11. Sadie
Chapter 11
Sadie
“ A nd you took your salt pills?” Barrett asks.
I barely suppress a giggle. I mentioned my fainting disorder to Barrett this morning when he asked about the pill I swallowed. He hasn’t stopped hovering over me since. I think he expects me to just fall to the ground at any moment. “Yes, I took my pill, and I’m fine. It doesn’t happen often.”
He looks doubtful for a moment. “But you feel fine now.”
“I told you. I faint sometimes but not all the time. I feel great today. Now, come on. Show me this house of yours.”
He finally relents. “But you’ll tell me if you feel bad.”
“Promise,” I tell him, just so we can get out the door. Last night, we spent the night together in my bed. There’s just something about having him beside me. He really is my teddy bear.
We get to the Maple Farm just as the first ribbons of light burst through the darkened sky. Sunrise looks different with Barrett. Before him, it always came with a sense of relief, like I’d finally made it through an overwhelming battle. But now, I see it as a new adventure. A chance to spend more time with the man that’s quickly becoming my whole world.
He pulls his truck into the driveway. It’s a two-story farmhouse. It’s a cheerful yellow color with red shutters.
The porch is bare, but I imagine putting a couple of wicker chairs and some throw pillows on it. Maybe I’d even hang a fern or two.
“Your house is incredible,” I whisper right as a big mutt comes bounding onto the porch. He’s almost as tall as me when he throws himself onto his hind legs and begins to cover my face in doggie kisses.
“Well, hello there, Skip. My name is Sadie,” I tell my enthusiastic host with a laugh.
Barrett calls his dog’s name, and Skip drops down from me. He sends my boyfriend a reproachful glare as if to tell him we were just having fun.
“Let me give you the grand tour.”
While Skip follows me around, Barrett leads me to the kitchen that’s easily a chef’s dream with the double ovens and top-of-the-line cooktop. The island in the middle is located just under a skylight. I could imagine making dinner here every night with Barrett. I imagine stealing kisses in between chopping vegetables and laughing together at our kids’ latest antics.
The living room has a rolling bookcase underneath the stairs that opens to reveal a secret room.
“What’s it for?” I ask, glancing into the space. It’s well-lit, but the ceiling is slanted. I’d definitely have to kneel if I wanted to store anything inside of it.
“I was thinking kids. Might give junior a place to pretend he has a fort or a place for our little girl to host tea parties with her stuffed animals.”
“It’d also make a nice place to sneak away with a cowboy,” I tell him, giving him a wink.
He shows me the rest of the house, pausing to point out various features. It’s obvious he put thought into every element of building his house.
“Your home is perfect,” I tell him and watch as his chest puffs out underneath his t-shirt. I think he was nervous about showing it to me, which is crazy. His home lacks a woman’s touch, but it’s beautiful. The perfect oasis right in the middle of the family farm.
Outside, Barrett demonstrates what a day in his life looks like. I tag along and watch him do his farm chores, which is not something my ovaries were prepared for. There’s nothing like watching my big, strong man lift those heavy hay bales or repair broken fences. I especially love the way he talks gently to the chickens when he feeds them.
He can even name every cow in the pasture just based on the numbers they’ve been tagged with. “Do the tags in their ears hurt them?”
“It’s no different than getting your ears pierced. The tags help us identify each animal and keep records. See number four hundred and sixty-two? That’s Daisy. She had ulcers in her hind hooves. Since we know that, we can inspect her hooves more frequently. Little things like that let us keep an eye on the herd and make sure they’re happy and healthy.”
“But some of them are tagged in the right ear and some in the left. What does that mean?” I ask, fascinated by his world. He asked me a million questions when he was at my bakery yesterday to understand what I do. Now it’s my turn to understand what he does.
“We do that so we can identify the gender easily. Left ear is a female. Right ear is a male. The tags help us know which calf belongs to which mama. The tags also tell me how old each animal is.”
“What about horses? Do you have any of those?”
“Over in the south pasture, we have a dozen or so,” he answers. “My favorite girl is in the barn. Want to meet her?”
I nod, and he puts a hand on my back as we walk toward the barn. He pauses every so often, telling me where to be careful on the path.
“You must know every square inch of this farm,” I breathe. I can’t imagine living in a place so long that I know everything about it.
He grins. “The closest thing to heaven on earth you’ll ever find is a farm.”
“It’s amazing,” I agree with him. It’s obvious from the way he talks about the farm that he loves it the same way I love my little bakery.
“And here’s our girl, Cookie,” he introduces me when he gets to the barn. “She’s a Missouri Fox Trotter. See how she has patches of white and chestnut in her coat? We call that coloring pinto.”
The horse knickers quietly as I approach. I don’t reach out my hand or try to pet her. “She’s so pretty. How old is she?”
“She just turned twenty. She’s our senior citizen.”
As soon as Barrett says that, Cookie makes a noise as if contesting the fact that she’s a senior citizen. He chuckles and asks, “Want to feed her?”
When I nod, Barrett gives me a banana, explaining how to offer her small bites.
I feed it to her, delighted when she takes the bite of fruit from me. I can’t help giggling at how it tickles my hand. “I thought she would like carrots or apples.”
“She’s lost a few teeth. Bananas are easier on her now, isn’t that right, Cookie?”
I keep asking him about Cookie as I give her the treat. When I’m done, he turns to me. “Want to see my favorite spot on the farm?”
I nod enthusiastically and he points behind me where a small wooden ladder is attached to a loft. “It’s up there.”
“Show it to me.” I shimmy up the ladder. There are dozens of hay bales up here, and plenty of straw scattered across the wood floor. But there are also a few blankets spread out and some lanterns that are already lit. The soft glow makes the loft feel cozy and romantic.
I settle on the blanket. From here, I can look out the barn window and see the blue sky with the big, fluffy white clouds rolling by.
He sits beside me, pausing to take off his boots. He flexes his toes and rolls his shoulders. I didn’t realize until I was here just how physical farming is. No wonder my man is so strong. He has to be to care for the animals and crops.
“I get why you love it up here. It’s soothing,” I tell him. He’s been sharing pieces of himself with me today. Vulnerability is a gift we give those we care about, and he’s offering it to me. I want him to know that he’s safe with me, the same way I’m safe with him.
He takes my hand in his big one and says, “This is one of the places I’d run away to when I got overwhelmed as a kid. I’d come up here and work on my jokes and card tricks. I’d practice becoming someone people liked.”
I squeeze his hand, my heart hurting for the little boy he was. “I like you, just the way you are.”
Something flickers on his face, and his gaze goes to my lips. His voice is deep and husky when he says, “I like you too.”
I reach for him at the same moment he reaches for me. My arms go around his neck, and he lowers his head. He explores my mouth with long, slow strokes of his tongue. I love that about him. He never rushes this. He always takes his time with me.
I grab fistful of his shirt. I want to touch him all over, the same way he has touched me. Seen me. Licked me. The thought makes my mouth water. “Off.”
He hesitates, and I ask him what’s wrong. “We’re different. You’re beautiful.”
For a half a second, I’m speechless. By the world’s standards, I know who is considered beautiful between us. I love my curves and the way I can fill out a pair of blue jeans. But Barrett, with his dark hair and bushy beard, looks like he was meant to be on a cowboy calendar.
“I’ve already seen you shirtless. You’re beautiful,” I answer softly. I’ve obviously poked at a tender spot on his heart even though I didn’t mean to. Granted, when I did see him shirtless, there was even less light than there is now.
He grunts but pulls off his shirt, grabbing it from behind to tug it over his head. He takes my hand and puts it in the middle of his chest. Instinctively, I stroke his soft hair. I love how big and hairy he is here. It makes that place between my legs tingle to think about.
Only this time I notice something I didn’t when I saw him shirtless last time. Now, I realize his chest is covered in scars. The hair covers a lot of it but now that I’m paying more attention to it, I can feel the jagged lines.
He’s still under my touch, barely breathing. It almost seems as if he’s waiting for me to bolt because he has scars.
Linda mentioned once that her boys came from an abusive home. I hate that someone hurt him, that the scars make him feel ugly and unworthy. “When I saw you shirtless for the first time, do you know what I thought?” I continue without giving him time to answer, “I thought with all of this yummy fur, you looked like a giant bear. Then you came barreling into my life, and I realized you really are my teddy bear.”
He grins, the smile revealing that one crooked tooth I love so much. “Don’t tell anyone that.”
I chuckle and keep stroking his chest. I move my hands lower and lower, brushing through the hair of his happy trail. When I get to the top of his jeans, I lift my fingers and start again at his pecs. “Fine but when we’re alone, you’re my teddy bear.”
He tucks my hair behind my ear. “Deal.”
I reach for the button on his jeans and unzip his pants. Then slowly, I remove his cock. It’s so big and already pulsing. “I can’t wait to feel it inside of me. But first, I need this.”
When I tell him that, I kiss his shaft before licking it all over. He tastes so good, and I love the weight of him in my hand. Finally, I get brave and put the tip of him inside my mouth. He’s big, and it’s a stretch but I keep trying until I can take more of him.
He pulls out before he can come and growls at me, “All fours. Now.”
As I’m scrambling into position, he flips up my dress and yanks my panties down before impaling himself. We both groan the moment he slides home. He takes me quickly, thrusting in and out of my hot channel while gripping my wide hips. The entire time he’s inside of me, he’s saying filthy things.
Just as I’m on the edge, he pinches my swollen nub, and I go up in flames. I feel my body milking him, taking every drop of his come.
After he’s finished filling me up, he takes tender care of me. He spreads us both out on the blankets and covers me up. “Such a good girl,” he croons as he puts a hand possessively on my stomach. “You’re going to take my come and make a baby just for me.”
“What if it takes a little while?” I ask. I started reading about fertility yesterday and how it can take a woman up to a year to conceive the natural way.
“Don’t you worry. I’m going to keep you filled with my come. You’ll be dripping every day until your belly is swollen with my child.”
I smile at the future he’s painting for us. I want a dozen of his kids and a thousand more days on the farm just like this one.