Hopeless: Chapter 38


Beau: T-minus six hours until you’re choking on my cock.

Bailey: Lol. But who’s counting, right?

Beau: Me. I’m counting.

Bailey: He’s hot *and* can count. Really, the whole package.

Beau: Will be giving you the whole package in T-minus five hours and fifty-nine minutes.

Bailey: CHEESY.

My palm lands flat against the cool door. The brass push bar across it looks a little worse for wear. I make note of that as I walk into the tail end of the Monday night dinner rush.

The low chatter of conversation hums through the air while George Strait plays over the speakers. Pool balls clatter against each other like a chime in the song.

I catch sight of Bailey behind the bar. Shiny, almost-black hair cascades down over her shoulders.

Her tight, drawn up shoulders.

My eyes race over her. Jaw set stubbornly, movements almost jerky, like she’s trying and failing to act casual.

She’s a terrible liar. Everything about her, from her face to her body language, absolutely gives her away. Something is wrong, and she might as well be a flashing neon sign telling me as much.

The other dead giveaway is Gary, who is sitting up straight with a half-drunk pint in front of him. He doesn’t even have his hand on it. Usually, he never lets it go once she hands it over. It bothers me because I feel like the beer must get warm, which is just very unappetizing. But then I always suppose that he drinks it fast enough for it not to matter.

Either way, he’s rigid too and watching Bailey with a glint of fatherly protectiveness in his eye that I’ve seen before. But today it’s sharper … more sober.

I check my watch.

Seven thirty. He’s usually drunk by now.

My eyes scan the room, noting the smiles people toss me as my gaze slips past. I don’t smile back. I went from relaxed to high alert, and when I hit the back corner, I know why.

Bailey’s shitty fucking brothers and her shitty fucking dad are here. I thought he was in prison somewhere, but what do I know? Truth be told, we don’t talk much about her family. I can tell she doesn’t like it. I can tell it makes her feel dirty and I never want to make her uncomfortable.

They’re happily tossing back beers, laughing, playing pool—like they belong here. Fury races through me.

Have I not kicked them off my property already?

I take a few steps their way, ready for confrontation, when I turn and give Bailey a quick glance. I must have felt her eyes on me because we make a connection instantly.

She shakes her head no.

I bite the inside of my cheek so hard it bleeds, then tip my head harshly toward the door before turning and storming out. Hoping she’ll follow. Needing to talk to her.

I march back out into the parking lot, freshly paved, so the place isn’t so fucking dusty all the time.

“Beau!” she calls as she clears the door.

“Over here.” I wave her back with me, going around the building to the little sheltered shed at the back where we keep the empty kegs. Pickups happen on Mondays, so there’s nothing in here right now, and I yank the door open, ushering her in. She scoots past me and I slam it shut behind us.

Light seeps in from between the boards, casting a faint glow.

Bailey’s eyes are wide with unease, and she opens with, “I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

I cut her off by pressing one finger to her lips. “Are you okay?”

She nods but blinks rapidly. Fuck, my girl is tough. She’s saying she’s okay, but she’s not.

“Bailey,” I sigh her name and take my hand back, scrubbing it over my mouth. All the tension in my body pulses to the surface, writhing beneath my skin.

“Beau, please. Just don’t make a scene. They’re never as bad when my dad is around. I don’t want there to be a scene. I want them to finish their shit and get out and to just be the bigger person.”

“I’m fucking sick of you having to be the bigger person, Bailey. They know what they’re doing. I told them to get off my property and stay away from you. And yet, here they are, shoving their defiance in my face. You deserve so much better than this.”

She rubs at her temples, peering down at her feet. And I wish I could make this all so much easier for her. But I don’t know how.

She needs to get out of this town, and soon.

We both know it. We just don’t talk about it.

I don’t pretend to know how much money she needs to save up to pull the pin, but I suspect there’s a level of nerves that accompany her plan. Wanting to leave, but also afraid of starting fresh.

I worry I’m holding her back.

She turns tearful eyes up at me. “I’m so tired, Beau. So fucking tired.”

The air in my lungs empties in a heavy whoosh as my chest caves in at her admission.

I don’t know what to say to make it better, so I kiss her instead. It starts with a little whimper into my mouth, but then her hands are on the back of my neck. Her nails are in my hair. She’s gripping me to her like she might breathe me in and sustain herself on my kiss alone.

My hands start on her hips, but the minute they start to roam, the energy in the shed changes.

Our patience frays.

I want her with a violence I’ve never experienced, with a ferocity that shocks me.

I shove her against the wall, pressing my leg between hers. My thigh grinds against the apex of hers while I take her mouth and rip at the button of her tight jeans.

“Beau,” she whispers between bruising kisses, hands running up under my shirt.

“I want these pants off. Now.”


“I want you to walk back in there knowing that you’re mine. No matter what happens. No matter what anyone says.”


“I want you to walk back in there looking freshly fucked so that no one questions a single thing about us. Especially not you.”

“Beau, there are customers … ” She trails off as I yank her jeans down her firm thighs, leaving them stretched there, and run my fingers over her panties.

“Bailey, shut up and let me fuck what belongs to me. We can talk later.”

“Yeah,” is her breathy response as I rub at the cotton thong that’s now wedged between her pussy lips.

“Turn around and bend over.” My voice is sharp, bordering on demanding, but she doesn’t flinch. She knows me well enough to know there are different facets of me that come out to play, depending on the day.

She tells me she likes all the versions of me, so I haven’t bothered hiding even the most vicious parts of myself from her. The ones I’ve always left overseas or on base. I don’t have to pretend those facets of me don’t exist with her.

I love her all the more for it.

Bailey spins, palms flat against the crudely constructed wall of two-by-fours. Her bare ass faces me, her head bowed while her body rises and falls under the weight of her panting.

“So obedient, Bailey.” I hook a finger under the T of her thong while my opposite hand presses flat on the small of her back to bend her over further.

“Yes, sir,” is her rushed reply. But this time she isn’t joking. She knows it makes me hard when she says it.

She knows me too damn well.

And yet, she doesn’t know everything.

“You need me to fill you up before I send you back in there to finish your job?”


I land a firm swat on her ass that makes her jump. “Ask politely.”

Her breathing goes ragged, and I watch the tips of her fingers curl into the wall. “Yes, please.”

I spank her again and she moans. “Yes, please … ”

“Yes, please, sir.”

God, the way she emphasizes it. I shouldn’t be getting off on fucking a twenty-two-year-old at work and making her call me sir.

But I don’t let myself focus on it for too long. I quickly unbuckle my belt, pull my cock out, and fist it, slapping it down against the pink hand shape blooming on her ass.

Holding her panties to the side, I run the head of my cock through her wetness. “Fucking soaked, Bailey. Should I tease you until you drip down your thighs, make all your customers wait? Or would you rather be dripping my cum?”

“Your cum.” Her hips move back suggestively, and she peeks over her shoulder at me. Eyes still glassy, but not sad like before. “Please. Sir.”

“Fuck.” I shake my head and grind my molars as I notch myself inside her. “Are you sore, baby?”

We started off slowly, but we haven’t been lately.

“No, no.”

She wiggles again, and I admire the way my cock looks against her tight little cunt. Then I blink up at her. “Good, because you will be after this.”

I shove myself in to the hilt and her body bows to accommodate me. She tries to bite down on a cry while her pussy clenches and flexes, wrapped around me.

“So fucking tight, Bailey,” I bite out as I withdraw. “You fit me like a glove. Like you were made for me.”

I shove back in, feeling her legs tremble and struggle against the tight denim that prevents her from spreading them wider like she clearly wants to.

A frustrated mewl spills from her lips and she tries to reach down, but I grab her hand, putting it back against the wall. “Hands stay there, Bailey. Flat.”

I hold her hand there, reaching above her, while my other hand holds her hip and my cock drives into her repeatedly. Roughly.

The sound of my hips slapping against her ass is accompanied by our mutual panting.

I thrust harder, and she pushes back, meeting my every stroke.

Her fingers lace with mine against the wall above us. I don’t know who initiated it, only that it lends a soft spot to our otherwise rough fucking.

Linked. Bailey and I are linked in inextricable ways.

We don’t make love, we fuck.

I lay a claim.

She meets me at every turn, just like she has since the day I stormed into her bar in a foul fucking mood.

“Beau. Yes. Fuck me. Spank me again.”

I take my hand off her hip and land it on her ass again. Her skin goes rosy, her body shakes.

She fucking loves it.


“Ask nicely, Bailey.” I bite her shoulder in my favorite spot, hoping it leaves a mark.

“Please.” The word is a mindless whine.

It’s so fucking hot, hearing her ask for what she wants, getting to watch her try all these new things on for size.

I lean back slightly and land another, louder than it is hard, and her muscles clamp down on me.

“Oh god. Oh god. I’m going to—”

“Atta girl. Come on my dick.”

I drive into her hard as she shatters. Her body milks me as we both race past the finish.

She slumps against the wall, and I lean into the hand above us, using it to prop myself up after what might have been the most intense orgasm of my life.

“Fuck,” I breathe out against her neck.

“Yeah,” she responds, squeezing my fingers against the wood.

I kiss down her neck, and she shivers when my lips drag over the bone at the top of her spine.

“Ready?” I finally ask.

“As I’ll ever be.”

My cum slips from her body when I pull out, and I take a sick sort of satisfaction in lifting her panties back in place to cover the mess. “I think your panties might be ruined.” I nip at her ear before I ease away, putting myself to rights, fixing my pants and stepping back to see how pretty she looks with my handprint on her ass.

She looks really fucking good.

I grunt. “That’s a hell of a view, sugar.”

It’s with a breathless chuckle that she finally finds the wherewithal to move again. She slides her jeans up and glances back at me with the most breathtaking smile. “You’re welcome.” She winks playfully, like I fucked the worry right out of her.

But we both know better. When we leave this shed, it’s back to reality.

She smooths her hair, rubs at the corner of her eyes, and shimmies her shoulders back. “How do I look?”

I stare at her for a few beats. What a woman.

What an incredible fucking woman.

She deserves the goddamn world.

And I’m going to be the one to give it to her.

“Like mine,” I say with a firm nod.

Then I reach for her hand and lead her back into the bar, straight into the fire. Because the minute we step through the front door, I see her brothers leaning at the bar, impatience practically dripping from them. As though they couldn’t wait five fucking minutes for a beer.

“Hey, Bails. If you’re done playing the Eaton’s whore, we need another round,” Aaron, the younger of the two, calls out loudly through the busy bar. He’s trying to show off by embarrassing her, and it works.

She tugs her hand from mine and shrinks beside me as all eyes turn to her.

I watch a woman who was so alive and so sure of herself mere moments ago turn back into the girl she’s trying so desperately to grow out of.

She didn’t want a scene, but I think a scene is what she needs to break free of this place.

I know I’ll pay for what I’m about to do, and I should have come clean a long time ago. But if it means Bailey comes out ahead … then so fucking be it. Haven’t left a man behind on a mission so far in this life, and I have no plans to start now.

“You three!” I point in turn at her brothers and then at her dad in the corner, all lean muscle and shrewd eyes.

“Beau,” she hisses through her teeth and tugs at my shirt. “Don’t do this. It’s not your place.”

I tilt my head and gaze down at her, memorizing the little freckle beside her upper lip just in case I never get close enough to see it again. “Yeah, it actually is.”

Confusion flashes on her face, and I turn back to the now mostly quiet bar where every set of eyes in the place is turned on me. Then I project my voice, so every single person hears me loud and clear. “You three, get the fuck out of my bar! Or I’ll have the cops come remove you from my property this time.”

Bailey gasps, but I don’t stop there. “And anyone else who plans to treat my fiancée and my staff with anything less than the utmost respect, you can get out too.”

I turn to the woman I love to see if I can gauge what kind of damage my secret has caused. All it takes is one beat spent in her eyes for me to see the damage might be more than I can repair.


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