe.”
That breaks something open in me.
She doesn’t just want to fuck me—she wants me. She wants the man behind the scowl and the calloused hands. The man who will rip someone in half if they look at her wrong and still hold her afterward until she falls asleep without fear.
“You say the word,” I whisper as I walk her back toward the counter. “You call the shots. You need me tied up, on bottom, on my knees—whatever it takes for you to feel safe, it’s yours.”
But she doesn’t shy away.
Instead, she wiggles out of her shorts and climbs up onto the kitchen counter, spreading her thighs like a goddamn dream. Her pussy is already glistening, already calling for me, and when she leans back on her hands and gives me that look—that I dare you look—I nearly fall to my knees.
“Fuck me here,” she murmurs, voice steady but eyes vulnerable. “And… do it hard.”
The air thickens around us.
Hard. That’s a loaded word when it comes to a woman like Ozzy. A woman with scars, both outside and in. I step closer, breath caught, and run a hand up the inside of her thigh. “You promise you’ll tell me if it’s too much?”
She nods and kisses me—slow and deep and wanting.
I pull myself out of my pants as I settle between her legs and guide myself to her entrance. She’s warm. She’s soaked. She’s everything.
I thrust into her—slow and deep, just to start—and she lets out a cry that breaks me on a soul level as she clings to me as if I’m her life raft. She’s so tight, and I can feel the scars inside her. I can’t imagine what it must’ve been like, mentally or physically.
Her arms wrap around me, anchoring herself to my chest as I press deeper, as far as she’ll let me go.
“Shhhh…you’re alright,” I murmur as my thumb brushes her bottom lip before pressing inside her mouth. She sucks it gently, like it grounds her, and her lashes flutter.
“You’re doing so good for me, baby,” I whisper. “Here’s what we’re gonna do. Three strokes. You count them, got it?”
She nods, and I pull almost all the way out before slamming back in—once. She gasps.
“Count,” I grit out while gripping the counter.
“O-One!” Fuck, her voice is too much. Too lust-filled, too raw and wild. I pull back and ram into her again.
“TWO!” she cries out, her back arching.
“Talk to me,” I breathe into her ear. “Am I hurting you?”
She shakes her head violently. “No. I’m not in pain… not physically.” Her voice cracks and something primal inside me tightens. I want to kill every man who ever made her think that kind of torture and sex were supposed to go hand in hand.
“I got you,” I whisper, brushing her hair back from her damp temple.
“I’m going to hug you,” I say softly as I wrap my arms around her waist. Her legs go around my waist as I lift her and carry her up the stairs and into what will be her bedroom.
It has to be, because I won’t let her go after this here.
And if she tries, if she refuses to stay on this ranch, then…
I’ll leave with her. But I’m not living my life without this perfect woman in it.
Never. She’s it for me, and I will show her in every way I can.
I lay her down on the mattress and slide back between her thighs..
“I didn’t get to three?—”
“Shut your infuriating beautiful mouth for a second.” I state as I rip my shirt off and remove my boots and jeans.
I situate myself on top of her and reinsert my cock and watch as her teary eyes roll back.
“You’re so strong,” I murmur, kissing her lips.
“But you don’t have to be strong alone, Tink.
Let me help you. Trust me,” I give a small, slow thrust, and she whines before looking at me.
“I can’t,” she breathes through her tears. “I can’t let you into that part. I can’t let you… I can’t give you that part of me.”
I push myself inside her to the hilt before cupping her cheek. This is not the fucking I had envisioned for us. This isn’t even sex. We are two souls trying to connect. It’s so raw and intimate… It’s making me feel things that run far deeper for this woman than I thought possible.