Come and Get It: A Small Town Bachelor Romance

by Knox, Abby

  I sidestep him and vault over the porch railing, avoiding the stairs and Logan. It’s a pretty sweet move, if I do say so myself.

  He’s down the steps and in my face so fast I nearly fall over a shrub.

  “Bitch, what is your fucking problem?” I say.

  “You. You’re my problem.”

  I grin at him. For some reason I really am getting his goat today. “Sweetheart, your hormones are way out of whack. Might I recommend starting your paternity leave right now and letting the rest of us finish our work?”

  He hisses at me so the other workers don’t hear. “I don’t know why you’re even back here in Middleburg, but leave. Drea. Alone.”

  I don’t know how to respond. I don’t know where I stand with Drea beyond the one-night stand. Whatever my status is, it sure is none of his business.

  “Drea is a capable woman who can make her own decisions. And you and your wife, both of you, should just calm the fuck down and mind your own business.”

  “Sure, sure,” Logan replies. “Except you don’t get it. You and she don’t make sense. She’s up for re-election and people aren’t gonna like the two of you together. If you care about her at all, you’ll stay away.”

  My yoga breathing is not working.

  I want to hit him so fucking bad.

  But I don’t.

  It takes everything in me not to. I count to ten, letting Logan finish in case he’s got something else to say. And then I do the only thing I can do to keep myself out of trouble and to keep the peace.

  I walk away.

  * * *

  My first attempt at a job may have been a bust, so I might as well try for another.

  I drive over to the big genetics outfit commonly known as the bull jizz factory. Surely they have work. They’re always hiring, according to the paper.

  Turns out, though, that the president of the company is Maggie’s foster brother, Devin, who, even though I barely know him, still holds a grudge over the shit I said about his sister years ago.

  I walk out calmly, not in a huff, because I know all eyes are on me and I don’t want to ruin my chances of getting a job in case that giant douche with the overpriced cowboy hat changes his mind.

  “Fuck!” I scream after I’m safely within the solitude of my pickup.

  The rest of the day goes about the same.

  Either nobody’s hiring or someone’s got a grudge about something. Yeah. I made a lot of enemies here.

  I need to get the fuck out of here. And yet, I don’t want to leave Drea.

  It’s stupid. She doesn’t want me.

  Or doesn’t want anyone to know she’s with me.

  Why would I put up with that? Why would a one-night stand keep me here?

  I grab some food from the big box store and pick up an application while I’m there. If worse comes to worst, I’ll apply there tomorrow.

  I eat my deli sandwiches in the truck and go back inside to the bathroom to brush my teeth.

  Then I drive my truck down to the baseball field. It’s a privately owned field in a secluded area due to a neglected grove of trees with lots of low-hanging branches. I’m more likely to get run off by the cops if I choose a public park.

  I climb into the back seat and stretch out, using my denim jacket as a pillow, and drift off to sleep, holding on to the memories of Drea’s long legs, eager lips, soft breasts, imaginative mind.

  Maybe one day I’ll have that again. Probably not with her, but maybe someday, someone else, in another town with enough things going on that everybody minds their own business.

  Chapter 9

  Drea

  When I was in high school, I once had my friend drive me around looking for my crush, Peter something. DeeDee was my one friend who indulged everyone. She was boy crazy and talked about nothing else.

  We drove around in DeeDee’s truck for an hour looking for Peter. “When we find him, you better lose your virginity or start paying me for gas. I need something interested to start happening in this town.”

  “I don’t have any gas money.”

  “Well, there he is,” she said when we pulled up to the ball field. He was alone, curled up against the chain-link backstop wearing a flannel jacket and writing in his journal.

  “Well then, you know what you have to do.”

  “You’re right. It’s time,” I said.

  That was so long ago but it still feels fresh. I had sex for the first time in the dugout with a boy I had a crush on. I did it because I thought his shyness, his dark clothes, and his hair that flopped over his face made him interesting and sensitive and different from everyone else. I thought he might simply fit with me.

  Bless him, Peter was kind and sweet and gentle and polite. In theory, I should have been elated. What girl wouldn’t want to be asked permission every step of the way especially when her virginity was involved?

  But all I saw when it was over was a boy. A sweet boy. And that wasn’t what I wanted.

  It sparked a new discovery in me, and what I wanted I knew he couldn’t give me.

  I wanted to be taken by force.

  And now, tonight, I’m driving around in my own car that I bought with money I earned and have no worries about gas money. My champagne Audi is a real head-turner in this town, which pleases me on most days. But tonight I wish I could be more incognito.

  And what am I looking for? I’m looking for the one person who will break the rules with me.

  We weren’t supposed to go looking for each other after the fact. That’s why he didn’t tell me where he would be sleeping.

  But all day at work, I could think of nothing else but his breath on my neck, his hand over my mouth, and the way he made me come so hard I left my body, making me think I was barreling toward the light.

  And here I am, at the same baseball field where I lost my virginity all those years ago. But there’s no Peter. Just Paul’s truck. I know it's his. Everyone knew that tricked-out silver behemoth seven years ago.

  Tonight, it’s parked in the lot of the field, in the farthest corner, under some low-hanging branches.

  Without hesitation, without caring who sees me—but really counting on this dark parking lot giving me the cover I need—I park my car right next to his truck and get out.

  The tinted windows reveal nothing. He might not be in there. But I know he is.

  I use my phone flashlight to get a better look through the glass. Paul is in the back seat, sleeping away. No pillow, no blanket, not even pajamas. My stomach drops into my bowels. Paul is homeless.

  And I cannot allow it.

  Chapter 10

  Paul

  I wake to the sound of metallic tapping on the driver side window. At first I think the cops are here to kick me out. My only other option is to sleep in the parking lot at the big box store on the highway outside of town, and I do not want to do that.

  But it’s not the cops. It’s an angel, and I can see by the way she’s biting her lip she’s come to play with the devil.

  I unlock the door. She stands there, waiting for me to invite her in. But no, that ain’t happening.

  She needs to beg me, just the way she made me beg her in the letters.

  “Why are you sleeping in your truck? Don’t you have anywhere to go?”

  “Baby, you ought to know I have nowhere to stay the night.”

  “Come stay at my house.”

  “I ain’t your charity case.”

  This makes her go quiet.

  “I wasn’t meaning it like that,” she says, an edge of hurt in her voice.

  I’m silent. Staying silent is the best way to get the truth out of people. Also it’s just fun to fuck with ’em.

  She continues. “I meant stay with me. In my bed, again.”

  Her voice is breathy, almost a whisper. As if someone in this abandoned lot is going to hear.

  “I don’t want any more trouble for you from your family,” I say.

  She shakes her head. “Logan has apologized and he�
�s going to fix it.”

  I sit up straight in the bench seat to address her. “Are you telling me that the Hulk didn’t stay to fix what he broke?”

  “It’s not like that. I told him to give his statement and go. I was so mad I didn’t want him hanging around.”

  “What’d he say to the cops?”

  “Apparently all he said was he found my window screen ripped open and jumped to conclusions.”

  I let that hang in the air. She’s going to tell me any minute what she told the cops herself.

  The sound of her swallowing hard pricks at my feelings. I know I’m being hard on her.

  I can’t help it. I was an asshole before, and now I’m a bit more of a hardass on top of it.

  “And,” she says, “I told the guys that I had a gentleman visitor and that we were role playing, and things got rough.”

  My heart is about to burst. “You mean you told them the truth?”

  She huffs. “I didn’t say it was you! I’m entitled to some privacy, but the truth in general is always the best way through these awkward situa—ahh!” She screams as I pull her into the cab of the truck now. Time for her to take a load off.

  “Paul,” she breathes into my mouth while I’m kissing her with the force of a level three twister on the plains. “We said—”

  “I know what we said. Be quiet and lie back.”

  She obeys and I reach past her to pull the door closed.

  I push up her A-line skirt and find her wearing a practical pair of cotton and lace undies that sit low on her hips. They’re almost cut like men’s briefs and printed with little avocados all over them.

  “The fuck are these?”

  She giggles. “Boyfriend briefs.”

  This stops me short and I hoist myself up so we’re face to face. “You didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend,” I growl.

  Her giggle turns into a full-blown guffaw. “No, no. That’s the style; it’s what they’re called.”

  I angrily tug them down just past her knees, muttering about buying her something lacy and feminine and easier to remove with my teeth, just as soon as I get some money.

  “Oh my god…” she says and inhales in surprise when the sensation of my mouth on her lower lips hits her. “You don’t have to…I’ve been working all day and I haven’t showered…I’m sorry.”

  I let go of her labia. “I like you sweaty for me. Don’t ever shower right before you see me, do you understand me?”

  She sighs, “Mmhmm,” when I get back to devouring her pussy. “The way you talk about my panties, and saying stuff to me about showering, it almost sounds like you want to keep seeing me.”

  I realize my words implied that we’ll be doing this again. I don’t care what she infers.

  She wants to talk, I’ll talk. Between my kisses, sucks, bites and rough licks all up and down her split, I tell her what I think. “The way I see it…you’ve already fulfilled your end…of our agreement… The way I see it, you’re a woman who has a special need to be handled a certain way…by a bully, a criminal… Baby, you got straight up rape fantasies…and that ain’t something that just goes away… You’re gonna want it again and again… And who else in this Wonder Bread and apple pie town is going to give it to you?”

  She is gasping for breath now as my teeth nip her hard little clit and then I drag my tongue all the way down to her asshole.

  “Answer me!” I rattle out while lifting her hips, delivering a hard spank to her soft cheek.

  “Nobody!” she shouts.

  “That’s what I thought. I’m in charge here and I can change the rules of our agreement. Ain’t that right?”

  “Yes, yes, Paul. Just…don’t stop what you’re doing!”

  “Which part?”

  “Oh god…are you going to make me say it?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “All of it and the spanking. And after I come I want you to cram your cock in me without warning. Hard. I want you to plow me like a fuckin’ farmhand.”

  “Holy shit, that mouth on you is getting me hard.” I ravage her pussy with my mouth, even using my teeth. Biting carefully at first, gauging her pain tolerance by her bucking, thrusting and wriggling under me. All the while, I deliver smacks to her behind in increasing speed and intensity.

  Just when I feel I might have gone too far, she pulls at the roots of my hair and screams, “Harder!”

  With one more loud, fleshy smack, she crests. Thighs trembling, pussy clamping, juices flowing. I drink all of her in and hold her hips steady as I do.

  “Now, Paul! Put it in me!”

  “No.”

  She tugs at my shoulders, urging me to face her. “Paul, I trust you. Turn me over and give it to me.”

  “No. Now don’t ask me again.” I share her taste with her mouth and she clutches my face to let me know how much she likes it.

  “Then let me get you off with my mouth. And don’t be afraid to do what you want with me. Pull my hair. All that shit.”

  Obliging, I lie back on the bench seat and tell her to get on her knees, but keep her skirt hiked up, her undies down around her ankles.

  “I want you looking like the beautiful thing I just fucked all the way up,” I say.

  She’s licking her lips and swallowing hard while unbuckling my belt and tugging my jeans and boxers down.

  My cock springs free and her eyes widen in surprise at its size and girth. Holy shit, she’s actually salivating.

  I know she wanted me to be rough, but I don’t have to be. She attacks me, opening her throat and taking me all the way in. I’m fully sheathed in her warm, wet mouth that’s still a little bruised from last night.

  The drag of her teeth over the tender skin of my cock sets every nerve ending in my body on fire.

  “I want to thank whoever taught you to do that but also bury him in the dirt for touching you.”

  She whimpers like she wants to say something, but I’m not having it. “Keep going. Tell me later, baby.”

  With something near to glee, she bobs up and down on my cock. While she’s bent over me I can see halfway down her blouse, revealing the hickies all over her chest that I put there. I marked her with those. Maybe it’s juvenile, but she liked it.

  I try to stop her from swallowing when I come, but I’m nearly paralyzed while I’m jetting into her. I weave my fingers through her soft blonde locks and press her deeper over me while my spasms continue to release into her mouth. She takes all of it, and I feel like such an asshole. But goddamn, her enthusiasm is so fucking erotic.

  She pops me out of her mouth and I draw her up into my arms. I know I shouldn’t. The cuddling just like last night is going to get me attached to her. And getting attached gets me hurt. Just like with my parents, just like with my farm.

  Chapter 11

  Drea

  What is it about rowdy sex with this particular man that makes me feel so dreamy and quick to let my guard down? Words fall out of me without a filter.

  “That was fun.”

  He grunts in agreement.

  “Be a lot more comfy in my bed though.”

  “I gotta fix your window screen first or else I'm gonna run out of break-in entry points to get you all hot and bothered.”

  I sigh and snuggle down into the crook of his arm. My legs are almost too long for this back seat, and so I have them curled up over his waist. Paul strokes the outside of my thigh that rests on him. His rough hands skimming across the tiny blonde hairs gives me shivers.

  My hand traces the tattoo on his arm. I didn’t notice it at first, but now I see a small sea turtle at the center of it. “Tell me about your tattoo,” I murmur.

  Sleepily, he tells me about his cellmate who did the ink. “I told him that once I got out, I was going to move somewhere warm where I could get a job outside in the fresh air. I said if I couldn’t be a farmer, I could be a beach bum. So he gave me that turtle. It’s a cool animal. Sorta reminds me to live in the moment, to be mindful of my sobriety and choosing to flo
at rather than fight. Is that weird?”

  “Weird? Absolutely not; it’s fascinating. Thank you,” I say, quietly thrilled at everything he just revealed about himself.

  God, I want this. I want him. Every night. In my bed. Not just for fucking but to talk with.

  “Well…you could move in and I’d be hot and bothered all the time. I mean, just until you get back on your feet. You could help me fix up the barn. Help me with the animals.”

  “You don’t have any animals.”

  “But I want some baby animals. Chicks. Goats. Calves. A donkey…”

  “What, you want to play pretend like we’re the almighty Clay family?”

  I sense a lethal edge in his tone.

  “No, because I used to have baby animals here when I was a kid. It was a historic family farm, you know. And since Logan’s rich financial attorney dad gave it back to me and Ever when he got sick, well, I’ve been meaning to make it a real farm again. We could tell people I hired you to help. We could say you’re living in the barn until you can afford a place of your own. I mean, if anyone asks.”

  He speaks in a low rumble and his breath hitches. “Fuck. That.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You just want to cover your ass because you can’t let people know you’re boning a felon. You want to tell one story to your family and friends, and then live another story behind closed doors.”

  “Paul, no, that’s not…”

  “That’s exactly why I never wanted to come back to this town. I tried to tell you that in the letters. Get dressed.”

  “I’m not exactly undressed, you hasty boy.”

  “Fine, Just get yourself presentable and get out of my truck.”

  “Paul.”

  “And go home.”

  “Why?”

  “You can’t have it both ways, angel. Now go home and don’t come find me again until you figure out what you really want.”

  His cruel words sting as I straighten my skirt and hair, and still sting all the way home. I still feel them like pin pricks in my heart as I fall asleep alone, tears soaking my pillow.