Push-Pull 3

Ranger eased his length into me, stretching me and filling me, his movements slow to avoid hurting me until I got used to his size. I was more than ready, dripping wet from his mouth moving down my body and back up again, teasing and stimulating.

He began stroking in and out, and I closed my eyes, every iota of my concentration on that slippery spot where we were joined. I knew it was only a matter of moments until I burst into tiny pieces.

He pounded against my g-spot and all I needed was just a little bit more to reach the doomsday orgasm. I slipped my hand between us, pinching my clit between my thumb and forefinger, and that was all it took to push me over the summit.

"Ranger, omigod Ranger," I screamed, my body exploding in a rocking, clenching climax.

After the massive shudders finally finished gripping and releasing me, I relaxed and turned to the lean, hard body beside me. "I have another confession to make," I murmured, kissing his neck. "I love you, Ranger." And I drifted off into sleep.

My awakening was gradual as the morning sunlight crept across the foot of the bed. Saturday morning, I thought, snuggling into the sheets. I can sleep as late as I want.

But something about the sheets felt wrong, smelled wrong. I squinted my eyes open to the small room papered with faded roses, the gauzy white curtains blowing in the summer breeze, the battered wooden furniture, clothing scattered on the floor and overflowing the tiny closet.

What the…?

My heart clenched in my chest. I was in Joe's bed, in Joe's house. I corrected myself. Our bed, our house.

Ranger was just a dream.

Oh, God.

My heart ached, rent with pain as if it were ripping itself out of my chest. It didn't matter whether Ranger wanted me or not. I wanted him. Moving in with Joe hadn't changed my feelings, no matter how much I'd tried to fool myself.

I loved Joe, but it was a comfortable love, friendship rather than the kind of passion that filled your life and made you want to die without the object of your desire. I'd made a huge mistake, and I was afraid it was too late to correct it.

Don't be a fool, I told myself. It may be too late for you and Ranger, maybe it was always too late, but that's no reason to ruin your life and Joe's. I had to tell Joe and move back out. I could stay with my parents for a few weeks until I found a new place.

I dug through the clothes on the floor and found my RangeMan uniform from last night. Pulling it on, I strengthened my resolve and went downstairs to face Joe.

The smell of coffee comforted me, and I headed for the kitchen. A little caffeine, some breakfast, and then I could begin the process of undoing this colossal mistake I'd made.

Joe's grim face stopped me dead.

He sat at the undersized kitchen table with a cup of coffee in front of him, his knuckles white and his jaw clenching and unclenching. He looked dangerous, intimidating, capable of killing someone with his bare hands, and more than ready to do it.

Killing me with his bare hands, I amended as his glittering eyes slashed over me, scorching in their intensity. Perhaps the RangeMan uniform hadn't been the best wardrobe choice this morning.

"Well," he spat out, "Sleeping Beauty awakes. I trust you had pleasant dreams?"

"Joe," I whispered, realizing I must have cried out Ranger's name aloud, "I'm sorry."

"What I don't understand, Cupcake," he made it sound like a dirty word, "is why the hell you moved in with me if you were going to jump right in bed with that… that fucking thug."

"I never—"

"I don't appreciate hearing another man's name when I'm fucking my fucking girlfriend," he shouted, jumping to his feet and stomping across the room toward me, his arm drawing back, fist clenched, ready to punish.

"No," I sobbed out, shrinking back from his rage. "Don't."

He stopped and stared at his raised fist, lowered it, his face anguished. "Fuck. I don't know what I'm doing."

"Joe—" I began again, but he cut me off.

"I don't want to hear any explanations. There's no possible explanation that could make me forgive you. You told him you fucking loved him, Stephanie. You can barely say that to me. There's no way you can explain that away."

"It was just a dream, and I can't—"

"Just get out," he hissed. "You can come back for your things on Monday when I'm at work. And leave your key here then."

"I don't have a car," I said, the tears overflowing my eyes. "It died yesterday."

"I called him. He's waiting out front. Goodbye, Stephanie. I hope you're very fucking happy with him. And," he spoke through clenched teeth, "fuck you. Fuck you both."

The tears were streaming down, blinding me, and I felt my way out the front door, easing it shut behind me as I blinked and focused on the shiny black Turbo parked in front of the house. Ranger stood beside it, but at the sight of me came jogging over and swooped me up into his arms, kissing the moisture from my cheeks.

"Come on, Babe," he murmured into my ear, "I'm taking you home."

"I— I don't have a home to go to," I sobbed as he set me on the passenger seat of the Turbo and buckled me in. Renewed tears ran down my face and I swiped at them with my forearm, snuffling and rubbing away the mucous that dripped from my nose.

He walked around and got in the driver's seat. "You have a home, Babe. You'll always have a home."

"I— I do? I will?"

"With me." He grinned and the sight melted my heart down into my loins. "You belong to me. It says so right on your clothes."

He took my hand and brought it to his lips, nibbling at my knuckles, his tongue darting out and probing between my fingers.

The touch sent a shock through me, straight to my center, and in that instant I knew everything was going to be all right.

The end