Chapter 16-Benji
The Big C lives up to the name.
Hell, it overshoots it.
We crest the last ridge and Chase Baron’s spread rolls out in front of us—wide, clean, efficient as a machine built to print money.
Long lines of fencing, low barns with steel roofs, wind kicking dust across packed lanes where trucks and hands move like they’ve all got somewhere important to be.
Good operation.
Real good.
I clock it all in a glance—the layout, the traffic flow, the placement of the barns, the distance between holding pens and the insemination facility.
You don’t build something like this without knowing your stock and your business.
“Damn,” Esme murmurs beside me, leaning a little toward the window. “This place is huge.”
“Yeah, but size isn’t everything,” I tease, and she blushes just like I want her to.
“Yeah, yeah.”
“It’s run right,” I say, easing the truck down the lane toward the insemination barn. “That’s the difference.”
Alex sits up straighter in the back seat, already unplugging one earbud, his focus sharpening now that we’re here.
“Where do you want me, boss?” he asks.
“Insemination barn,” I tell him. “They’ll have the cryo tanks ready. Stick to the checklist. Don’t rush.”
“Yes, sir.”
Kid’s solid.
Quiet, but solid.
I bring the truck to a stop beside the barn, killing the engine.
The second the rumble dies, the place feels louder—men calling out, gates clanging, the low hum of cattle somewhere in the distance.
Work.
Good, honest work.
The kind me and the guys built Jersey Iron Ranch for.
Before I can even step out, I see him coming.
Chase Baron.
He’s older than me by a good eight, maybe ten years.
Built like a man who still works his own land even if he doesn’t have to.
Sun-weathered face, steady eyes, handshake kind of guy.
The kind of man people listen to.
I step down from the truck, boots hitting dirt, and meet him halfway.
“Gunner,” he says, extending his hand.
“Baron,” I reply, gripping it firm.
He nods once, approving.
“Heard good things,” he says. “Fast growth. Clean product. Reliable runs.”
“That’s the plan,” I answer.
Behind me, Alex’s already moving, popping the back and coordinating with Baron’s crew like he’s been doing this for years.
Good.
That’s what I like to see.
Chase’s gaze shifts past me then.
To the truck.
To her.
Esme hasn’t gotten out yet. She’s sitting there, watching everything with those sharp eyes of hers, taking it all in.
I feel it.
That same pull.
That same awareness.
Every damn second.
“Didn’t know you were bringing company,” Chase says casually, his lips spreading in a wide, appreciative grin.
My jaw tightens just a fraction.
“That’s my wife.”
The words come out without hesitation.
Without doubt.
Like they’ve been sitting there waiting to be said.
Chase’s brows lift slightly.
Then he nods.
“Ah,” he says, something like understanding flickering in his expression. “I see.”
Fuck yeah, you do.
Or at least enough.
“Well,” he goes on, shifting gears easy as breathing, “in that case, I hope you’ll both join us this evening. We’re having a little barbecue. Quarter’s been good—we’re celebrating with staff, friends, a few associates.”
He gestures out toward the far end of the property where I can see smoke already curling up from a set of big grills.
“You’re all welcome to stay in one of our guest cabins,” he adds. “I believe we have an empty one.
I glance back at the truck.
At her.
Then at Alex, who’s already halfway buried in logistics with Baron’s team.
We’ve got time.
And more than that—I’m not in a rush to put her back on the road just yet.
“Appreciate it,” I say. “We’ll take you up on that.”
Chase grins, clapping me once on the shoulder.
“Good. I’ll have someone show your guy where to park after the unload. You follow this path here and you’ll get to the guest cabins. I always keep number four open, that’ll be yours.”
“Thank you kindly.”
He heads off, already calling out orders to someone across the yard.
I turn back to the truck, walking around to her side and opening the door.
“You hear that?” I ask.
She looks up at me, lips curving just a little.
“Barbecue?” she says. “Guest cabin? I mean, I guess I’ve had worse invitations.”
I huff a quiet laugh.
“Yeah. Well. We’re not staying in the truck or some cheap motel tonight.”
Her brow lifts.
“Oh, I see? And who decided that?”
“I did.”
The words come out low.
Simple.
Final.
Something flickers in her eyes.
Not resistance.
Not exactly.
But something that says she heard me.
Alex interrupts, which is good and bad. He jogs over then, wiping his hands on his jeans.
“Everything’s set,” he says. “They’ve got the tanks stabilized. We’re good.”
“Good,” I nod. “You’ll bunk with their guys tonight.”
He blinks. “Uh—yeah. Sure.”
I hold his gaze just long enough to make it clear.
Not a suggestion. Because him sharing the cabin with us—that’s just not happening.
He nods again, quicker this time. “Got it.”
Good.
Because there’s no world where I’ve got anyone anywhere near Esme tonight.
No one but me.
It’s not even a question.
I turn back to Esme.
“Cabins are this way once we’re done,” I tell her.
She nods, sliding out of the truck, her hair catching the light, her shirt shifting just enough to remind me exactly what’s underneath.
Fuck.
My jaw tightens.
Focus.
We get through the rest of the unload clean.
Quick. Efficient.
Baron’s crew knows what they’re doing, and Alex holds his own like I knew he would.
By the time we’re done, the sun’s dipping lower, painting everything gold.
One of Baron’s hands leads us out to guest cabin number four—small, neat, set a little apart from the main traffic of the ranch.
Private.
Exactly what I want.
I drop our bags inside first.
It’s a single.
One bed.
One bath.
Good.
I turn back to her.
“You take the first shower,” I say.
Her lips twitch.
“Wow. Such a gentleman.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
She laughs softly and heads inside.
I give her a few minutes.
Five.
Maybe ten.
Long enough to hear the water kick on.
Long enough to picture exactly what’s happening in there.
Fuck.
I drag a hand down my face, pacing once across the small porch.
“This is a bad idea,” I mutter.
And I know it is.
Because everything between us is still a mess.
Still unresolved.
Still sitting on a knife’s edge.
But I also know—I’m not stopping this.
Not again.
Not when I’ve got her this close.
Not when she’s still mine.
So, I step further inside the room.
Kick off my boots.
Strip down fast, like if I hesitate even a second I might talk myself out of it.
Not happening.
I move toward the bathroom, hand settling on the door.
Pause.
Just for a second.
Then I open it.
Steam rolls out.
And there she is.
And just like that, any thought of restraint?
Gone.
I pull back the curtain—holy fucking shit—Esme is standing there, eyes wide, hands pressed to her chest as if trying to hide herself from me.
But that’s impossible because she’s just so—so big. Bountiful. Perfect.
“Benji,” she gasps my name, but that’s all she says because I’m already moving in.
I cup her cheeks and fuse her lips to mine.
Fuck, she tastes so good.
Like apples and cinnamon and home.
I groan as I lick into her, and she clutches at my shoulders.
I know I can’t fuck her again. Not until I get my hands on some condoms.
But I can taste her.
And I intend to.
“So fucking good,” I groan as I kiss my way to her neck, nipping her tender skin between my teeth as my hands roam over her lush curves.
“Benji, we can’t—”
“Shh, I know. I got you,” I tell her and I lick my way down her chest, stopping to suck on her ripe nipples.
“I fucking love your tits, Sweetheart,” I groan as I lick across them, pinching and twisting her hard buds with my fingers.
“Oh God,” she moans, lips parted, breath coming in faster, heavier now.
Her chest is heaving, and my cock is so hard while I play with her there.
Goddamn, she is divine.
I want to fuck her tits. I want to slide my cock between the valley of her tits. And I plan on doing just that.
But first, I’m gonna make her come on my tongue.