2. CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER TWO

WESTIN

The sun sets over Carter Ranch. Slowly, creeping down towards the northern mountains. Then it slips to bed, giving the world a few moments of pure gold before darkness falls.

I stand in the barn, elbows on the dutch door to the back stall. Inside is the black and white colt my son won't stop talking about. He's leggy, with big, bright eyes. Truthfully, he reminds me a bit of Rocky, who's now retired to the back pasture with Sunshine and Gracey. His gait is smoother, luckily for River.

"Dad."

I turn, looking down at River. It used to bother me that he looks like my father. But now I see he'll look just like me.

I think that means I've healed.

"Yeah?" I say.

River hooks his hands over the edge of the door, peering at his prize. "Can I name him Captain?"

I glance down. "Where'd you get that?"

"From a book," he says. "He looks like a captain. His forelock kinda looks like the brim of a hat."

His logic is rock solid. "You name him whatever you want."

"Is Captain a good name?" His brow creases.

"Is it the name you want?"

He nods, eyes still glued to the colt.

"Well, that's good enough then," I say. "I reckon we should let Captain sleep for a while. He's had a big day and I know your mother's about done with dinner."

He sighs, stepping out of the way so I can shut the top half of the door. We walk in silence to the porch. Overhead, the stars are out. Little glimmers of light in a velvety rich sky. Hemmed in by the great shadows of the mountains and the green hills. Carter Ranch is slowly crawling its way through a tepid spring. I'm glad summer is almost here and I can get a read on the harvest soon.

The front hall smells like dinner. The minute we set foot in the door, River gives a hoarse yell and pelts down the hall. I cock my head and hear it—my mother's voice.

She's sitting at the table, her husband Matthew at her side. River gives her a hug, nearly knocking her off the chair. Allison sends him a disapproving look across the room.

"What's all this?" I ask.

Diane appears behind me, slipping around my body to wash her hands in the sink. "Eve wants to take the kids tonight. There's a bull rider visiting Ryder Ranch and everybody's going up to see him tomorrow."

River starts hopping from one foot to the other. "I want to go! Dad, can I please go?"

Over his head, I lock eyes with my wife. Her face stays the same, but I know that look.

Goddamn, do I know that look.

"You go right ahead," I say.

Allison is less excited, but still looks interested. They both drop what they're doing and run upstairs to pack their overnight bags. Matthew shakes his head, smiling. Slowly, he gets up from his chair and crosses the room.

"I'll be right back," he says. "The truck's full of chicken feed so I need to move it so the kids can sit there."

"Let me," I say, following him down the hall.

The man's tough as nails, despite being a banker by trade. He shakes his head, walking carefully down the steps. Two years ago he got kicked in the thigh by a horse and it has slowed him down since. My mother has him in physical therapy, but it's his determination that keeps him moving.

I pull the tailgate down and circle the truck. "You tell Deacon I said to fuck himself," I say, hauling a bag of feed out.

Matthew laughs. "Yeah, alright, I will."

My mother appears at my shoulder. "Oh, you two love each other," she scolds. "Stop being so mean. You're worse to him than anybody."

"That's the only language he speaks," I say, hefting the bags into the back and shutting the tailgate.

The door opens and my son and daughter tumble out, my wife at their heels. My mother goes to the porch steps to say goodbye to Diane and I hang back. Matthew crosses his arms, watching with a faraway expression.

He was a widower, without children, when my mother met him. After River was born, he pulled me aside and thanked me for treating him like a stepfather and a member of my family. I didn't have words to tell him I'm just as grateful that he's the man my children have for a grandfather.

He sniffs, clearing his throat. "This is…good. Pretty good."

I watch my mother hug Diane and herd my children down the walkway. Maybe I clear my throat too.

"Yeah," I say. "Pretty good."

I hug my mother goodbye and help her into the truck beside Matthew. Then, after threatening my son into promising to behave, I shut the door and step back as they pull out of the driveway. The crunch of gravel dies away. Silence falls over the ranch.

Behind me, the screen door shuts.

The hair on the back of my neck prickles in the good kind of anticipation. I'm not particularly complicated anymore. Maybe that worked its way out when I was a younger man. Now, all I need is the land under my feet and my wife at the end of the day. Maybe throw a few good meals in between, and I'm more than happy.

I go up the walkway and lock the front door. She's in the kitchen, humming. Quietly, I walk to the end of the hall and lean against the wall to watch her. Standing right where I stood the day we met.

She's plating dinner. The radio bubbles in the corner, by the toaster. Maddie gave that radio to her as a wedding gift, and she likes to turn it down low and listen while she cooks.

"Hey, darling," I say.

She looks up, shaking her hair back. "You hungry, sir?"

My eyes drop, lingering over her body. "Yeah, I could eat."

She rolls her eyes, but she loves it. I sink down at the table. Tomorrow is Tuesday, our free use night where I get to do whatever I want with her. But tomorrow we won't have that freedom once the house is full again. When that happens, we both know we're switching up our days so we can make a little noise while the kids are gone.

Some nights I make her crawl on her hands and knees. Fuck her, all tied up, until she's incoherent. Other times, I lay her out on the table and eat, just to see how long it takes for her to beg for a break.

I'm not sure how I want her tonight. Not yet.

She sets the food down, a plate for each of us. We eat in silence, our hands interlocked. Then she whisks the empty plates away and starts the coffee pot. I stay where I'm at, watching her sober face as she disappears into our bedroom.

The coffee heats, filling the room with the scent of our private rituals. The bedroom door opens behind me. I keep still, listening for her bare feet as they move past me. I glance up and my stomach flips.

She's so damn pretty, I never get tired of looking. Over the years, I've picked up the subtle ways she expresses her desire. One of them is her little blue slip. She's had to replace it a few times. Maybe that's my fault, my hands got ahead of my head. But every time she makes one that looks just like it.

It's been a decade and a half of that blue slip, and it still takes all my words away when she wears it.

Her blonde waves and curls tumble soft down her back. Her only jewelry are her rings and discreet collar. It's so simple, and maybe that's what gets me going the hardest.

Eyes down, she pours coffee and a glass of whiskey. I shift my chair back, spreading my knees. Obediently, she perches on my thigh, her toes barely reaching the floor.

I push my face gently between her neck and shoulder. She smells sweet, like the perfume she wears sometimes. When I kiss her below the ear, I taste it bitter on my tongue.

"Were you a good girl?" I murmur.

Her spine lengthens. I feel her sex pulse once against my thigh.

"Yes, sir," she breathes.

Baring my teeth, I graze her shoulder. She moans softly, head falling to the side to give me access to her silky skin. My hand slides around her waist, turning her to straddle me. Gripping her soft thighs and wrapping them around my body.

Her breath hitches. I brush her hair back, my hand tightening on the back of her neck. Her pupils blow. Her breasts strain and I tug one shoulder of her slip down. Revealing a pink nipple, hard and inviting. My mouth closes over it and her hands wrap around my wrists. Holding tight as she lets her body go limp.

A sigh slips out. Like a little prayer on her lips.

I release her breast. "You going to be a good slut for me tonight?" I murmur.

"Yes," she gasps, writhing. "Yes, sir."

In one movement, I flip her around to face out. She moans as I push her slip up and pull her thong to the side. Her naked cunt is silky. When I run my fingers from her clit to her entrance, it's so wet that my touch glides. Jaw hard, I reach between us and unleash my cock, pushing my belt and pants aside.

"You sit on it for a minute, darling," I order.

She hesitates before gripping the edge of the table. Then she wriggles back and I guide my cock to her opening.

"Easy there," I murmur. "Take it nice and slow."

She presses back just as I ask. Wet heat wraps around the head of my cock. Tight, soft as velvet. It slips down and she moans, letting me know just how good it feels for her to be filled up.

"Hold on there," I say, when I'm halfway in. "Don't move until I give permission. Elbows on the table."

She groans, hips flexing. But she obeys. I reach over her head and take up my whiskey glass. Her pussy tightens, working the top half of my cock.

"None of that," I say, spanking her thigh. "You be good, hold still."

"Please," she gasps. "Just put it in, I want to feel you all the way."

I run my fingers down her back. Following the elegant curve of her spine. "No, be patient."

She sinks down over the table. Her head lolls to the side, her cheek against the wood. My cock is so hard it's aching. But I've had plenty of practice denying myself when we play together. I can keep my hips still and watch her suffer, her poor pussy aching for me to thrust in.

It's the perfect mix of pleasure and suffering that keeps me rock hard.

I sip the whiskey and play with the tips of her hair. "Can you tell me what you liked best since our last check in?"

"Do you mean sex?" Her voice is low, raspy.

I grip her soft hip, squeezing it to see if she'll move. She stays still, like such a good girl. "Let's stick to sex for now."

She's quiet and I know she's feeling self conscious. Her hip quivers and I release it, moving my touch around to her clit. The sound that comes out of her mouth is desperate.

"Talk to me, darling," I order.

She shudders, but doesn't move from my touch. Her clit is swollen, wet from her cunt. Using my ring and pointer fingers, I circle the hood a few times and swipe my middle back and forth.

"On Saturday," she gasps, "you fucked me and put the plug in."

My cock jerks inside her, blood pulsing through it. She moans, a tremor moving through her hips.

"Where did I fuck you?" I press.

"In my ass, sir," she whispers. "I like when you keep your cum inside me like that."

Roughly, I tug the other strap of her slip down. Her full, teardrop breasts fall free and I rub my palms over her nipples. Letting the soft, pink peaks get harder under my touch. They got a lot bigger from her pregnancies, and I don't have a word of complaint.

My hips start moving, not fucking her yet. Just reminded her I can tease her all night if that's what I want.

She grips the edge of the table. "Sir, please."

"I didn't ask you to beg," I say hoarsely. "I asked you to take it and sit still."

She swallows, her jaw flexing as she grits her teeth. I run my hand up her throat and hook the side of her lip. Pushing two fingers into her soft mouth. Swearing under my breath as her hot tongue curls around them.

"Suck, you pretty slut," I order.

I push a third finger in, filling her mouth until she can't shut it. Then, holding her hips with the other hand, I thrust all the way into her cunt.

Her body jerks. A cry bursts out around my fingers. I run my hand from her hip to her lower belly and press in. Thrusting up at the same time so I can feel myself move inside her body.

"Goddamn, you've got a tight little pussy," I grit out.

Her arousal stains the front of my pants. I cup the underside of one high and lift her, slamming her body down. Her teeth bite into my fingers, not on purpose. Wetness slips down my wrist as she gags.

Gently, I tug my fingers free. She gasps, moaning as I drive my cock into her cunt. Again and again.

Wet, hot, tight.

It's too much. My orgasm pours down my spine and I'm coming inside her before I can stop myself. She grinds back, pushing deep. I grip her hair and pull her against me, burying my face into the nape of her neck as I empty into her pussy.

We both go still. She moans, so desperate to have me. But she knows better than to ask for anything on free use night.

I'll make her come when I'm ready.

"Good girl," I praise, stroking her hair and kissing her spine. "Let's get you into the bedroom."

She lets me lift her off my cock. I guide her to her knees and shift to the edge of the seat. Obediently, her soft tongue darts out and she leans into my lap. Licking my cock clean of our cum with gentle strokes. Her brown eyes stay on me the entire time.

"Tongue out," I say.

She puts it out and I grip my dick, wringing the last drop out onto it.

"Swallow, darling."

She does, licking her lips. Her face is so pink it's making her eyes glitter. Even after all this time, it still makes her burn up to be degraded. When I'm clean, she tucks me back into my pants and pulls up the zipper. Her gaze turns on me, wanting assurance.

"Come here," I say.

She rises and I pull her near and kiss between her breasts. Taking my time so her body feels my closeness. So she feels used, but knows she's still loved. Her fingers twine in my hair. One hand slides down my nape and rests on my brand.

"Go to the bedroom," I murmur. "Hands and knees on the bed. I want to have a drink and watch the cum drip out of you."

"Oh God," she moans.

I turn her around and give her ass a quick spank to get her going. She walks into the bedroom, hips swinging. When I stand, my cock throbs under my zipper. I'm already hard again.

I refill my whiskey and go into the bedroom, shutting the door. She's on the bed, facing the headboard. On her elbows and knees. Pussy and ass exposed.

Transfixed, I go to the edge of the bed. Her cunt is flushed. A little swollen from taking my cock. Distractedly, I have a sip of whiskey and take a step back, sinking into the chair facing the bed.

"Clench for me," I order.

She does as she's told. Her muscles twitch. Cum slips out of the entrance of my wife's pussy, dripping off her clit and hitting the bed between her knees.

"Reach between your legs and spread yourself." My voice is low.

She balances on one elbow. Her hand slides down her stomach and appears between her thighs. Her nails are oval, carefully trimmed and beautifully feminine. Two fingers stroke over her pussy, and gently press it apart.

Her velvety pink cunt spreads. My cum leaks out, like icing.

I did that. For some reason, she lets me do that.

My past was rough. When I met her, my body was rough, unrefined. She's always been soft and sweet. Body warm like sunshine, beautiful like the lilies she loves so much. Despite me being all wrong for her, maybe not good enough to even touch her body, she let me put a ring on her finger and steal her away.

Now I have the prettiest, darling bride in my bed every night.