Chapter Twenty-nine
Daisy-Mae
West sits on the porch, a beer in his hand, and Ham by his side as I close the door behind me and set the baby monitor down on the small table between the loungers.
“He go down okay?”
“Sort of. He got a little fussy and started to refuse the bottle. Apparently straight from the source is how he wants it and I left my pump at my house.”
“Can you blame him?” He grins, the kind of smile that weakens the knees of all Red River Canyon’s single ladies, and even those who aren’t single. “Why do you need your pump?”
“Because I’ve been drinking. I need to express or risk his first words being, ‘pass me a whiskey, Mama’.”
“You need me to go get it?”
“No. it’s fine. I’ll just hand express a bit later.”
“Need a hand?” West says with a chuckle.
I grin and snatch his beer, taking a small sip. My heart races and the word “yes” is right on the tip of my tongue, but I need to know something first. “What was it you were trying to tell me in the truck?”
The smile disappears from his face, and he looks at me for a beat too long. “I don’t remember.”
“Really? It seemed pretty important.”
He takes his beer from me and draws a long pull, effectively draining every last drop. When he comes up for air, he says, “Nope. Can’t remember. Must’ve had one too many of these.”
“Bullshit,” I mutter under my breath and close my eyes, leaning back against my lounger.
“What did you just say?”
I sigh and get to my feet. “I think you heard me.”
West’s eyes narrow. “Somethin’ on your mind, Dais?”
“Nothing. I’m tired is all.” I head for the door. “I’m going to bed.”
“Hey,” he comes up behind me and turns me to face him. “Don’t walk away, just say whatever you need to.”
“You first, West.”
A beat passes and I swear my whole world hangs in the balance as I wait for him to meet me halfway.
Please meet me halfway. He doesn’t say a word though, he just watches intently, searching my gaze.
“I’m tired. Tired of waiting, tired of never putting my needs first before anyone else’s. Tired of not rocking the boat.”
“So you’re gonna call bullshit and just walk away, no explanation?”
“Why not? Being an aloof asshole works for you, right?”
His brows knit together and he lets go of my arms. “Never pegged you for a mean drunk.”
“I’m not drunk, just tired of settling for men who don’t see my worth.”
His eyes turn mercurial and a muscle pops in his jaw. “You think I don’t see it? I fucking see it, Dais. I saw it before you did.”
“Then what do you want from me, West? What are we doing here? I live in your house, sleep in your bed, but you won’t touch me.”
“That what you want?”
“Honestly? Yes. That’s what I fucking want. Your fingers in my hair, your lips on mine, and your head between my thighs.”
“Then why the hell didn’t you say somethin’ sooner?”
“Why should I have to? If you were reading the damn signs, I’ve been telling you for months.”
“Woman, shut the hell up.” West grasps the back of my neck and pulls me closer. He presses his lips to mine, hard, insistent. I’m so shocked, I don’t kiss him back, and he pulls away. “You sure you want this, Dais? Don’t seem like you’re trying all that hard.”
“Screw you.”
“Fucking gladly, darlin’.” He plants his lips on mine in a hungry, searing kiss.
I open to him and let him walk me backward, to the lounger.
West sits heavily and pulls me into his lap, his tongue darting between my lips to massage my own without missing a beat.
I moan against his lips, my fingers clawing at his shirt, longing to soak in his warmth and every inch of hard-won muscle.
My nipples bead, and that prickling sensation of my milk letting down pulls me from the magic of the moment.
I break away, panting and jump up, uncertain I’m not going to drown us both in breastmilk.
Goddamn it. Only I would spring a leak while the hottest man on the damn planet is shoving his tongue down my throat.
“Dais?” His brows shoot skyward.
“Sorry. I ... er ...” I glance down at my wet T-shirt and turn to leave. “I’m wet.”
West grabs my arm, holding me in place. “Well, wait on a minute here. Maybe I can help.”
“How are you going to—”
West pulls me back onto his lap and unbuttons my dress, sliding it off my shoulders.
My breasts—already dripping with milk—spring free.
The night air stings my nipples and they bead further.
West wets his bottom lip, and then dips his head to take one nipple in his mouth, while his large hand kneads the other.
He moans, which just spurs my arousal on.
I squirm in his lap, rubbing against the thick erection in his jeans.
His mouth on my sensitive flesh feels so good, I moan.
Pleasure arcs through me from my breast to my core and my pussy clenches, desperate for more.
After the pain of childbirth, I didn’t think I’d ever want to be touched again, but it’s all I can think about.
West’s cock inside me, his head between my thighs, sinking my hands into his honey-wheat hair.
I want to feel him pushing into me, the weight of his body on top of mine. Oh god. I can’t do this.
“I can’t have sex with you,” I blurt out and press a hand to my mouth, as if I could take back my words.
My nipple pops free of his mouth, his lips coated with the residue of my milk. “Okay,” West says slowly.
“I mean, it’s not that I don’t want to. I just ... I just had a baby. I’m not ... I can’t have penetrative sex for six weeks. You know, healing from pushing a watermelon out of my hoo-ha and all that?”
“Then I guess it’s a good thing we have all the time in the world.”
“Right,” I say resolutely.
“If that’s what you want.”
“Oh, I want,” I say too quickly and then bow my head, chagrinned.
“You know what I heard in all of that?” He kisses along the length of my collarbone as he gently cups my breasts, setting all my nerve endings on fire.
“Hmm?”
“Non penetrative.” Wests arms wrap around my waist, his hands splayed on my back as he gently rocks us back and forth. The ridges of his hard cock in his jeans feel incredible against my panties, and he is big, so much bigger than my ex-husband.
“Uh-huh.”
“Does that mean we can do other things that are non-penetrative?”
“I’m bleeding,” I say, because I need to shut this down now before we get carried away. I mean, at almost six weeks postpartum, it’s intermittent and not at all like it was right after birth, but I think he should know. “I don’t think you wanna get messy.”
“Dais, I was born on a ranch. I don’t mind a little mess, so long as you don’t mind me making one.”
My breath catches in my throat.
West gently grips my chin and tilts my face up to his. “Tell me you’ll let me make a mess.”
I nod, slowly. Still not sure this is what he wants. Eddie could barely stand to be in the same house as me when I was bleeding. Sex or any kind of fooling around was never an option until I was sure Aunt Flo had well and truly left town.
West dips his head and searches my gaze. “Where’d you go just now?”
“I was just thinking how my ex-husband couldn’t stand the sight of me when it was that time of the month, and here you are, delivering my baby in your truck and still wanting me.”
“A real man knows the best part of sex isn’t about just getting their rocks off.
Making a mess is a fucking privilege.” He leans forward and kisses me again, his lips trailing my chin and down my neck.
“We can do whatever you want, darlin’. Take it slow or, hell, we can dive right in, but nothing you do is gonna make me run in the opposite direction. ”
“I don’t want slow. Nothing about us feels that way. Not anymore.”
I feel his lips tip up in a smile as he makes his way across my clavicle.
“I’m so fucking glad you said that, because I’ve been wanting to do this for weeks.
” West cups my breast with one hand as the other trails lower over my abdomen and between my legs.
He shifts and pulls me back against him, so I’m looking directly over the barn and the land that he wakes up to every morning.
“Shouldn’t we go inside?”
“And risk waking Waylon? Not on your life. Besides it’s just you and me and that big old sky filled with stars out here. I’m selfish, darlin’. I want to be the only one to hear you scream my name.”
He slips his hand under my dress and inside my panties. For a heartbeat, I worry he’ll be grossed out, but when he circles my clit, I lie back against his chest and let him make me feel the kind of pleasure no man ever has.
West’s calloused fingers are gentler than I would have imagined as his deft hands explore every inch of me.
My breathing hitches. I haven’t felt like this for .
.. well, ever. As if he can read my mind, he says, “I’m gonna make you feel so fucking good, baby.
I want this pussy dripping for me before I destroy it. ”
“Oh, God,” I pant as his hands tease me with hard and fast little strokes before pulling away. My pussy clenches, right on the cusp of orgasm, as his other hand wraps around my throat and gently squeezes. “Please, West.”
“What darlin’, you don’t like my teasing?”
“I need to come,” I say breathlessly, but I want more. I don’t just want his hands on me, I want mine on him too. I want to feel the weight of him in my palm and see for myself if he’s really as big as I think he is. “If you keep that up, I’m going to come, but I wanna touch you too.”
“No, Dais. Tonight is just about you.”
“Please, West.” I slide a hand underneath me, stroking his dick through the worn denim.
He groans against the shell of my ear, and I don’t know if I’ve ever heard a more erotic sound.
I stroke him, somewhat clumsily, and finally unfasten his zip.
Warm, velvet skin greets me, and I take him in my hand, grasping his hard length as well as I can with the awkward position we’re in.
I focus my attention on his crown, wide and hot, beading with precum that helps to lubricate my strokes.
“Jesus,” West hisses. My pussy pulses with need as he continues to toy with me, hard and fast, and right when I’m on the precipice, he slows his movements and brings me to the edge again with soft and sensual strokes.
“You’re gonna be the death of me, darlin’.
” His words are graveled and filled with need, and I take some small pleasure in the fact that I can make him feel as desperate for me, as I do for him.
“Oh, West. Oh god,” I cry as his hands keep up their relentless pace and pull me over the edge. Pleasure floods my system, my breath comes in short, sharp pants and my toes curl as my orgasm rips through me, setting my whole body on fire.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” West groans as he spills into my hand. Thick jets of come bathe my lower back and I collapse into him sweaty, sticky, and completely satiated.
West tightens his arms around me and inhales as he presses a kiss to my neck. “I fucking love making a mess with you.”