Chapter 42
“Greyson! What are you doing?” As soon as he opened my door, he plucked me from the truck and tossed me over one shoulder like a bag of flour.
“Ouch!” The smack he gives my ass stings like a bitch.
“Quit squirmin’ around. I don’t want to drop you,” Greyson says, with a lighter smack.
I switch tactics and paddle his Wrangler butt as he marches me along a tree-covered part of Lucky Spurs Ranch I haven’t been to yet.
“You’ll see in just a second,” he grunts. Greyson might be unreasonably strong, but I’m a grown woman, and he’s been carrying me so long I’m struggling to keep my head up, and things are starting to go tingly and numb.
He jolts to a stop, well maybe he doesn’t jolt, but I sure do, and he sets me on my feet gentle as can be.
“You alright?” He rights my clothes and checks me over for any pain from our trek.
“Yea, I’m fine. I may not be old, but this has reminded me I’m in fact, not a teenager anymore and my rebound time is much slower.” I feign wooziness, but when panic fills Greyson’s face, I stop and assure him I’m really fine.
“Okay, nooooow do you want to tell me what we’re doing?” I hang from his shoulders, head tilted up accepting and offering kiss after kiss. He peels me off him and holds my hands between us.
“I promised to never keep secrets from you unless it was for you or the girls’ safety, but I forgot to add one other caveat to my promise. Secrets are acceptable if they’re temporary, to surprise the other person with something like a gift,” he says earnestly.
“I agree.” It takes focused control of every tiny muscle in my face to bite back my smile.
Greyson might be an enigma to some, but I know him through and through. If this was a bad secret, he’d be in militaristic protection mode. Instead, he’s nervously shuffling his feet, biting the inside of his lips, and has the faintest flush to his cheeks.
“Remember about a month ago when I had that heart-to-heart with Walter?” His eyes flit to meet mine but don’t linger. My smile’s getting harder to contain, this man…
“Of course. It was the day you accepted your place in their family—and I couldn’t be prouder of you, my love.” I reach up for a kiss.
“Well, something else significant happened during that talk, and I’m finally ready to show it to you.”
“Show me?” My smile bursts through my restraint full force, all teeth on display.
“Walter wasn’t kidding when he said I was their son just as much as James, Reid, and Sam. They saved a plot of land for me to build a life on just like James and Reid did. Like how they ultimately built Sam’s Cabin and guest cabins on Sam’s land with Quincy’s approval.”
His strong voice cuts off in his tightening throat. “A parcel has been waiting for me since my dad died.”
Emotion floods his eyes as gratitude and grief fight an un-winnable battle, because they have to find a way to co-exist. I couldn’t stop my tears if I tried, but they’re the happiest of happy tears.
“That’s incredible, babe! I’m so happy for you.”
He deserves this. He deserves to be loved unconditionally and to be put first.
“I’m hoping you’ll be happy for both of us, well, all four of us,” he says nervously.
“Of course I am. I go where you go, Greyson. Your happiness is my happiness.” His callouses meet my palms when I give them a double squeeze.
He must be satisfied with my assurance, because he turns me by the hand to see what I’ve had my back to.
A large log cabin sprawls beneath the clouds, shaded by the towering aspen and evergreen trees surrounding us.
“My plot of land includes the original ranch house, back from when this was an operational cattle ranch, going back generations. The family’s maintained it over the years, and as it stands, it’s completely livable—it’s passed all safety inspections, and any immediate issues were fixed.
We could move in tomorrow if you wanted.
But if you’ll hear me out—” I press a finger to his rambling lips.
“There’s nothing to hear out. This is more than I ever dreamed of. Whatever you want to do with this house, my answer is yes.”
“Yes?”
“Yes, babe. I’m unquestionably a yes.”
Greyson answers by picking me up and spinning us in a circle.
“Do you want to see it?” he asks.
I pinch his side hard enough he slaps my hand away.
“Damn, woman. What was that for?”
“Of course I want to see it!” I chastise playfully.
When he doesn’t immediately move, I push on his Wrangler butt to get it in gear.
“Show me everything!”
We walk the exterior first. The cabin is an “L” shape with multiple entryways. The logs are in amazing condition and freshly sealed. The windows are on the newer side which will be a lifesaver during deep winter.
Greyson explains how he plans to build a large hybrid building to serve as our garage, shed, and workshop.
He asks if I want a stable built outside for Pickle, and I break my own “yes to everything” promise and say no.
Pickle is such a social boy, he’d be miserable out here alone when he’s happy in the main stables.
Working our way inside, the cabin is laid out with one wing of the “L” as bedrooms, the other wing housing the kitchen, dining area, and family room.
A couple bathrooms are sprinkled throughout the cabin, and Greyson details how he plans to break down a wall between the two back bedrooms and adjacent bathroom to make a master suite. He also plans to convert two bedrooms with a bathroom between into a Jack and Jill layout for the girls.
Seeing as this cabin housed numerous children and the occasional ranch worker, there are a ton of bedrooms. We excitedly discuss a playroom, an office—a freaking home library.
When Greyson mentioned creating an exterior door in the library so I could have fresh air and easily access the porch, I nearly kissed him to death.
Our tour lands us back in the kitchen, where Greyson’s hoisted me onto the counter and is standing between my legs, massaging my thighs.
“For the kitchen, I’m gonna need your input, honey. I want you to have the double ovens and humongous fridge, and whatever features will make cooking easiest for you. You’ve already mastered it though, seeing as you already spoil us in the apartment’s tiny kitchen.”
Greyson pats his softening belly as evidence of his love of my cooking.
“I hope I didn’t overwhelm you talking about how this house has always been jam packed with kids. Back then, there wasn’t birth control, and more kids meant more hands to help on the ranch. Times have changed, and I wasn’t implying we need to fill the house with kids,” he says sheepishly.
“I know you didn’t mean any of it that way. Don’t worry about it.”
“If I would’ve known that you were on my horizon, I might not have gotten my vasectomy.
I need you to know I’ll go in for an attempted reversal in a heartbeat if you want more kids.
” And I know he would. “You said once that if it was with the right person, at the right time in your life, you might want more kids, and I want you to have that opportunity.”
“No, babe. I’m very happy with our little family. The second Harper called me ‘mommy’ my heart was full to the brim. Our family is already complete, and I wouldn’t have it any other way,” I promise from the depths of my soul.
The tour of the cabin has been an emotional rollercoaster, and I know exactly what we need to reset.
“We can just get lots of practice making them instead.”
Heat flares in his eyes on cue. Greyson makes quick work of my belt and jeans, and I lift myself off the counter so he can slip off my panties with my jeans, taking my socks and boots as he goes. His hands burrow under my sweatshirt, and I’m greeted with a deep groan.
“Are you telling me I’ve had you alone all day and your tits have been bare beneath your shirt the entire time?”
I nod, biting my bottom lip. I gasp as he tightly cups my breasts and kneads them in his weathered palms.
“These nipples could cut glass, honey” Greyson pinches and twists them roughly. Now it’s my turn to groan; he knows how impatient that makes me.
“You’re so fucking beautiful, Mia. I still can’t believe you’re real. That you’re mine.”
Greyson lowers to his knees and pulls me to the edge of the counter, draping my legs over his shoulders. Supported by my elbows, I watch through flickering eyelids as he licks and teases the outside of my pussy.
My hips writhe, chasing the sensation.
“You need something, honey? You need my tongue buried deep in this pretty pink pussy?” I clench on air; his dirty talk gets me every time.
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s my good girl.”
Greyson parts me with his thumbs, spreading me wide. The stretch turns me on so much, a wave of arousal slicks my pussy, cooling against my flesh in the chilly room.
“So fucking sexy.” Greyson dips his tongue it my stretched hole to collect the mess I made for him.
“So wet for me. Such a good girl for me, aren’t you honey?”
“Yes, s-sir,” I stutter as he presses his mouth onto my sex and sucks. His beard scratches against my taint and I levitate off the counter.
It doesn’t take much for Greyson’s sinful mouth to coax my hips down.
He devours me, there’s too much sensation everywhere. Somehow, he’s sucking, flicking, massaging, and nipping at my clit all at once, at least three fingers are fucking my pussy, and I’m pretty sure there’s a finger in my ass.
It feels incredible, but I just can’t crest that hill. I gather the courage to admit. “I don’t think I can come this way.”
Greyson continues working over my body but slows and focuses on my words.
“I’m at a weird angle, and the counter’s digging into my back, and I can’t come if I’m scrunching all my other muscles trying not to fall.”
I wince, fearing he’ll be frustrated or disappointed—my trauma won’t disappear in only a few months. Greyson shows me my worth yet again, standing and righting me on the counter. He takes off his jacket and covers my naked lower half.
“I should’ve felt you tense up. I’m sorry, honey. I lose myself in you.” His apology is unnecessary, and I barely hear it with my focus aimed at his hard cock pressing against his jeans.
“It’s oka—”
“No, it isn’t,” Greyson insists.
“Be right back,” he hollers as he practically sprints from the cabin.
He returns with a couple heavy cargo blankets and lays them out as a makeshift bed in the living room. He runs back outside, bringing back with him kindling, which he uses to start a fire in the long-since used fireplace.
Greyson dusts off his hands and retrieves me from the counter like a bride crossing the threshold. He gently lays me out on the blankets which are leaps and bounds more comfortable than the kitchen counter.
I sit up and take off my sweatshirt, tossing it across the floor, looking up at the eye candy standing before me.
“What do you say we christen our new house, cowboy?”
“I’m not a cowboy, honey.” Greyson chuckles as he unbuttons his light flannel.
“Well, you’re not a rancher, there’s no cattle to ranch.
You’re not a farmer, there aren’t any crops.
You sure as hell aren’t a city boy or a townie.
You have a Clark heart wrapped in Andersen love.
You’d be hard pressed to argue Reid isn’t a cowboy, or that Walter wasn’t during his prime.
Even Connor’s a cowboy, he—” Greyson stops me.
“Mia, honey, I never want another man’s name coming from your mouth when your juices are drying in my beard, and you’re sprawled out waiting for me to fuck you.”
Holy hell. He’s going to kill me with his dirty talk.
“Yes, sir.”
“We’re going to table the cowboy talk in favor of me getting inside your cunt.”
The flannel goes flying along with his undershirt. Boots are toed off, and socks removed. As soon as he unbuttons his jeans, his cock bobs behind his boxer briefs, a wet spot of pre-cum seeping from the head of his cock.
“Yes please.” My fingers itch to scratch down his chest through the soft hair and scrape against his nipples.
The boxer briefs are the last to go and like every time Greyson undresses while he’s hard, my jaw drops at the sight of his thick, heavy cock.
“What do you want, Mia?” he growls, kneeling between my parted legs.
He expects me to say I want him, or I want him to fuck me—but I’ve been reading a lot of the books Delilah and Izzy share with me, and I want to try dirty talking, myself.
“I want you to stroke your cock while I talk.” His eyebrows bounce, but his hand wraps around his cock moving up and down in a twisting motion.
“Touch me with your other hand,” he complies immediately, running his warm hand up the inside of my thigh, his thumb slipping up and down my slit.
“I want you to manhandle me so rough I have fingerprint-bruises tomorrow. I want you to flip me over and force me onto my knees, holding my hands behind my back, with my face against the blankets.”
Greyson’s nostrils flare, pupils blown and chest heaves as he squeezes his cock. His fingers dig harder into my thigh and dip deeper into my slit with each pass.
“I want you to fuck me from behind so deep you bottom out. I want your fat cock to stretch me wide and pound into me so hard I feel you inside me tomorrow.”
My increasingly dirty requests have Greyson coming apart at the seams. Our eyes meet through the lusty haze, his having been roving over my naked body with greed and salacious intentions.
“I want you to fill me with your cum. I want you dripping from my used hole, spilling out when you slide out of my pussy. That’s what I want,” I finish, knowing full well I broke him.
“For the love of god, Mia. You’re going to send me to an early grave with a mouth like that. You have no idea how bad I want to fuck the life out of you, consume you. I’ll give you anything you want, honey. Are you ready for how intense this is going to be? Emotionally?”
I fall more in love with this man every day from moments just like this.
“I’m ready. And if I falter, you’re here to hold me up and help me through.”
Hand still wrapped around his hard dick, I’m out of my mind with how badly I need him inside me. Greyson nods, thinking everything over one more time.
I’m asking him to give me back my power. Anytime I was forced or held down by my ex, I felt weak, ashamed, and worthless. I’m asking Greyson to dominate my body in a way I feel safe, sexy, and powerful.
And he does.
Three times.