by Tara Sivec
Stepping into the stable, my boots clomp against the wood floor as I move down the long hallway of stalls. When I turn a corner at the end, there’s a stall that takes up half of that hallway, where they put horses that are about to give birth, to give them room to move around and be comfortable. I find Clint bent forward with his arms resting on top of the gate, looking into the stall. We haven’t really seen much of each other since our talk on the couch. The small handful of times we were in the same room together during the day, he seemed a little distant and moody, so I gave him some space.
I stop a few feet away from him, and butterflies start flapping around in my stomach.
God, I’ve missed him.
Even though I’ve seen him the last few days, he hasn’t touched me. He hasn’t joked around with me. He hasn’t smirked at me with those damn dimples in his cheeks.
Fuck. I am in so deep.
As if he senses me standing there staring at him, he turns his head to the side and our eyes meet. I give him a small smile, but he doesn’t return it. At least he pushes himself away from the gate and walks toward me, stuffing his hands in the front pockets of his jeans as he moves. He stops a few feet away, and I just want to scream at him to touch me, kiss me, do something to give me some kind of hint if I’m about to do the right thing, or make the biggest mistake of my life.
“You look good, fancy pants,” he says in a low voice, looking me over from head to toe.
I’m wearing another dress from Target that I got the last time I went shopping. A short, baby doll style dress that’s off the shoulder with bell sleeves. It has thin red and white stripes, with tiny blue flowers all over it, and I paired it with my red cowboy boots.
“Did you have a good time with Ember?”
“Yep! Super good time. A blast. Haven’t had that much fun in ages!”
Jesus, shut up!
It wasn’t that much fun, not by a long shot. Aside from me spending the entire night whining and moaning about Clint, the place was packed, and almost everyone in there came up to me to tell me what dates they picked in the betting pool and to ask if they still had a shot at winning. It took a lot of self-control to stop myself from telling all of them to go fuck themselves.
All of a sudden, something catches my eye behind him, back in the corner at the end of the hallway.
“Is that a cotton candy machine?” I ask.
“Yep,” he responds, without looking back over his shoulder.
“Why do you have a cotton candy machine in the stables? Have the horses been protesting about sugar cubes, so you thought you’d impress them with something a little more upscale?” I joke.
Of course he doesn’t laugh, or even smile. Of course he’s not going to make this easy on me.
He lets out a deep sigh, pulling one of his hands out of his pocket to run it through his hair.
“You smell like cotton candy. All the time, ever since I’ve known you. And since I’m a goddamn glutton for punishment, I thought buying that fucking machine, putting it in the store once I have all the stuff I need for it, and being able to smell it when you leave, would make it feel like you’re still here.”
Son of a bitch.
I am an idiot. Why the hell have I been looking for signs, when they’ve been right here the whole time?
My eyes cloud with tears until I can barely see Clint in front of me.
“We should have sex now,” I blurt out.
Oh, God. That’s not what I meant to say. What the hell is wrong with me?
He laughs, but it’s not filled with humor. His eyes, which always look at me with warm affection or sparkle with laughter, are suddenly cold and hard.
“Seriously? That’s all you have to say when I just said that shit to you?” he asks angrily.
I don’t like angry Clint. Not one bit. Angry Clint makes the butterflies flap even harder in my stomach and honestly kind of pisses me off. This is new territory for me. We just saw each other again after twelve years not that long ago, even though it feels like I’ve been back here forever. We’ve only been dating for like, the blink of an eye, after acting like we hated each other all our lives. Being with him romantically is the most natural and comfortable thing I’ve ever done, and that scares the shit out of me. The least he could do is take it a little easy on me.
My irritation replaces the nerves, and I put my hands on my hips defiantly.
“Well, Jesus! It’s getting a little questionable at this point, don’t you think? I’m starting to wonder if Clint Jr. even knows what to do!” I shout. “I mean, I’ve had a thing for a guy since I was a teenager, I think I’m in love with him, and his dick might not even work properly in a vagina!”
Oh, fuck!
I just wanted to tell him I was falling for him, not that I was in love with him. And I even said this shit sober, since my stomach was too tied up in knots to drink earlier with Ember. It just flew out of my mouth before I could stop it. But goddamn it, it doesn’t feel wrong. It came out of me so effortlessly, and it actually felt good.
“What did you just say?” Clint asks quietly.
“I said, his dick might not—”
“I got that part,” he cuts me off, a hint of a smirk finally tipping up one corner of his mouth.
We stand here staring at each other, and the air is so charged that if someone lit a match, the whole place would explode.
“Say it again,” he orders softly.
I swallow thickly as my hands slowly drop from my hips.
“I think I’m in love with you,” I whisper. “Actually, I’m 98.5-percent sure I’m—”
His mouth crashes against mine and cuts me off before I even registered he was moving toward me, his hands pressing to either side of my face as his tongue pushes past my lips. I grip fistfuls of his shirt in my hands and pull him closer, as his feet start moving and walking me backward. My back slams into the wall behind us, and Clint forces my head to change positions so he can deepen the kiss.
We both become a frantic mess of tangling arms and roving hands, trying to touch every part of each other we can reach while he devours my mouth with his skillful-as-hell tongue. I rip his flannel shirt open, and buttons go flying, pinging across the floor at our feet, sliding my palms up the smooth, warm skin of his muscled chest. His hands glide down the side of my neck, over my breasts, and don’t stop until they reach my thighs. Gripping the back of them tightly, he easily lifts me up against the wall so I can wrap them around his waist. He grinds the hardness in his jeans against me, anchoring me in place as I wrap my arms around his shoulders and hold on tight.
The delicate scrap of lace from my thong is immediately ripped off of me and tossed to the side like it’s made of paper. Clint’s tongue swirls around mine, probing deeper and driving me crazy. I quickly drop my hands to his jeans, ripping open the button and yanking down the zipper, dipping my hand right into his boxer briefs and pulling out his hard, swollen cock. I pump my fist up and down his length a few times, until he reaches between us and takes himself in his hand, guiding himself to my entrance.
I suddenly tear my mouth away from his. He growls in protest, and the sound makes me wetter than I already am. Both of our chests are heaving, and when he starts to push the head of his cock inside me, I let out a little whimper and tighten my legs around him.
“You better not suck at this,” I mutter, my heart beating a mile a minute in anticipation of what’s about to happen.
“Right back at you. I hope you brought your A game,” Clint responds, before smashing his mouth back to mine and thrusting himself inside me fully, hard and deep.
We both groan into each other’s mouth, and fucking hell, nothing has ever felt more perfect than this moment right here. His hands go back to gripping my ass, pulling me against him as he starts to move, thrusting roughly in and out of me. My back smacks against the wall with each of his powerful thrusts, but there’s no way in hell I’d complain.
There’s no other way to say it; Clint is fucking me against the wall of a
horse stable, and he definitely doesn’t suck at this. It’s rough, hard, and dirty. After so many weeks, and months, and years of buildup, I wouldn’t expect anything less. It’s not even over yet, and I already know this is the best sex I have ever had.
Just like every time we’ve rounded third base in the last month, Clint knows exactly what to do to my body to make it soar, especially when he’s taking it home. I don’t know if it’s that he’s really this damn good at anything involving sex, or if it’s just that it’s him. I’ve never felt this way with any other man, and I’m starting to realize it’s because none of them were Clint. He knows my body, but he also knows me. He knows everything about me, and still wants me. That’s better than any aphrodisiac in the world.
His groin smacks against me each time he pulls almost all of the way out and then slams back inside of me, hitting the perfect spot every time, making me mindless with the need to come. His tongue darts against mine in the same rhythm as his cock pounding into me, and it just makes everything hotter. My legs start to shake around him, and my hips start churning against him erratically as I race toward my release that’s right there, teetering on the edge.
My clit pulses and throbs as our sweaty bodies smack together, and Clint pulls his mouth away from mine to speak to me in a guttural voice, filled with so much need.
“Come on my cock, baby. I need to feel you.”
Fucking hell, his dirty mouth.
One more rough thrust and I’m toppling over the edge, my arms clinging tightly to his shoulders as my head thumps back against the wall, and I shout his name.
“Oh, fuck… oh, fuck,” he mutters, burying his head into the side of my neck.
His hips pump faster and faster between my thighs, until he drives in one last time, whispering my name as his cock pulses and twitches inside of me with his release.
Clint’s body finally stills, and he collapses against me as we both pant and try to catch our breaths.
After a few minutes, he finally lifts his head from the side of my neck, and places a soft kiss against my lips.
“That definitely didn’t suck,” I tell him, running one of my hands through the hair on top of his head.
He chuckles and shakes his head.
“God, I fucking love you.”
My heart flip-flops in my chest when I hear him say the words back. I mean, I kind of already knew at this point, but it definitely feels good to hear it out loud.
I wince a little when he pulls himself out of me, his hands on my hips as he helps me slide down the wall and put my feet on the ground.
“So, who’s the winner?” Clint asks.
He fastens his jeans, grabs my hand, and pulls me down the hallway after I quickly scoop up my shredded thong, reaching over and shoving it into his front pocket.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Nice try. There’s no way you were at the Maple Inn tonight and weren’t approached by half the town with their bets,” he smiles.
“Full discloser, you need to know this is absolutely not why I told you I love you,” I reassure him.
“I know. But you’re eyes got all squirrelly and I can practically feel you vibrating with excitement, so spill it, Manning.”
It’s true. I can hardly stand it, and I can’t stop the rush of enthusiastic words that fly out of me as we walk out of the stable door and into the chilly night air.
“Rita Shelby told me she traded with Katie Johnson right after we saw Katie in town that night and now I get to take Katie shopping for dresses, and shoes, and skirts, and purses, and all the things!” I cheer.
Clint wraps his arm around my shoulder and pulls me against him as we walk toward the house, letting out a good-natured sigh.
“Rodney is gonna kill us when he finds this out.”
“He won’t have to spend a dime on that girl’s new wardrobe. He’ll be fine. Plus, Katie will look amazing at our funerals, so there’s a silver lining.”
Chapter 24
CLINT
Doomed Life
The last few weeks with Brooklyn have been nothing short of amazing. We’ve fallen into an easy routine, and it feels like we’ve been doing this for years. Finding out she’d always felt something for me, just as I had for her, has been the craziest thing that has ever happened to me. It makes me want to kick myself in the ass for never vocalizing my feelings sooner. We could have been this happy for years, instead of just a few months. I realized, though, that even if I would’ve loved to have been with her all this time, I wouldn’t have my girls. Everything happened the way it was supposed to, even if it took us a long time to get here.
“Are you gonna show me your slick dance moves tonight, or just stand here being a wallflower, waiting for some hot chick to flirt with you?”
I turn to smile at Brooklyn as she walks up to where I’ve been standing at the far edge of the white party tent that has been set up on the town square for the Rotary Club dinner.
Every time I see her, I can’t fucking believe she’s mine and that she’s in love with me, and this time is no different. She’s wearing the green wrap dress she wore the first day I saw her again, the soft material clinging to all of her curves and showing a generous amount of her mouth-watering cleavage with how low it dips down in front. Her long, dark hair has been pulled up into a high ponytail, and all I can think about is her neck on display and how I want to press my lips against it and taste her skin.
We’ve been insatiable ever since that night in the stables when I took her up against the barn wall, having sex all over the damn farm at every opportunity, each time better than the one before it. I should feel bad that our first time wasn’t more romantic, but then thoughts of how good it felt to sink inside her body, how tightly she clung to me as I pounded into her, and how hard she came on my cock replace that remorse.
“Well, there’s this hot chick I’ve got my eye on, but I don’t know if she’ll want to dance with a nerd like me,” I tell her with mock shyness, kicking the ground at my feet with the toe of my boot.
“Oooh, are we role playing? Excellent,” she mutters, closing the distance between us and pressing her body up against mine. “The khakis are a nice touch. Way to get into your nerd role, Hastings.”
Even though the Rotary Club dinner is held outside, and it’s a fairly casual event, everyone in town always dresses up for the most part. Some of the guys just put on their cleanest pair of jeans and a polo shirt, and others wear suits that stay in the back of their closets and only come out for funerals or weddings. The women though, they always go all out. The salon in town is busy from the minute they open until right before the dinner starts, with all of them booking appointments to have their hair done.
I decided to lose my usual uniform of jeans and a flannel for a pressed pair of khakis, a pale blue dress shirt with the cuffs rolled up, and the new pair of dark brown work boots I got for my first date with Brooklyn.
“You like the khakis, do ya? Are they making you hot?”
“So hot,” she says with a wag of her eyebrows. “I feel like I’m in high school again, constantly staring at your ass in those dress pants you always wore, wondering what you were packing in the crotch of them.”
I laugh, wrapping my arms around her and holding her tightly to me, as her palms rest against my chest.
“Well, now you don’t have to wonder anymore. I’m packing a weapon of mass destruction in these things.”
She rolls her eyes at me, but the smile on her face doesn’t lie.
“I may or may not have gotten into the spirit of role playing tonight as well,” she informs me, looking back over her shoulder and glancing around.
The entire town is here, either under this tent getting food, or under the other tent that has been set up right in front of the gazebo, lined with row after row of chairs, so everyone can watch the acts that have started performing under the gazebo.
We’re standing in the shadows of the food tent, far away from the cafeteria
tables that have been set up for dinner, and no one is paying a bit of attention to us. When Brooklyn turns her head back around to face me, she steps out of my hold, grabs the hem of her dress, and slowly lifts one corner of it, moving it inch by inch up her thigh.
When she gets it high enough and I can see her underwear peeking out from under her dress, I laugh so loudly she smacks my chest and quickly drops the skirt of her dress before anyone looks over here.
“Are you wearing bright blue Cookie Monster underwear? The Cookie Monster underwear?” I ask, my shoulders still bobbing with laughter.
“Not the Cookie Monster underwear. I’m pretty sure I burned those after I flashed the entire town. I ordered these off Amazon. Now, I’ll just be flashing you tonight,” she tells me with a cheeky smile.
“Oh, Cookie Brookie, you’re my favorite.”
Grabbing her hand, I pull her out of the tent and over to a grassy area, where a small wooden dance floor has been set up for people to use. The final act of the evening, the high school marching band, just finished their last song, and one of the seniors in charge of being the DJ for the night just started playing a slow song.
The dance floor is situated right in the middle of a small circle of trees, with strands of multi-colored lights hanging from the branches above us. I lead Brooklyn out into the middle of the floor where others have already started dancing, pulling her into my arms, the two of us slowly swaying to the music.
“Where are the girls? I haven’t seen them since dinner and got pulled away for an emergency,” Brooklyn asks, her arms draped over my shoulders as she searches around for Grace and Mia.
“By emergency, do you mean Katie asking you about shoes?” I joke.
True to her word, Brooklyn took Katie shopping last week to spend her winnings. They were gone for twelve hours. I almost called the police when she didn’t return any of my phone calls or text messages. But then I realized she was in her element and would probably stab me for interrupting her so many times.
“Shut up! She was almost going to wear ballet flats with the skinny Seven7 jeans she got, and I had to make sure she wore the Gucci ankle boots, or her first day of senior year would be ruined,” she tells me dramatically.
