Chapter Sixteen
Brinley
I smell like hay and warm dust by the time we finish chores.
Cooper gives Penalty one last pat before stepping back, shutting the stall door behind him. “That should hold you over for a bit.”
Penalty nudges the door like he disagrees, and Cooper huffs out a laugh. “Or maybe a couple of hours.”
I lean against a wooden beam nearby, watching him move around the barn like he’s done this a million times before. He probably has. It all comes easy to him, like he doesn’t even have to think about it.
He checks the water buckets one last time, then pushes open the side door that leads out toward the workstation. Just past it, the stairs go up to the apartment above the barn.
I follow him outside. A garden hose is coiled along the side of the building, and he bends down to turn on the spigot, letting the water run over his hands.
Dirt and dust wash away as he scrubs his palms together.
I don’t realize I’m staring until he glances up at me.
“What?” he asks.
I shake my head, crossing my arms. “Nothing.”
But it’s not nothing.
There’s just something about him like this—hands dirty, shirt damp, moving like he knows exactly what he’s doing—that does it for me.
He lifts a brow, not buying it.
“You’re staring.”
“Am I not allowed to?” I smirk. “You’re kinda hot.”
He huffs out a quiet laugh and ducks his head under the stream, pushing his hair back as he rinses off the back of his neck.
When he straightens, he lifts the hose to his mouth and drinks straight from it, wiping his lips with the back of his hand afterward.
I can’t help the smile that pulls at my mouth.
“Let me guess… you find this attractive too?” he asks.
“I just…” I shrug. “I like this side of you.”
He squints at me. “What side would that be exactly?”
“The one that gets his hands dirty out here,” I tease. “Sleeves rolled up and everything.”
He snorts. “If I knew this was all it took, I would’ve brought you out here a lot sooner.”
I roll my eyes, but I’m still smiling. “Relax. I’m just saying, I’ve only ever seen Hockey Cooper.”
“And this is different?”
I glance back toward the barn.
“You’re like… Farm Boy Cooper out here.”
He shuts off the hose and coils it back up, hanging it neatly on the holder.
When he looks at me again, the teasing is still there, but there’s something heavier underneath it now.
“Farm Boy Cooper,” he repeats slowly.
I shrug, trying to act unaffected even though the way he’s looking at me now is doing crazy things to my stomach.
“I like Farm Boy Cooper,” I say.
He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he takes a slow step toward me.
My smile widens. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing.”
“Oh, I’d definitely say you’re up to something.”
He takes another step, closing the space between us. Up close, I can see the faint streak of dirt on his cheek and the way his shirt clings to him.
“You were staring,” he says.
My cheeks heat. “Maybe.”
“And you said you like this side of me.”
“I do,” I say, then add, softer, “but you should know I’m starting to like all the sides you’ve shown me.”
His hand slides around my waist before I even see it coming. I let out a small laugh as he backs me into the shop, lifting me easily onto the workbench just inside the barn door.
“Cooper, your shoulder—”
“It’s fine,” he says. “I promise.”
My eyes flick toward the open space around us.
“What if someone—”
“There’s no one here,” he says, stepping between my knees.
His hands settle on either side of me, boxing me in.
“My mom ran into town earlier, and my dad’s out on a grain run.”
I don’t know exactly what that means, but I glance past him anyway, toward the empty driveway.
“Are you sure?”
“Very.”
The way he says it sends warmth through me, the kind that always shows up when he looks at me like this.
“Well…” I tilt my head, a small smile pulling at my mouth. “I guess that means you have me all to yourself.”
A low sound slips out of him as his hand slides up my leg, settling at my hip.
I lean forward, hooking my finger into the collar of his shirt and tugging him toward me.
“Now that’s what I like to hear,” he says, his mouth dipping closer to mine.
“Cooper—” I breathe.
And then he kisses me. Slow at first, like he’s not in any rush. He pulls me closer to the edge of the bench until my legs wrap around his waist.
“You’re nervous,” he says, and it’s not a question.
I shake my head, even as my pulse kicks up. “You’re not worried about us getting caught?”
He glances over his shoulder toward the open barn doors, then back to me.
“Trust me,” he says. “If my mom was anywhere near here, the dogs would’ve let us know. My dad won’t be back for a while.”
I huff out a quiet laugh, but it fades when his hands slide down my sides, his fingers catching lightly at the waistband of my jeans.
“You want me to stop?” he asks.
The question hangs there for half a second before I shake my head. “No.”
That’s all the answer he needs.
He leans away from me as he works the button of my jeans open. My fingers curl around the edge of the workbench, the wood biting into my palms as he lowers my zipper and pushes my jeans over my hips.
“Lift up,” he says, smacking my ass with a grin as he slowly drags my pants the rest of the way off—like he’s doing it on purpose.
It’s quiet around us except for the distant rustle of the animals in their stalls.
When he looks up at me again, it feels like everything narrows down to just the two of us standing here in the middle of the workshop.
The cool air hits my skin, but it doesn’t matter—not when his hands follow in its wake, warming me everywhere he touches.
His hands find my hips again, rougher this time, as though the tension in him has nowhere else to go.
He leans in, pressing his lips just below my ear, then trails them down my neck, over my collarbone, and to my chest. My head tips back, a breath catching in my throat before I can stop it.
“Oh my—” I mutter when he drops to the ground between my legs.
He moves one of my feet onto the workbench and lifts the other to his shoulder, leaving me open to him.
“Stay still,” he murmurs, his voice low, barely above a whisper. Like he knows how easy it would be for someone to hear, if we weren’t alone out here.
His hands press into my thighs, holding me in place as he lowers his mouth to my pussy.
“Cooper,” I breathe, the sound barely there.
He hums softly, and I tilt my head back, getting lost in the way his tongue flicks against my clit.
He doesn’t rush. If anything, he slows down, taking his time until I’m left writhing and breathless above him.
His hands grip my thighs, and he lets out a low sound against me. I blink my eyes open, meeting his gaze from where he’s kneeling in front of me.
Even then, he doesn’t slow. It feels like he’s testing me, seeing how far he can push before I come undone.
I’m already there. My body tightens, a shaky breath slipping past my lips as I hover right on the edge.
And then he pulls back.
I exhale his name again, softer this time, the sound breaking like a quiet protest. My head drops forward, ready to beg him not to stop.
He doesn’t move right away. He just looks up at me.
He has no idea what he does to me, and that look in his eyes pushes me over the edge.
I shift against him, nudging his shoulder just enough to make space as I slide off the workbench. My jeans are still tangled around my ankles until I kick free of them, dropping to my knees in front of him without thinking.
He just stares at me. I grin, liking the way I caught him off guard.
His jaw tightens, his breath uneven as he looks down at me.
“Don’t,” I whisper, my hands already on him. “I don’t want you to stop me.”
I reach for his zipper, rougher than he was, and I pull it down.
“Brinley…” My name comes out like a warning, like it’s taking everything in him to hold onto control.
I shake my head slightly, not looking up at him. I want to see him unravel the way I do with him.
My fingers tighten around him, and I wrap my lips around the blunt head of his dick. It’s red and leaking precum. He lets out a low growl when I swipe it with my tongue, his hand gripping the back of my neck.
“Fuck, yes,” he mutters, voice rough.
I drag my tongue along the vein beneath his cock, stopping to kiss beneath the head and trying not to grin when he clenches his jaw.
I take my time, dragging it out, watching the way his jaw tightens, the way he fights to stay in control.
He’s barely holding it together, and I love that I’m the reason.
“My god, it’s like you were made for me,” he mutters, the words slipping out under his breath. “Your mouth feels so good. You look pretty and so perfect, taking my dick in your mouth. Your mouth feels incredible.”
My eyes grow heavy at his words and the sound of his voice. He doesn’t look away, and neither do I.
He reaches between us and grips the base of his dick, like he’s trying to hold himself back. I ease back long enough to catch my breath before he’s pulling me up again.
“Turn around,” he says. I follow, bracing my hands against the edge of the workbench.
I glance over my shoulder, catching him fumbling with his wallet before quickly rolling on a condom. When he notices me watching, he smirks.
“Do you see what you do to me?” he murmurs.
His hand finds my hip as he steps in close, leaning in to press a quick kiss to my lips before positioning himself at my entrance. I arch back instinctively, searching for him.
“Oh fuck—” he growls, as he thrusts into me.
I tilt my head back, letting it rest against his shoulder as he presses closer, finding a steady rhythm.
He asks if I’m okay, and I nod. That’s all he needs before he starts moving again.
His arms wrap around my waist, one hand slipping beneath my hoodie, cupping my breast, while the other drifts between my legs to find my clit.
A thought flickers in the back of my mind that someone could walk in at any second. I suck in a breath, trying to keep it down, but it slips out anyway.
“You trying to stay quiet?” he murmurs against my ear. “Maybe I want to hear you fall apart for me.”
I press my lips together, turning my head toward him, my forehead brushing his cheek.
“You know what I think?” he says, voice low. “I think you like the idea of getting caught.”
“Oh God—”
He hums softly. “Shh… you don’t want anyone to hear you, do you?”
I arch back into him, losing the rhythm I was trying to keep.
“Yeah,” he breathes. “You do like that.”
His hand moves from my chest to my chin, guiding my face toward him. A soft sound slips past my lips as his breath warms my skin.
“Look at you,” he mutters. “Can’t even stay quiet.”
My hand wraps around his wrist where he’s holding my face, and my breath catches.
“Cooper—”
There’s no mistaking the sound of our skin slapping as his hips piston into me.
“That’s it,” he says low. “Say my name again.”
I’m close. I can feel it building, and he must too because his other hand continues to rub circles over my clit, pushing me right to the edge.
“Cooper—” I say again, and he lets out a rough sound.
“Stay with me,” he says. “I want to feel you let go. Need to feel you come on my dick, Brin.”
I nod, even though I don’t know if he can tell. His grip on my chin keeps me right where he wants me. I could barely move, even if I wanted to.
It’s overwhelming in the best way—like he has all of me, and I don’t even want to fight it.
My release hits all at once, too fast to stop, my breath breaking as I rock back into him.
“Oh fuck,” he mutters. “That’s it… I’ve got you.”
My body trembles, stealing the oxygen from my lungs. His movements falter a second later, a quiet curse slipping out under his breath before he stills on a muffled groan.
For a second, neither of us moves.
Then Cooper’s lips find that spot beneath my ear again, kissing me softer this time. He leaves a path of kisses along my jaw before turning my face toward him.
“The next time you want Farm Boy Cooper,” he murmurs, “you just let me know.”
I smirk against his mouth, shaking my head.
He laughs under his breath, pulling me in closer like he’s not ready to let go yet.
It’s starting to hit me that I don’t think I’ll ever want him to let go.