Chapter Five

Dot

I'm not sure Sky's advice is good advice, but since deciding to let my clit make all my decisions for me, that phone call to Hank just made sense. Sure, he's out of my league, but what harm could a little flirting do?

He's either going to reject me when he gets here or he's not. I figure my ego can't be bruised any worse than it already has been. Plus, there's a slight chance he might actually be into me.

Slight… but there's a chance.

Besides that, I should've stopped thinking about him by now. I don't usually obsess about people. Maybe once he gets here, cooler heads will prevail, and I won't feel the need to embarrass myself. This is the story I tell myself, though I already know it's a lie. The reality is, I had a stressful day, I didn't get the job at the diner, and the job at the reporter desk I was hoping for in Seattle was swiped up by the girl who worked beneath me.

I think I need a hot guy to bend me over and call me his good girl, and I'm pretty sure I couldn't care less about being embarrassed.

What is it about a big, strong, inked up man that just gets me going like this?

The doorbell rings and the alarm alerts me that someone is at the front door. I disconnected a wire to the back room so it would look like a camera was off, but I'm going to have to play dumb as hell to pass that off as something I couldn't have reconnected myself.

"Dot." Hank's tone is low, and he's wearing half a smile with tight jeans and a black t-shirt. His eyes dart down to the ground and up again as though maybe he's nervous, or he's annoyed that he's here.

God, it's lunchtime. I bet he was just home with his feet up, getting a blowjob from the woman he's living with and all he wants to do is get back home and be left the hell alone.

Why did I do this?

"Hi." I open the door wider and invite him inside, despite the fact that I probably shouldn't have invited him at all. "I've got a camera in the backroom that won't work. Do you think you can take a look for me?"

He nods and stares at me a beat too long. "Yeah, I can take a look. You thinking the wire came loose or…"

"Oh," I puff my cheeks and blow out the air, "maybe. I'm not sure. I haven't even gone in the room."

Wow! This is who I've become?

The giant studies me. Online, I read that he was in heavy combat. I can't imagine what that's like, or how strong you'd have to be mentally and physically to endure that kind of life.

I want to hold him, hug him, let him know he's safe now. Then again, that makes no fucking sense. He most likely has loads of women tending to his every need already.

"Which room are we heading into?"

"Oh, sorry. The living room, right corner."

He walks through the house with his big dirty boots, leaving marks in his wake. This should be the red flag I was looking for. Do I really want to be dusting up mud and dirt for the rest of my life?

The rest of my life. That escalated quickly. A second ago, I was hoping for a one-night stand. Now he's my future husband.

I laugh under my breath and shake my head at the ridiculousness of myself. Maybe I should be committed. Is there some kind of rehab for people who want to solve all their problems with big, sexy men?

Immediately, Hank sees the problem and grabs the wire, locking it back into place. "Ah, this is the issue right here. There's a loose wire. Do you have your control panel?"

I reach for the pad on the island behind me and hand it toward him, studying his rough hand as he swipes over the screen.

God, I want him to touch me. I need his hands on me.

My clit throbs. I didn't think this over. I should've cut the cord, then he'd have had to rewire everything. With this, he just had to hook things up and now he's going to leave.

I don't want him to leave. I need him to stay.

"That smells good." He turns toward the oven, carrying his little, red toolbox beside him. "What are you making?"

"Oh, that's eggplant parm. You ever had it?"

He shakes his head. "Don't cook much for myself. Sounds like it would be good, though."

So, there's no one home cooking for him. Check.

"Maybe you could ask your girlfriend to make it for you sometime. The recipe is really easy."

He laughs. "Yeah, I don't do the whole dating thing. Haven't in a while."

No girlfriend. Double check.

"Really? I figured a guy like you would've broken every heart on the mountain already."

Insulting him… triple check. Why did I say that?

Thankfully, he laughs. "Yeah, I don't know… haven't met the right girl. I'm really picky about who I spend my time with."

Silence. Complete silence.

I blame it on him. I was clearly showing interest, and he didn't reciprocate. I mean, why not ask about my life? Do I have a boyfriend? Who knows? He didn't ask.

"Looks like you worked hard on the meal. You expecting company?"

Okay... maybe that's his way of asking.

This seems like a natural spot to ask him to stay, but is that weird? Do people ask their security company to stay and eat? I mean, maybe they do, right? This is a close community. Maybe it's not so weird.

Do it. Say it. Ask him to eat.

My clit is so bossy today.

"Okay," I say out loud, squeezing my thighs together.

"What?" He looks confused.

"Oh, I was saying, okay then… no… I'm not expecting company, but I made way too much, and it's gonna go to waste. If you want, I mean, I don't want to bug you if you're busy, but you're more than welcome to stay."

He drags in a deep breath and brushes his big hand over his beard.

I might die right here if this man says no.

"Yeah. I'd love a home-cooked meal." He sets his box of tools on the ground. "What can I do to help?" His biceps inadvertently flex with his forearms as he moves past me into the kitchen.

I'm not going to make it through one meal. Who was I kidding? This was the dumbest plan ever. I should've been straight forward and sent a text about what I really wanted.

‘Dear Hank,

The other day at my house, your flexing biceps and deep voice made me want to do dirty things to you. If you're interested, let me know.

Thanks,

Dot.'

I think that would've saved me a lot of time and frustration.

"Oh, I don't need help with anything. But if you want to keep me company, that would be great. How has your day been so far?"

"I have to do something. You've made this beautiful meal." He pulls placemats out of the drawer in the table as though he knows where they are. "Let me set the table."

This might forgive the boot thing. I can't remember a time when a man offered to help with anything regarding meal prep.

We move back and forth between the dining room and the kitchen like an old married couple who have had this dance dozens of times before. I must put things in predictable locations because he seems to know where everything is. The plates, the cups, the silverware, even the paper towels.

"So, how's your day going? You get a lot of… security-ing in?"

He laughs. "Not really. I was out at my ranch most of the morning cleaning stalls and getting things ready for a new guest house I'm building soon. The folks over at the Evergreen tree farm donated a bunch of materials so I'm excited for that."

"You live on a ranch?"

"Oh, sorry. Yeah, I'm working on a rehab center for military folks coming back from war who need a transition to civilian life. So far, I haven't had a place for folks to stay. This build will change that. What about you? What have you been up to?"

He's opening a therapy center? God, why did he have to be a nice guy, too? This is going to hurt even worse when he inevitably rejects me later.

I carry the eggplant parmesan to the table and throw down a potholder before setting the dish on the table. I'm not sure why I'm nervous. I shouldn't be nervous. He's just a guy and I'm just a girl. We're just doing a thing. A thing where we eat. Nothing has to happen. We aren't going to fall in love over eggplant so I should get that out of my head right now.

My heart doesn't agree. It's beating out of my chest. "Oh. Me? I've been looking for a job. I got out here and don't get me wrong, I'm really glad to be back, but I'm worried there's nothing for me here."

"I got thinking, why don't you start your own show? You could run local stories and broadcast online. You do enough of that, and people will talk. You'd have a following in no time. Who knows, the Rugged Mountain Gazette might even pick you up."

I stare toward the giant, unsure of what to think.

Did I tell him I was a journalist?

I don't think I did. We only talked that one time, and the topic was mostly on the cameras he was installing.

"I didn't realize we'd talked about my job before."

His gaze widens before he looks down at his plate and scoops up a bite. "Oh, your father might've told me. I don't know… I heard it somewhere."

Something tells me my father wouldn't have told the security man that I was a journalist from Seattle, then again, maybe he did. I don't know. Either way, I like his idea a lot.

"So, you really think that would work?"

He nods, taking another bite of food. "This is incredible by the way. Also," he swallows, "I'd bet you're really talented."

"Well, there are a lot of talented people working at gas stations. I'm not sure talent is the only thing that matters."

"True, but I have a good feeling about this. No one else is doing it, and I'd be willing to bet that people would love a local news broadcast. Your first story could be about the therapy center. You could highlight the Evergreen family for all the help they've given me, considering it's almost Christmas time and all. I'm sure they could use a spotlight on their farm. It could be a two-part story, keeps people involved."

A patter of excitement rushes through me at the thought of taking charge of my own destiny. I'm not sure why I'd never thought of it before, but now that I have, I'm not sure how it could fail.

Fantasies of my own news desk rush through me. I could tell the news my way and involve locals in everything. If I could get Mrs. Robinson to talk the local gossip on my show too, it would be amazing.

"Wow! This is such a good idea. I don't know how to thank you." I consider asking if he'd like his payment in blowjobs, but I figure that might be inappropriate. So instead, I stand and reach my arms out for a hug.

The giant stands from the table, and I lean against his chest, dragging in the scent of pine and cedar with the backdrop of something deeper I can't identify. He's warm and solid, and his big arms wrap around me so tightly. I don't want him to let go. I want him to hold me forever.

God, I need help.

He groans low in his throat, and I try to ignore it. He's probably clearing his airway. I put chili peppers in the parmesan to spice things up. I read somewhere they're an aphrodisiac. I guess if he'd refused my invitation to stay, I'd have been trapped in here, horny as a rabbit, with only my vibrator to keep me company.

"I have to do something for you," I say. "What can I do?"

He shakes his head and stares down at me with a clear blue gaze. "This. This is kind enough. It's nice to have company. Really, the nights get lonely."

"Yeah, they get lonely here, too. It's probably nothing like back when you were in the military. I bet being on your own feels a lot harder when you've spent so much time surrounded by other soldiers." I'm probably overstepping. I've talked to veterans before and a lot of them don't like talking about the war. I should just shut up, but I want to know him inside out. I want to understand why he's alone, why he's opening a healing center, what made him who he is.

"It's hard, for sure. My parents passed away when I was young, so my brothers and I banded together. Gentry raised us for the most part. When I graduated, I did what everyone was doing, and I served my country. Don't regret a day of it. That said, it's been a difficult transition back into civilian life."

"I'm so sorry. How old were you when they passed?"

"Fourteen. I was lucky to know them as long as I did." He drags in a deep breath. "I'm sure you don't wanna know this shit. Sorry I pushed the conversation in that direction. I'm sure it's not how you want to spend a nice meal, listening to an old man complain about something that happened a long time ago."

"I mean, you don't have to tell me, but if you want to… I want to know."

He swallows hard as his eyes stay locked on mine.

I don't want to read into anything too much, but if he was looking to get away from me, he'd have turned away and just finished his meal, right?

"I guess I came home with this feeling like I was alone, like my life lost direction and purpose. In the military, the objectives are very direct. Clear this building, protect this outpost, and, hell, even clean this floor was straightforward. Now, it's floating in the wind, trying to do something with meaning, hoping I can make any sort of difference."

There's pain in his eyes when he talks, and I'm desperate to heal him.

"I can't even imagine." I don't offer advice, because I don't have any. I've never been a combat veteran. I've never seen anything more violent than the shit Lonny tried to pull, which doesn't count as anything in comparison. "Do you see anyone to talk about it, like a therapist?"

"Fuck no." He laughs under his breath as he scrubs his rough hand over my arm. "I have my brothers. They've all seen war. They know what it's like to come back from it."

"So, you talk to them?"

"We don't talk about it, but we know. There's a silent understanding, and that's something. Some of this shit can't be put into words."

I nod and flash him a sympathetic smile, but my eyes wander to his ink. I want to study his tattoos, follow every dark line until I can clearly see what every one of them is, and understand what they mean.

Dear Lord, what's happening? Maybe this is bad. Maybe I don't want to know more about this guy. Now, I want all of him. His heart, his soul, and his cock.

Why must everything be so difficult?

"Anyway," he breathes out a heavy breath, "do you miss Seattle?"

"Not really. I mean, I did at first. The city, the buzz, the creatives. I thought that was where I was meant to live, but turns out city life isn't really for me. I mean, I like that life, but I like this more. The peace and quiet, the small-town vibe, ya know? Plus, I grew up here."

He grins as he says, "Your dad sounds happy you're back."

"Yeah." I sigh. "He's happy as a clam. I'm my parents' only child. If they had their way, they'd have me living with them for life. Though, to be honest, I think my mom might actually like the freedom. She's into all kinds of things now. I never knew the woman loved poetry and now she goes to some jam thing at the coffee shop on Thursday nights."

He laughs and I have no idea why I'm talking about my mom. The man is telling me deep, emotional war stories and I'm telling him that my mother likes rhymes.

Awesome. I'm so deep.

I sigh and attempt to change the subject, but his gaze is fixed on mine so intently that I feel that maybe he's holding something back that he's desperate to say.

"You okay?"

He nods. "Yeah. I, ugh, I have a little confession to make. Well, it's a big confession, actually."

My heart stalls and my knees go weak. Please let this confession be his undying love. Or at the very least, let it be his desperation to fuck me. "Yeah? What's that?" My tone is nearly a whisper.

"The second I saw you the other day…" His big hand lands on the side of my face.

Oh God, it's happening. Is it happening? Does he like me? Is this big, inked giant about to tell me he's into me?

My heart slams against my chest.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you. I left here, desperate to see you again. It was far too desperate." He groans. "So desperate that I watched you."

My brows narrow. "What?"

He watched me? What the hell does that mean?

His gaze intent with mine, he backs me up against the wall, his heavy frame looking over me. "I watched you last night. In your kitchen, on your phone, in the bedroom."

Oh God, he's psycho. This man is completely insane.

My heart rate ratchets up. "What?"

"I know it sounds bad, and it is, but I needed to clear the air."

"Well, that's great. So, you saw me… touching myself then?" Why do I ask him that?

He nods, and for some reason instead of rage, my clit reacts. He saw me. He needed me so badly that he couldn't help himself. He needed to watch me come.

My panties soak and my heart rate increases a hundred notches. Why do I like this so damn much? I'm sick. Something is wrong with me. I'm pretty sure people would have me committed.

"That's really fucked up!" I manage, swallowing hard as the ache in my thighs grows. "You're unwell."

"I know." He's so close to me now that his hot breath is on my neck. "I shouldn't have come today. I should've sent someone else."

My pussy aches. "Well, that would've been unfortunate because I pulled the wire from the camera and called you hoping you'd be the one that came out here to fix it. Then, I cooked this meal hoping you'd stay. And last night," I tip up onto my toes and lean into his ear, "I came thinking about you."

His breath hitches and he pins me against the wall like an animal who's lost control.

I like it… a lot .

I move my hand against his jeans and rub the hard ridge of his cock outside of the fabric. He's so hard and I've gotten him that way. He's excited for me. He wants me. He needs me.

His mouth lands hard against mine and he sucks on my bottom lip then the top before kissing my mouth.

I'm on fire, desperate for his cock, desperate to be touched.

My eyes flick up to his as he says, "Tell me how you thought about my cock, baby. Say it."

His filthy demands and use of the word ‘ baby' have my clit beating at high speed. "I looked at pictures of you, and I thought about your voice and how deep it would sound in my ear while you fucked me." I swallow hard. "I thought about how big your cock would be sliding in." I rub over the top of his dick again. "I want you." I don't even know who I am right now. A different version of the girl I was yesterday has clearly taken over. This girl is aggressive, and she clearly needs to get fucked.

I like her. I feel like she's not going to take no for an answer.

I unzip his jeans then tug them with his boxers to the floor, where they pool at his feet. His cock is hard and when I grip my hand around the base, I feel the beat of his heart in the thick vein that wraps around. Holding him in my hand, I lick the underside and suck away the bead of come that's waiting for me at the tip.

He pushes his fingers through my hair, and I suck harder, pumping my fist over his dick as I work.

My cheeks hollow and I stare up at Hank as I take him in deeper.

"Fuck," he groans, pushing my head against his cock. I choke and gag a little, tears rolling down my face as I pull back from his touch. Then I dive in again and again, repeating the chorus of a gagging symphony.

It's a beautiful sound.

I think he likes it. He moans and growls deep in his throat, and that sound is what I'm working for. That satisfied yearning that drives me into the next stroke. He's perfect. I could spend eternity on my knees right here in the dining room, waiting for his come all over my face.

It's not until I hear the alarm go off in the back of the house that I figure I should stop.

He stares down at me, resting his hand on the handle of his pistol. "You expecting anyone?"

I shake my head, staring up at him. He's so huge. His cock, his thighs, his shoulders, everything. I don't care who's outside. I need him to take me.

"It doesn't matter. I need you to fuck me, Hank," I pant. "I need you now."

He reaches down and pulls me into his arms. I expect a hug or some serious reasoning, which I'm already rebutting in my head. Instead, he lifts me onto the end of the dining room table, pulls up my skirt, bites his way up my thigh, and licks my pussy like he's been starving for days.

I didn't expect my alarm to go off, but this is exactly what I had in mind when I invited him over.