“It’s how I feel touching you,” he adds as he rises slowly, his fingertips trailing up over my legs, and stomach, leaving goose bumps behind, even in the heated barn air.
He steps closer, towering over me, our chests rising and falling with each other’s as he guides me back so I have no choice but drop down onto the bales of hay behind me.
“It’s how I feel seeing you like this with your skin pink and flushed from head to toe.”
He kneels with one knee beside me and leans in, feathering his lips over mine, darting his tongue out to make a pass, giving me the slightest bit of him, but still not enough.
“Chaaase…” My voice is higher, nearly whiny, but I don’t care how it sounds. I desperately need him, in any way I can get him right now.
He kisses me harder, one hand holding my jaw steady and the other working his pants open. The clank of his belt falling loose and the teeth of the zipper disengaging ring in my ears, and I move my hands down the firm plane of his chest and over the top of his, helping and hurrying him on. Together we work his pants down his legs and I tug at his boxer briefs, reaching for him the second he’s free.
I grip him, stroking up and down, his skin warm and stretched so that the ridge of each vein is evident and in contrast to the smoothness around it. I circle his tip with my thumb, swirling his arousal over his swollen head, drawing out a rumble from deep in his chest.
His fingers close around my wrist, stopping me from any further movement, and he pulls my hand off him with a shake of his head and a smirk. “This is my rodeo, gorgeous. Not yours.” He guides my hand to my lips, offering my thumb to me. I flick my tongue out, licking up what’s there, before sucking my thumb into my mouth with my eyes locked on his and moaning my enjoyment of his taste.
“Fuck. Me.”
I smile wide and turn his words back against him, "This is your rodeo, remember? I think it's your job to—" My words are cut short when he drops back to his knees in front of me, pushing me the rest of the way down so my back is flat on the blanket, and spreading my legs, opening me to him, exposing me for his taking.
His mouth is on me instantly, tongue gliding up my slit, making me squirm and sigh wordlessly beneath him. He is relentless in his pursuit, sucking my sensitive bundle into his mouth, the pressure and sensation making me arch and push back against him. Every nerve in my body is firing as the pleasure builds and spreads outward, reaching to my toes and fingers. It’s everything and yet it’s still not enough. I need more. I grasp his hair, locking my fingers in his short locks, and hold him to me, begging silently. I feel his thick fingers push into me, curling and stroking, giving me what I need, igniting the fuse that will set me off and make me explode around him.
He doesn’t let up. He keeps pushing and sucking, tasting and moving, even as I buck beneath him while my body tenses and clenches with my release. He waits until my strong spasms subside into tiny tremors around his fingers before he lets go and moves over me, kissing his way up my damp stomach and between my breasts, finding my lips with his as his final stop. I can taste myself on him, the slightly sweet and salty taste from my arousal mixing with the taste of him left in my mouth, and it makes me want him again; only I want all of him this time.
As if he’s reading my mind, he settles between my legs, his cock hard, nudging against me, while he smiles that sexy smile of his. I reach between us and settle him at my opening, holding on loosely while he pushes forward, stretching me wider with every passing inch.
It’s tight, nearly painful at first, but it’s the most delicious ache I’ve ever known, which quickly gives way to feeling exquisitely full. I roll my hips forward, grinding against him, urging him to move. And he does. He takes each of my hands in his and raises them above my head, pinning them there, pushing them into the hay, and using them as leverage as he pulls back and then surges forward, again and again.
“Oh God…that’s…again…just like that.” He drags himself back out and glides forward again, going so deep I know he couldn’t get any farther if he tried. I can feel him rubbing all the right spots and hitting my back wall with each powerful thrust. My eyes roll back into my head, and I grasp his fingers tight, trying to hold on, make this last. But that only makes him move faster, harder. With my eyes closed, all I can focus on is the feel of him, the sounds of our heavy pants, and bodies moving together. It’s all too much and I can’t fight for long. Tiny bursts of light explode behind my eyes as my release rips through my body like a tidal wave, causing my toes to curl and a soundless scream to pass through my lips. If it’s possible, he thrusts harder through the waves of my release until he stills and lets go. My name comes out of him in a long, slow groan, and I can feel each warm spurt as it leaves him and fills me.
He lets go of my hands, allowing me to flex and move them, then drops his head to my shoulder. I slide my fingers through his hair, trying to catch my breath, feeling his own, ragged and warm, against my skin.
“Was that too much for you?” he pants in question.
I can’t help but laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “No, it was just what I needed.”
His lips press into the divot above my collarbone before he pushes himself up so he’s looking down at me, “That’s what I thought. And, for the record,” he smirks arrogantly, “I finished this ride on top, too.”
“Oh. My. God. Chase! You did not just say that to me.” I have to roll my eyes at him. “You couldn’t just leave it at not too much, could you?”
He chuckles and plants a quick kiss on my lips. “Not a chance, babe. And you have only yourself to blame by pushing that particular button to get me going.”
“I had to do something to get you out of that mood,” I reply, searching for my bra and panties until he hands them to me so I can get them back on.
“I’m sorry, Allie,” he says, pulling his pants back up from where they are wrapped around his ankles.
“You don't have to apologize to me. Ava's the one who's going to really need it," I look at him—all playfulness is gone now. "She pointed out that you were noticeably missing from our singing and baking tradition today and…Chase…the look in her eyes when she brought it up was enough to bring me to my knees. She's our precocious little girl, who understands far more than I wish she did, but she's still a baby. She doesn't give a shit about your world ranking."
“I know, Allie. I know. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to her. I’ll make it up to all of you.” He leans back down and kisses me tenderly, then hands me my jeans and shirt. “I promise.”
“Thank you. That’s what I told the girls,” I offer. “And Chase?”
“Yeah, Darlin’?”
“You already more than made everything up to me. So focus on them tonight.”
****
Chase
I watch as Allie finishes dressing then I kiss her again, picking a piece of hay from her hair afterward. “They may ask what this is about.” I hold it up and smirk. She just shakes her head and swats at my hand, her smile returning again. If she only knew, today is so much more than me being upset about losing.
Yeah, that really pisses me off. But fuck, I’ll just win again next year. You’ve got to beat the best to be the best. Well, if they don’t think I’m the best now, I’ll beat their best next December—problem solved.
But next December is a long way away. It’s countless days spent out here, working and then training. It’s stops in cities all around the United States to compete. It’s weeks spent on the road, away from my girls. It’s leaving her to be a solo parent, worrying I may get hurt—or worse—and not make it home. It’s disappointing our daughters more, because not only will I not be here, her attention won’t be on them, either.
I just fucked my wife senseless on bales of hay in our barn because she knows how to get me going, and my God, I can’t say no to her. Instead of being on a high from that, my thoughts are on the fact we still didn’t make a baby. And hell if I’m going to bring that up after what she just told me about m
issing out on the start of Christmas…
“Chase?” Her voice pulls me from my thoughts.
“Huh?”
“Did you hear a word I just said?”
“No, I’m sorry, I was in my own head. What’s up?” I give her a half-smile.
“You’ve got to forget about that ride, Cowboy. We want our happy you back.”
“You’re right,” I say, nodding with a smile. “I’m sorry. Consider it forgotten from here on out, yeah?
“Okay,” she agrees, “just remember, there’s always next year. The girls and I will have your back and love you all the same until then, too.”
“Thank you. I’ll make sure tonight is everything it should be for all of you,” I tell her. “I mean that. The things running through my head right now won’t touch our night. I promise.”
“I believe you, Chase. I’m going to head in and grab a shower then start pulling out decorations.”
She smooths her hair out, making sure there are no more strands of hay in it, then heads for the door.
“I’ll be right behind you, I just need to put this shit away.”
She lets out a deep laugh and calls back over her shoulder, “Literally!”
I can’t help but laugh either. Yeah, I need to literally put the shit in the wheelbarrow away, and I need to stow the shit in my head away for now, too. It’s not the time or place to go down that road. Not yet.
Chapter 3
Allie
Chase has done everything I promised the girls he would do since our time in the barn earlier, but he’s still off. I can tell. It’s not anything he’s done or said, because he has been their fun, playful daddy since they woke up. But I know him—I know there is something on his mind.
The girls were both sound asleep in our bed, like the little angels they are, when we came in. It gave us time to shower and pull out the rest of the Christmas decorations before we went and picked out our tree. But he was quiet. Too quiet. Until the girls were awake. Then it was like he flipped a switch and turned into the goofiest, most enthusiastic dad in the world, making the arduous task of tree hunting fun for everyone.
To think, tree hunting used to be such a simple task to complete. Chase and I have always agreed about the fact the tree has to have good height, fullness, and has to feel right—it’s something we both know when it hits us—just like we’ve always agreed about everything else in our lives. There is no good way to explain what right is, either. It’s just something we both always know. But when you add in a six-year-old and a three-year-old, what’s right, be it a tree or anything else, becomes more challenging.
The girls, for some inexplicable reason, are always drawn to the saddest looking, barest Charlie Brown trees available. Ava argues that the Canton Christmas Magic will make the tree better and perfect; I swear, no amount of Christmas magic in the world can salvage the trees they want to bring home. We can’t dampen her belief, though, so we got the tree. It will go up in their playroom, and we will decorate it with the leftover ornaments and lights, after we decorate the tree Chase and I picked out.
Our family tree is perfect in every way this year. It’s so full of branches and the needles are abundant, more rounded than pointy and sharp. It has so much life. It will be beautiful with our hodgepodge of ornaments strung about.
The girls and I are sitting at the dining room table, enjoying the fruits of our baking labor, while we watch their daddy spin strands of colorful lights down the tree, lighting it up in red, white, green, and blue. I can feel the energy radiating off the girls while they wait for him to finish. Their bodies are bouncing and buzzing in their seats, knowing as soon as he’s done, we can get down to the business of ornament hanging.
Just as he finishes the last strand and the girls bolt from their seats, Chase throws his hands in the air and shouts, “Wait!”
The girls halt their steps and look up at him, eyes wide with confusion and worry, waiting for him to tell them what’s wrong.
“I missed something very important earlier,” he says, as he pulls his phone from his back pocket and starts swiping his finger over the screen, “and we can’t decorate anything until I make up for that.”
The girls still look shocked and lost, but I know what he’s doing.
“It’s dance party time!”
Just like earlier, José Feliciano’s voice fills the room, coming from the Bluetooth speaker on the fireplace mantle.
It takes the girls a few seconds to realize what’s on, but then they turn and smile back at me, Ava’s smile is the biggest. They join Chase by the tree dancing and singing. This time it feels whole, the girls and I take our parts, singing the English words with loud enthusiasm, while he takes the Spanish parts like the pro he is.
As the song comes to an end, Chase bends to the girls’ level and reaches for both of their little hands. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here earlier to make cookies and sing. I promise I will never miss that with you,” he glances up at me, “or your mommy, again. It wasn’t nice and that’s not what we do. We follow our family traditions on Christmas together, all four of us.”
Aubrey uses her free hand to reach for his face and settles it on his cheek, repeating the words I made her say to Ava after their argument earlier to him, very seriously, “I forgive you, Daddy.”
His eyes light up with humor as he says back to her just as seriously, “Thank you, Monkey.” Then he gives Ava’s hand a gentle shake, smiling at her and asking, “How about you, Pipsqueak?”
In true Ava fashion, she ponders her answer, looking between him and me, before she gives him a big grin. "Me, too."
All three of them shift their attention to me, Chase’s and Aubrey’s crystal blue eyes and Ava’s chocolate brown, like mine, all seeking my acceptance.
“I forgive you too, Daddy. Now let’s get to decorating!”
Both of the girls hoot and holler, making a dash for the first box of ornaments. Chase ambles over to me with his hands tucked in his pockets.
“I owe you an extra apology,” he whispers.
I lift my brows, asking silently for an explanation.
“While I was having my one-man pity party, I didn’t realize what today is. I should’ve been here for you.”
I look down at the ground and bite the inside of my cheek, not answering him out of fear that the tears I’ve fought off all day will finally break through.
“Hey.” He slides his finger beneath my chin and lifts it. “Don’t hide it. I should have been here. It’s been five years today since you lost them. That’s not easy. And I failed you.”
The first tear, and then the second, slip from my eyes, and I blink them as fast as I can, trying to stop the rest.
“It’s okay, Chase. Really. I understand.”
“No, Allie, it’s not. I feel like the biggest dick in the world for not realizing sooner and being here for you, like you constantly are for me. I’m sorry.”
He uses the pads of his thumbs to wipe beneath my eyes, erasing the tears trailing down my face, and he kisses my forehead. “The rest of the night will be for them, and for you.”
He comforts me with one more kiss to my head then the softest, most gentle kiss to my lips. He turns to watch our daughters, hard at work, hanging the ornaments.
“Hey! Nobody has put any ornaments up top yet. What gives?” he asks them.
“It’s too high, Daddy!” Ava laughs, and answers. “You and Mommy have to do the tall ones, and we do these ones down here.”
Her answer makes us both laugh, and we set out to do exactly as she said. Chase fills the top portion of the tree that even I struggle to reach, while I fill the middle, and our girls layer ornament after ornament around the bottom.
It takes a while, but between the four of us, we work our way through all the boxes of ornaments. Some are handmade by the girls, others are the special ornaments my parents and I bought when I was growing up. Still others are those we bought at the store. With both special and ordinary ornaments—we have a fully dec
orated tree, save one last crucial part.
“Who gets to put the star on this year?” I ask, glancing between Chase and the girls.
Each of them jumps up and down, shouting it’s their turn, until he makes the executive decision.
“Ava, Aubrey hasn’t gotten a chance to do it at all yet, she’s always been too small and too young. This year it’s her turn, okay? Next year it will be yours again.”
Ava’s lips form a pout, but she doesn’t argue with him.
“Come here, Monkey.” He grabs the special, lighted star we top the tree with every year and hands it to Aubrey, then hoists her onto his shoulders.
Aubrey’s little hands cling tight to the star, she’s so focused and determined to place it right as she reaches high above her head. She’s almost too short to get it there, but sensing her struggle, Chase pushes up on his toes, giving her the extra little boost she needs, so she can place it. It’s a scene directly from my childhood, where I did the very same thing with my dad, and the tears I have fought all day slip out in a slow stream as I watch.
“Mommy, why are you crying?” Ava asks.
I look down at her with a smile on my face and answer, "They're happy tears, baby girl. I love watching you and your sister with your daddy. It reminds me of happy times with my daddy when I was growing up."
My answer is enough for her, and she accepts it without further thought before she moves on to putting the tabletop decorations where they belong.
Chase, on the other hand, lowers Aubrey from his shoulders so that she can help Ava and keeps his eyes locked on me with the kindest, most understanding look imaginable, mouthing, “I love you.”
He knows. He gets it. Despite everything else with my parents when I was growing up, they were still my parents. I loved them beyond words. And the ache of losing them never goes away. Especially not during this time of year. Especially not today.
He and the girls make it easier though.
****
More than Winning (Cowboys and Angels Book 0) Page 2
