Heartless: A Small Town Single Dad Romance

Summer: Are you okay?

Willa: Yeah. Why?

Summer: I just got a text from Cade asking.

Willa: You can tell Cade I’m getting railed by ten dudes at the best gangbang of my life.

Summer: Oof. Even I’m not that brave. I’ll let you tell him that yourself.

Summer: He seems stressed, Willa. Just letting you know.

Willa: Good.

Isigh in relief when the cab hits the gravel road. So close. I want to be home like nothing I’ve quite felt before.

It felt wrong being out with Lance and all his cowboy buddies without Cade there. Objectively I had fun, but my head was somewhere else.

My heart was somewhere else.

And as mad as I wanted to be that Cade thought he could check in on me through my best friend when he has my number and could easily have texted me himself, the thought of him being stressed about my safety left a pit in my stomach.

I guess that’s why I pulled the Irish goodbye and snuck out like a chicken. All the guys were perfect gentlemen, but they were heading for a level of whipped up in celebrating their win that I just didn’t want to be.

The bar scene exhausts me now, and as the cab lights up the dark country roads, I realize I’m torn between wanting this summer to be over because I need the space from Cade, and never wanting it to end because I don’t want to go back to my life in the city.

We cross under the big wooden posts that mark where the Wishing Well Ranch land begins.

“Just down this road and then veer left,” I direct the driver, who responds with a simple hum. I’m grateful that he hasn’t been the chatty type of cab driver because I’m all chatted out for tonight.

When the lights turn into Cade’s driveway and shine at the picturesque rancher, my body sags with relief. This isn’t my home, but . . . I feel like I’m home.

I tap my card on the cabbie’s machine to pay the obscenely expensive total and step out. Cade is sitting on the front step, glaring at me. His elbows are resting on his knees and he’s holding a glass tumbler in his large hands.

There’s an energy about him. He looks dangerous tonight, and well, I’m in the mood for a fight.

As the cab pulls away, I poke the bear. “Waiting up for me, Daddy?” I bat my eyelashes and hike my purse up on my shoulder.

I swear he growls. “It’s late. You could have let me know when you were coming home. It’s still my house you’re living in.”

“I guess I should stay at the main house on the weekends then, just so I don’t inconvenience you,” I snipe back, even though I don’t want to stay at the main house.

I want to stay with him.

“Maybe you should just act like an adult and report back so that I don’t have to worry . . .” he trails off before adding, “about you waking Luke up.”

The fucking balls on this guy.

“Not wanting to wake Luke up is the only reason I’m not reaming you out right now, Eaton. And if we’re going to talk about acting like adults maybe you should text me instead of my best friend.”

He stands, brushing his hands over the ass of his pants—looking annoyingly good as he does—before he turns his back on me. Then he tosses out over his shoulder, “Luke’s with my dad, so you can go ahead and have your tantrum over that if you need to.”

My jaw drops and my voice rises. “You’re worried about me coming home late and waking him up, but he’s not even here?”

He continues walking, but I dart after him, jogging up the steps as I toss my purse on the deck near his bare feet. “Cade! I’m talking to you. Which is lucky, considering you just handed me over to your friend, like I’m some sort of goddamn toy to share.”

That stops him in his tracks, the muscles in his back held taut. Everything about his body screams predator. It screams get away from me, but I’m too impulsive to heed a silent warning like that. I step closer, closing the space between us, letting his pine scent wrap around me—letting it intoxicate me.

“You think I’m just some bimbo you can pawn off on friends?”

He spins now, all fire and brimstone. “I think I can’t get you out of my head, no matter how hard I try. I think you’re too damn tempting and that I’m too damn complicated. I think you smell like him, and I can’t fucking stand that.”

I blink, letting my eyes scan his red cheeks, the flare in his dark eyes, the way his nostrils rise and fall under the weight of his labored breathing.

“The gall. The absolute gall to complain that I smell like the man you shipped me off with, who was nothing but a gentleman. The man who, under different circumstances, I might have had fun with because he’s a fun fucking guy. But instead, I spent all night stewing over you, Cade Eaton. You and your grumpy fucking face, and your stupid broad shoulders, and round Wrangler ass. So . . . fuck you.” My finger pokes him in the center of his rock-hard chest. “And double fuck you for being jealous when you have no right. If I smell like him, you smell like bullshit.”

I spin away, but Cade is faster. His hand shoots out and wraps around my arm, stopping me in my tracks. I jolt around to face him, my body drawing into his so naturally.

“Keep talking like that and I’m going to fuck the filth right out of your pretty mouth.”

I arch a brow at him as goose bumps break out over my body. The air between us sizzles. “Excuse me?”

He swipes the back of his hand over his mouth, like he’s pulling away the filter that’s been there all along. “You heard me, Red. You keep barking at me like that and I’m going to put you on your knees, open those strawberry lips, and fuck your face just to shut you up.”

My mind whirs. The man before me is not the same man I’ve been living with this past month. This is another version of him. A version he’s hidden. A version I can work with.

A version I like.

The words sound harsh, but I know Cade well enough to know his words are often frustrated, but his hands are always gentle.

Holding his burning glare, I slowly drop to my knees in front of him, tipping my chin up to see every flicker of emotion in his eyes. “I fucking dare you.”

A muscle in his jaw pops. I know he’s standing on the precipice, but he’s holding himself back. I’m not some virginal little girl. I know when a man wants me.

And Cade Eaton wants me.

He just needs to let himself take me.

So I give him a nudge. I lick my lips and open my mouth wide, tongue held flat, eyes melded to his. The most brash invitation in the world.

“Fuck,” he mutters and steps forward with authority, all shreds of restraint seeming to snap and fall around us. My core clenches, and my chest almost vibrates with anticipation. When he runs one broad palm over the back of my head while standing above me, I hum with pleasure.

“You are fucking torture, Willa Grant.” He drops the glass on the deck behind him, and it lands with a heavy thud, miraculously not breaking against the wood. And then the pads of his fingers are on my lips, tracing, touching, pressing.

I’ve served myself up on a platter to him, but he’s not diving in yet. He’s savoring. And based on the bulge in the front of his pants, he likes what he sees.

“Fucking torture.” He slips two fingers into my mouth, running them along my tongue, just to the edge of where I feel like I might gag. “A man can only take so much before he snaps.”

My lips wrap around his digits in response as my palms flatten against his jeans for balance, eyelids dropping slightly as I do. I’m feeling a little too vulnerable, a little out of my league—a little shy. But this is what I wanted.

I wanted him to snap.

“Suck, Willa. Prove to me you’re good enough for the job and maybe I’ll give you my cock.”

I moan, his words both drugging me and angering me. The challenge in what he’s said is clear, and I’ve never been one to back down from a challenge.

I take it and brace against his muscular thighs, sliding my lips up and down the length of his fingers. I can almost taste the bourbon on them.

“Eyes on me, baby. Let’s see it.”

Heat crawls along my cheeks as I force myself to look up at him. His gaze is downright magnetic. He steals the breath from my lungs and takes it for himself.

His fingers tangle in my hair, stroking at my scalp while I slide my mouth up and down his fingers.

When he murmurs, “That’s my girl,” while looking me in the eye, nothing in the world has ever felt more right.

My girl.

I swirl my tongue around his fingers, and he groans, before gripping my hair and working my head the way he wants.

Setting the pace.

I give myself over to him, going soft in his hands, feeling my saliva build around my lips as I do.

“Fuck. Willa.” My name sounds so good on his lips, the way he growls it—feral and possessive.

The boards of the porch bite at my knees, even through the jeans I’m wearing. And when he pulls his fingers from my mouth with a lewd pop, the last few threads holding him together snap before my eyes. I can almost hear the pinging of them flying apart like a popped guitar string.

I smile like the goddamn Cheshire Cat.

Because above me, Cade is breathing heavily and frantically unbuckling his belt. Fumbling with his button. Ripping at his zipper. And when his thick cock tents the fabric of his boxer briefs, my hands free it.

Right in the open, on his front deck.

He pulls his shirt off one-handed, and all at once, I’m licking my lips and running my palms over smooth, hot skin. Almost reveling in it. Sighing at the feel.

“Fuck, Red. You’re desperate for it, aren’t you?” His hand is back to combing my hair, and I can feel my wet saliva on his fingers as his opposite hand traces the bottom line of my jaw.

I swallow audibly and lick the bead of pre-cum glistening on the head of Cade’s cock. Cade’s massive cock. My eyes shimmer with anticipation. Like Christmas morning. Like I’m going to get to play with a whole new toy. “Yes.” I press a kiss to the tip. “But only for you.”

His head tips back on a groan, exposing his throat and all the dark stubble over his Adam’s apple. I think he needed to hear that, and I didn’t even realize it was true until the words left my mouth. His hands are still on my head, holding my skull reverently, as I wrap my lips around him for the first time. Smooth skin, soft musk, fingers tangled.

It’s sensory overload as I slide my mouth down his length, tortuously slow, breathing through my nose and taking him as far back as I can.

When I think I can’t go any further, I swallow and take just a little bit more.

“Jesus, Willa.” I smile at the breathless state of his voice. Cade Eaton is about to learn that the trick to a good blow job is enjoying giving them. And I love it.

I don’t care if I’m the one on my knees while he towers above me. The power is mine right now. The power to make him fall apart is mine. And I’m drunk with it.

My tongue swirls as I bob slowly, one hand twisting at the base of him while the other slips back to cup his balls, fingers working in tandem while my lips suction hard.

I moan on his cock, and his grip tightens in my hair. “Careful, baby. It’s been too long, and you feel too good. I’m trying to make this last.” His barely restrained voice husks with a light tremor.

I love the sound of it. It urges me on. If he thinks this is a one-time thing, he’s confused. I’m realizing his ex did a bigger number on him than I first imagined. I wonder as I take him further back into my throat if he’s a lot more insecure than he lets on.

I wonder if I can show him how irresistible he is to me. I take one hand and trail it over his hipbone, dragging a nail over the line that cuts just below where his abs start. Moving up the trail of hair toward his abdomen, I splay my hand over his stomach, feeling all the lines and ridges there.

When I glance up at him, his hooded eyes are locked on my hand. As he catches me watching him, his eyes soften and he brushes the pad of his thumb over my cheek. “You look so fucking pretty like this, Willa.”

I groan and my lashes flutter as I feel a surge of wetness between my thighs.

“A mouth full of my cock.” He guides my head in a rhythm he likes, and I remove my palm from his base, opting to explore his body. He seems to like that, and more than anything, I want to make him feel good.

I want him to want more.

“You’ve been dreaming about this, haven’t you?”

I stare up at him and nod, sucking him even harder.

“That’s why you’ve spent every single day here under my roof, driving me absolutely insane. Teasing me with that perfect ass, those goddamn nipples, and your silky hair. Even your laugh makes me hard. Did you know that?”

I moan, loving hearing that I drive him crazy. Gliding my hands over his ribs, I slide them behind him and trail over his muscular ass the way I’ve wanted to for a long time.

I squeeze and he picks up the pace, fingers gripping my scalp as his palms cover my ears. A soothing white noise fills my head, and I stare up at him, turning myself over to the wild look in his dark eyes.

He said he was going to fuck my mouth, and that’s what he does. I hold on for the ride, but it doesn’t last long. Soon his thrusts turn longer and harder, rather than fast and frantic. His pinched eyes remain laser-focused on mine.

“Willa, I’m going to . . .” He huffs out a breath as he trails off, trying to pull away from me. Trying to pull out. But I yank him closer, stretch my neck and give him a little shake of my head as I widen my eyes at him.

His mouth pops open, ever so slightly, and I watch the tip of his tongue dart out over his lips. “Fuck.”

And then I get to watch him come apart. Watch him give in. And it feels like winning.

His cock jerks and pulses in my mouth, and I swallow as it does. I keep my eyes on his face, even when his flutter shut. Even when his hands go soft in my hair and switch from gripping to stroking. To gentle touches.

When his eyes flick open again, I draw away, feeling him soften and hearing his breathing even out.

“Christ, Willa,” he breathes as he pulls his pants back up and I wipe at my lips.

He crouches down, lifting me up with him, and crushes his mouth against mine, clearly not caring about where it’s been. Because the kiss is searing. Heartfelt. His lips are soft against mine, and when I tangle my hands behind his neck, I can feel a damp layer of perspiration.

He pulls away and rests his forehead against mine. “I’m sorry,” he whispers against my lips.

“You don’t need to apologize for that. I think I had almost as good of a time as you.” I chuckle quietly, feeling his breath against my damp lips.

His forehead rolls along mine. “No. I’m sorry I let you go out tonight.”

My eyes roll, but neither of us moves. Still standing out in the open on the front porch. Still trailing our hands over each other. “You don’t let me do anything, Eaton.” I arch a brow at him, and he pulls me into a hug, his steely arms wrapping me up tight.

And it feels so damn good.

“I’m sorry I didn’t beg you to come home with me.”

I nuzzle against him, thriving on that specific type of apology. “You do beg well,” I joke.

He turns his head and presses a kiss into the crook of my neck. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Welcome to my life,” I joke again, trying to lighten the mood or just quell the slight pang of discomfort.

Cade squeezes me tighter and presses a kiss to my shoulder. “I promised myself I wouldn’t cross this line with you. That I wouldn’t complicate things. That I wouldn’t tangle us up like this when you’re leaving so soon.”

A pit forms in the bottom of my stomach, and insecurities leap like fish out of water, because standing in his arms doesn’t feel cozy. It feels like a cage. It feels like an apology. And all my walls shoot back up. I felt like a goddess two minutes ago, and now, there’s a sense of dread creeping in.

I pull away, giving him a flat smile and sort of patting at his shoulders. “Well, let’s just not complicate it.”

He gives his head a little shake, seeming surprised by my response. I turn and walk toward the front door.

Am I being dramatic? Maybe. Probably. But my pride can only take so many hits where Cade Eaton is concerned. He can only turn me down so many times or make excuses about why this can’t happen before I take it personally.

Complicated.

I think the only thing making this complicated is him.

Once I reach the privacy of my bedroom, I shut the door and step into the space, sucking in a big breath.

Flicking the bedside light on, I let my mind wander to stupid Cade Eaton. Big-dicked, strong-biceped, fucking handsome-faced, complicated asshole that he is.

The door bursts open behind me. I turn and see Cade standing there, hands fisted at his sides, in unbuttoned jeans and still no goddamn shirt, which is really just the cruelest kind of joke. His shoulders take up almost the entire doorframe, and his expression is one I recognize as his angry scowl.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he barks out.

I sniff and look away because he’s intimidating right now. “Making sure things don’t get too complicated for you. Obviously.”

“Woman.” He always sounds so snarky when he calls me woman. “Are you insane? You think I went three years without laying my hand on a single person to break my streak with one as exceptional as you and then let you just walk away?”

Three years?

“I—”

“No.” He holds up a hand. “I’m going to talk. And you’re going to close your mouth and listen. Because if you’d let me finish what I was saying out there, you wouldn’t have spent a single moment in here thinking I don’t want to complicate things with you. I said I promised myself I wouldn’t complicate this with you. You’re young, you’re restless, and I’m truthfully too fucking jealous to do anything casual with you.” He runs a hand through his hair, giving the ends a frustrated little tug. “I’ve watched you with my son. I’ve watched you, period. I’ve longed for you. I went crazy tonight thinking of you out with Lance. I know in my bones that I won’t want to let you go at the end of the summer, but I’ll take what I can get. Because you’re too fucking special to pass up. Fuck my promises, that’s what I was going to say.”

My throat tightens as he stares down at that brass line separating my space from his. Arbitrary and yet, symbolic. Like when we cross that line we’re not going back.

“I . . .”

He holds a hand up again. “No. I don’t want to talk anymore. Unless it’s to hear you explain why you think I’d let you suck me off and then not return the favor. What kind of assholes you been dating, Red?”

My lips roll together as I watch him cross that line into my space.

It feels like our space.

“Now, get on your back. I want to watch you squirm while I taste you for the first time.”