City Country

by BA Tortuga

  “He’s a friend, Cotton. It doesn’t always have to be about sex!” It was always girls that said shit like that.

  “You can bet it is for Jeff.” He sneered the man’s name, which probably wasn’t fair. He’d never met the feller. “I missed you.”

  “He isn’t interested in me like that.” She was hiding in her hair, not looking at him. “You’ve been riding good.”

  “I been trying to make enough money to take a weekend off.” He’d needed to take a bye so he could come find her. She nodded and blushed and he almost—almost—grinned. A gal that wasn’t interested wouldn’t know how he’d been riding, would she?

  Cotton pulled into the parking lot at the Whataburger and almost parked, but at the last minute he hit the drive-through. “I have a hotel,” he said, when she lifted a eyebrow. “Don’t want to do this in public.”

  “Okay.” Em stared out the passenger window, over the city. There was a storm coming down the corridor, barreling south.

  One of the things he loved about her was how easy it was to talk to her. This was painful. He ordered burgers, a small one for her if she’d been off meat, and chicken fingers and gravy with Texas toast. Fries. Pies. Nervous? Not him.

  She didn’t say a word to him—in fact, he thought she might be crying the one time he looked over at her.

  “Emmy. Please. Tell me what happened. What really happened.” He pulled up at the Sheraton, which he’d saved up enough hospitality points for. They’d at least have a nice place to stay.

  “I don’t know what you want me to say. All sorts of stuff happened, but the fact is that all those people there that night that you knew, that were your friends, none of them knew my name, none of them knew I existed. Hell, you were taking other girls out, and I realized that I was… I thought…” She stopped, shrugged. “I thought I was something more to you than I was, which okay, fine. It happens. Are we going in?”

  “We are going in. We’re gonna eat. And I’m gonna figure this out if it kills me.” Cotton grabbed the food and hopped out to go around and help her down.

  She got down on her own, tugging her sweater a little. Cotton grunted, trying to hold back the kisses and the words and the everything. It was gettin’ tough. “Sorry. It’s for work.”

  “Stop it.” He burst out, just not able to stop. The valet man stared. “Stop apologizing. I just need to talk to you, is all. We just need to figure this!”

  “I’m here, aren’t I? I’m here and not at the studio.”

  “I know.” He did. That was good, right? Good. But he was just… Damn it. Cotton grabbed her with his free hand and started towing her inside.

  Her boots clicked and clacked behind him, then she stopped. “Cotton, stop it. These boots hurt. Slow down.”

  “Okay. Okay, honey. Sorry.” Fuck a doodle doo. “You want to take them off here?”

  “I wish.” She actually grinned at him. “I left my tote bag at the studio. It has flip-flops.”

  “Well, I have socks.” Upstairs. He could carry her. Hell, she didn’t weigh nothin’ anymore. Cotton handed her the food and swept her up.

  “Cotton!” One arm went around his shoulders, and she held on, so warm, so good against him.

  “What?” He grinned at her while they waited for the elevator, then hopped on when the empty car came. “You don’t weigh a bit.”

  “I’m trying.” God, girls were so weird.

  “I like you like you are, honey.”

  She looked at him. “I know, Cotton, but be honest, if we’re in public and someone you know—someone you work with—sees me, you’re going to be ashamed because no matter how hard I work, I can’t be one of those girls.”

  The elevator door opened. He almost dropped her, stunned as he was by that. “Well, honey, you’re not what my sponsors would love for me, that’s true. But I ain’t never wanted a buckle bunny.”

  “It’s not about want, though, is it? It’s about…appearances.”

  “Can you at least give me the benefit of the doubt?” Christ. “Your friends don’t exactly love me, either. How many of them said I told you so when you ran off?”

  She had the good graces to blush. “All of them.”

  The elevator doors closed again.

  “There you go.” Cotton turned her a bit. “Hit the button, honey.”

  Em reached out, pushed the button. “The hamburger smells good.”

  “It does.” Hell, he would settle for a pie. He felt a little vindicated, a little more on even footing. Maybe it was wrong of him, but damn.

  They got to the hotel room door, and he put her down so he could get his wallet out. “Get those shoes off, honey. If you’re good, I’ll rub your feet.”

  She snorted, but bent over as soon as the hotel room door was closed, dragged the zipper down and…wow.

  He’d missed her.

  He kept his hands to himself, going to pull out the food before it got cold and gross. They’d both be better after a burger.

  She stepped out of the boots and pulled her hair back into a ponytail. All of the sudden she looked like his Em again.

  Cotton had to go kiss her. Had to.

  She glanced up at him as he came up to her, lips parted like she was gonna start talking again. That was great. Fabulous. They needed to talk. After this. Cotton bent and kissed her, pressing his lips down against hers, pushing his tongue into her mouth. She tasted so good. Minty.

  Just like always, she was right there, wanting him, kissing him back. Sliding an arm around her waist was easy as breathing. Cotton pulled her up close against him, breathing her in.

  “This is a bad idea…” She pushed back into the kiss, tongue sliding against his.

  “No.” No, it wasn’t. She might not understand the word, as muffled as it was, but it wasn’t bad.

  One kiss melted into another, Emmy’s fingers knocking his cap off and sliding against his hair. He grabbed her butt and danced her toward the bed, the relief at finally finding her making him a little…hasty.

  “I…” He sat, and she straddled his thighs, jean skirt stretching tight. “We broke up, Cotton.”

  She kissed him again, though, and it didn’t feel like she was breaking up. It felt a lot like ‘touch me and keep me’.

  So he did. He pushed her over until she sat on the bed instead, then leaned between her legs, one knee on the bed so he could bend and kiss her until she couldn’t breathe. She pressed against his thigh, so hot.

  “Emmy.” He murmured her name against her mouth, just needing so bad. She nodded, hands warm against his waist.

  Cotton pushed her even farther back, going down on top of her, stretching out. He wanted to feel her all along him. He got one hand under her sweater, fingers on the soft skin of her belly.

  “Oh.” He couldn’t help it. The sound came out as a moan. His girl. Fuck, he wanted her, wanted to love on every inch of her. Cotton scrabbled at Emmy’s sweater, pulling at the hem. He needed her skin, needed to make it his again.

  It came up, then off, and he had all sorts of wonders to look at—her creamy skin, her breasts in the black lacy bra, the cotton boll inked over her heart. Bending, he kissed the lines of the tattoo. So pretty.

  Her skin went pink, and she moaned. “I got it…before…”

  “I never got to see it.” He would have torn her ass up. Like seriously.

  “I know. I was gonna show you…that night.”

  “God, honey. I wish you had. Saw you on that website, and I went a little crazy.”

  “Good or bad crazy?” Her lips brushed the top of his head. “I wish I had, too.”

  “Well, I found you.” He slid an arm under her and squeezed her tight, lifting her for another kiss.

  She worked his shirt open, tugged it out of his jeans. That was it. Now they were getting somewhere. When he pressed down again, his skin met hers, the feeling warm and perfect.

  “Cotton.” The skirt went easily, her panties tiny and lacy and black.

  “Emmy. God damn.” He licked
his way down, finding the top swell of her breast. She smelled so good—womanly and sweet and so fucking hot. He just wanted to eat her up. Heck, he kind of wanted to just hold her down and make sure she never wandered off again.

  He knew that he’d fucked up—he knew it, but he was gonna make it right then make fucking sure that she understood that she was his girl, his lady, his woman. Damn it.

  Cotton pushed the bra down, the catch behind her back frustrating him. He needed to get to those pretty nipples. Her breasts popped out of the cups, though, and the bra outlined them, sorta pushed them right up in his face. Woo hoo. Cotton grinned. He was like a starving man at a feast, no doubt.

  The rings were gone, replaced with black bars. Huh. He wasn’t sure if that was as pretty. Different, but he loved his rings.

  “They show less in the photos. I have clear ones, too.”

  “I like the rings, but these are nice.” Cotton proved his words by bending and licking first one nipple, then the other.

  “Oh…” Oh, look at that. So pretty. Her nipples drew up tight, lifting up toward his mouth.

  Now, that was something he could get behind. Cotton sucked one little nipple between his lips, pulling at it just hard enough. He sucked until those little noises started filling the air, sweet and soft, just like he’d been dreaming about.

  She was his girl, and only he was going to make her feel this way. Lord, he was starting to have a theme song.

  “Cotton… You’re still all dressed.”

  “I am.” He was. That was bad. Rearing up on his knees, Cotton started stripping down.

  She sat up, frowning over some bruises on his belly. “Tucson, huh? Shit, baby. You gotta watch that.”

  Oh, yeah, she still loved him.

  “I know. I was distracted.” He’d been looking at pictures of her on the Internet. “By your red butt online.”

  “Huh?” She seemed honestly confused.

  “I saw those pictures. Of you. With your…your spanky butt.”

  Emmy rolled her eyes. “Jesus, you’re a dork. Not that it matters because we weren’t together, but you’re an ass if you think I’d let Mitch touch my butt. It was Photoshopped.”

  “You mean…” Wait. You could do that?

  “I mean, it takes like six seconds, and you’re a jackass if you think I’m that fucking easy.”

  “I didn’t know what to think!” Damn it, they was spoiling the mood. “I was miserable.”

  “Good! So was I.” She crossed her arms over her chest, frowned at him. “I’ve lost everything in the last three months, man. I know from miserable.”

  “I’m sorry, honey.” He was. He hadn’t known about her job, but now it made more sense.

  “Yeah. I made it. I’m good that way.”

  “You are.” Maybe he could get the mood back. Gently. Cotton kissed her again, putting everything into it. Especially relief about her butt. She stayed tense for a couple of heartbeats, but about the time he’d started worrying, she’d cuddled in again, soft and so damn warm.

  That was it. That was how he knew they could do this. They always managed to speak best through touch. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, rocking her a little. The kiss went on and on, heating up gradual, like his granny’s teapot, maybe. Oh, not sexy. Maybe… Oh, hell. It felt good.

  He pushed his fingers under her hair, tilting her head so he could kiss deeper. Those awful scars from her wreck were there, but he didn’t shy away from them. No, sir. Her scars were way more of a badge of honor than his. He stroked his fingers over them, moving on when she tensed up some.

  “You’re the only one.” He just barely heard the words.

  “Oh, God. Emmy.” She was it for him, too. She so was. The fire just ratcheted up a hundred notches. He had to have her.

  He slipped his legs between hers, and she opened right up, spreading for him. The feel of the hot, soft skin on the insides of her thighs was like coming home. Cotton moved up, his hips pushing between now. His cock slid on her panties, and he could tell just from that how wet she was for him.

  “Damn.” Cotton moaned a little, rubbing up and down before backing away and pulling at her panties. He wanted inside.

  They eased down her hips, and he could smell her now, so sweet and needing. Bending, he breathed deep, nuzzling at the very top of her curls.

  “Baby…” She spread a little wider, hips rolling up.

  “Uh-huh.” Speaking got to be a chore. His breath came hard and deep, and he licked a little, trying to get the spots swimming before his eyes. Em started rocking, muttering his name as she begged for him. Her hands slid over his shoulders, one pushing down his back to tug at him. He wasn’t sure if she wanted him moving up or down.

  “Cotton, I want you. In me. Now.”

  That was his girl.

  “Now. You know it. Damn.” He could so do that. He hoped to God she was still on the pill, because he couldn’t wait.

  He pushed in, and it was fucking coming home into the best, hottest, most perfect place ever. His eyes rolled, his head dropped forward because it was too damned heavy, and Cotton bit back a shout. All he managed was, “Love.”

  She made this noise that he was gonna remember for his whole life, he swore to God, then she wrapped her legs around him and held him close.

  Cotton started to move, his whole body needing it, into it. His ass pulled taut, his balls drew up and he just went to town.

  “Cotton…” She reached between them, touching herself, and he could feel her, rippling around him.

  “Christ.” He kissed her again and again, hands under her ass to pull her up. Her butt was tighter, but it was still round and the skin was soft and he loved it.

  Her eyes flew open, and she gasped. “There. Don’t stop, baby. Oh, fuck.”

  Damn, she made him feel like a stud.

  “Not gonna. Nope.” In fact, he was just gonna have to go faster. Harder. More.

  She grabbed hold of his shoulders, nails digging in as she threw her head back and groaned.

  “Come on, honey. Faster.” Cotton knew he was being greedy as hell, but he just couldn’t help it. He needed her like a drought needed a shower.

  “Uh-huh.” Her body worked him as if it was made for him, for this, right here, the muscles fluttering hard enough that he could feel them.

  Cotton chanted her name, rocking and rolling, the sweat starting to bead up along his hairline, on the back of his neck. God, it was a good thing Emmy liked sex. Hell, he might be the luckiest fucker on… Oh. Oh, fuck him raw. She was so pretty when she came.

  That was all he could stand. Cotton came like a freight train, his mouth wide open like a fool. It felt like heaven. Her body worked him, drawing out everything, wave by wave.

  “Oh, Emmy.” A broken record. That was him.

  She nodded, let him rest down on her a second.

  Of course, about the time he was about to sink into a nice nap, her tummy growled. Cotton chuckled, pushing up and rolling. “Let me get the food.”

  “I’ll clean up a little.” She settled her bra, grabbed her panties and sweater and scooted to the bathroom.

  Damn. Sighing, he grabbed his jeans and hit up the ice bucket for some melted stuff. That and a washcloth off the floor and he was right as rain.

  Em came out in bra and panties, holding her sweater. “I don’t guess you have something less itchy?”

  “I happen to, yeah.” His jeans were on, if not fastened, so he figured he was decent. He got her his one long-sleeved T-shirt, as it was longer than the others and would make her feel safer.

  “Thanks.” She stopped, pulled her bra off and pulled his shirt on.

  Woo. Cotton stopped dead where he was for a second. Damn. When he got moving again, it was to open ketchup for him and put straws in the drinks. “Come eat, honey.”

  “Yeah.” She grabbed a French fry, leaned against his shoulder.

  Beaming, he grabbed his burger, making sure not to dislodge her. “There’s chicken, too. Toast.
Gravy.” Something. Eat.

  “Yeah. I’ll have to brush my teeth. Jeff has a thing about meat breath in his house.” She took another French fry.

  “Jeff sounds like a tool.” He broke off a piece of hamburger to tempt her with. Really, what kind of guy let a girl who had just lost her job become anemic?

  She giggled softly. “He can be.” Then she opened up, let him feed her.

  “Well, I don’t mind meat breath.” He fed her another nibble.

  Emmy looked at him, arched an eyebrow in that wicked way she had. “No?”

  “No, ma’am.” He winked, munching a chicken finger.

  That’s when she smiled at him.

  Really, honestly smiled at him.

  And that was when he knew it was all going to be okay. No matter what.

  Cotton was a perv and an asshole and a vain cowboy and she still loved him.

  Really.

  She ate another French fry, sipped at her watery Coke. God, she was going to have to do a hundred thousand crunches and a zillion miles on the bike for this. How many calories did sex burn?

  “What are you pondering so hard, honey?” Cotton looked like all was right with his world.

  “How many sit-ups I’ll have to do to work off the French fries and how many calories blow jobs burn.”

  “Oh.” He tilted his head before popping a piece of Texas toast in his mouth. “I bet we could work off a lot.”

  “You think? I hate crunches.” She took another French fry, then stole a bite of chicken finger.

  “Do you have any idea how much core strength it takes to ride something that bucks?”

  She grinned, nibbling the chicken. “I know how your belly looks when you ride.”

  Hot little perv.

  “I like how your boobs look. I have dreams about when you rode that mechanical bull.” He was grinning to beat the band, right back at her.

  “Yeah? I’d do that again—for you.” Or she would have. She needed to keep her head.

  “I hope so.” His grin slid away, and Cotton went serious all of a sudden. “Let me come back, Emmy.”

  “Why? I mean, I’m never going to be the kind of person you can be proud to introduce to your friends, Cotton. I’m never going to be one of those pretty, tiny girls.” God knows she’d tried.