Bucking Bareback

by Maggie Monroe

  “I guess you do.” I threw mine on the other side of the coals. “Oh, I almost forgot. I have wine.” I jogged to the camper and pulled out a bottle I had Lenny order for the occasion. The glasses were sitting on the table near the door.

  For a second, I thought I should see the ocean and sea oats dancing in the breeze when I looked out of the window. Instead there was my catfish pond and the most beautiful girl in the world. I stepped out of the camper.

  “All right. Here you go.” I handed her a glass and filled it to the top. “We have to make a birthday toast.”

  Chelsea surveyed me with a look of anticipation, and I wanted to make it perfect. No cheesy, rehearsed toast. This had to mean something.

  I extended my glass toward her. “To the girl I love. Here’s to your first Texas birthday.” I tapped her glass before whispering in her ear. “And I want to make sure we spend all your birthdays together.”

  I saw the color rush to her cheeks.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  I slid my hand along her waist. “Darlin’, all I want in this world is to make you happy.”

  “I know you do.”

  The fire crackled near my leg, and I moved her to the side, missing a flying piece of ash. “I think it’s time we pull the steaks off. Let me get the platter.”

  I returned from the trailer with a clean plate and stainless tongs.

  “You know I like seeing you like this again,” she commented. “I know it’s not summer anymore and we’re on the ranch now, but I like it. No Lenny, no Nan, no Bud. Just you and me again. Just us…” her words trailed.

  “That’s exactly what I wanted tonight to be.”

  I crouched in front of the fire, poking the steaks with the tongs to make sure they were ready to pull off the flames. I handed her a plate.

  “And this time we have real sides. Lenny whipped up some twice baked potatoes and there’s salad.” I jogged back to the camper and brought out the basket Lenny had prepared with the rest of the spread for dinner.

  I laid everything out and made sure Chelsea had everything she needed. This was a step-up from our first dinner date at the Sand Dollar.

  I settled into the seat next to her. “So, have you thought any more about my question?”

  “Which one?” She looked up, chewing a mouthful of steak.

  “You know which one. I want you to move in with me.” The steaks were sizzling on the plates.

  “Oh that one.” She pushed the food around on her plate. “I don’t know yet.”

  I thought about pressing it, but it was her birthday. If she wasn’t ready, she wasn’t ready. But for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what was holding her back.

  “Ben, I—”

  I rested my hand on her knee. “You don’t have to say anything. Forget I mentioned it.”

  “But, I—”

  “No. Tonight is about you and this.” I looked at the scene sprawled in front of us. “We are here to have fun, and I’m promising you a good time on your birthday.”

  “I’m already having a good time.”

  “Good. Then it’s working.”

  I reached for a nearby log and tossed it on the glowing embers. The rough sides of the wood crackled and raced with flames. I had spent too many nights by the pond to count, but this one was different.

  “Birthday dance?” I asked.

  “Out here?” She looked skeptical.

  “Where else?” I stood and hit play on the speaker I had set on the table.

  Chelsea rose to join me. I led her a few steps from the fire. Sparks were still jumping from the last log.

  I took her in my arms, aligning her hips in my hands. When we danced like this, even I felt the rest of the world fade away. All that was here was a sky full of diamond stars, the flames from the fire, and our beating hearts.

  “Happy birthday.” I pressed against her, holding her like I meant every touch, every breath, every kiss to last forever.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “Why don’t we go inside and I can give you another present?”

  She looked at me. “Another present?”

  “Come on.” I grabbed her by the hand and led her inside. It was strange to be in an exact replica of where we had spent the summer, but right now, I wanted her to have the best night of her life.

  There weren’t many steps to the bed. I sat her on the edge as I pushed her dress to her hips. She watched me with hungry eyes.

  I peeled the panties off her thighs to her ankles. I meant to be more tender. More deliberate. But I lost my seductive plan at the sight of her beautiful pussy. Glistening for me. Sweet and ready.

  My eyes locked on hers as I lowered toward her clit. My cock ached and hardened as I sucked her hard little clit in my mouth. I pushed a finger inside her pussy, bucking her from the bed.

  “Oh God,” she moaned.

  I clamped harder, running my tongue between her slick folds. I pushed her legs wider, wanting more. Tasting every part of her. Sucking, licking, feasting on her pussy as if it was my birthday cake.

  Her hands raked over her breasts, twisting her nipples under the flimsy fabric of the dress. God, she was a fucking goddess. I knew she was on the verge of her orgasm. Her juices ran into my mouth. I sucked harder, spreading her lips so that her clit peaked and quivered.

  “Oh Ben,” she whimpered.

  “Come baby,” I demanded. I thrust my tongue inside her as I flicked her clit until she was convulsing and vibrating. It was fucking hot. I needed to be inside her. Fucking her. Coming with her.

  Her eyes landed on me with a lust-filled stare as she bit her bottom lip.

  “Fuck me, please.” She smiled.

  I shook my head. Damn, this girl knew me better than I knew myself. I kicked off the rest of my clothes and straddled her on the bed.

  “Happy birthday, baby,” I growled as I sank my cock in her pussy.

  She gripped it with force as I began slow strokes, drawing it out. I didn’t want to come at once, even though I could explode right now, right here with what she was doing to me. I wanted to fuck her until the sun came up. And that was exactly what I did.

  I pulled the dress over her head. I leaned down to lick her perky nipples. Chelsea thrashed under me.

  “Too much?” I teased.

  She nodded, so I did it again, feeling her grip my dick. My eyes lit with wickedness.

  “Keep doing that, baby,” I demanded. Every time I licked her tits, she squeezed me harder.

  “I can’t,” she whimpered.

  “You can,” I coaxed. I twisted one nipple while I sucked the other.

  Her nails dug into my back as she arched in a perfect bow. She was unbelievable. Her second orgasm came harder than her first. She fell apart in my arms. Crashing on my cock. Enveloping me in warmth and erotic light. Fuck.

  A slow smile spread across her lips. “I like this birthday,” she whispered.

  I drove deep, hitting her walls powerfully. “Do you?”

  “Oh God, yes,” she moaned.

  I thrust again. “More?”

  She nodded, the haze covering her blue eyes.

  I drew back, slamming into her, giving her my full cock, everything I had.

  My spine tingled and I knew I was going to come. I fucked harder and faster. Wilder than before.

  And then the world spun away as I lost myself to her. To this woman who had changed my life. My world.

  My release was unending as I buried myself in her, reveling in her pussy.

  I kissed her as my orgasm gripped my body, and my cock made her mine again.

  ***

  I watched Chelsea become smaller in my rearview mirror until I took the next turn, and she disappeared. I slammed my hand on the steering wheel. How in the hell could I go back to L.A. after this weekend?

  There were a thousand things to say. Maybe only one. I loved that girl like no one else, and I had left her standing on the porch. Rode away like some rogue cowboy who couldn’t
help but run off to the next fight. I had become that guy. The one who doesn’t stick around. The one no one can count on. The one who’s never there.

  I left her. Dammit. I had left her.

  I passed through the guard gate and spun the tires on the highway.

  But, wasn’t I that guy? Had I ever been the fully committed type? I didn’t think the label fit when I really thought about it. Did I ever stick around when things were tough? I didn’t with Rebecca and I didn’t even try with Clara. I liked to keep things light and fun. Now that wasn’t enough. I wanted to be there for Chelsea. Only, I kept leaving.

  Seeing her with my mom and sister brought everything together. She fit in my life. I realized that. She just fit.

  The flight crew was waiting for me at the jet.

  “Have a nice weekend, Mr. Baldwin?” It was the same flight attendant who had flown out with me Thursday night.

  I nodded. “Sure did. How about you?”

  “Spent some time in Austin. It was a nice weekend.” She showed me my seat and offered to bring me a drink.

  “I’ll take a bourbon on the rocks.”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  I looked out of the window. The faster I wrapped this movie, the faster I could make it back. We had a long two months ahead of us. I stretched out my legs and looked at the drink placed in front of me. I didn’t know how many times I could leave her like this. I tossed the bourbon back and closed my eyes, feeling the slow burn trickle down my throat. Yeah, I couldn’t do this again.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Chelsea

  The dust settled on the gravel as Ben’s car turned the last corner for the main road. I didn’t want to go back inside and I didn’t want to stand out here moping. I had just had the most incredible birthday of my life. Turning twenty-six had become an epic event—beyond epic.

  Ben had intended the Silver Sand Dollar gift to be the big surprise, but I thought the time I spent with his mother and sister was the real gift. It opened my eyes to how Ben got to be Ben. The way his sister teased him relentlessly and the way his mother adored him gave me a full picture of the man I was falling more in love with every day.

  I sat on the front porch, admiring the wide planks that stretched across the floor. It reminded me a little of what was now my mother’s porch. This was the perfect spot for an old sheepdog, or maybe a lab. I ran my hands over the wood. I wondered if Ben would want to get a dog.

  Life here with him would be amazing, at least the times he was here. I could spend every birthday with him, expecting some kind of over-the-top surprise. He would always sweep me off my feet when he rushed through the front door, but then leave me feeling empty when it was time to go.

  It wasn’t a normal life. It wasn’t predictable or cliché. It was life with Ben Baldwin. Maybe predictable was boring. Maybe all the normalcy and mundane daily chores are what drove my father to find excitement somewhere else. Maybe that was the real recipe for heartache, not this.

  All this time I had thought Ben sought boring and normal, but that didn’t really fit with how he lived life. It wouldn’t be enough to hold him still. Normal had a freshness and raw presence for him over the summer. Eventually, that would weather into predictability, and predictability was the gateway to dullness. Ben could never handle dull.

  It hadn’t taken me long to fall in love with the ranch. It was kind of like Ben, surrounding my senses and invading my thoughts before I knew it had happened. I was a beach girl. A complete island girl, but now I awoke to a day and a place that was as salt-less as the desert. Part of me had soaked it in, as if being on the ranch was a way of getting to know him better, loving him more. And the other half of me knew I would have loved it regardless of whether he was the one guiding me through this new existence.

  It had its own smells, its own sounds. The rhythm here reminded me of the waves at home.

  Ben still didn’t have my answer. It was on the tip of my tongue every time he flashed a smile in my direction or dropped a kiss on my lips. This could be my life—our life.

  Everything was so perfect the night of my birthday that I was afraid to open up about what it would mean for us to move in together. Even more scared to ask him if he had thought about what it would be like to relax into life with me. Had he pictured life six months from now when all the newness was gone? That question scared me most of all.

  I rose from the steps and turned toward the house. Somewhere in all of this was a song. I had the rest of the day to put it on paper.

  ***

  The next morning, I hurried up the front steps of Blue Steel and tapped on the elevator button. I had two minutes before I was supposed to meet with Quinn.

  “Come on, come on,” I muttered under my breath, waiting for the elevator to arrive.

  “Do you usually talk to elevators?” A deep voice carried over my shoulder.

  I turned to see who it came from. Standing inches from me was a guy with dark hair, broad shoulders, and a chiseled jawline that could have been cut from a block of marble.

  “You’re Mark Weston.” I knew I was standing there like any other fan girl, but I couldn’t help it.

  “Umm, last time I checked.” He winked. “And you are?”

  “Oh, um I’m Chelsea Davis. I write songs with Quinn Jansen here.” I wanted to slap my forehead. That sounded like stupid name-dropping, but what did you say when Mark Weston was next to you?

  The elevator doors retracted and Mark stepped inside. “You comin’?”

  “Oh, right. Yes.” I lifted my head, as if that would clear the buzz of stardust. I tapped the three button.

  “I guess it’d make sense we’re headed to the third floor together.” He leaned against the wall.

  “Do you have a meeting or something?” I had read up on all the talent signed with Blue Steel, and Mark had not been on that list. I would have remembered his name.

  “If you can keep a little secret, I’ll tell you.” He leaned toward my ear. “I’m getting ready to jump ship. Thinking about coming here.”

  “Oh, wow. That’s big.”

  “It is. It is. Tell me, what do you think about the label? If you write with Quinn, you must have some insight. Do you like Blue Steel?”

  “Well, I’m sorta new, so maybe not the best person to ask, but—” I paused. “I like it. I think it’s a great label and you’d definitely be happy here. They take care of their artists. That much I know. Quinn loves it.”

  The doors opened and Mark placed his hand on the side, allowing me to step out first.

  “Thanks for the insider tip. I bet I’ll be seeing you around soon.” He winked again and walked toward Brandon’s office, leaving me in the lobby starstruck and giddy.

  Quinn called from down the hall. “Hey, in here.”

  I shook my head and hustled to meet Quinn.

  “What was that all about? Were you just talking to Mark Weston?”

  I nodded, knowing I had just made a complete fool of myself. “Yeah, looks like he’s meeting with Brandon.”

  “Huh.” Quinn tossed herself on the couch where we liked to write. “So much for pushing all the girl power stuff.” She used air quotes and more sarcasm than I had heard from her before.

  “Oh, I don’t know about that. What does Mark have to do with girl power?”

  Quinn laughed. “I forget sometimes that you’re still new to the business. Look, if Brandon wants Mark, then they obviously aren’t going after all the top female talent that’s out there. Sure they can draw in all the screaming girls they want with his ass and those eyes, but you and me—that’s not the direction they’re taking.”

  I shook my head. “It doesn’t necessarily mean that.”

  “Honey, I know what I’m talking about. If Mark is coming on board, then you and I have to make this album kick ass, because there’s no telling how long we’ll have the full backing of the label. Right now might be the only time.”

  “But Brandon said in our meeting—”

  “It
doesn’t matter what he said then. What matters is what he does now.” She reached for her guitar and strummed a C chord. “Come on. We have work to do. What do you have for me? I need to forget Brandon is in a meeting with Mark. Distractions, right?”

  I fumbled to pull my notebook out of my bag. “I wrote something yesterday after Ben left. I think you should try it.”

  Quinn balanced it on her knee and sounded out the notes. “You did this one yesterday?”

  I nodded.

  “Wow. I think we might have just given Mark Weston a run for his money. Who cares about dark dreamy eyes?” Quinn laughed and started belting out the song.

  By the time I left Blue Steel, it was almost dark. I threw my bag on my shoulder and marched to the elevators. Quinn said she was going to stop by and talk to Brandon before she left for the night. Something about digging up the truth on Mark’s visit.

  I reached the lobby, nodding at the front desk receptionist, and walked straight into the wall. Only this wall had legs, dark hair, and chestnut eyes.

  “You again?” He chuckled.

  “Oh my God. I’m so sorry.” I looked up, realizing I had almost plowed Mark to the floor.

  “I don’t think any permanent damage was done.” He wiped off the front of his shirt.

  “Good. I mean, I’m sorry. I wasn’t really paying attention and I just—”

  “Hey, it’s not a big deal, but if you’re looking for a way to make it up to me, you’ll let me buy you a cup of coffee.”

  My eyes shot to his. “Oh no, I can’t. I have a boyfriend.”

  “Boyfriend, huh? Well, does he object to you repaying your debts? Or is he just the completely jealous kind that doesn’t let you out of his sights?” He had yet to stop smiling.

  “No, he’s not like that.” I shook my head. Ben was definitely overprotective and always worried about my safety, but I would never call him jealous. I had never given him reason to be.

  “Perfect, then he won’t object to me buying you a cup of coffee so you can apologize for running into me and almost killing me.”

  “Ok, that was not going to kill you.” I put my hands on my hips.

  “Maybe not, but that’s not what I’m going to tell the officer.”