Emily's Cowboy (7 page)

Gareth lifted Emily’s left foot, held it to his lips and gently kissed each of her toes, sucked them into his mouth as he began his journey, his mind focused on her and on making love to every part of her. He was unprepared to leave even one speck of her body overlooked or unloved. He kissed the length of one leg, licking behind her knee, raining kisses over her as she squirmed, her body arching into his touch, her need building as she tried to gain purchase on him with her hands, to expedite his long, slow journey. But Gareth would not be halted or hurried.

He could smell the aroma of Emily’s desire, her pussy calling him to her, enticing him. When he finally reached the sacred spot between her legs, his own hunger was rampant. He nuzzled against the velvet-soft covering of her cunt, breathed the scent of her deep into his lungs. Her fragrance was more potent than any expensive, designer perfume to Gareth’s nose. Nothing compared to her.

He attempted to reinforce his weakening composure, his longing for her nearly overwhelming. Gareth tasted her, prepared—yet unprepared as well—for the gut-wrenching reaction his body had to the sweet taste of her arousal. He lost himself in the pleasure of her taste, licking, imbibing her juices like some starving animal. Screams tore from her, pleasurable screams that satisfied his male ego as he continued his loving assault on her. He drove her hard with the force of his stabbing tongue, his eager lips as he pushed her towards climax, then refused to give her what she needed, refused to allow Emily to tumble into the abyss.

Gareth was waiting for her to cry out his name, to beg him, to promise not to leave him again.

His cock was so hard, the pain as much a stimulant as a reminder of his promised reward, and it pushed Gareth harder. He thrust two fingers into her pussy, finger-fucked her hard, ruthlessly, as he continued to tease her clit with his tongue, first with soft, feathery touches, then hard, firm pressure, before sucking the unhooded nub between his teeth, nipping, squeezing the ignition to her climax. Then she was begging, pleading words like, “Enough!” and “More!” and “Stop!” and “Don’t stop!”, contradicting herself with her breathless pleas.

They weren’t enough. Gareth needed more from Emily. And finally he succeeded—he heard the declaration he had longed for her to utter, and the sound of it, those simple words, were more melodious to his ears than any piece of music in the world.

“I love you, Gareth. I need you… Please!”

This time when he felt the walls of Emily’s pussy contract, felt the tension in her body as she strained to reach that peak, he let her fall. He sucked so hard on her clit and stabbed his fingers so fast into the tight folds of her sheath that he gave her no choice but to orgasm. As the quivering of Emily’s body changed into rigidity he felt her come, and tasted it as her sweet cream coated his face.

Not giving her a chance to recover, Gareth climbed over her and buried his rigid, throbbing cock in her warm, wet pussy, still pulsating from the strength of her orgasm. He pushed through any resistance from her inner walls, seating himself fully into her depths.

He was home at last. “Fucking home, Em. I’m home.”

He gave her pussy a moment to adjust to him, then Gareth gave in to his need. He thrust and pumped into Emily like a man possessed—and he
was
possessed, the desire palpable, alive in the room. He took her with him again as he reached his own release, sent her spiralling over the edge as he joined her. They were connected, sharing the bliss that their coupling had achieved, had always achieved.

Chapter Eight

I shouldn’t be out here—it’s too dangerous, stupid. The roaring in my ears is deafening, like a freight train hurtling towards me, and it’s so dark. It’s supposed to be the middle of the afternoon and yet I can’t see thirty feet in front of me. I’m stumbling around in near darkness, hearing the cries, the continual scurrying around me of animals desperate to flee the monster bearing down on them, on me…but I have to find the horses. The mothers and their babies, the ones I turned out into the paddock, thinking it would be safe. Until the wind changed direction.

Panic is making me stumble, distracting me in these vital moments. I spin around helplessly, trying to gain my bearings, trying to hear the whinnying sound of my beautiful horses again. I need some way of finding them. It was so distressing to discover the emptiness of the paddock, to see the crumpled fencing they had torn through in their panic. Without thought I’ve come in search of them, to find them, to lead them to safety.

Where are they, my three chestnut fillies and their babies, all born in the spring? They’ll perish on this summer’s day if I fail. The idea of discovering their charred, broken bodies is a nightmare too heartbreaking to contemplate, but it spurs me on. I can’t let that happen. No matter what.

The smoke is everywhere, and heat—it’s like a furnace. The day’s temperatures were already scorching without the added heat from the monster growing ahead, rampaging through the dry bushland, decimating, ravaging the lands, blackening the ground, leaving the earth looking like a vision straight from hell. The fire has been burning for most of the day, but I thought—
we
thought, Dad, Gareth and I—that it was headed in the other direction.

My thoughts, my fears will not be silent as I race around, ignoring the maelstrom of the ember storm as the fiery missiles hit my arms. The smoke is suffocating me. I’m straining to breathe through the material covering my mouth. Clean oxygen is long gone.

Then I see them, see my Sierra standing in front of her colt, throwing her head from side to side as if she can’t make up her mind which way to run, her nostrils flaring. I think of how much the smoke must be hurting her, filling her lungs even before the fire has a chance to consume her. Her eyes are wide, fearful, crazy as she rears on her hind legs, looking as if she is trying to protect her foal, her baby, ready to fight the cruel tentacles reaching out with burning fury from the fire’s belly. I hear the loud screech of my whistle before I realise I have called to her, and her ears prick up. She hears me! She is leading her foal.

Now I see the other two horses, but I don’t see the remaining foal. I scan the area, obscured by the billowing, dense smoke, but find no sign of the small, defenceless animal. But at least I have found these ones. I need to lead them out of the fire’s path—and quickly. The tremble of the forest floor is telling me there is not much time.

I run, looking over my shoulder, making sure the horses are with me. I can just make out the tree line, where the giant eucalyptus and gum trees end and our paddocks and fields begin. The horses rush past me. I can still hear thunderous sounds behind me, but it is not horse hooves—it’s the fire’s approach. It’s chasing me, catching me. Sparks and embers are all around. The heat, the smoke, the smell of singed hair filling my burning nostrils… My eyes are running, my breathing laboured.

Then there’s a loud crack, like a whip or a thunder clap, and I’m on the ground. The pain is intense—my face, my neck. I can hear screaming, the piercing human sound of horrendous distress, someone in pure agony, but I can’t find the source of the screams…

“Emily.
Emily
… Wake up, baby. You’re having a nightmare. Come back to me.”

Emily had relived this nightmare over and over. As she was pulled back to reality—awoken from her dream state to Gareth’s face hovering over her, filled with concern—she swore she could smell the burning bushland, hear the screaming
—her
screaming as the burning branch had crashed down on her, leaving behind the gruesome reminder of that time, branded into her skin. She could not stop the reflex action of moving her hand to her face, feeling the knotted, damaged flesh under her fingertips, reminding her constantly of her pain.

It had been Gareth who had come for her, saved her, known she would be looking to the welfare of her horses first and foremost. She remembered the torturous, unrelenting agony of the burns, her flesh withered and dead from the flames. The treatment of the burns had been nearly worse than the injuries themselves, as her bandages had been repeatedly changed and rotten skin scraped away. After surviving the ordeal, she had been left with hideously disfigured skin. She was a freak. A monster.

“Are you still dreaming of the fire, Em?” Gareth said in tender tones as he drew her into his arms.

“Not so much these days, but I guess the stress has fired them up again.” She squirmed at her terrible choice of words, a pun that held no amusement.

“Oh, Emily, I don’t know what to say. But, baby, you need to let go of it, let go of that awful time. The fire is still burning inside you, still causing you pain. Let me help you extinguish the fire, help you put it behind you.”

“How can you expect me to put it behind me when I live with it every day? Just brushing my teeth or hair in front of a mirror brings it all rushing back. Look at my face, Gareth…
Look at me
.”

Emily was screaming at him as she dragged his face closer, refusing to let him pull away from the sight of her. She needed to remind him of what she was. Remind him why they had no future. How could she expect him to live with looking at her every day? She couldn’t stand it.

“Do you know what I see when I look at you? I see the face of the woman I love. The woman I have loved all my life. My best friend. My childhood accomplice. My lover. The woman who turns me on with just a glimpse of her or a thought of her. The burns can’t change that for me. I honestly don’t even notice them when I look at you. They are irrelevant. My love for you is not conditional on how you look. My love is comprehensive—it’s for Emily the person, and I will love you the same way when I am wrinkly and old, probably a cripple from footy injuries. Are you saying that if it had been me in that fire, you would not love me anymore? Is that what you’re saying, Em? Because that is what you are deciding for me. Is that how shallow you think my love for you is?”

Emily had never seen Gareth look so angry. Her heart was racing, the terror of her dream and the words Gareth spoke both fighting for space in her mind. Fighting for dominance. Of course she would still love Gareth—she loved his good looks, his handsome face, but it was Gareth’s soul she loved, his caring. The fact that he had always felt like an extension of her, a part of her.

She had never thought about it in those terms. She knew no scar, injury or illness would stop her love for Gareth. But what about the rest of the world—the looks of horror in the faces of strangers as they caught sight of her? Could he live with that?

“I pushed you away because you deserve more than this.” She wept as she placed his hand against her puckered flesh, making him see and feel her scars. “More than the whispers that follow behind me when I go out in public. More than the knowledge that our children will have to live with the fact their mother is a monster, with their friends too scared to come over and play because of the sight of me.”

Emily was trying to make Gareth see, trying to show him that she was doing this for him, because she loved him. She was shocked by the callousness of his reply.

“That’s just bullshit, Emily. So you have a fucking few scars on your face, boo hoo. Get over yourself. Stop with this whole pity party that you continue to be the only guest at. Move on. Shit happens, and not just to you or because of something you did or didn’t do. The fire was fucked up, destroyed crops and houses. You survived. Yes, you are scarred from it, but believe me, I have seen worse. Much worse. You have no idea of the suffering that goes on in the world. Just take a trip to the children’s hospital with me. Kids with burns all over their tiny bodies, kids dying from terrible illnesses. The ones who are lucky enough to beat the diseases have done so by filling their bodies with poisons that make them so ill, so fucking sick that it is heartbreaking. But you know what, Em? These poor little tykes, they smile, they laugh, and when they’re strong enough they play with each other. They don’t give up. They don’t hide away from the world and shun the ones who love them through some self-righteous fucking notion of doing the right thing. They are just fucking happy to be alive.”

Chapter Nine

He hadn’t been able to stop the words tumbling from his mouth. The hurt and frustration of the last three years, of Emily pushing him and everyone away, out of her life, had just kept coming, growing in momentum until he’d been shouting at her. He could see that he was hurting her, imagined that he had just destroyed any real chance of keeping her with him, of having the life he wanted. They had at one time wanted it together, before the fire had consumed more than just the bushland, animals and houses on its indiscriminate path of destruction, and had ultimately robbed him of his future.

The saddest part of it all was that the land had recovered, the fire but a distant memory, the once charred trees and burnt grasses regrowing, regenerating. It had only taken a few days for Mother Nature to fight back, small green shoots of life sprouting from the blackened landscape. But for Emily—inside Emily—the fire still burnt strong.

He needed space, needed to get away from her before it was too late, if that moment had not already sailed past. He pushed her away with hands that had been roughly gripping her, shaking her as his fury built and his words flew at her like barbs. He couldn’t stand the pain of it anymore. The futility of loving her. It wasn’t enough…she would never let it be enough.

Gareth grabbed the first clothing he saw—tracksuit pants, runners and a shirt—and dressed on the run as he fled his room, with just enough presence of mind to pick up his keys as he raced out of the door. Down the stairs he ran until he was in his car, heading he didn’t know where, just away. He had just destroyed his life. He cried no tears. He felt nothing. Hollow, empty. Directionless.