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This is why when I hear the same door Mom used nearly twenty minutes ago open, I spinaround. My body protests the entire time, but it’s also when my world spins on its axis. Standing in the doorway is Lane Johnson and his eyes are locked on me.
3
LANE
It’s been too fuckinglong since I’ve set my eyes on Birdie, and even though I’m fifteen feet away from her, all I can see is her.
Her pretty hazel eyes.
Her long brown hair.
Her soft, pillowy lips.
And her curves. Damn, she’s only gotten curvier.
“Lane.” Her voice is low and raspy. I bet she has no idea what it does to me when she says my name.
“Birdie,” I reply as I step inside, holding the wood screen door behind me so it doesn’t slam on my booted heels. I’d have thought she’d start walking toward me, but it seems that’s not the case. She isn’t meeting me halfway, not even when I’ve almost reached her. Birdie is rooted in place, back to the window, the setting sunglowing around her body. What I’m shocked to see the most is what she’s wearing. A threadbare shirt, one of the many she swiped from me. This one is white, a horse on its hind legs, a man with a lasso, and our town name with the rodeo emblazoned beneath.
“It’s your birthday. You should be with your family.”
“No, here with you is where I should be. Word on the street is you’re back for good. That true?” Birdie nods, her teeth pressing into her plush bottom lip, and damn if I can hold back. If anyone is going to bite her lips, it’s going to be me. I take another step closer, hands cupping her cheeks, and when she doesn’t pull away, I know I’ve got her right where I want her.
“Yeah, I’m home. For good.” My head dips, my lips capture hers, and while my hands are holding her where I want her, Birdie’s move to my chest, not pushing me away but pulling me closer. Her small fingers dig into my shirt and muscles, making my body want a fuck of a lot more. For right now, I’m going to settle on her lips. When she lets out that little purr in the back of her throat, I’m going for more.
Birdie may be older. May have been gone a long-ass time, but a lot remains the same. She tastes sweet, like berries, but with a hint of darkness. I pull her lower lip into my mouth, sucking on it as she moves her hands lower in a kneading movement. I’m not even sure she knows thenoises she makes when I’m around, usually when we’re kissing or she’s asleep, like a kitten with their pawing behavior when they’re nice and relaxed. Birdie gives me the sign she wants more. That purr I was after comes, allowing me to slide my tongue inside her mouth. And I take more while she gives it to me so freely. Her tongue chases mine while my hand that’s holding her cheek slides to the back of her head and her long, dark hair tangles with my fingers.
“Lane,” she breathes when I pull back for a moment, wanting to see the desire written all over her face. Damn, she’s perfect—eyes hooded with lust, cheeks flush—and this time, when I seal my mouth to hers, I don’t hold back. Years of pent-up frustration, with myself, with Birdie, with the whole fucking situation. I tried to come off like shit would be okay, but deep down, I was a damn miserable fool. While I continue our kiss, my hand is itching to see what she has beneath her shirt. The last time we were together, I’d get out of bed before her, do the morning chores, come back, make a cup of coffee, and sit on the back porch looking over the endless beauty of the family ranch. Birdie would meander her way out, a cup of coffee in hand, one of my shirts on her body, and stand next to me. The minute she’d finally wake out of her sleeplike stupor, she’d give me her lips. I’d slide my hand up the back of her leg and feel nothing but smooth, bare skin.
“Lane, please, more.” I pull back, my handmeeting the cheek of her ass and holding it there even though the tips of my fingers are begging to dip closer, ready to feel her wet center.
“You sure?” I ask.
“Yes, God, yes.” She takes a slow and steady breath, her watchful eyes on me as I drop to my knees. My hands glide to the outside of her thighs. The only thing she’s wearing is her shirt. It does nothing in the way of hindering my breathing in her scent. Christ, I’ve missed everything about Birdie, especially this.
“Going to make this last, Birdie. I hope you’re prepared to hold on and enjoy the ride,” I mutter, my head dipping beneath her oversized shirt, not bothering to pull the fabric up. I’ve got one task, and that’s reminding her what it means to be mine.
Fucking heaven, that’s the only way to describe what I’m feeling right now. Wetness is glistening along her slit, and my hunger for her takes over. My tongue glides along the outer edges, not moving directly to the source at first. We’re both going to enjoy this and as her flavor explodes on my tongue, a groan leaves my body. My hands tighten on the cheeks of her ass, fingers dipping deeper, pulling her open, and she gets the message. She widens her stance, giving me more room to work with. There’s no more holding back. I can’t, not with the soft little sighs and moans leaving her with each swipe of my tongue.
“Lane.” The tips of my fingers move closer, one pressing on an entirely different entrance. Birdie was hesitant when we first explored her ass years ago, my tongue rasping along her tightness, my finger pushing inside, and when she was ready, she took my cock as she fucked her pussy with a vibrator.
“You want that, baby? You want my fingers in your ass while I fuck your pussy with my mouth?” My words are muffled against her core. I can feel the tremble in her body. It’s all the answer I need. My tongue invades her center, my finger pressing on her entrance, feeling the tight ring of her ass taking me so good. Her legs quiver. My hands are the only reason she’s able to remain standing. I soak in her pleasure. It gives me pleasure of my own in return. I push in and out of her ass, my tongue doing similar to her cunt while my teeth rasp along her clit. It’s the perfect trifecta as she falls apart for me, completely and totally unaware of how my cock is begging to do the same exact thing.
“Lane.” My name escapes in a breathless plea. Whether it’s for me to stop or to keep going, I’m not sure. One thing I do know is that leaving her after delivering the first of many orgasms is pure fucking torture. I place another open-mouthed kiss on her clit, reluctantly pulling my fingers away from her ass and back away. I’m on my feet. This time, I’m taking her shirt off. I want to see Birdie in nothing but bareskin.
“Gonna take you now, Birdie. Going to feel you like I did with my mouth, but this time, it’s going to be my cock.” My hands grip the edges of the fabric and pull it up, seeing more of her than when I was on my knees.
I look into her eyes. She’s back to biting her bottom lip again. My eyes don’t know where to look at first. It’s when my eyes return to her body I see what has her all of a sudden locked up tight. Her arms aren’t lifting up to help me take her clothes off. Instead, they’re staying put by her sides, and it’s only when I pull the shirt up to her abdomen that I know the reason.
“What the fuck, Birdie? What the hell happened?” I inch closer, abandoning her shirt. Crowding her while cupping her face once again. A burning in my gut rolls through my whole body. Someone hurt my woman so badly there’s a print of a shoe. Her whole stomach is covered in blue and purple marks.
“I’m okay, Lane. I mean, I’ve got some healing to do, but it looks a lot worse than it is.” She’s being entirely too unconcerned about this, and there’s no damn way I’m letting the subject lie. My body is rock fucking solid, yet my cock isn’t hard any longer. The surge of anger is so bad that I’m sure steam is rising from my ears. All I can imagine is Birdie being hurt and alone with no one there to help her, left lifeless. Son of a bitch. This could have been so much worse. I know she’s lucky, but that doesn’t mean I have tofucking like it, or I’m not going to shoulder some of the blame.
I lift an eyebrow, my jaw clenched, and if my hands weren’t on hers, my fists would be much the same way. “I’m okay. I’m better than it may seem. It looks worse than it is. I know you’re going to want the whole story. Maybe we could move to the couch? I’m kind of feeling light-headed after, you know.” Her cheeks have a tinge of color. She’s still the same woman, only a few years older.
“Yeah.” I take a step back. “Fuck, I don’t know where to touch you now, baby.” I’d pick her up and carry her to the couch, except that would probably hinder her more than help her.
“Lane, if you don’t touch me, I’m going to hurt you worse than I already am.” Her hand covers mine, taking it off her cheek, albeit she’s moving gingerly as she does.
