Written in the Scars (26 page)

“Ty?” I ask, panting. “What the hell?”

Shoving off the cabinet, he reaches behind me. I follow his hand as he draws an envelope in front of my face.

The corner of his lip is upturned, his brows shooting upwards as well. “Let’s take care of this first.”

“The envelope from Parker?” I ask incredulously, grabbing at his hips.

“I can’t focus if I know it’s sitting on the counter.”

He’s toying with me, but I’m not in the mood. I reach out and jerk the envelope from him. My eyes meeting his and holding the envelope mid-air, the tearing sound rips through the room as I split it in half.

His smile grows as does the slash in the papers. I don’t smile, don’t frown, just keep pulling until there is one piece in each hand.

“They no longer exist,” I say, handing him both halves. “Now fuck me.”

Laughing, he tosses the envelope in the trash and is standing in front of me before I realize it.

“Are you sure you can handle more?” he teases, his fingers playing with the hem of my dress. “You took a lot of dick this morning.”

I gasp as his fingers skim over the tops of my thighs and work their way so, so slowly upwards.

“Maybe you’re out of shape,” I counter, trying to keep my voice calm. “Maybe you can’t deliver again.”

His chest rumbles as he releases a low, sexy chuckle. “I can deliver. Don’t you worry about that.”

“What are you waiting for?” I tilt my hips, brushing my pussy over his hand. “Feel how wet I am?”

“You’re dripping down my hand,” he growls, placing his palm on my pubic bone. Applying pressure there, two fingers spread lower, over my clit, and dip into my wetness.

I hiss a breath, widening my stance, feeling his touch right where I need it.

“You like that?” he asks, knowing good and well that I do.

“Does it feel like I do?”

“It feels like you do,” he says, strumming my clit with the pad of his finger. “It feels like you want more than this.”

“Ah,” I groan, grinding my body against his hand. “I need you, Ty. I need you now.”

His mouth captures mine, his tongue commanding mine in a display of ownership, creating a blissful sensation from head to toe.

Before I know what’s happening, he drops to his knees. He motions for my legs to widen before his fingers drag from my ass all that way to my clit.

His eyes never leave mine, his free hand biting into my hip and holding me in place.

“My God, Ty,” I moan, my head falling back. “Ah!” I yelp as his face presses into me. His tongue rolls my swollen bud before pressing then flicking it, working me into a frenzy.

A finger, then two, enter my opening—in and out in the most wonderful form of torture I can imagine.

Just as I begin to see a flurry of colors, my body starting to lift off to bliss, he pulls away.

His hands digging into my hips, he dots kisses against the insides of my thighs, leaving a trail of assaulted skin behind as he stands.

Breathless, we gasp for air. I grab the button of his pants and work furiously to undo it. The zipper sounds as I tug it down and push his jeans and boxers over his hips. They pool on the floor.

His cock is solid and heavy as I take it in my hand. Stroking the length, a dot of pre-cum glistens at the tip. I fall to my knees and smile as Ty’s eyes eagerly meet mine.

My tongue flicks against the top, the softness meeting the hard. Ty hisses a breath as I lick the liquid from the tip of his cock.

I take the head in my mouth and roll my tongue around it. My free hand cups his balls, and squeezing them gently as I stroke his shaft, I watch my husband’s face coat with pleasure.

Licking around the head before letting my tongue draw down his length and around the base, I drag it back to the top along the underside.

His hips thrust forward, his hands embedding in my hair, as I take his cock into my mouth. Pumping him tightly, just the way he likes it, I feel the smoothness of his skin inside my mouth.

“Fuck, E,” he moans. His hands on my head urge me on, the head of his cock beginning to swell further.

Keeping the pace, I work him higher, feeling myself grow wetter with each passing second. Angling forward to take more of his size into my mouth, I look him in the eye.

His greens are filled with unbridled lust and I smile, flicking my tongue against his tip. I find the spot just behind his balls and press two fingertips against it with unrelenting pressure. His entire body shivers, his eyes flutter closed as a hiss escapes his throat.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” I ask, massaging that spot with the pads of my fingers.

I take him into my mouth again and roll the tip around like a sucker. The suction pops as I release it. “You should feel how wet I am. My pussy is begging for you.”

I’m pulled to my feet instantly and am led across the kitchen to the table.

“Your pussy will never have to beg for long,” he says, standing behind me.

Leaning over the table and grabbing the other side, I glance at him over my shoulder. His cock in his hand, his chest now bare, he looks at me like he’s about to devour me.

I shake my ass side to side and grin. “What are you waiting for?”

“Just enjoying the sight,” he says.

The tip of his cock swirls around my opening before I feel it part me. He enters me slowly, yet with enough force that it’s blissfully uncomfortable. Once he’s all the way in, he pauses, running his fingers down my spine. Then he begins to move and I lose all contact with reality.

I peek under the foil. The cheese is the perfect golden color and the spaghetti sauce is bubbling beneath. Sticking the pan of garlic knots on the rack below, I close the oven.

Wiping my hands off, I toss the towel on the table as I pull open the kitchen door. The sky is a beautiful shade of orange and blue as the sun begins its descent below the horizon.

It’s a peaceful evening, a great ending to a pretty good day. After the fight and amazing makeup between Ty and myself, today was a little touch-and-go to start. As the day wore on, I realized being mad at Ty for something Pettis said wasn’t worth it. I have to trust him and I do. I’m trusting my gut.

My lungs pull in the crisp air as I walk down the sidewalk and to the sound of a hammer in front.

Rounding the corner, I see Ty nailing up a loose board on the garage. Wearing a pair of jeans with a hole in the knee, a long-sleeved white thermal shirt, and his Arrows cap, he looks edible.

He glances up at me. “What are you looking at?” he laughs.

“Just wondering if the sexy man working on my garage wants to go in for dinner?”

“Does he get you for dessert?”

“That could be arranged.”

He stands and puts his tools back in the bag and disappears to the side. As he puts his stuff away, I spy a basketball lying beneath the hoop. I pick it up and take a couple of shots, missing both.

I hear his laugh before I see him. “It’s hard to imagine you’re the wife of a basketball coach with a jump shot like that.”

“My husband doesn’t teach me how to shoot,” I pout.

“What a dick he must be,” Ty smirks. Extending his hands to the front, I toss him the ball. He shoots from where he’s standing, barely jumping or trying, and the ball swishes through the net. “That turns you on, doesn’t it?”

Rolling my eyes, I shoot again. And miss.

“That turns me on,” he says, retrieving my shot. “That’s why I haven’t taught you to shoot. I just like watching your boobs bounce like that when you miss.”

“You’re an asshole,” I tease, catching the ball.

He follows the ball and presses a kiss to my lips. “Play me a game.”

“Why would I do that?”

“I’ll make it worth your while.”

Tilting my head to the side, I sigh. “And how’s that?”

“If you win,” he says, “I’ll do dishes for a week. And if I win . . . I’ll eat your pussy every night for a week.”

Laughing, I shoot him a look. “That doesn’t seem like you win either way.”

“How do you figure? If I do dishes, you’ll be happy and that makes me happy. If I’m eating your pussy—and let’s face it, that’s gonna be the end result of this—we’re both happy.”

“Silly boy,” I say.

Throwing the ball towards the net, I’m shocked that it goes through. Ty rebounds and takes my place, easily swishing the ball through the net.

I shoot again and miss. He shoots and drains it from the edge of the driveway.

“Damn it,” I say, putting my feet where his were. “There’s no way I’ll make that.”

“Nope, there isn’t,” he laughs. “I’m all about watching your body. So, you know, go ahead and shoot.”

I do and it doesn’t come close.

“That’s an H,” he says, draining another one from the other side.

Before I can shoot, Jiggs’ truck rumbles down the road and into the driveway. I flinch as his headlights shine in my eyes until he flips them off.

The door to his truck whines as he opens it and climbs out. “What are you two doin’?” he asks, motioning for me to toss him the ball. I do and he shoots and makes it.

“Playing HORSE,” Ty informs him. “I just won.”

I start to object, to point out the game isn’t over, but he flashes me a look so sinful I nearly melt into the driveway.

“I made baked spaghetti,” I say instead. “Where’s Lindsay?”

“Home. She’s not feeling good.” His eyes settle on me and I read between the lines.

“Did you two fight all night?”

“More or less,” he sighs.

Before he can expound, Cord’s truck hits the gravel and comes to a stop next to Jiggs’. Yogi stands in the back, takes in the scene, before lying back down as Cord and Becca get out of the truck.

I wait for a smile, a grin, but they don’t come. Flashing Becca a questioning glance, she shrugs.

“Hey,” Ty greets them. “You guys hungry?”

“I hear you’re a great cook,” Becca says, pulling me into a quick hug. “Do you have a bathroom I can use?”

“Sure,” I say, taking in the worry lines around her eyes. “It’s through the door to the right. Want me to walk you in?”

“No, that’s okay,” she says and heads off. I get the distinct feeling she wants a few minutes alone, so I let her go.

The boys are in the midst of a conversation when I turn around. Jiggs looks at Ty, and I see his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. He doesn’t look at me, and it’s clear he’s making a concerted effort not to.

“What are you talking about?” I ask, my eyes trained on my brother because I know he’ll break way before my husband.

Ty turns his back to me, his head twisting back and forth. “Damn it, Jiggs. You could’ve called me instead.”

“How was I supposed to know you hadn’t told her? This isn’t a bad thing, you know.”

“What in the world are you talking about?” I demand. Although I know the answer, I want to hear it from them.

I want to hear it from Ty.

I watch his back tense, his shoulders stiffen, his lungs drawing in a deep breath before he turns to face me. His eyes are dark, his jaw set firmly in place. “Blackwater called. The mine is reopening this week.”

Goose bumps ripple across my skin as I begin to shuffle backwards. “You aren’t going though, right?” I look from Ty, to Jiggs, to Cord, and back to Ty. My mouth goes dry as they fail to respond.

“E . . .”

I fire a look at Jiggs. “Are you going back?”

“Of course,” my brother says. “I’m a miner, Elin. My wife is having a baby. I need a job.”

“Are you going, Cord?”

“Yes,” he sighs and places a hand on my shoulder. “It’s normal to be worried. The last time you dealt with that place, your husband came out on a stretcher.”

“He was almost killed!” I say, pointing to Ty. He’s watching me, a wariness settling over him.

“Do you have any idea what I felt when they called and told me you’d been hit by that timber? That you were on your way to the emergency room and they didn’t know how bad it was?” I ask, tears burning my eyes. “I thought, ‘This is it. This is the accident we all wait for. The one my mom waited for when my dad mined, the one my grandmother prayed to avoid every morning when Grandpa left for the fields. It’s happened to me.’”

I squeeze my eyes closed. “I got there and they wouldn’t let me see you. They said you were in surgery, and I kept thinking that I didn’t get to tell you goodbye that morning. You left without waking me up, do you remember that?”

He nods, reaching for me. I take his hand and let him pull me to his side. His arm stretches around my shoulder, holding me close.

I look at Jiggs. “You guys can’t go back down there. You just can’t.” Glancing from Ty to Cord and back to Jiggs, I reiterate it again. “None of you can go back there.”

“We get it, Elin, we do,” Jiggs says. “We were down there when that thing fell on him. I was scared to beat all hell. There are no other jobs here.”

“You could go back to school. You could—”

“And go into debt? And get a degree that we can never use? And how are we going to pay the bills while we are doing that?” Ty asks.

I’m too numb for the tears to fall. My shoulders slump, my mind vaguely remembering the spaghetti in the oven, but I can’t even bother to mention it.

“We’ve applied everywhere,” Jiggs says, shrugging. “No one is hiring. For every opening, there’s fifty applicants. This is all we have, not to mention my wife is wanting me to move to fucking Florida over the job market. This is a good thing, Elin. This is what we’ve been hoping for.”