COLT
"Morning, sleepy head," Willow murmured as consciousness gradually replaced my slumber.
"Morning," I mumbled before her lips brushed mine. I smiled, my eyes as yet unopened.
We'd just spent our third night in my... in our bed, and I was now sure I was going to live. That was a big improvement over the day after the goon tried to kick my ass. Then I hadn't been so sure.
The first night we'd spent in the motel had been rough. I was beat all to shit and everything hurt. Having Willow curled in my arms, while comforting to my soul, had only added to my misery. We'd separated, briefly, but that did little to lessen my physical discomfort, and I didn't have the emotional comfort of her closeness. When I realized I was going to hurt, no matter what I did, I'd pulled her back into my arms and held her as I spent a restless night getting ever more sore.
The next morning, getting out of bed had been absolute torture. She'd helped me to the bath where I spent a long time under a hot shower, trying to soak some of the soreness out of my body. The good it did was debatable. We quickly realized I wasn't riding anywhere that day, and Willow went down to the desk to extend our stay another night. While there, she'd asked the person behind the desk to look up her vet's phone number for her and obtained a handful of Tylenol in individual dose packets. After giving me the Tylenol, she'd returned to the lobby to use the guest phones to contact her vet. From them, she'd obtained the number for her pet sitter, and then contacted the sitter to arrange for the woman to care for Mafic until further notice. She'd also asked the woman to bring our phones and chargers to us that evening after tending to her cat. After that, it was room service for meals. I ate little, slept when I could, took several hot showers and Tylenol, and suffered in silence.
Near seven, there was a knock on the door. It was Angela, the pet sitter, with our phones and chargers. It had been a risk having Angela bring the phones to us. If she was followed, she'd lead the cartel directly to us, but without access to our phones or a computer, it was difficult to impossible to do anything.
I could tell the woman was dying to ask questions, but Willow gave her nothing. Now that we had our phones, things became easier. After Angela was well away, Willow called for an Uber and then went out, returning a short time later with underwear for us, and a new shirt for me to replace my bloodstained one.
Rest, Tylenol, and the showers were working their magic, and by the time Willow returned with our new underwear, I was nodding. Having Willow in my arms that night hadn't hurt nearly as much, and I slept far better. I was still sore and achy the next morning, but no more so than the night of the fight, and I was in far better shape than I'd been in the day before.
We checked out, leaving our used underwear and my shirt in the motel trash, and made the ride from Houston to Rio Lago. When we stopped for gas, I took more Tylenol, and as I slowly walked around, trying to stretch my aching muscles, I called my brothers. I explained what had happened and they agreed to meet us at the clubhouse.
All my brothers were there when we arrived. I hobbled my way into the clubhouse, and after the obligatory razzing over my battered appearance, I'd give them the entire story. There was considerably more good-natured harassment about me fighting naked, and how the cartel should have had the decency to wait until we were finished before killing us because it wasn't fair for a man to have to die with blue balls.
Willow and I spent the next two nights in one of the clubhouse's three guest rooms, always with at least two more brothers there to split the protection detail. When no attack came, and nothing suspicious was seen, we moved to my house. Each day I was better than I was the day before, my cuts were well along their way to healing, and though I'd still ached in a few places, I was enough improved that Willow and I made a fast run to Houston in my truck to pick up Mafic. We considered stopping and picking up her Jeep as well, but decided against it. I wanted to limit her exposure to the absolute minimum. While she packed a few clothes and got Mafic ready to travel, I patched the broken window in her back door. The thug had used duct tape to hold the glass together when he broke it, leaving a hole in the corner that he could reach through to unlock the door. I found a roll of old, gummy duct tape in the garage and taped the hole from both the inside and outside. The tape wouldn't keep out thieves, but it'd keep the weather out until I could replace the glass.
Over the last few days, as I recovered, I'd had time to think. The night after the fight, as I lay awake staring at the ceiling, I realized how close I'd come to losing her, and that it was little more than dumb luck that we'd gotten out of her house alive. I'd made the worst mistake in the book. I'd become involved with the woman I was protecting and lost sight of the goal. I'd been more concerned with fucking her than guarding her, and that mistake had nearly cost her life.
The idea had chased itself around inside my head most of the night. It was no secret that Willow and I were sleeping together, but the brothers didn't seem to care, nor did they seem to think I'd fucked up while in Houston. While they agreed that had I been in the other room, I might have gotten the drop on the man from behind, they'd also pointed out that had I been sleeping in the other room, I might not have realized what was happening until Willow was dead.
Willow, for her part, refused to allow me to take any blame for what had happened, claiming if I hadn't been in her bed that night, she was certain she'd have been killed. She and I had a long conversation over what happened and the fact we'd become intimate. She'd made it abundantly clear she wanted me in her bed, and she said she felt safer with me there that she would if I weren't. She claimed to have not heard anything, and it wasn't until I was hurrying her into the bathroom that she realized she was in danger. She further argued that had I been in the other room, if she'd heard the goon, she'd have thought it was me moving around until it was too late. So long as I was in her bed at night, there were two pairs of eyes and ears watching and listening, and if she happened to be the one to hear the noise or see the shadow, she could wake me. She'd ended her argument by agreeing to separate beds if I thought that was best, but it wasn't what she wanted and thought it was a mistake.
For my part, I wanted to be in her bed. Something was happening, and I was debating with myself if maybe... just maybe... I was falling in love with her. I was having a hard time sorting my feeling for her. I'd thought I was in love with Britt, but the feeling for Willow were much stronger. I didn't know if what I was feeling was love, responsibility for her safety, or some combination of the two. All I knew was, the thought of losing her, either through violence or otherwise, caused a cold, solid lump to form in my stomach, and I worried those feelings were clouding my judgement. In the end, we'd decided to continue as we were, but when I was alone with my thoughts, and was being honest with myself, I worried I'd allowed her to talk me into continuing to sleep in her bed because that was what I wanted and not because that was the smart choice.
She'd been a real trooper as I slowly mended, insisting I rest and recover while she prepared meals, did for me when I could barely do for myself, and generally took care of me. As I began to feel better, she became ever more snuggly, especially at night. Yesterday morning I'd woken with an erection for the first time since the fight, and that night, though I didn't think I was up to making love to her the way I wanted to, she'd given me a long and exquisitely sensuous blowjob under the guise of wanting to make sure that my cock was healing along with the rest of me. Afterwards, with her in my arms, I fell into a deep and peaceful sleep... the best sleep I'd had in almost a week. It wasn't because she'd blown me to orgasm, but because being intimate with her, and having her in my arms, felt so
right.
It was almost like she was becoming the peanut butter to my jelly, and she was making me more than I was on my own.
Two days ago, I'd started easing myself back into work and had extracted the plunger and disconnected the derrick from the Harvey well that I'd been contracted to deepen. Yesterday I'd unbolted the derrick from the well and used the crane on my well truck to move the derrick aside, and then I'd spent the rest of day performing preventive maintenance on the turbine and the plunger mechanism. While the wells were stone simple in operation, after years of continuous use in the elements, even they needed maintenance, and it was a lot easier to work on the unit when it was laying on the ground. Normally everything I did to that point was a one day job, but I was taking it easy and split the work over two days.
I sighed before I pulled her lips back to mine. My bruises were fading, along with my aches, and after another good night's sleep, I felt I was ready to start drilling... both at work and at play.
"I think someone's feeling better," she purred as she pulled back from the kiss and reached down to gently caress my cock. "Two mornings in a row."
"Just a little stiffness left," I rumbled, fighting to stop my smile.
"No so little," she cooed, taking my lips again as she continued to gently stroke my cock. "You're drilling today?"
I pulled her lips back to mine and our kissing became more aggressive. "Yes," I growled before rolling her to back and took her lips.
"How deep are you going to go," she breathed as our lips parted.
"Very," I murmured before I kissed her furiously.
"Oh, God, I hope so," she gasped as I left her lips and began nuzzling her neck. I was starting to lose control. I wanted her,
needed
her, so badly. It was like out first time together when all my fear and pain came rushing out of me as I'd taken her.
She tugged at me, trying to draw me more fully onto her, pulling me more firmly down as she writhed under me, her soft gasps and sighs enflaming my passions even more. My rips rocking slowly as slid my cock through her wetness, I left her neck to kiss my way lower.
She moaned softly as she twisted her hips and pushed at me. I rolled to my back, holding her tight against me as I did. She took my lips in another torrid kiss as she moaned softly, smearing her wetness over me as she ground her womanhood against my hardness.
With a gasp she broke from the kiss, reached between us as she rose slightly, and then slid my manhood into her most secret place. We both moaned quietly, my steel hard cock caressing her passage while being caressed in return, as she slowly settled over me.
"Fuck," I breathed in the instant before she took my lips again.
She began rocking her hips, slowly at first, but then with more and more urgency. With a whimper, her lips left mine and she buried her face in my neck. I held her, one arm over her lower back, one hand wrapped in her hair as she pleasured herself on my rod while returning the bliss tenfold.
Wailing softly, she reared, her face twisted with profound pleasure. I gripped her lovely breasts, cupping them in my hands as she rocked her hips furiously, gently teasing and pinching her already hard nipples with fingers and thumbs. I bared my teeth. She was hurting me, her weight on my hips causing my still slightly sore back to scream in protest. I tried to endure, but the discomfort became too great.
