Chapter 30 Hutch
Hutch
The second the door closes behind Ginger and Hales, I want to go after her. I’d wanted her to come home with me. But what was home? A shitty mattress in the back of the Vanagon? It was that or the old ass couch in my shop, neither of which was the prime location for what I wanted to do with Ginger.
The van was cramped as fuck. Sure, we’d made it work on the road, but that was because we’d had to.
I’ve always known she was a control freak, but now that I’ve gotten a glimpse of the real Ginger, the one that pushes me until I take that control, the one who craves my dominance, the van with its low ceilings and lumpy bed isn’t going to cut it.
As I listen to Hudson rant about the four-way inspection we’ve scheduled for his house this week, my mind settles into making plans for a permanent bedroom in the shop.
I’ve got plenty of space for a bed—king-sized, even, if I want—and a dresser. The skylights will add a nice touch at night. I designed it that way on purpose so that when I eventually did move in, it would still feel like I was sleeping under the stars.
That shit’s romantic as fuck, too. Wait.
Why the hell am I thinking about romance?
I mean, Ginger deserves that, right? Not that I’m the guy to give it to her.
I mean, there was nothing romantic about humping each other till we came, or the horny shit I whispered in her ear, my cock so hard I thought it would punch through the front of my jeans.
“You listening to me, dickhead?” Hudson asks, pulling me from the full-blown conversation I’m having with myself in my head.
“Everything will be fine, man,” I tell my brother, glancing up to where Finn is nestled against him on Wren and Hank’s couch. I’m not sure where they went off to. Either fucking somewhere or getting their girls down for the night. Probably the latter.
“I’m gonna take off,” I say, pushing off the couch and shrugging on my flannel.
Once I’m outside and driving away from my brother’s house, I still can’t get Ginger out of my mind.
Hank and I live out in the sticks, but at opposite ends of the Timber Forge valley.
So when I hit Main Street, I turn in the direction of Hales’ place instead of heading West. Oakley went out before I left this afternoon and he should be fine for a couple of hours.
He has an outdoor run he can get to via the dog door if he needs to go out while I’m gone, so I don’t worry too much about leaving him alone.
When I finally pull up to Hayley’s, all the lights are out.
I sit in my truck, idling at the curb, and peer out at the house. I don’t know for sure which room Ginger is staying in, but both guest rooms are on the second floor, with Hayley’s on the main level. I figure I’ve got a fifty-fifty shot of finding the right window on the first try.
Climbing out of the car, I shut the door quietly and make my way up the driveway, bypassing the porch to the side yard.
Both windows to the bedrooms are dark. Glancing at my watch, it’s after ten.
I could text or call her, but I don’t want to risk waking Hayley up on the off chance that Ginger sleeps with her ringer on in case her kids need her.
Casting my glance around the darkened yard. My eyes land on the flower bed at my feet. I bend over and pick up a handful of small rocks, big enough to make a sound when they hit the window, but not big enough—hopefully—to break the glass.
I probably look ridiculous wandering around in the dark in the yard, throwing rocks at her window like some lovesick teenager.
But I don’t give a shit. That conversation on the deck has my gears turning, and honestly, I’d do just about anything to get Ginger’s attention at this point.
Why? I don’t fucking know, but here we are.
Taking one last glance out to the street, I pull back my arm, aiming for the window, and let one of the pebbles fly. It hits the window with a muffled tink and then drops back down, barely missing my head.
I wait a beat or two, but when there is no movement from the curtains, I try again, throwing the next pebble a little harder. Maybe it’s too quiet? It’s also possible that I have the wrong window.
Still nothing.
Moving to the other window, I’m about to chuck the next pebble when the curtain moves and I see Ginger peering down at me. I can’t make out much of her features, but I can see her moving to unlock the window.
She flips the latch and slides the window up. The movement exposes her stomach in a little crop top, the tight points of her nipples clearly visible against the light fabric, even from the ground.
My mouth goes dry, and she whisper-shouts, “What the hell are you doing?”
I grin up at her. “What? This is romantic as fuck.”
Wait, what?
She stares at me; one flawless auburn eyebrow arched over skeptical blue eyes. A soft smile tugs at her lips as she lightly shakes her head. “What are you talking about?”
“Come let me in before I freeze my nuts off,” I tell her, ignoring her question.
“It’s July.”
“It’s Montana,” I volley back.
“You’re ridiculous.”
“Okay, then, let me in before they fall off from blue balls.”
That earns me a little chuckle and it’s music to my ears. She glances behind her, maybe to check and make sure Hales doesn’t hear her, then turns back to the window.
“Your sister is asleep right downstairs.”
“I can be quiet.”
She rolls her eyes. “Says the guy standing outside, chucking rocks at my window at ten o’clock at night.”
“Come on.” I wait a beat, staring up at her. “Please?”
She narrows her eyes at me. “Are you drunk?”
“Jesus, no. I just…” I lift my hands and drop them at my sides, looking around.
I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. I only know I’d rather be here with her than go home alone, and that is a foreign fucking feeling. Apparently, it makes me desperate, too, because for the first time, I think she might turn me down.
She seems to weigh her options, flicking her gaze over me before she reluctantly nods. “Gimme a minute.”
“Okay,” I whisper-shout. “I’ll wait on the porch.”
I hear the slide of the window closing and make my way back to the front of the house, creeping like a ninja.
It only takes a few minutes before I hear the deadbolt unlatch and the door swings open quietly, revealing Ginger in that same crop top and pair of sweatpants.
Even in her pajamas, she’s sexy as fuck.
I grin at her.
She rolls her eyes with a tiny smirk and waves me forward, stepping to the side so I can cross the threshold. She shuts the door behind me, and I immediately reach for her, tugging her to me by the softness of her waist. She still smells so fucking good.
She puts a hand on my abs and pushes me back a half step, searching my eyes, then dropping her gaze to my mouth.
She launches herself at me, my hands immediately bracketing her waist, making me stumble back against the closed door a bit as I take her weight.
She swipes her tongue into my mouth, dancing it over mine, devouring my mouth as I moan against her.
We kiss until we’re both breathless, hands roaming, teeth clashing, chests heaving.
Reaching down, she cups my dick through my jeans, giving it a rough squeeze and making me groan.
“Upstairs,” I pant against her mouth, “now.”
She turns, and we hurry through the living room and kitchen, careful to keep our footsteps light since Hales’ bedroom is less than thirty feet away.
We head up the stairs and down the hall.
I follow her into her room and shut the door behind me, feeling like a fifteen-year-old kid sneaking a girl into his room while his parents are asleep down the hall.
I reach for her, dropping my eyes down to her chest. Her nipples are still hard, so I bend and take one in my mouth through her shirt, snaking an arm around her waist. She gasps when I suck hard, arching against me.
“Let me get between these thighs again, yeah?” I whisper against her full tit, then scrape my teeth across it, making it peak impossibly further.
She whimpers and nods as I look up at her, still toying with her nipple through her shirt.
My voice comes out strained with need and I hardly recognize it. “I can’t wait to get my dick inside you. Do you have a preference on which one of your pretty little holes I fuck first?”
I back her up until her knees hit the mattress, and she clutches onto my shirt to stay upright before crashing her mouth to mine.
When we finally come up for air, I kiss down her neck, over her collarbone, where I nip it lightly.
“Should I bend you over and make a mess of that needy pussy?” I ask, low, all gravel and need, then squeeze a handful of her luscious ass.
I wrap my other hand around the front of her throat, her pulse jumping at the contact.
“Or would you rather I put you on your knees and remind you who owns this throat?”
“Holy shit,” she breathes right before I devour her mouth with mine.
“Should I tie your hands and spank that slutty little clit, so you behave?” I ask against her mouth.
“Maybe I’ll get you right to the edge, then flip you over and fuck that tight ass of yours, so you remember who is really in charge here?
You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” I murmur.
“Want me to fill this pussy up with my fingers and stuff my cock in your ass?
“Mmm, fuck. Do something, please,” she pants against my lips.
I spin us so my back is to the bed, then yank her sweats down, leaving her in nothing but panties and her crop top.
I pull her forward gently by the waist and she lifts her arms so I can take off her shirt.
We fall to the bed and I grunt lightly as I take her weight, not because she’s particularly heavy, but because she feels so fucking good, all soft curves and long legs against me.
She fits so fucking well between my legs, round tits, flared hips, soft skin, red curls creating a curtain around her face. She leans in and kisses me again, making me moan.