by Jess Bentley
“I know everything I need to know about you,” he murmurs. “Just from looking in your eyes.”
“What? What can you tell from that?”
“I can tell that you’ve been hurt.” He says softly, and in a truthful way that hits me right in the heart. “I can tell that you’ve had what you love taken away from you. I don’t know how, or when, but I know about it. That’s what I mean. It’s in your eyes. Don’t worry,” he continues softly, his hand caressing my face. “It’s not obvious all the time. I just catch a flash every now and then. But long enough to recognize it. It’s unmistakable.”
I turn away, shocked. I don’t really know how he can tell these things. I keep those kinds of feelings locked inside, where I can’t even find them most of the time. So how does this man know?
“You’re just like me,” he says. “I see it in you because I know it in myself. I don’t know why but we’re peas in a pod, you and I. And that’s one part of what attracts me to you so much. You’re not just an empty shell, no matter how beautiful that shell might appear. It’s your soul that I see, Chastity,” he whispers. “That’s why it’s enough for me right now, to feel like I know you well, to make love to you.”
If I were standing, my knees would buckle, I’ve become so weak. I have no control over this. I was arrogant to think that I would be able to control him. No, Kanen is the one in control now. And I’m submitting. But is he just sweet-talking me? Is this the Southern way? Does it matter? It just feels so incredibly good to be held and loved and whispered to.
“Why are you doing this to me?” I murmur into the air, as his lips get closer and closer to the stiffening nub of my nipple. “You know, you could have any girl you want. They’re falling at your feet.”
“But it’s you that I want,” he says, looking me in the eyes. “Can’t you tell, baby?”
For sure I can tell. It’s obvious. His desire is pressing up against me, pushing against me, and unbidden, my hand slide across the denim to feel him. He’s hard as a rock. My hand hungrily examines the contours of his massive cock in these jeans, excited to be able to tell how strongly he wants me.
“Oh Chastity, don’t do that if you don’t mean it,” he says, a warning in his eyes.
“I’ve never meant anything more,” I breathe, and I know it’s true. “I never wanted anyone more.”
He kisses me, and I return the kiss, my hand sliding back over him, pulling him toward me as my legs open and he climbs on top. I can’t stop. I want him, and if I thought I could handle a one-night stand, I’m no longer so sure of myself. I’m not sure about anything anymore. I’m in danger now. But I also know that I can’t stop it even if I tried. It’s not just not being able to control him... I don’t have any control over myself anymore. My body moves with him, out of its own volition.
Being with Kanen is like a moving train. Powerful, unstoppable.
And as I wrap my legs around Kanen and grind against him, I decide to let whatever happens happen. At least for tonight.
“Chastity,” he murmurs into my ear. “You mind if I slide your jeans off?”
“Please do. I’d love it,” I say, and as he undoes the buckle and zipper, I wriggle out of them, my breasts jiggling under my top. He takes advantage of the moment, and slides a finger inside me while sucking on the rosy peak of my breast.
“You’re so soft and wet,” he murmurs, the breath against my nipple cold, making it even harder. “You’re so tight and perfect. Chastity, you have the best pussy. The best...”
I moan, past the point of forming words. If I thought the foot massage was good, this is transcendent, having his hand move inside me, feeling his fingers slickly press in and out, anticipating his sex stretching me as his fingers caress my g-spot.
His mouth trails down my stomach, until he gets to my sex, and as he presses his finger in and out, he sucks gently on my clit, sending shivers down my spine. His tongue is wet, soft, and tireless. I twine my hand into his hair as he licks and sucks me, and his hair is soft. Feeling him pleasure me is so good. He looks up at me, loving to see me enjoying every movement he’s making. For a moment I wonder if we’re safe, if nobody will come across this path and find us here, but I can’t worry about it for long, because it just feels so good. I get closer and closer until I can’t take it anymore. I just want him inside.
“Oh Kanen, please, fuck me,” I find myself begging. I’ve never said such a thing before, but I can’t help myself. I need to feel his cock inside me while he holds me tight, filling me over and over again.
“Lord, baby. With pleasure,” he smiles, and gets up on his knees to release his belt buckle. When he pulls his jeans down, his cock springs from its fabric confines, bouncing a little as he pulls down his boxer briefs. He pulls a Magnum out of his back pocket and quickly sheathes his shaft, and then he teases my clit softly with the tip of his cock, sliding it over my petals, and around my opening. I squirm and moan, and when he finally gives me the entire length in one slow push, I gasp with pleasure and even a tiny seasoning of pain that only heightens how amazing it feels.
“Oh Kanen,” I cry out. “Fuck, Kanen, it’s so good!” And it is. He’s stretching me like I’ve never been stretched, making me feel things I didn’t know were possible.
“You’re so beautiful, Chastity. I could fuck your sweet pussy all day and all night,” he moans into the flesh of my shoulder, and then punctuates his words with a little bite, which makes me squeal. I writhe beneath him, wanting him, needing him, squeezing him with my pussy, trying to hold on as long as I can to this bronco. My breathing is shaky. I haven’t had sex with anyone but Jeffrey, and it was nothing like this.
“You’re so fucking amazing,” I whisper, incredulous, as his length thrills me. He circles his hips around in a slow circle before pulling almost all the way out.
“You can take the whole thing,” he says. “It’s for you baby, every inch.” His cock slides into me again, stretching me, caressing me. Every thrust makes me get closer and closer to the peak, and I shiver as the tension builds inside me, and when I finally come, it’s blinding.
He watches me as I cry out, skillfully timing his thrusts so the orgasm lasts longer than I ever knew one could, and then ushers another one and another through my body as I pant and scream his name. I stare up at the darkening sky, watching the moon appearing, as he shifts expertly inside me. His body makes me crazy, the raven tattoo on his shoulder looking as mysterious and dangerous as he is.
“Chastity,” he says, “I’m going to come now...I’m going to come inside you.”
And he does, convulsing over me, as his orgasm sends me over the edge to my own, and I come once more, all over his cock as his seed pulses, in jet after jet of pure, liquid desire.
Sixteen
Kanen
I drop Chastity off at her house, and we kiss again. It’s too hard to pull away. This girl tastes like candy, like the best whiskey, like an angel, and the softness of her lips leads directly to the hardness of my cock.
“Call me?” she says, tilting her head to the side.
“Definitely.” I kiss her once more, my thumb caressing her cheek, before letting her go. She smiles, hops out the door, and up the lane. Still grinning, she leans against her front door and holds up the keys to tell me I can leave, but I wait until she closes the door behind her. I did want to spend the night with her, more than anything—but if I had I’d need to leave early. It’s not time yet for us to have that kind of morning. The little kids need me tomorrow and I have to ride tomorrow night. But it’s damned tempting to see her standing there, one leg bent, her shirt still falling off her shoulder.
As much as I tell myself it might be because of the kids or whatever, I’m not sure I trust myself with this girl. I can barely keep myself contained around her, and it’s been a long time since I lost my cool. I don’t want to be wrapped around anyone’s finger, not even if it belongs to a gorgeous dark-haired, sweet-assed Canadian girl.
I made my life to be solitary
for a reason. Precisely because other people can’t be trusted. She’s right that we don’t know each other. Not one lick. We’ve only been hanging out a day, and I already feel like I love her. How is that even possible? It can’t be. Part of me says don’t analyze it, just accept it, but the other part says run, you motherfucker. It’s an illusion. And a dangerous one.
The other part tells me to run to her.
When that cheerleader told me I was good enough to fuck but not for anything more, a certain part of me hardened—and it wasn’t that part that women usually come to me for. My heart hardened to protect itself. If I’m not good enough to be someone’s man, why would I allow them the option to reject me? Since then I just ended up using the girls that came my way. The problem is that things start off just fine, with us both wanting a little fling, but it always ends up that they want me, and I don’t want them. Especially once they find out just how much money is in my pocket. Reality gets the better of me and I leave them while they cry and beg me to reconsider.
I reckon that this experience is more dangerous because it might just be the opposite. She’s just as likely to fall in love for a little while, before she realizes that I’m not the kind of man she’s looking for. Or, she’ll move back to Canada, and I’ll be that cowboy she fucked in Texas. A story to tell herself on cold nights.
Maybe I have the strength to ride this out, for the glorious moment that it could be, and then leave it? Or, who the fuck knows, maybe it’s already over. Just a one-night, beautiful, amazing thing. One and done. And we both look back on it with happiness.
No regrets.
But when I think of that sweet look in those dark eyes, that swath of hair falling down the side of her face as she tilts her head and looks at me so innocently, I know she’s too damned hard to resist.
I just don’t want to fall in too deep.
I rub my forehead with my hand and then put the truck in gear—it’s time to drive off into the Texas night. The stars that tickled my eyes earlier are behind clouds now, and it’s darker than it was before. I guess it might rain.
Seventeen
Kanen
“Are you riding tonight, Kanen?” one of the boys asks me.
“I sure am, champ,” I grin. “I ride every Saturday night. Just about.”
“When I grow up I’m going to ride bulls,” another boy says with conviction in his fluty voice. “And I’m going to stay on his back forever!”
“You know, Damien, I’d like to see that,” I grin. “In fact I’d like to do that, but those bulls are pretty tough and powerful, and if they don’t want you on them, then it’s not easy to persuade them to let you stay there.”
“But you can do it,” Damien says, a pout starting on his face.
“I can do it for a certain amount of time, but you know that the bull is always gonna win. That’s the law of the land.”
“I bet you could stay on forever.” He doesn’t look happy. His face is screwing up, getting ready for some waterworks.
“No way!” says the other boy. “Kanen’s good, but even he says the bull is better!” His tone is scoffing. He shoots a look at me, trying to win my approval.
“Kanen is the Wrecker! He can do anything!” The tenor of little Damien’s voice has gotten even more shrill and upset. I guess I know what it’s like to need something to believe in that badly. I can see where this is going and I reckon I’ll head them off at the pass.
“Look Damien, how ‘bout we talk about this later? I want you to show me what you can do in the gym. What do you say we shoot a few hoops?” I ruffle his hair, and turn toward the gym building.
“Okay,” he grumbles. “But you can do anything, right Kanen?”
“I am the best, but I can’t do everything.” I grin at him and chuck him under the chin, looking at the hero worship in his eyes. That’s dangerous, but when you’re in his situation, it feels so good to believe in somebody. Anybody, really. Even a no-good bull rider who struck gold one day. Little does he know how many people let me down, and all the people I let down along the way. Real life—I guess it doesn’t have to hit him just yet. Hopefully ever. “But I don’t mind trying. Who knows, I think you’ll be able to beat my time one day.”
“You think?” His voice is awestruck. “I hope I can.”
“Well the main thing you always have to remember is to respect the bull,” I tell him. “That is the number one key to success. You need to pay homage to that ton of muscle between your legs, because all you are is a couple of hundred pounds of meat on top.”
“I guess so.” His eyes are wide and look faraway.
We all stroll into the gym and I grab a basketball, faking and then throwing it at the first boy’s stomach, and he quickly closes his hands around it and makes a long shot for the basket.
“Three pointer!” I say, and he turns around, beaming and pumping his fist.
“Thanks, Kanen,” he says. “I’m Ricky, by the way. I just came here this week. Did you know it’s not just Damien, but all the boys talk about you like you’re some kind of God?”
“Well that’s nice to hear, but don’t be fooled,” I tell him. “I’m just a regular cowboy.”
“But you’re one of us, right? You have some of our blood?”
“That I do. Not a hundred percent, but the part I’m most proud of.”
I don’t like to talk about this subject, but I will, because I don’t want to pass on the shame that was handed down to me over generations. I fight against the feeling that I was taught by my mama, that I’m supposed to hate myself, to give up, but it seems that it’s almost part of myself now, even if I can never accept it. It’s complex.
The boy nods. “Me too, I’m proud of it too,” he adds quickly, but in a less than convincing way.
That’s all right, I figure. You have to fake it to make it. At least I hope I will someday. I still am pissed at the people who tried to take my pride. Not that they have all that much to be proud of themselves. Motherfuckers.
While we’re talking, Damien grabs the ball from the ground and chucks it at me, and I catch it with one hand, and do a layup at the net. It’s been awhile, but I fly through the steps and slam dunk it at the end. The kids cheer, and I pass the ball after the rebound to Ricky, who makes his own shot. It falls short, but he quickly scoops it up and shoots again, and the second time it goes in.
“Nice recovery,” I grin.
“That’s what it’s all about. That’s what they taught us. It doesn’t matter if you fall,” he recites. “As long as you get up after you fall down.”
Hmm. Maybe so. That’s what I’ve built my life on, anyway. Giving the finger to those people who tried to drag me down, and to leverage my resources so that I can do whatever I damn well please. Canada’s face swims in front of my eyes. I wouldn’t mind seeing her tonight, but I think I might hold off on calling her. Might be better to keep my distance. I may be falling for Canada, but I’m going to get back up just as many times as I fall.
Eighteen
Chastity
A text comes in from Lacey. “Girl, where were you last night? I told you I was going to come by and bring your tips, but you never answered your phone.”
I’m eating ice cream, and my spoon pauses in midair. She’s right. Crap. I completely bailed on her. After I got inside last night, I realized there were three texts from Lacey and two calls. I guess she came by with my money, ready to hear the story about the Wrecker, and I was out with him already.
“Sorry,” I type quickly. “I went out after all.”
“Who did you go out with?” Her answer comes lightning-fast.
Argh. I struggle with whether I should tell her or not. If I do tell her I went out with Kanen, she’ll go nuts and demand details. But she also knows that I don’t have too many other friends in the city, and she’ll probably see right through me if I lie.
I guess I should just bite the bullet and give her the scoop. “If you must know, I went out with Kanen.”
“Whoa, I
was hoping you would say that,” she writes. “What are you doing right now? Can I come over?”
“Sure.”
“You don’t have any surprise plans with him tonight?” I can almost hear the sarcasm in her text.
“Nope, but I’ll let you know if anything changes between now and when you arrive.”
“You better,” she writes back. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” There’s a pause. Then, “And this time, you better tell me everything. I’m bringing wine.”
Exactly as I feared. Ah, well. Still, it might be nice to talk about what’s going on with Kanen. When I woke up this morning I was a little shocked at myself, remembering what we had done. As amazing as it was, I’ve never been the kind of girl who has sex on the first date. Much less the first week I meet somebody. I was a virgin before Jeffrey and haven’t had anyone besides him. Until now. And what’s really freaking me out is that Kanen hasn’t called or texted. I’m not sure why; maybe it’s because I didn’t invite him to spend the night. But he didn’t seem very keen to do so, and I thought maybe we should put the brakes on things before it got too out of hand. Maybe that was a big mistake.
What if he thinks of me as a one-night stand?
What if I think of him as one?
Maybe it’s good that Lacey is coming over—maybe she’ll give me some much-needed perspective on what’s going on with Kanen. And also, maybe she can help me think of an excuse to quit my job, one that won’t piss everyone off. There’s no way I want to go back into that torture chamber for feet they call a restaurant, but if they’re counting on me I would feel bad leaving them in the lurch. And Lacey was nice enough to recommend me. I hope she’s not upset.
I give the house a quick once-over, tossing any evidence of my budding obsession with Kanen into my room. I hide the rodeo program that has his face on the cover and the flowers he picked for me as we were leaving last night. Even my makeup sitting out from when I got ready for my date. Lacey’s just got that kind of mind that fixates on every single detail that’s out of place, and I’d rather try to make sure she knows only what I want her to know. To be in control. But one glance at the cover of the rodeo program, and I’m already lost. He just looks so incredible, his dark eyes, his dark hair, that black hat shading his scowl. That tattoo that so perfectly brings out the lines of his shoulder, so broad and powerful. The bull that goes across his chest. I’m overcome for a moment and I kiss the page before blushing bright red and tossing the program under my pillow.
