Sweet Agony

by Christy Pastore

  Caroline

  The one thing I didn’t count on was not being able to see Brant all week.

  On Tuesday, he went to the horse auction in Elliston with his dad. Between managing his building and working at the distillery, Brant’s spending his nights helping break in the new horse.

  Brant called me on Wednesday night because he wanted to drop by to see me. He sounded exhausted. I knew that if he came over, he’d more than likely fall asleep. Which I’d be all for, but Ma would have other opinions.

  My eyes close. I can picture him, still smell him as if I’d woken up right beside him this morning.

  A high-pitched boom rips me from my daydream. My head swivels around the space. A couple of chairs have fallen off the pallet.

  “Anything broken?” I call out.

  “No, ma’am.”

  It’s t-minus six hours until the reunion. Chrissy stands at the bar with me while we go over the checklist for tonight’s wedding.

  “They’ve hired a deejay instead of a band,” I tell her.

  Chrissy picks up a wine glass and inspects it in the light. “Okay, should all be simple enough.”

  “And here are the vendor arrival times.” I pass her the notebook. “All the service and help phone numbers are in here along with the vendor contacts.”

  “Thanks. I won’t let you down.”

  “I know you won’t. I’m not worried.”

  “You ready for your reunion tonight?” she asks.

  “Surprisingly, yeah. I wish my friend Jillian was coming, but she’s pregnant with her second baby and due any day. She’s been on bed rest for like a month.”

  Chrissy nods. “Yep, I know what that’s like. Doc put me on bedrest six weeks before my son was born.”

  “Wow, can’t imagine what that’s like.”

  “It’s not so bad, I didn’t stay in bed all day and they tell you to set up a routine. I got up at the same time every day. Somehow I managed to survive.”

  My eyes skim the over the closing procedure for the barn. “Call me if you need anything.”

  “You’re awfully smiley today. Like more than normal,” Chrissy points out.

  Brant. Brant. Brant.

  It’s all his fault. He cooks me dinner. Made room for my dog in his place. He has real conversations with me.

  I smile and glance at my phone’s screen. “I’m happy,” I say. “Well, I think I’ll leave everything in your capable hands.”

  I leave Chrissy and walk back to my place. I want to get a quick run in before my manicure appointment.

  When I walk through the door, someone grabs my arm and pushes me up against the wall. My cheek hits the tile and I let out a yelp. The door clicks in the latch and a hand flies to my mouth.

  “Just me, sugar.” His deep voice warms my body.

  “Brant,” I hiss and he spins me around. “You scared me half to death.”

  My eyes fleck to his. Holy oh my gawd.

  He’s wearing a black cowboy hat and my heart pings in my chest. His white t-shirt is pulled tight over his biceps and it’s wet with sweat at the collar. My gaze slides down his torso and his jeans and boots are dusty.

  This man. He’s been hard at work.

  Julep’s nails tap along the hardwood and she lets out a whine. “I see how you are. Some watch dog you turned out to be.”

  Brant laughs. “I may have bribed her with a treat.”

  “Too easy, Julep.”

  “Julep, look away,” he says, caging me against the wall.

  He lowers his mouth to mine. My entire body vibrates with heat. A small wave of relief washes over me when his lips press to mine. I pull him closer.

  “Caroline, I need to fuck you.” His words are desperate. Raw. Needy.

  “I wish I knew that you were coming.” I glance down at my t-shirt and shorts. “I’m a mess.”

  “You’re perfect.” He reaches up and pulls the tie from my hair. “And soon you and I will be coming. Let me have you.”

  “I haven’t even showered yet.”

  “I’ve been out in the paddock and the barn all morning. I’m covered in dust.” He slips his fingers inside my shorts and pops the button. “For the record, I did wash my hands.”

  I bury my face in his neck. He smells like sweat, hay, and sunshine. It’s very masculine and doing all the good things for my lady parts.

  “Mmm, you smell good.” I inhale deeply, getting my fill of him.

  “You smell good too. I’m crazy for your shampoo. Do you use baby shampoo or something?”

  I laugh. “No, it’s called Amazing Grace. It’s by this brand called Philosophy.”

  “Well, it is pretty amazing, in my opinion.” I arch into his touch when his fingers glide over my clit.

  “Brant,” I whisper. “I have a bedroom, you know.”

  “Right,” he says, and scoops me up into his arms. I take his hat and put it on my head.

  “Looks good on you,” he tells me. “Ride ‘em, cowgirl.”

  I let out a tiny squeal as Brant strides toward my bedroom. He lowers me to the bed and I’m on my knees.

  Brant kicks off his boots and then walks across the hardwood to close the doors. “I’ve been going out of my mind not being able to see you.” He makes quick work of stripping out of his clothes. He takes his hat and places it on the comforter and then wraps his arms around me from behind and orders, “Get naked now, Caroline.”

  “Yes, sir,” I say as I turn around to look at him. Sunlight splashes all over his body. He’s fucking beautiful.

  Brant climbs on top of the bed. I can see the lust brimming in his blue eyes. Apparently, I’m not fast enough with my clothes. He yanks my panties off and settles between my legs.

  He smirks and tugs at my bra exposing my breasts.

  “Condoms?” he asks and takes one nipple into his mouth. He bites softly and then returns his gaze to mine.

  I shake my head and toss my shirt onto the floor. “I don’t have any here.” My hands frame his face. “I’m on the pill though. I’m healthy too.”

  He growls and his chin dips to his chest. Brant’s dark hair tickles my skin. Damn that dirty scruff gets me every time.

  I lick my lips and wrap my hand around his cock. He’s hot and smooth. Hard, oh so hard.

  “I’m clean too,” he admits.

  My hand strokes a feather light motion over his dick.

  His lips meet mine for a long slow kiss. “You sure about this, sugar?”

  “I’m sure, like really sure.”

  “Me too.” He grins, as his cock slides through my wetness. He teases me, driving me mad.

  My hands move over his thick shoulders and down his arms. I love touching him. The way his skin feels against mine. I’ll never get enough.

  His mouth moves over my throat, kissing me and driving me wild with need. Anticipation winds through my belly. Brant stares at me for a beat, then he shifts and pushes into me, burying himself to the hilt.

  “Ohh, yes,” I cry out. “You’re so deep.”

  “Hmm.” A growl rattles his throat and I feel every solid inch of him. His fingers dig into my hips as he fucks into me harder. I concentrate on Brant familiarizing myself with every inch of his body.

  “Brant,” I cry out. “Make me come.”

  “Fuck yes,” he groans.

  Brant pushes deeper, which I didn’t think was possible. Each thrust sets my nerves on fire. His thumb brushes over my clit, circling with prime precision.

  “Oh, damn,” I pant.

  “You feel so damn good,” he hisses. “So wet. And so tight and you take my cock so deep.”

  “I love your big hard cock inside me.” My voice is barely audible.

  His hand slides under my thigh and he lifts my leg over his shoulder. My heart clenches when he looks at me. Our eyes meet in a blistering flare of passion. Brant thrusts and I scream out his name as my release slams into me.

  The tremors rip through my body and I scream his name again. His hips snap into a fur
ious rhythm and then he comes with a beastly roar. I feel him. All of him—hot thick ribbons of cum.

  It’s so damn hot.

  Brant pulses inside me and I want to weep with joy.

  He pulls out and my chest aches feeling the loss. I watch his ass as he strides into the bathroom and I hear the water running.

  “Come in here, sugar,” he calls out and then he peeks around the corner. “I’ll get you good and cleaned up.”

  “You’re liable to make me wetter,” I tease.

  “Don’t make me come get you.”

  Too late.

  Brant lifts me up and my legs wrap around his waist. He plunges back inside me and I gasp. I cling to his shoulders as he drives into me. Brant backs me against the tile in the shower. His eyes darken and flash.

  “Fuck, Caroline,” he grinds out.

  His body shakes against mine and a heartbeat later we’re falling together.

  I drag a hand through his hair. My eyes don’t leave his.

  Brant. Brant. Brant.

  Damn, why is he so addictive?

  “Brant, don’t crush me okay?”

  The words fly out of my mouth and I immediately want to stuff them way back down. I avert my eyes and turn away from him.

  “Hey,” he says, and his big hand lands on my shoulder. “Look at me, Caroline.”

  I turn to face him. My throat clogs and a million things stir inside me. I’m falling for this man. Hard.

  His fingertips up my chin. “I’m really good at keeping promises. Hurting you or letting you down is the last thing that I ever want to do. Got it?”

  I nod. “I got it.”

  “Good.”

  His arms band around me, warm, tight, and strong. It’s reassuring. But I still think I may have freaked him out.

  Brant

  When I get back to my place, the first thing I do is strip out of my dirty clothes. I’m going to take another shower even though it’s probably unnecessary. I guess I should shave and wash my hair.

  On the drive home, all I could hear is Caroline’s voice in my head.

  “Don’t crush me, okay?”

  And then my thoughts volleyed between seeing her on her back all sweet, sexy and happy to the sullen look that marred her face. I never want to see that look on her face again.

  My heart feels like it’s going to explode. It’s almost too much to bear. My feelings for Caroline are deep. Deeper than I could have anticipated.

  She’s all I want. And I want her all the time.

  Blowing out a deep breath, I snag a beer from the fridge. Shower beer. I walk down the hallway to my bathroom. Flipping on the spray, I test the water and then step inside.

  The steam curls around me and my thoughts continue to Caroline.

  What is she doing to me?

  My palms press flat against the cool tile and I roll my neck underneath the hot spray. On a long exhale, I run the bar of soap over my chest and arms. Things with Caroline are easy. I love how we can go from serious to playful in a heartbeat. This is all new to me and I love it. I didn’t know a relationship could be so effortless.

  I sip my beer away from the spray and then wash my hair.

  After I rinse the shampoo from my hair, I flip off the water. I grab my towel and dry off my face, chest and arms, then give my hair a good pat down.

  As soon as I walk back into my bedroom, I stop dead in my tracks. Natalie, my ex is sitting on the bed. I shake my head and look around the room to make sure that I’m not dreaming.

  “Natalie, what in the hell are you doing here?”

  “Hey, Brantley,” she purrs and stands to smooth her dress down her thighs. She’s braless and her light hair is pulled up into a messy ponytail. “I’ve missed you.”

  From the way she’s talking I think she’s been drinking, but I’m not certain.

  “How did you get into my apartment?”

  “Oh, I told the old guy downstairs that I was your sister.”

  She says it so matter of fact that I can see why Kenny believed her. Note to self, get Kenny an up-to-date family tree. I know that this is small town America, but come on—she could be a serial killer in heels.

  My hands land on my hips and suddenly I’m very aware that I’m only wearing a towel. “Are you crazy or drunk?”

  “Neither. I flew in all the way from Manhattan to see you. I wanted to ask you something.” Her fingers sweep down the edge of my dresser and over the handles.

  I step into my closet and change into a pair of jeans. “You do know how to use a phone, right?”

  “Yes.” She laughs a throaty laugh. “But this kind of thing should be talked about in person.”

  “What is it?” I ask before I can help it.

  “Brantley, I want a baby. Your baby.”

  My eyes pop wide. “What the actual fuck?”

  A baby? Natalie wants to have baby with me?

  “I’m not getting any younger. Antonio and I ended things because he doesn’t want to have any more kids.”

  My fists curl into my palms. “Perhaps you should’ve thought about that before you fucked him on our couch. Maybe get to know one another and see if there’s a possibility for a future,” I point out. “You know that I want kids and this is just . . . we could’ve had a future. But you fucked it up.”

  Literally.

  Her hands clasp together. “I did and I’m sorry. You can be as involved as you want to be. But I’m totally prepared to raise the baby alone. Although, we can do it together.” Natalie steps toward me. “Brantley, I realize what I did to you was so awful, but could you forgive me?” Her blue eyes beam with hope.

  “I believe that you’re sorry, sorry that I caught you.” My tone devoid of emotion and brimming with anger.

  “That’s not true,” she argues. “You were always working late. I felt so alone. Neglected. The firm meant more to you than I did.”

  “Natalie.” I keep my tone even but determined.

  “You needed me to solidify your place in the company. And I fit the mold.”

  My brows scrunch together. “What are you talking about?”

  “Antonio told me all about the boy’s club. How you all need your wives and partners to look a certain way, have a certain job, and the expectations. You needed a trophy wife. I’m more than a trophy, I’m the whole case, baby.”

  My fingers rub at my temples. “Natalie, please tell me that you aren’t this stupid. I didn’t need a trophy wife to get a fucking promotion. He was playing you. Lying to you.”

  She folds her arms across her chest. “What? No. Why would he do that?”

  “Lemme just take a stab here.” I take a step toward her, rage vibrates through my every syllable. “To get you to sleep with him.” I deliver each word with a slow punch.

  “No, that’s not true,” she says, wringing her hands together. “Brant, you and I hadn’t had sex in weeks. You were cold and distant. Focused on anything but me and my needs.”

  “Working fourteen-hour days. And when I planned the weekend getaway to Miami, you had ‘other plans.’ I needed time to talk about what was happening with my career. You never understood that. You never let me talk. It was always about you and your career.”

  “I was going places too, you know,” she says.

  “Oh, I know. Long lunches with your investors. Weekends in the Caribbean for entertainment. You needed me on your arm for all that because you wanted . . . needed Manhattan power couple status. And you fucked Antonio because he was a bigger fish with an even bigger bank account. You never loved me.”

  She waves her hands in the air. “This is good, we’re finally communicating. I fucked Antonio because I was mad at you not because I didn’t love you.”

  “Sweetheart, you only loved the idea of me. And now that your sugar daddy left you, you need a baby daddy.” I grip her elbow and guide her into the living room. “We’re done. We’ve been done.” I grab her clutch from the counter and shove it into her hands. “Find someone who’ll give you a fa
mily to and grow old with. I do want that for you.”

  “I will, Brantley Cardwell,” she hisses and stabs a finger at my chest. “And you’re going to regret letting me go.”

  Natalie turns on her heel and her dark hair falls down her back. The loose waves sway in time with the curve of her hips as she walks toward the door and out of my life.

  Jesus Christ.

  I down the rest of my beer and then grab another. I hold the bottle in my hand and stare at the label . . . fuck it. I need something stronger.

  I stalk over to my bar and pour the bourbon into a highball glass. Double shot? Why not?

  After I down half the glass, I retrieve my phone from the bedroom. Slumping down on my couch I scroll through my contacts. I don’t have to go very far, I filed Antonio’s number under Asshole Antonio.

  Tapping the screen, I swallow down more bourbon. He answers on the third ring and I rip into him for the bullshit he said to Natalie. I don’t know why I care. Yes, I do. Apparently, this baby making request has ignited feelings that I didn’t know I had.

  He rambles on about being sorry and then he has the nerve to offer me my old job back with a hefty salary increase.

  Apparently, word finally made its way around the Manhattan finance social circles that I caught Natalie and him fucking in our living room, and that’s cost Antonio and BGN Private Trust clients.

  “You can shove your offer,” I sneer and hang up the phone.

  A baby? I start to think about my life choices and my own age. I’m thirty-four, but thirty-five is slowly creeping up.

  Bourbon.

  Pour.

  Drink.

  Repeat.

  I flip through the channels and settle in for the Cubs game. Halfway through the second inning, the bourbon hits me and my eyes grow heavy.

  Burning the candle at both ends will do that to you.

  Caroline

  It’s after seven-thirty and I’m waiting for Brant to pick me up.

  I stare at my reflection in the mirror. My hands smooth over the fabric of my sleeveless, floral print dress. My fingers tap against my thighs and I think about Brant’s hands on me and his lips on mine.

  His lips. I feel them everywhere. On my skin. His mouth and tongue on me.