Hopeless (Chestnut Springs, #5)

“So obedient, Bailey.” I hook a finger under the T of her thong while my opposite hand presses flat on the small of her back to bend her over further.

“Yes, sir,” is her rushed reply. But this time she isn’t joking. She knows it makes me hard when she says it.

She knows me too damn well.

And yet, she doesn’t know everything.

“You need me to fill you up before I send you back in there to finish your job?”

“Yes.”

I land a firm swat on her ass that makes her jump. “Ask politely.”

Her breathing goes ragged, and I watch the tips of her fingers curl into the wall. “Yes, please.”

I spank her again and she moans. “Yes, please … ”

“Yes, please, sir.”

God, the way she emphasizes it. I shouldn’t be getting off on fucking a twenty-two-year-old at work and making her call me sir.

But I don’t let myself focus on it for too long. I quickly unbuckle my belt, pull my cock out, and fist it, slapping it down against the pink hand shape blooming on her ass.

Holding her panties to the side, I run the head of my cock through her wetness. “Fucking soaked, Bailey. Should I tease you until you drip down your thighs, make all your customers wait? Or would you rather be dripping my cum?”

“Your cum.” Her hips move back suggestively, and she peeks over her shoulder at me. Eyes still glassy, but not sad like before. “Please. Sir.”

“Fuck.” I shake my head and grind my molars as I notch myself inside her. “Are you sore, baby?”

We started off slowly, but we haven’t been lately.

“No, no.”

She wiggles again, and I admire the way my cock looks against her tight little cunt. Then I blink up at her. “Good, because you will be after this.”

I shove myself in to the hilt and her body bows to accommodate me. She tries to bite down on a cry while her pussy clenches and flexes, wrapped around me.

“So fucking tight, Bailey,” I bite out as I withdraw. “You fit me like a glove. Like you were made for me.”

I shove back in, feeling her legs tremble and struggle against the tight denim that prevents her from spreading them wider like she clearly wants to.

A frustrated mewl spills from her lips and she tries to reach down, but I grab her hand, putting it back against the wall. “Hands stay there, Bailey. Flat.”

I hold her hand there, reaching above her, while my other hand holds her hip and my cock drives into her repeatedly. Roughly.

The sound of my hips slapping against her ass is accompanied by our mutual panting.

I thrust harder, and she pushes back, meeting my every stroke.

Her fingers lace with mine against the wall above us. I don’t know who initiated it, only that it lends a soft spot to our otherwise rough fucking.

Linked. Bailey and I are linked in inextricable ways.

We don’t make love, we fuck.

I lay a claim.

She meets me at every turn, just like she has since the day I stormed into her bar in a foul fucking mood.

“Beau. Yes. Fuck me. Spank me again.”

I take my hand off her hip and land it on her ass again. Her skin goes rosy, her body shakes.

She fucking loves it.

“Again.”

“Ask nicely, Bailey.” I bite her shoulder in my favorite spot, hoping it leaves a mark.

“Please.” The word is a mindless whine.

It’s so fucking hot, hearing her ask for what she wants, getting to watch her try all these new things on for size.

I lean back slightly and land another, louder than it is hard, and her muscles clamp down on me.

“Oh god. Oh god. I’m going to—”

“Atta girl. Come on my dick.”

I drive into her hard as she shatters. Her body milks me as we both race past the finish.

She slumps against the wall, and I lean into the hand above us, using it to prop myself up after what might have been the most intense orgasm of my life.

“Fuck,” I breathe out against her neck.

“Yeah,” she responds, squeezing my fingers against the wood.

I kiss down her neck, and she shivers when my lips drag over the bone at the top of her spine.

“Ready?” I finally ask.

“As I’ll ever be.”

My cum slips from her body when I pull out, and I take a sick sort of satisfaction in lifting her panties back in place to cover the mess. “I think your panties might be ruined.” I nip at her ear before I ease away, putting myself to rights, fixing my pants and stepping back to see how pretty she looks with my handprint on her ass.

She looks really fucking good.

I grunt. “That’s a hell of a view, sugar.”

It’s with a breathless chuckle that she finally finds the wherewithal to move again. She slides her jeans up and glances back at me with the most breathtaking smile. “You’re welcome.” She winks playfully, like I fucked the worry right out of her.

But we both know better. When we leave this shed, it’s back to reality.

She smooths her hair, rubs at the corner of her eyes, and shimmies her shoulders back. “How do I look?”

I stare at her for a few beats. What a woman.

What an incredible fucking woman.

She deserves the goddamn world.

And I’m going to be the one to give it to her.

“Like mine,” I say with a firm nod.

Then I reach for her hand and lead her back into the bar, straight into the fire. Because the minute we step through the front door, I see her brothers leaning at the bar, impatience practically dripping from them. As though they couldn’t wait five fucking minutes for a beer.

“Hey, Bails. If you’re done playing the Eaton’s whore, we need another round,” Aaron, the younger of the two, calls out loudly through the busy bar. He’s trying to show off by embarrassing her, and it works.

She tugs her hand from mine and shrinks beside me as all eyes turn to her.

I watch a woman who was so alive and so sure of herself mere moments ago turn back into the girl she’s trying so desperately to grow out of.

She didn’t want a scene, but I think a scene is what she needs to break free of this place.

I know I’ll pay for what I’m about to do, and I should have come clean a long time ago. But if it means Bailey comes out ahead … then so fucking be it. Haven’t left a man behind on a mission so far in this life, and I have no plans to start now.

“You three!” I point in turn at her brothers and then at her dad in the corner, all lean muscle and shrewd eyes.

“Beau,” she hisses through her teeth and tugs at my shirt. “Don’t do this. It’s not your place.”

I tilt my head and gaze down at her, memorizing the little freckle beside her upper lip just in case I never get close enough to see it again. “Yeah, it actually is.”

Confusion flashes on her face, and I turn back to the now mostly quiet bar where every set of eyes in the place is turned on me. Then I project my voice, so every single person hears me loud and clear. “You three, get the fuck out of my bar! Or I’ll have the cops come remove you from my property this time.”

Bailey gasps, but I don’t stop there. “And anyone else who plans to treat my fiancée and my staff with anything less than the utmost respect, you can get out too.”

I turn to the woman I love to see if I can gauge what kind of damage my secret has caused. All it takes is one beat spent in her eyes for me to see the damage might be more than I can repair.





39


Bailey


My bar. My staff.

Shouts ring out around me and a dull song I’ve heard a million times plays over the speakers, but all I hear is the pounding of my heart, the blood rushing in my ears.

I stare at the polished wood floor. It used to be more scuffed. The chairs? They used to look dated. Brass chandeliers replaced dingy hanging lamps. The Railspur became country chic somewhere along the way …

Under new ownership was the town gossip, but I never cared much. I had a job that paid reasonably well. I kept my head down and worked. Management never changed, and the company signed my checks. The story was that there was a silent investor. Someone hands-off.

I pull my eyes back from the floor, catching on Beau. All I can do is shake my head. “No.”