8. Sadie
Chapter 8
Sadie
W hen I call his name, it’s a whimper. It’s a plea. Maybe it’s a prayer. I don’t know what it is. All I know is I need him.
He shoves the clothes at me. His voice is raspy, thick with desire, when he says, “Get dressed. I’ll get a fire going.”
I change into the gray yoga pants and the flowing tunic with purple flowers on it. Desire thrums just under my skin, crackling like electricity. My nipples are hard points, my core is slick and swollen. Everything in me aches, desperate to rub myself against Barrett.
“Get it together,” I tell myself when I finally click off the hair dryer. My long, black hair is still damp. It’s wavy and soft and I don’t try to scoop it back into a bun.
Barefoot, I pad through the cabin until I find the living room where Barrett has started a fire. In front of the fireplace, he’s put down a pile of blankets and he’s already waiting for me in them. He’s changed into dry clothes, a white t-shirt and pair of blue jeans. He smiles up at me as soon as I come into the room. With a start, I realize that no one has ever been happy to see me.
I join him in the pile of blankets, and he instantly tucks one around my shoulders. When he pulls my hair free, so it’s not trapped under the blanket, his fingertips brush the sensitive skin of the nape of my neck. The touch is intimate, and I blink back tears. I’ve never been with someone that takes care of me the way Barrett always does.
I squeeze my eyes shut and will back the tears. “Don’t forget about me.”
He starts a slow massage of my neck, his touch sending warmth through me. “Tell me.”
“My mom was an addict. When she wanted to get high, she’d lock me in the closet in our apartment. It was small and dark, and it always smelled funny in there. But that wasn’t the hard part. The hard thing is she forgot I was there. She’d party for days at a time never thinking about me. Even now, it’s difficult for me to sleep at night. I don’t like the dark.”
He swears under his breath. “That never should have happened.”
Now that I’ve started talking, I can’t seem to stop telling him my story, “When a teacher finally noticed my absence, the state got involved. I was shuffled between various foster families for a few months before I was returned to my mom. The cycle continued until I was able to get a job working as a waitress when I was a teenager.”
“My strong, beautiful girl.” He places a soft kiss on the top of my head. “No wonder you’ve been so scared of what’s happening between us.”
It hurts to admit the truth, to tell him why I’ve been holding back so much from him. “I can’t give you my heart because it’s not whole. It’s only fractured pieces, and a guy like you deserves the world.”
His hands go lower, massaging my shoulders. I’m leaning into his touch, my muscles relaxing under his fingers.
“Then give me the pieces. That’s enough for me,” he promises, his voice a deep rumble as the thunder booms outside.
There’s no missing the sincerity in his voice, but it can’t really be that simple. “What if someday it’s not enough for you? What if the jagged edges cut you open?”
“Then I’ll bleed for you. I’ll bleed with you. And when the bleeding is over, I’ll stitch all the wounded places of your heart back together again. You don’t have to be whole. Just let me love you while you’re broken.”
A tear rolls down my face, and I quickly swipe it away before he can see it. I’ve never been cared for, and I don’t know how to let myself be loved. “Can we go slow?”
He makes a hum of approval. “As long as we travel together, we can go as slow as you need.”
I blow out a shaky breath. I feel like I’m on the edge of a cliff and I’m about to jump. I have no idea what’s going to happen next, but I need to know I tried. I need to know I was brave. “Just be gentle on my heart.”
“Always, beautiful girl,” he says and the way he says those words makes me think that everything is going to be OK.
We drift into silence, interrupted only by the noise of the crackling fire and the lashing rain against the windowpanes.
“Mm, that feels really good,” I tell him, leaning into his touch. The way he’s massaging my tense muscles and holding onto me is making me feel things. Fluttery things low in my belly.
I’m not sure how to tell him that though. I’ve never been in this situation before. I’ve never liked a guy so much that I wanted his hands on me. “There are other places…that maybe…you could massage too. If you know, you want to.”
“Would that make you happy?” His voice is deeper than usual. It sends a shiver down my spine. He sounds like a predator about to pounce, and I’d love nothing more than to be the helpless prey he overpowers.
I nod then realize he’s probably waiting for my words. “And maybe that other thing about the frosting.”
He hasn’t stopped massaging my shoulders and back, moving his hands all around my body like he owns it now. In a lot of ways, I think he does. The same way he’s beginning to own little pieces of my heart. “Are you gonna let me lick your sweet little pussy, lap up all your cream and make you clean again?”
I squirm on the blankets, suddenly burning up in a way that has nothing to do with the fire in front of me. “Yes, I want that.”
“Then lay down for me. Just relax into the soft blankets and let your man cherish you.”
He helps me to lie down on the blanket, and I wait, breath held, to see what he’ll do next.
But he doesn’t dive into immediately undressing me. Instead, he stares down at me with a faint smile on his lips.
“Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?”
I haven’t even taken off any clothes yet and he’s still looking at me like my body delights him. “Show me.”
He positions his body over top of mine, careful to keep his weight off me. His lips find mine and he’s kissing me. He kisses me like he talks to me. It’s all about dirty possession, and I love it. I love the idea that I could belong to him. At least, for now.
When he finally lifts his head long enough to let me dizzily drink in a few gasps of oxygen, he doesn’t stop kissing me. He keeps pressing his lips to my jaw then down my neck. His beard tickles me with each gentle nuzzle.
I arch my body up against his, desperately seeking friction. I call his name as he trails his kisses lower until he’s at the top of the tunic.
“Need to see you. Need to see my girl.” Before I can respond, he pulls up my shirt, exposing my stomach and tits to his view.
I think I should be embarrassed, but there’s pure lust on his face as he takes in my jiggly stomach with the rolls and cellulite. He stares in delight at breasts that flop down. They’re far too big to be those cute, pert little breasts that I always see on social media as the girls in their tiny bikinis show off their perfect summer bodies.
I’ve been working with a set of G-cups since I was fourteen. There’s nothing perky about my boobs.
He puts his hand on my breast, rubbing his thumb over my nipple. “You’re perfect.”
Tears spring to my eyes because lying here with him looking at me, I don’t feel abandoned or broken. I feel wanted and that’s almost as intoxicating as the way he’s touching me.
He massages my breasts, tugging on my nipples and licking them until I think I’ll go insane from need. Every caress and every touch is making the fire below burn even brighter.
By the time he reaches for the waistband of these yoga pants and pulls them down, my legs fall open for his perusal.
He didn’t hand me any panties earlier when he shoved clothes at me. Now I’m glad. It’s one less thing between the two of us.
“Fuck, I won the lottery when I found you,” he breathes out.
I’m not sure that’s true but I’m not arguing with the man who’s currently spreading my glistening pussy lips.
“Just found my new favorite color,” he says before ducks his head and licks my slit.
I nearly levitate off the floor it’s so good. I can’t believe I’ve never had this experience before. But I know it’s about more than just the physical. He makes me feel safe. Even as the thunderstorm pounds the windows outside and the lights flicker, I know I’m completely safe with this cowboy who’s currently buried his face in my pussy.
He puts his arm over my hips to hold me in place then goes back to eating me out. He makes little noises of approval as he laps at me, as if he’s enjoying the finest cuisine from a fancy restaurant and not tasting me. The sounds he’s making are somehow obscene and erotic at the same time.
But it’s when he circles my clit with his tongue that my eyes roll back. I’ve never felt anything like that. I always thought it was a thing in romance books and movies. I never realized that oral was something I’d enjoy this much.
I can barely remember my own name as he lavishes all his attention on that tiny bud filled with thousands of nerve endings. I clutch at the thick blankets beneath me, the orgasm starting to roll through me.
He ignores my gasps and cries, eating me through my orgasm like he’s just found his religion. Then again, I’m pretty sure I saw some heavenly things when he made me come.
When he’s done, he kisses his way back up on my body. He re-arranges my clothes as he goes, helping me into them.
“What about you?” I ask, my words already slurring. I didn’t realize how sleepy I am until just now.
“We’re taking this slow.” He presses a soft kiss to my temple as he spoons me. “Sleep for now.”
Then he wraps his arms around me and pulls me close. As I’m drifting to sleep, I remember my thoughts that he’d be like cuddling with a giant teddy bear. Turns out, I was exactly right.