Sweet Dreams (Colorado Mountain 2)

I rolled into him, wrapped my arm around him and he pulled me close.

“I know,” I repeated then whispered, “It’s okay, Tate.”

He felt guilt, I knew he did. He didn’t like me losing sleep and he didn’t like knowing he did something to exacerbate that.

But he had to do it, and so did I, we both knew it but these were the consequences. He was right, he was here to help me deal with it and I was right too, I had him with me so it would be okay.

“Why didn’t you have kids?” he asked and I blinked at his change of subject before I realized he changed it to take my mind off Sunny.

“Unconscious self-preservation,” I used his words and he chuckled, his hand sliding up my back and into my hair where his fingers started to play with it.

“Knew, deep down, he was a dick,” he guessed.

“Yes,” I answered.

“Didn’t want to bring a kid into that,” he went on.

I sighed then said, “Yeah, but I wanted kids, so did Brad. I put it off, made excuses and he didn’t push it. Then I felt him pull away, he didn’t talk about it anymore and I buried it.”

“Regret it?”

“Not having kids with Brad?”

Tate amended my statement. “Not havin’ kids.”

I thought about it and thinking about it made my stomach hurt.

And that hurt sounded in my word when I said, “Yeah.”

Tate’s hand cupped the back of my head and he tucked my face in his throat while he said, “Baby.”

“It’s okay,” I whispered into his throat.

“Right,” he replied and I knew he didn’t believe me. Then again, he was right not to believe me since I was lying.

I changed the subject. “Tell me about your Dad.”

“Show you,” he offered and I tipped my head back to look at him even though I couldn’t see him in the dark.

“Show me?”

I heard his head move on the pillow as he looked down at me.

“Dad was big on video cameras, huge. Minute they were on the market, he bought one. The thing was mammoth, had to put it on his shoulder. It cost a f**kin’ fortune, but he got one. Traded up every time a new camera came out. He even did edits. Put shit to music. Was always f**kin’ around with it. My games. Parties. Holidays. Barbeques. When Wood and I went out on our bikes. Pop would get hold of the camera, Stella, Neet, Wood, me and we got footage of him. So, I’ll show you.”

“He was a good guy,” I stated.

“The best,” he replied.

“Proud of you.”

I felt his body go solid for a moment before he relaxed.

“Yeah,” he whispered.

“He still would be,” I told him.

His body went solid again.

“Babe –”

“He would, Tate. You’re a good man, a good dad.”

He didn’t respond and he kept quiet for so long, I let it go.

Then he relaxed against me and the feel of his hard, big body, his warmth, his scent hit me as his hand lazily travelled the skin of my back.

So my hand lazily travelled the skin of his side, his hip, then between us where my fingers wrapped around his c**k and started stroking.

A low, sexy noise came out of his throat and he did the impossible, his teeth found my bottom lip in the dark and nipped it.

My legs moved restlessly as I felt a swell between them.

I kept stroking.

“Funny,” Tate muttered, his lips still so close to mine I could feel his escalating breath.

“What?” I asked when he said no more.

“When I played ball, at Penn State, one thing I liked about it, outside the game, it got me great pu**y.”

My fingers squeezed his c**k as a startled giggle escaped my throat.

“It got you great –?”

His h*ps pressed into my hand and I started stroking again.

“High-class college girls,” he said, his voice getting thick, “sorority.”

He moved, his hands on me and his head so his lips were drifting light on the skin of my shoulder, my neck but he didn’t move in a way where I lost purchase on his cock. I knew what this meant so I kept stroking.

“Sorority,” I whispered.

“Oh yeah,” he whispered back, lips at my ear. “Liked that idea. Knew, when I made the pros, that was laid out before me.”

“I might take that part back…” I stated, my hand stopping but not moving from its position, “about you being a good man.”

His head came up and his h*ps pushed into my hand. “I was early twenties, Ace.”

“Right,” I muttered.

His h*ps thrust again and my hand started moving.

“Knew I’d find one, though,” he whispered, his lips back to travelling my skin as he spoke. “With that amount of choice, I’d settle on a good one, gorgeous, sweet, high-class pu**y in my bed every night, goin’ to my games, watchin’ me play, helpin’ me make babies and I could take care of her.”

I liked what he was saying, my mind liked it and my body liked it so I started stroking faster.

“Tate.”

His mouth came to mine but he didn’t kiss me.

Instead, he said, “Sucked when I lost that. I lost the game and I lost that future and that f**ked with my head.”

“Tate,” I breathed against his lips.

“Came home, hooked up with Neet and knew that would be my life, Neet or someone like her and, havin’ that taste of the good life, knowin’ it was gone, that f**kin’ sucked.”

“Honey –”

“Didn’t have any f**kin’ clue, I waited twenty years, here I’d be, a gorgeous, sweet high-class piece in my bed givin’ me a hand job.”

My heart stuttered, my breath caught, my ni**les got hard and I felt a rush of wet between my legs.

“I’m not a piece,” I told him, trying to sound offended but not really offended at all.

His h*ps started moving with my hand.

“Nope, babe, you’re a high-class piece.”

I felt another rush between my legs and I pressed against him as I stroked harder.

“That’s it, baby,” he muttered, his voice almost a groan.

“This high-class piece is done giving you a hand job, Captain.”

“No you aren’t,” he growled.

My hand wrapped tight, I pressed even closer, I aimed with more hope than certainty and, luckily, my teeth succeeded in nipping his lip.

Then I whispered, “She wants to give you a different kind of job, honey.”