by Conley, Anne
He could remember her tears of grief and frustration at her father, when he’d run away for days at a time to go on one of his benders. What would she do when she found out Brent wasn’t any different?
Standing, he evaluated the roof. He was almost finished. In fact, he could probably finish today, if he didn’t take any breaks. He slapped down the shingles, using efficient strokes to hammer them down before quickly moving on to the next.
He should know better. Casey was too good for him, she didn’t deserve to be linked to his past. It was bad enough she was Leonard Stewart’s daughter. To be Brent Baum’s wife would be one more obstacle for her to overcome.
Wife?
His hammer stopped, poised over his shoulder at the thought, before coming down to drive the nail through the shingle and into the roof in one stroke.
Yeah. Wife.
She was his, dammit. He’d made her his, made love to her with all the restraint he could possibly show, marked her body with his lust, filled her with his seed. She made his past disappear.
She made it all go away. His past, the accident, the drugs, the memories, the escape. It was all gone when she was around.
But he wanted something he could never have. He’d wanted her since he was twelve, walking in on her flour-dusted nose making cookies that first day. He hadn’t understood the tightening in his chest at the time, and it had been a little gross. She’d been a child. But he’d watched her grow up, he’d seen the other guys in school notice her, he’d even punched one or two for making imbecilic observations about her. And then she’d gone away, and he’d gone a little crazy without her around to center him.
And now she was back, and she was amazing. Casey was everything he’d dreamed she’d be and more. She was like a rock for him to anchor himself to, to keep from drifting out into a sea of oblivion. Sure, he had his horses, but she gave the horses a purpose besides just a way to make a living.
After his accident, he’d discovered a dark secret place inside himself. He’d tried to fuck his way out of it, but that hadn’t worked. The dark place had shown him another side of life that he’d never really realized he’d wanted. He didn’t think now that he’d ever actually wanted it, but it had been what he’d done. All that mindless fucking sort of went hand in hand with the amounts of drugs he’d been doing.
When she found out, she would leave him. He knew it. She wouldn’t put herself in the position of caring for another person like her dad, ever. She’d always said so, and her reaction to him asking about her dad yesterday confirmed it. Brent stood to walk to the end of the row, tossing shingle sheets down as he went. He began hammering in the next row, as he came to a decision.
She would find out, but not yet. He wasn’t ready to lose her. When he was with Casey Stewart, Brent was whole again. He was a man in her eyes. He would enjoy seeing that for as long as he could before she finally saw the truth.
They had a nice routine going, Casey thought to herself as she finished up the last of this job she could do before resubmitting it. Being with Brent kept her from dwelling on her inadequacies as a woman. As Kevin had reminded her every chance he could, women were created to procreate and bear children. Since she couldn’t do that, she wasn’t a real woman. But Brent never made her feel that way. With Brent, she was sexy, she was whole, she was a real woman. She didn’t have to hide anything from him. She couldn’t even if she wanted to. She was an open book when she was around him. He’d always made her feel that way. She’d always been able to tell him anything.
She remembered once, when she was a freshman, before he’d moved, Brent had driven her over to Jacksonville to help her look for her dad. They’d found him drunk and passed out behind a bar. Brent hadn’t said anything about the haggard man, or the odor of vomit that emanated off him. He just pulled Casey into a hug before helping her get him into the bed of his truck. On the way back, he’d woke and started beating on the glass of his back window, shouting obscenities at her. When they’d gotten back to Casey’s home, he’d jumped out of the truck and gone straight into the garage where he’d thrown things until he’d calmed down enough to go to bed. Brent had stayed with Casey the entire time, making sure she was safe. During that time, she’d told him things she’d never told anyone. Not even Summer. She’d told him about the drunken rages, the beatings her mom had taken, and her own dispensability in her father’s eyes. The entire time, he’d held her tightly in his arms, stroking her back, making her feel cherished.
The next time it had happened, Brent hadn’t been so calm about it. They’d found her dad in almost the same exact place, only this time, after hauling him into a standing position, Brent had lost his temper.
“This is the last time I’m driving Casey around to find your sorry, drunk ass.” Towering over her father, Brent had pushed the man back against the wall for effect, but he’d only mumbled something incoherent in response.
“What?” Brent poked Stanley in the chest. “What did you say?” Another poke. Casey had watched, stunned. Nobody ever really stood up to her father, unscathed. Apparently, tonight he was too drunk to respond, because the more Brent poked at him, the more the man shrank away. “You. Can’t. Expect. Her. To. Come. Pick. Up. Your. Shit. Every. Time. You. Lose. It.” He had punctuated each word with a poke to her dad’s chest.
Then he’d tossed Casey’s dad into the back of his pickup and driven him home. There was no banging this time, no shouting. Stanley was quiet the entire drive home, and sullenly went into the house when they got there. He didn’t leave his room for a week after that.
Once the week was over though, he was back to normal.
Brent still made her feel cherished, but for different reasons. And now, she was all grown up. She hadn’t broken down in his arms about her dad. She would never give her dad that power over her again. But she still felt cherished in Brent’s arms, and she believed him when he said he loved her, and always had. Something about it all just seemed so right.
Casey had taken to spending the mornings at her desk and the afternoons at Brent’s ranch before going home to spend the night and dream of being wrapped in his arms.
Today, she laid out a pair of soft pink high heeled sandals on her bed and taken a picture of them to send to Brent with the caption, I’m coming soon…You there?
He’d replied with I like your pink things…
Eagerly, she rushed around, getting ready for him. In her haste, she didn’t stop to wonder where her favorite pink jeweled hair comb had gone. Instead, she grabbed one that was silver with rhinestones and used it to pull her curls back from her face.
Honking as she pulled her car up next to the barn, she ran into Brent’s waiting arms and succumbed to his greedy kisses. Mooch barked his approval at her arrival, and nuzzled between them for attention, which Casey gave him. When he rolled over, she scratched his belly, watching him squirm with pleasure at her ministrations.
“I’ve missed you, Case.” She looked up into his eyes, shaded by the worn out black Stetson he wore. It was probably the same one he’d gotten for his seventeenth birthday.
“I was just here yesterday.”
“Come stay with me. Please.” He groaned as his hands picked her up by her rear and set her on some barrel next to where he’d been working.
She gasped in response, as he yanked her shirt over her head and filled his hands with her pink lace-covered breasts. “Jesus God, Case. I never loved pink so much as I do right now,” he breathed as he lowered his mouth to suckle her breast over the lace, his wet tongue and the rough lace doing insane things to her insides. Casey moaned and tugged on his hair to pull him closer. His hand slipped her other breast out of its enclosure and tweaked the nipple into alertness, drawing another moan from her as she wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him against her core.
She grabbed at his shirt to pull it over his head, and when he leaned back to help her, her mouth went to his nipples, biting one before Brent grabbed her hands, which were climbing up his shoulders.
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��Ah God, you’re going to get it now.” He pulled her hands up and reached around her, tossing her over his shoulder as if she weighed nothing and carrying her to a pile of hay in the corner of the barn. She squealed, as he spanked her bottom even though the stinging slap did more to arouse her than anything else.
He dropped her in the prickly hay before falling on top of her, his hands grabbing roughly at her shorts. “I’m going to mark you so bad, you won’t be able to go home to Mama tonight,” he growled at her as he slid her shorts down her legs, pausing to admire her soft pink g-string. Ignoring the bristles poking her backside, she laid there in her underwear and shoes, enjoying the look of open admiration on his face. She opened her legs and slipped one finger inside the waist band of her panties and watched his eyes widen.
“Do it.” His voice was gruff and she raised an eyebrow in question. “I want to see.” He explained further as he unbuttoned his own pants and pulled out his raging erection, pumping it once for effect. “I want to see you make yourself come.”
Casey saw the wildness in his eyes and flushed. She’d made herself come enough times over her lifetime with thoughts of Brent. Seeing him now in the flesh wouldn’t be hard.
“I will if you will,” she purred, licking her lips eagerly. She smiled wide as he pumped himself again, and brought her hand to her mouth to lick a finger before pulling both breasts out of their bra cups. Then she trailed a hand inside her panties, and while she tweaked one already aroused nipple, she slipped her other hand inside herself.
Brent crawled forward and pulled the pink lace to the side as he continued fisting his erection, breathing heavily. “So beautiful…” He breathed. His eyes had darkened, his pupils widening with desire, and Casey was powerless to deny him.
Giving her nipple a final twist, she used her other hand to circle her clit, while holding the panties to the side, giving Brent a view of her using two fingers to fuck herself while she breathed heavily. His right hand was still pumping his cock at a maddening pace, while his other gripped her thigh, pushing it down against the hay.
“Lift up your hips a little.” He gasped, squeezing the bottom of his shaft, as if to stop himself from spewing. He scooted his knees under her hips and used both of his hands to spread her open, running one hand into her ass crack.
“You like that, don’t you?”
“Your ass? Hell yeah. It’s exquisite. The things I want to do to it keep me awake at night.” He murmured, as he spread her juices down to her puckered hole. “Keep it up, Baby. Make it last.”
She groaned at the feel of his rugged fingers in her intimate place while her own fingers pleasured what they knew so well. She could hear the sounds of her wetness as her fingers moved in and out of herself, and she could see the desire plainly in Brent’s face. He wasn’t even touching himself anymore, and still his breaths came in ragged gasps. A sense of power overcame her as she knew that she was doing this to him, without even a touch from her.
“You’re not doing anything.” She put on a pout for him, sticking out her bottom lip, but he didn’t notice. His eyes were glued to her dripping pink spot. He pulled her feet up to his shoulders before lazily resuming his one-handed ministrations.
His other hand helped hers, moving the fingers out of her folds and inserting three of his own, while his thumb caressed her crack. She arched her back.
“Oh god, that feels so…” She couldn’t finish the sentence, her senses overwhelmed her as his thumb went where it had no business going. She was undeniably full, as his fingers curled inside her and rubbed her g-spot while she circled her own fingers over her nub. She went momentarily blind as her body shuddered a release that clamped down on his fingers and wracked every muscle she had below her waist.
A warmth fell on her stomach and legs as Brent grunted his release, spurts of him coating her before he pushed her legs off his shoulders, and fell on top of her body, pressing her into the hay.
He rolled over on his side, spooning Casey against his chest, holding her close. She could feel him inhale deeply, and exhale with repletion.
“This hay is itchy,” she remarked as he sucked on her shoulder. She was pretty sure he was leaving hickeys.
“Is it?” He mumbled, distractedly.
“Yes, it is. Are you done out here for today? Or can we go inside?”
“Nope. I’ve still got some things to do out here.” He moved his mouth lower on her back and started sucking a new spot.
“Like what?”
“Well, I intended to have sex with you on that barrel, but somehow got distracted. So, sex on the barrel is first on my agenda. After that there’s a spot in the hayloft I wanted to try out.” He rubbed his stubble against her back as he talked and she arched against it. “Then there’s my office…I’ve been imagining some really amazing things in my office. And the tack room…” He thrust his newly erect again penis against her rear. “Do you have any idea how much leather there is in the tack room? Oh god, all that leather.” He started to stand, dragging her with him. “I want to start in the tack room.”
She was suddenly reminded of a child, and laughed out loud at him. “Is sex all you think about?”
He froze and his face fell, as he looked to the ceiling in thought. Finally, his eyes met hers again. “Not always. There’s times when I just imagine you naked.” He scooped her up and threw her over his shoulder impervious to her squeals before he stalked towards the tack room and kicked the door open.
Chapter 13
A week later, at Casey’s house, Brent lounged on her bed while she rolled up her drawings and put them away for the day. He’d been watching her work all morning, and she felt a happy thrill at his quiet presence behind her. He’d pulled his Stetson over his eyes to block out the light she had shining on her desk, but occasionally his soft drawl filled the room with some comment or question. Casey’s work went by faster when he was there, for some reason. Finished for the day, she put away her work things and turned to him.
She liked watching him. They’d spent most of their spare time together the last couple of weeks. Brent still pouted that she wouldn’t spend the night with him, but had stopped asking so often. They watched movies, ate, talked, and when they were at his place, had lots of astounding sex. While she really enjoyed the sex and sharing that intimacy with him, she liked quiet moments like this just as much.
“I’m done with that job for a few days, they need to send me more information before I can finish. What do you want to do?”
Her room hadn’t changed since she’d left for college, and Casey watched as Brent’s smile, the only part of his face visible under his hat, slowly curved up into a lecherous smirk. The pink eyelet pillow shams did little to take away from the effect of his voice floating across the room.
“I can think of a few things…” he drawled. “Do you realize how many times I fantasized about this bed?” His hand ran lazily over the pink eyelet bedspread that she had picked out for her thirteenth birthday. It was faded now, but incredibly soft, and Casey’s eyes widened as Brent’s fingers idly traced the pattern by touch.
“Well, we can’t do anything here, with my mom in the next room. You know that.”
“Then get your things and come home with me.”
She could see his pants fill out with a growing bulge, and that, coupled with his low, silky voice was enough to get her moving. She wanted to change out of her cutoff shorts into something nicer.
“We have to stay for dinner. Mom’s frying chicken.”
“I know. I can smell it. Your mom’s a great cook.”
Casey nodded as she went to her chest of drawers. “I know. I’m not too bad myself, but she won’t let me near her kitchen.”
“Make me a list, and I’ll buy what you need. You can cook in my kitchen any time you want.” That was Brent’s subtle way of trying to get her to spend the night with him. The intruder hadn’t been found, although he hadn’t come back to make more chili-cheese dogs either. Casey would cave soon, she knew. She
couldn’t stand not being with Brent every second of every day. And she wanted to spend the night with him so badly, be held in his arms all night long. The thought of leaving her mom here alone though, soured her stomach. If the intruder came back while she was here alone, with more nefarious intentions than supper, Casey didn’t know how she would be able to live with herself.
Casey rummaged around her underwear drawer, looking for a particular set of panties and bra. It was black, with shiny sequins stitched into it. It had been one of Kevin’s favorites, and while Casey didn’t necessarily want to share memories of the two men and the same underthings, she wanted to see Brent’s face when he saw the ensemble shining later in the moonlight. And she knew Brent would eclipse any memories of Kevin.
“Can we go to the tank tonight? By the willow tree?”
“Sure. Why do you want to go there?”
“We’ve been fulfilling all of your fantasies. I have a couple of my own. …Damn…” She muttered, still rifling through her drawer.
Brent sat up, pulling his hat off his head. “What?”
“I can’t find the underwear I want to wear tonight.” She pulled out a satin black set that was pretty, and went to her closet to find a different pair of shoes. “I think I’m losing my mind. I keep losing things: my favorite stilettoes, my sequined underwear, my most comfy pajamas, my hair comb.” She laughed to herself. “I’m getting senile.”
Brent’s voice was quiet. “You have sequined underwear? Like a g-string with sequins on it?”
She nodded, digging in her closet, so she didn’t notice when Brent adjusted himself. When she turned around though, a pair of black, strappy platform sandals in her arms, the bulge in his pants was bigger and she giggled at the look of helplessness on his face. He shook his head and a mask of seriousness fell.
“Do you think that guy broke in and took them?”
“What? No! I think Kevin figured out a way to rummage through my things before I left Houston. It’s all stuff that he liked. And I don’t have any specific memories of any of them here…That sounds like something he would do. He was always trying to have the best of both worlds. It figures that he’d pick around my stuff and take what he liked after the divorce.”
