Page 56 of The Jilted Lovers Club
I look up and grin.
“What?” I ask, biting my lip.
His answer is a low growl and a slight tug of my hair that is both demanding and suggestive. The braid is the last thing on my mind as I think about how he could pull my hair in other ways.
“Damn, Ashton,” I exhale. He leans down, his breath hot against the shell of my ear.
“You like that, huh?” Then he tugs again, his mouth brushing against my skin before he goes back to finger combing my hair. “I think you and I might have the same appetite.”
I’m thinking the same thing. It’s been ages since I’ve been with anyone, and fuck if I’m not hungry—and not for anything soft or sensual. I want a good, hard fuck, and I have a feeling Ashton could take care of that for me.
But right now, we have to keep things fairly G-rated. Lottie is doing her own thing in the playpen, but the things I want to do to this man are not suitable for little eyes. It’s taking all my restraint not to turn around and straddle him so I can see what else he could manipulate with his hands.
I hold it together. While he parts my hair into three strands, I do my best not to melt under his touch. When he gives me a mirror and shows me how to grab more strands to weave into the braid, I hold my breath to keep from moaning. As he keeps tugging at my hair, mostly unintentional, I manage to keep my hands to myself.
But my god, I’m coming apart at the seams as he ties off my hair with a rubber band and gives it one last tug.
“I swear to god,” I say, turning to face him. “If that’s the only hair pulling I get today, I’m going to explode.”
He licks his lips as I stand, looking me up and down.
“I bet Lottie would love a sleepover at Mimi and Papa’s house tonight. What do you think?”
What do I think? I’m already wet, that’s what I think.
“I think it should start sooner rather than later.”
He’s about to speak, but there’s a loud banging at the door. We both turn, and there’s Bob. He’s smiling, but I recognize the urgency in his face.
“Petunia is close. She should be calving any moment,” he says when Ashton opens the door. Ashton whoops, and grabs his jacket. He then strides to Lottie’s playpen and swoops her up.
“Grab her jacket off the hook,” he says, pointing. I do, then hand it to him. “I’ve been waiting for this. Lottie still hasn’t seen a cow give birth, and I thought this would be the perfect opportunity. Want to come?”
I nod, though inside I’m nervous as hell. I’ve only seen animal births on nature shows, and they’re pretty gross. Can I handle it up close like that?
But this isn’t the biggest issue. My gut is working overtime because, even though this is a damn cow, my mind is totally consumed by my own experience with birth.
One that ended with holding a dead baby—one I didn’t even know I wanted until I held her.
Would I ever get over this? I’m not sure. But I’m not about to show how much this is affecting me. So I race out with them, keeping close as Bob leads the way to the barns.
Petunia is by herself in the corner of the pen, her stomach broad, her tail up in the air as she restlessly moves her head, braying every few moments.
“Oh man, she’s close,” Ashton says, handing me Lottie as he gets a better view of the large protrusion from her backside. My eyes widen, and he must have noticed the shock on my face. “It’s her water bag,” he explains, taking a few steps back. “The amniotic sac. The calf should come in the next hour or two.”
There isn’t much to do while Petunia is preparing to calf, so we sit on the other side of the pen and wait. Ashton picks flowers with Lottie to keep her from getting bored. But I’m gripped by the cow’s obvious discomfort. I can’t tear my eyes away, completely consumed as she paces, stopping every now and then to hit her head against her side as if to make the pain go away.
I keep glancing at Ashton, afraid he’ll notice the deep breaths I keep having to take so that I don’t panic. But he’s thankfully preoccupied, keeping Lottie entertained and glancing up now and then to check the cow’s progress. Occasionally he offers me awink with an excited grin, and I must do a pretty good acting job because he never notices how completely overwhelmed I feel.
Petunia eventually moves to her knees, then to her side, and I sit up straighter as I see the water bag bulge even more, and then burst.
“Ashton!”
He’s up in a second, holding Lottie as they lean over the fence. Bob is right there beside the cow, not touching but closely monitoring, as the calf’s head emerges. It all happens so quickly, that little body slipping through the canal and sliding with a gooey rush to the ground.
For a moment, it’s like time stands still. The calf is like a rag doll in the dirt, unmoving and lifeless. My breath hitches, tears stinging my eyes, and a suffocating tightness grips my chest.
And then it lifts its head, scrambling to its feet while struggling to stand.
