This morning though, over a decade after our first time, I opened my eyes to find myself cradled in his strong arms with my head on his chest and my leg draped over his crotch. He was watching me, smiling, waiting for me to wake up so we could play catchup again.
And we did.
I rode him like a jockey on a stallion in bed, my head still cloudy with sleep and sweet dreams, my cunt still sticky from the night before, then he swiped the breakfast dishes off the kitchen table and fucked me there after we finished our eggs and coffee.
By the time I showered and left for work, my cunt was sore and my legs were wobbly. It was a wonderful feeling.
* * *
“Looks like she’s doing great,” I said as I watched the day-old fold gallop clumsily across the pasture a few steps behind her mother. The fold’s legs were still shaky, but she was having no problem keeping up. Mr. Gibbs was standing next to me with his arms propped on the fence rail smiling like a proud papa.
“Yep, she just got right up and followed her mama out of the barn,” he said. “Just instinct. They know what to do.”
“I suppose you’re right,” I said with a happy sigh. “All right then, guess I’d better get to the office. I have a full day on the books. Just thought I’d stop by on the way in to make sure she was doing good.”
“I’m glad you stopped by,” he said, holding up a crooked finger. “My wife has something for you.”
“For me?” He kept the finger in the air as he went onto the porch and came back with a basket of ripe tomatoes. “Ellie picked these yesterday out of her garden. I remember last year how much you loved them. These are for you.”
“Aw, that’s so sweet,” I said as I took the basket. “Tell Ellie I appreciate it.” I gave him a peck on the cheek and got into my truck. I set the basket in the seat and started down the long dirt drive toward the road with him waving in my rearview mirror.
I was still glowing from my night with Shane. I had left his house less than an hour ago and was already missing him. Maybe I could sneak away at lunch and go see him. He was going to work on the house today with his Uncle Seth.
Maybe he’d like a fresh tomato sandwich for lunch.
And maybe a little pussy for dessert.
CHAPTER 16: Shane
I was standing in the backyard with Uncle Seth, holding a hand over my eyes to shield it from the scorching midday sun as he pointed out all the bad spots on the roof. Uncle Seth was an old hand at fixing things. Me, I knew a hundred ways to kill a man with my bare hands, but I’d never driven a nail or turned a screw more than a couple of times. I’d been following him around for the better part of an hour, making a mental list in my head as he pointed out things that needed to be repaired—and estimating the cost— before putting the house on the market.
“That roof must be forty or fifty years old,” he said, pointing out an array of dark spots that ran across the entire back of the house. “That’s where the leaks inside are coming from. That’ll need replacing. Shingles, decking…”
“What’s that gonna cost?” I asked with a heavy sigh. According to Uncle Seth’s estimate—or what he called his “best guestimate”—the bill was already approaching five-grand. I had ten-grand on the credit card in my wallet and most of my SEAL pay in a savings account, which I preferred not to tap. Anything over ten-grand might have to just come off the sales price, which I didn’t expect to be that much. If I could net enough to pay for the repairs and my trip I’d be a happy SEAL.
“New roof, probably a thousand for the shingles. You and me can do the work. Probably take a day or two.”
“I’m not sure how long I can stay and I don’t want to pull you away from the farm for that long,” I said. “How much do you figure the cost of a roofer doing it?”
He closed one eye to squint at the roof, as if he were counting shingles and squares and doing the math in his head. “You’re probably looking at three to four-grand.”
“Shit,” I said, rubbing my eyes. I started tallying it up in my head. “Okay. So, four-grand to have a roofer do the roof, three-grand for painting inside and out, two-grand to spruce up the inside. Anything else?”
“That’s about it,” he said. “You want me to call a roofer and a painter for you? I know some Mexican boys that’ll do you a good job at a reasonable rate, off the books for cash, of course.”
“Sure, get them out tomorrow if possible. I can get a cash advance off my credit card. I’d like to have it wrapped up and on the market by the weekend.”
He took off his cowboy hat, tugged the kerchief from the bib of his overalls, and mopped the sweat off his face. His round cheeks were red as a sugar beet. He looked a little like a boil about to pop. He set the hat on his head and pulled the brim low over his eyes to block out the sun.
“Alright, then. I’ll make some calls on the way home and get them lined up,” he said, stepping into the shade of the only tree in the scruffy backyard. “I can get everything you need for the inside and be back in the morning to help you knock that out.”
“I appreciate that,” I said. I joined him in the shade as I tugged the sweaty t-shirt over my head and mopped my face with it. I caught him looking at me sideways. He was eyeing my tattoos. “What?”
He smiled and nodded at the black tribal designs covering my upper arms, shoulders and back. “Your daddy would have hated those tattoos.”
“Why do you think I got them?” I asked.
He grinned and swiped the kerchief under his nose. “Was that Doc Bates I saw pulling away when I drove up?” When I didn’t say anything, he bumped me with his elbow and chuckled. “Damned if you don’t move quick.”