“Good, she’s a good girl, be kind to her. Respect her, all of you boys.” I snort lightly at his words.
“She’s a difficult girl to be kind to sometimes.” Pops nods his head slowly.
“She’s had a difficult past. You make sure she’s taken care of Jackson.” Though weak, I hear the stern warning in his tired voice, and a smile tugs at my lips.
“You never liked any of the girls besides Theo, and I think you only like her because she’s got a bigger set of balls than most of the guys here.” He lets out a weak laugh and shakes his head.
“Anyone that’s gone through what Ozzy has deserves kindness.” Has Ozzy talked to Pops?
“What has she been through?” I ask slowly as he shakes his head.
“Not my nightmare to tell, son. Listen, I ain’t got long left, and when I’m gone, she ain’t gonna have anywhere to go. She stays here until she’s ready to go, understood?”
“Pops–”
“Jackson,” his voice grows stern again. “She stays. I want you and the boys to go on out to Derek’s old house and start fixing it up for her. She was ready to die with me in that storm. This is her home. Are we understood, boy?”
I nod my head, “Yes, sir.” Pops nods his head and rests back against his pillow. I stand and head to the door before his voice stops me.
“You’re doing a good job, Jackson. I’m proud of you, son.” Ignoring the tightness in my throat, I take a breath before looking back at him.
“What’s her nightmare, Pops,” he goes to speak, but I cut him off. “Please, I don’t know what to do for her.”
“Son, you listen, you communicate, and be patient. When she trusts you, she will tell you.” I watch his eyes narrow in suspicion, “You got a thing for her?” I look down at my hands between my bobbing legs.
“Maybe,” I admit softly. “I-I don’t know what this is. She’s attractive and funny, but I don’t know.” I rub the back of my neck before looking back at him. “It’s probably some silly crush, nothing to be worried about.” I brush off the uncomfortable feeling before standing up. “I need to go get ready. I gotta go to Spurs with Jensen.” I mutter, heading to the doing. Pops chuckles lightly while closing his tired eyes.
“Ahhh, that pretty redhead back?”
“Yeah, he’s going so he can stare at her from his table.” I leave the room. The sound of his laugh is the last thing I hear before heading to my room to take a shower.
Once in my room, I walk to the shower and turn it on while stripping down and tossing my work clothes into the hamper. I stare at myself in the mirror, running a hand over my full beard. It’s not long; I prefer to keep it short, but it’s still full and dark. I run my hand over my large chest and abs, wincing at the bruise I have on my hip from where fucking Leroy hit me yesterday. I have no idea how Ozzy is able to sweet-talk him like she does.
I step into the shower and let out a sigh as the water rinses away the long workday. My mind circles back to Ozzy while I scrub my hair and face. And… Seeing her out there today, doing farm chores, in her short shorts and that crop top. That heart-shaped cutout framing her gorgeous fucking tits. They’ve been a recurring thought recently. I shouldn’t be this transfixed on her chest or those piercings that show through some of her clothes. Groaning, I look down to see that my dick has decided to wake up, not that this is anything new, my thoughts of Ozzy have been getting me harder than a damn steel rod lately, and it pisses me the fuck off.
“Why,” I growl at my erection before rolling my eyes. An image of her in those fishnets hit my brain, and I let out a very emasculating whimper. “Damn it.” I hate myself for jerking off to thoughts of her. I feel like it’s disrespectful or shameful. I don’t know. All I know is the days I do jerk off to thoughts of her. I can’t look her in the eye.
I begrudgingly grip my cock as I stroke up and down the shaft while thinking about what I seem to always be thinking about over these last weeks: Ozzy in various positions. Her tight clothes with those curves and tits that I am dying to taste. I want her on me, gripping my throat, digging those nails into me until I bleed.
“Ah!” I hiss out and smack the tiled wall. I feel tingling in the base of my spine, and my abs begin to contract with every pump as I fall deeper and deeper over the edge. I think about her spicy scent, pillowy lips, how her thighs wiggle when she walks, and how I want to get lost in between them.
“F-fuck!” I groan out as I watch myself come all over the shower floor. Letting out a sigh, I roll my head up to the ceiling and groan as the secret shame fills me. I need to stop this. It’s currently playing in a loop in my head, but… I won’t listen. I’ll be back here tomorrow, right on schedule.
* * *
“I really don’t want to be here long,” I grumble when we pull up to the town’s rustic country town bar – The Spurs. Its design and decor are meant to mimic Western saloons and honky tonks, but not the real ones, the ones you see on TV. So you know it’s over the top and completely wrong. But, despite its mechanical bull, dance floor, sawdust, and swinging saloon doors, it’s familiar and cozy. We’ve been coming here since before we were old enough to drink, though, since Pops got ill and I had to up my workload. It’s been a while since I had a night out.
“Come on,” Jensen rushes as he exits the truck. “I don’t know how long Leon will hold our table for.” He mutters, and I shake my head with Carter. Jensen has a specific round table he has to sit at. It’s away from everyone and the crowds, but he can still see the door, dance floor, and, of course, the bar. We walk into the bar and are instantly greeted by Niamh and her brighter-than-the-sun smile. Niamh is an attractive little thing about the height of Ozzy, with long strawberry-blonde hair and green eyes.
“Look at you boys!” She beams, her Irish accent strong. Usually, it’s strongest when she’s coming from her country, as well as the speed at which she talks. It’s so fast the first couple of weeks back. She gives Carter and me a hug before landing on Jensen.
“Jensen,” she smiles softly. “What’s the craic?”
Jensen looks from her to Carter and me, then back. “We have a table in the back.” He states, and I watch her smile dim slightly.
“Right, well, come on.” We follow her to the table, and after she takes our orders and leaves, I punch Jensen in the arm.
“I did not get forced out here just for you to talk to her like a dick.”