Page 100 of Roped

“But—”

“I’ve got you, yeah?” he says, much like he did the first night he took my virginity. “I’ll make it fit. If you hurt, I hurt. If you come, I come. Together.”

Swallowing, I nod and he rewards me with a bone-melting kiss. And then he goes about doing what he said he’d do. Make it fit, together.

It’s not easy. It takes time and he starts with my pussy. He fucks me there first. As wet as I am, as turned on, him taking me from behind like this makes his cock seem bigger. He hits different points inside of me, deeper points that I didn’t know existed. And I wonder why we haven’t been doing it this way all this time. Although I know the answer. It’s because that’s how he did it for years, and I didn’t want him to hide from me. So whenever we had sex, we’d be looking into each other’s eyes. And while I miss that here, this is still my favorite new position because I feel him in my belly. I feel him in my throat. I feel him everywhere in my body.

When I come, that’s when he does it. Or starts the process of doing it. Fucking my ass. His cock is all lubed up with my juices; plus, he spits on it and my hole for added ease. So he should be able to get at least the head of his cock in. He can’t. Not without a lot of effort on his part. And mine. Because I keep shaking and shivering, moaning and whining. I keep tensing up, trying to get away from him. But he’s a cowboy and he’s dealt with skittish fillies a lot. So he keeps rubbing my spine, stroking my ass. He keeps telling me how well I’m doing, even though all I’ve done is cry about how much it hurts and how scared I am.

Until something about his soothing words and patience works and he manages to get in.

He starts with shallow thrusts that feel more like pressure at first but turn into something pleasurable as the time passes. It also helps that he leans down over me again and plays with my clit. He whispers praise directly in my ear as if his words are only meant for me and not for the world. Not for the sky or the trees, or the air or the ground. Only me, his fake, fantasy wife. So of course I loosen up. Of course I let him in more. Why wouldn’t I? His words are so hard to come by. They’re a gift. Like this was, for him.

So I surrender and give him what he wants, and his strokes speed up. His breaths speed up too. His chest pants against me and his words dissolve into moans. His hips slap against my butt and my small body jiggles under his big one, my pleasure doubling, almost reaching its peak. His hands find mine on the ground and we lace up our fingers, and this is how we find our climax. As one. Like we’re always meant to be.

Together.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

WHEN I WAS back at Rawhide and following Haven like a shadow, she’d take me to her vegetable garden and have me help her out. I did it because that was what I was supposed to do, but I didn’t think I’d like it so much. But then again, there were many things about Rawhide, about living on a ranch itself, that I never thought I’d like, but as it turned out, I did.

So when during one of our rides along the lake I found the marigolds, I got excited. I asked Radisson to stop immediately, and I carefully collected the roots and took them back to the main house so I could plant them. Which I did. And I thought I did everything right, everything like Haven showed me, but they wouldn’t grow. Or at least, I thought they wouldn’t grow and that the leaves had already started to go brown and droop. Which is what I told Radisson. I said they weren’t growing and we needed to do something about it. It was my first plant ever. I couldn’t let it die. What kind of a plant mommy would I be?

At which point he lost his patience and snapped, or more like muttered to himself, “Christ, she’s worse than Ma and Lynnie.” Then he raked a hand down his face and said, “Look, if they’re dead, they’re dead. Ain’t nothin’ you or I can do about it. The best I can do is go back out there tomorrow and get you some new ones. But that’s it. Deal with it.”

He kept looking at me like he needed an answer.

When I didn’t give him one, he said, “You with me?”

“What?”

His jaw clenched and he asked again, very slowly, “Are you with me on this? Peyton. Or are you gonna behave like all the other women in my life I’ve known and annoy the fuck outta me about some dyin’ plants that don’t matter one way or another?”

“Dying plants matter.”

“Holy fuck,” he bit out, but that was all I gave him the chance to do.

I tackled him to the hard ground and kissed the breath out of him. Then I attacked his pants, followed by his dick. I sucked him off until he was about to come, but then it was his turn to attack me. So he pulled my mouth off his cock before he sat me down on it and made me ride him until we both came. Yes, it was a struggle, getting him inside me that way. It was painful. I cried. He loved it. I loved it, too, and we both came like we always do: hard and together.

But that’s not why I’m thinking of this incident right now. I’m thinking about it because of what he said that got me so emotional I had to jump his bones.

It was that comment about me being worse than his mom and his sister. It did something to me. It made me realize how much I wanted it, wanted to be in the same club as them. It made me realize how badly I wanted to meet them, his mom if I could, and how badly I wanted to meet his sister now. How badly I wanted his sister to like me despite me being a Turner. The daughter of the man who destroyed her life, much like her brother’s.

I’m also thinking about this because I’ve decided to do something.

It’s not something that hasn’t occurred to me all this time that we’ve been here. It had also occurred to me back when he took a bullet for me at that warehouse before confessing the truth about why he stole me in the first place, for what purpose. I never brought it up because he wouldn’t talk about anything to do with his plan to get Lynnie back, but I think it’s time to do it now.

We don’t have any other option.

It’s been an hour since we came back from the woods. I rode with him like I always do, on his lap, wrapped around his body, safe and secure. And just like he kept doing at the woods, he’d kiss my forehead, my cheek every few seconds while we made our way back to the main house. He helped me get down from the horse, but instead of letting me walk up to the house, he carried me there. He carried me over the threshold and into the shower. Since these days we always shower together, I knew he’d stand under the water with me, dwarfing the stall with his presence, suffocating the air and making me feel even safer. But he didn’t. He drew me a bath. And the entire time he was preparing things for it, he kept me plastered to his body. He even took my clothes off himself before he put me in the water, and then he washed me.

Naked and on display, he knelt by the bathtub and bathed me. His hands were so gentle as they soaped me up, taking extra care in the areas I’d scraped from being on my hands and knees on the ground, and his stare was so tender as he made sure not a single place on my body was neglected. Once done, he carefully dried me with the towel before wrapping me in one. Usually before we go to sleep, he watches me put the lotion on my legs and braid my hair, which more often than not results in him jerking off over me and painting my skin with his cum. But today, on top of everything else, he did those things himself too.

He set me down on the closed toilet seat and knelt again to lotion up my legs, all gently and tenderly like before. Then he combed my hair with careful strokes and braided it for me. And he did it exactly the way I do. Meaning he wasn’t just watching; he was also learning. Then he took a quick shower of his own while I was brushing my teeth. He put his old jeans back on before carrying me bridal-style over to the barn, still wrapped in the towel.

Now, as I watch him moving around the barn, getting ready for bed, putting on a fresh pair of pants—I already have my nightie on—I do know that I need to be brave and tell him. Giving him his fantasy today was only the first part of the plan. The other one is this.

I climb out of bed just as he snaps one of the drawers shut and blurt out, “Use me.”