#billy rocks

Ever since that messy night in the barn, nothing had been the same. Billy Rocks, the man who stole your first time, wrecked you into the hay, and left your body branded with his touch was suddenly everywhere.

He made himself comfortable in your house like he belonged there, barging in without knocking, kicking off his boots at the door, and greeting your parents with that cocky cowboy grin.

“ Evenin’, folks. Just here to see how the day went.” He’d say, like the picture-perfect friend your father always trusted. But you knew the truth.

Because the moment your parents looked away, Billy would lean close behind you, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered filth only you could hear.

“ Bet you’re still sore from the other night, darlin’.”

You’d choke on your drink, nearly dropping the glass, and Billy would just grin wider when your mom scolded you to be careful. Or worse, he’d lean against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, his gaze burning into you like a brand while you tried to peel potatoes.

His voice dropped low, teasing, smug. “ Funny watchin’ you try to act all innocent when I know damn well how sweet you sounded beggin’ me in that barn.”

You hissed under your breath, cheeks blazing. “ Shut the hell up before they hear you.”

Billy only smirked, tipping his hat. “ Then stop blushin’ so hard, sweetheart. You’re givin’ yourself away.”

And God forbid another man even looked at you. He became possessive in ways that were both infuriating and…dangerous.

Once, at the supplier’s, a farmhand your age had the guts to tell you you looked pretty in your sundress. Before you could even respond, Billy was suddenly there, leaning an elbow on the man’s shoulder, towering over him, smiling sharp as a blade.

“ Pretty, huh?” Billy drawled, his tone dripping with false charm.

“ Funny you say that, seein’ as she’s busy workin’ and doesn’t have time for pretty words.”

The man awkwardly excused himself, and you shoved Billy in the ribs the moment his back was turned.

“ Are you insane? He was just being nice!”

Billy bent low, his hand clamping possessively around your waist. “ He was bein’ stupid. Don’t need nobody else makin’ my girl blush.”

You froze at the words “my girl” but he didn’t even flinch saying it, like the claim was already branded into your skin.

The worst was with Matthew. Every time you so much as spoke to him, Billy appeared like a damn storm cloud, looming in the background. He’d interrupt casually, drawling excuses about how you had “plenty of work to do” and “ain’t no time for city boys hangin’ around.”

One afternoon, you and Matthew were laughing about something small, your sass and his dry humor bouncing perfectly when suddenly, your wrist was snatched.

Billy.

“ Come on.” He said flatly, tugging you away without even glancing at Matthew. “ We’ve got chores waitin’.”

You yanked at his grip. “ Billy, let me go! I was talking—”

“ Yeah, I saw.” His jaw clenched, eyes dark as coal. “ You don’t need to be talkin’ to him.”

You huffed, digging your heels into the dirt as he dragged you along. “ What the hell is your problem? He’s my friend!”

Billy stopped dead in his tracks, turning on you so fast you nearly crashed into his chest. His grip tightened, voice dropping dangerously low.

“ He ain’t your friend. Boys like him see a pretty girl and think it’s their turn to try. You don’t need him. You’ve already got me.”

Your breath hitched, equal parts fury and forbidden heat. “ You’re not my keeper, Billy.”

He smirked, leaning in until his nose brushed yours. “ Sweetheart, after the way you screamed my name in that barn, I damn well might be.”

And yet, through all the torment, the filthy whispers, the jealous interruptions—you never told your parents.

You couldn’t. Because if your father ever found out that his best friend was sneaking his hands under the table, whispering dirty promises in your ear, and wrecking you in the hayloft every chance he got…Billy would be dead before sunrise.

So you smiled at dinner, played the perfect daughter, laughed at Billy’s jokes like nothing was wrong while under the table his hand gripped your thigh hard enough to bruise.

And you swore, deep down, you’d never breathe a word of the forbidden fire you’d lit with Billy Rocks. Because this wasn’t just risky—it was a secret that could burn your whole world to the ground.

…

It happened late one afternoon, after chores. You were sore, exhausted, and just about ready to collapse into bed when your mom’s voice cut through the hallway.

“ Sweetheart, come here. Your father and I need to talk to you.”

The tone was serious enough to make your stomach sink. You dragged your feet into the living room, still dusted with hay and sweat, only to find both your parents sitting across from one another. Your mom wringing her hands, your dad clearing his throat like he was about to deliver some heavy announcement.

You narrowed your gaze. This can’t be good.

Your father was the first to speak. “ There’s…someone who wants to meet you.”

Your brows are knitted. “ What?”

Your mom jumped in quickly, almost too cheerfully. “ He’s the son of one of your father’s old friends. A good boy, hard-working, comes from a respected family. He took an interest in you, said he’d like to…court you.”

You blinked, stunned, then your face hardened. “ Excuse me?”

Your father leaned forward. “ We just think it’s time, honey. You’re twenty-seven now. You’ve been here two months and shown you can handle farm life—”

You cut him off, voice rising. “ Handle farm life? This is about me not having a boyfriend, isn’t it?”

Your mom flinched. Your dad sighed. “ We only want what’s best for you. You’re old enough to start thinking about a partner, a family—”

“ It’s not the end of the world if I don’t have one!” You snapped. The betrayal stung deep, twisting your insides.

“ I like being single. I’m not gonna let some random guy be shoved into my life just because he thinks I’m…what? Pretty enough to try? You’re not in the old generation anymore—this isn’t some arranged marriage. And I’m not some prize to be handed over like a cow on the market.”

Your voice cracked on the last words, anger and hurt burning in your chest. Your parents looked taken aback, but before they could answer, the front door creaked open. Billy stepped inside, dusty boots thudding against the wooden floor.

“ Evenin’.” He said with his usual wide grin, but the second he saw your face and your parents’ tense expressions, his smile slipped.

His eyes flicked between the three of you. “ What’s goin’ on?”

Your dad answered matter-of-factly. “ An old friend’s son wants to meet her. He’s a good young man, interested in courtin’ my daughter.”

Billy’s expression darkened in an instant. His jaw clenched, and for a split second, you swore his knuckles whitened like he was about to punch something. He forced a smile, but it came out sharp.

“ Well, ain’t that somethin’...” He drawled, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“ Just hand her over to the next fella who thinks she’s worth a glance. Real fair way of treatin’ your girl.”

Your father frowned. “ It’s not like that, Billy—”

But Billy wasn’t done. He leaned forward, resting one heavy hand on the back of the chair, his gaze steady on your dad.

“ She’s a grown woman. Twenty-seven, like you said. Old enough to make her own damn choices. She doesn't need you or me or anybody else tellin’ her who to let into her life. That’s her right.”

The room fell silent. Your mom’s mouth parted slightly. Your father looked…conflicted.

Billy’s voice dropped, still steady but edged with steel. “ You give her space, let her choose when and if she wants to. ‘Cause if you push too hard, you’ll just drive her away.”

Your breath caught.

For once, Billy wasn’t teasing or smirking, wasn’t being the smug bastard who whispered filth into your ear when no one was looking. He was defending you—seriously.

But when his eyes met yours, your chest tightened. Because under all that heat, under all that steel, you saw something else in his gaze.

Pain.

Raw and sharp.

He straightened suddenly, tipping his hat like he was excusing himself from Sunday service. “ Didn’t mean to step in where I shouldn’t. Just thought I’d say my piece.”

His voice was rougher now, quieter. “ I’ll get back to the farm. Got work to finish.”

And before you could even process it, before you could stop him, Billy walked out the door. Leaving you there, your heart hammering, your parents watching you closely, and the echo of his words burning in your chest.

You didn’t even give your parents time to react. The second Billy walked out, you muttered, “I need some air,” and bolted through the door, your heart hammering like it wanted to tear itself free.

The dusk air was sharp, carrying the scent of hay and dust, but all you could focus on was the tall figure striding down the dirt path toward his farm. His shoulders were tense, his hat pulled low, his steps clipped and purposeful.

“ Billy!” You called.

He didn’t stop. Didn’t even slow down.

“ Billy, wait!”

Still nothing. He just kept walking, the distance between you growing with each stubborn stride.

Frustration boiled inside you. You ran forward, boots scuffing the dirt, until you were close enough to grab his arm.

You spun him halfway around, breathless and fuming. “ What the hell is wrong with you?!”

Finally, he stopped. Slowly, he turned to face you. And the look in his eyes made your stomach drop.

Pain. Jealousy. Possessiveness. Obsession. All of it tangled in one stormy gaze that hit you like a punch.

His voice was calm, too calm, when he finally spoke. “ Go back inside. Go to your parents. I don’t wanna talk right now.”

He started to turn again, but you snapped, catching his wrist in a death grip. “ No. You don’t get to storm off and act like this. Why are you so affected?!”

Your voice cracked against the night air. “ You and me…we’re not serious.”

The words hung between you, heavy and sharp.

Billy froze. His jaw flexed. Then he huffed out a bitter laugh—low, harsh, almost dangerous. “ Not serious?”

His head tilted, his smirk curling cruel at the edges, but his eyes burned. “ That’s what you think?”

“ Billy—”

He cut you off, stepping closer, towering over you now. “ If I wasn’t serious, you think I’d be standin’ there in your livin’ room, fightin’ every damn urge to deck your old man in the face when he offered you up to some…some boy like a prize hog at the fair?”

His voice sharpened, raw with anger. “ If I wasn’t serious, I’d’ve been laughin’ along with him, clappin’ his back, tellin’ him what a fine suitor he found for his daughter.”

Your lips parted, but nothing came out.

He scoffed, eyes blazing. “ You think this is all a joke, don’t ya? Every time I open my mouth, every time I tell you how bad I want you, how much I can’t stand the thought of any other man near you—you laugh. You roll your eyes. You make it out like I’m just teasin’, like it’s all about scratchin’ an itch.”

“ Billy, I—”

His voice dropped, gravel rough and dangerous. “ This whole damn thing…in your head it’s just body heat, huh? Just a fling in the dark? You think I’m touchin’ you, takin’ you, claimin’ you, just ‘cause I’m bored?”

The intensity in his gaze pinned you in place. You couldn’t breathe. Billy’s chest heaved as he stepped back, shoving his hands into his pockets like he was trying to cage himself in.

“ You should be damn thankful I got patience.” He muttered darkly.

“ ’Cause sittin’ in that room, watchin’ your dad talk about handin’ you off like that—I wanted to punch him. Curse him out. Hell, I wanted to drag you outta there and tell ‘em the truth.”

Your stomach flipped violently. “ The truth?”

His jaw ticked. His voice dropped low, dangerous, aching. “ That you’re mine. That you’ve been mine since the first night I laid hands on you. That no man…friend’s son, neighbor, stranger—none of ‘em are gonna have you. Not while I’m still breathin’.”

Silence thundered between you, broken only by the soft hiss of cicadas in the fields. Your pulse pounded in your ears. You wanted to deny him, to fight back, to snap at him for being so damn controlling. But his words. His raw jealousy, the way he said mine, it sent a shiver down your spine you couldn’t disguise.

And the worst part?

You yearned for it.

Billy’s glare sharpened when you didn’t immediately answer him. His chest rose and fell hard, like he was holding something back that wanted to tear out.

Finally, he spat, “ If this whole thing’s just a joke to you, then fine. Go back to your house. Leave me the hell alone. I don’t need to be strung along while you play games in your head.”

Your breath hitched, but anger fired up hot in your veins. “ You think I’m playing games?”

He stepped closer, close enough you could smell the mix of sweat and leather clinging to him, close enough his shadow swallowed yours. “ Yeah. You make everything complicated when it doesn't have to be. It’s simple...you and me, we got something. Maybe it ain’t pretty, maybe it’s forbidden, but it’s real. But you—”

He jabbed a finger at your chest, not hard, but enough to make your heart skip. “ You twist it all up ‘cause your heart’s too damn hard to please. You’re confused about every little thing, actin’ like you don’t know what the hell you want.”

You clenched your fists at your sides, your throat tight. “ You think this is simple?”

His eyes narrowed. “ It is. You and me. That’s it. Everything else is noise.”

A harsh laugh broke from your lips, almost a sob tangled in it. “ Easy for you to say. Easy for you to pretend like consequences don’t exist.”

Billy’s jaw ticked. “ What consequences?”

Your words came out sharp, fast, like ripping open a wound. “ Do you think my dad would be happy if he found out his dear friend Billy’s been messing around with me? That you—”

Your voice cracked but you forced the words out “ You took my first time in his barn of all places? Do you think he’ll be proud of you? Or maybe he’ll put a bullet in your chest for touching me at all.”

Billy’s nostrils flared. He didn’t look ashamed—just angrier, rawer.

You didn’t stop. The dam is broken now. “ You’re old enough to be his brother. Hell, you’re close to his age. You think he’d want his little girl with a cowboy who works her sweat out in the fields? Who smells of horses and hay and whiskey?”

Your throat burned. “ You think that’s the future he pictured for me?”

Billy’s lips pressed into a hard, thin line, his fists clenching and unclenching.

“ Maybe the heat between us was just body heat.” You spat, though your voice trembled.

“ That’s all. And body heat—it’s easy. Easy to burn off, easy to release. But consequences? Living with them? That’s harder. And maybe you’re strong enough to ignore that, but me?”

You shook your head, eyes stinging. “ I didn’t choose this, Billy. I didn’t choose any of this.”

The silence that followed was brutal. The only sound was the rasp of both your breaths and the distant chirp of crickets in the grass.

Your voice softened, almost breaking. “ I’m here because of them. My parents dragged me here. They shoved me into this farm, into this life, into working with you. And then things… happened. With you.”

You swallowed hard, meeting his furious, hurt eyes. “ But don’t twist it into something it’s not. Don’t stand here and expect me to give you what I can’t. There’s still nothing between us, Billy. Not beyond…sex.”

The words tasted like ash the second they left your lips, because deep down you knew it wasn’t the whole truth. But it was all you could give him.

Billy stood there, shoulders rigid, his breathing sharp. For a long time, he didn’t speak. His stare was scorching, cutting right through you—hurt, furious, possessive, aching. Then he exhaled harshly, dragging a hand through his hair, muttering a curse under his breath.

You didn’t know if he was going to walk away for good or grab you and kiss you until you broke.

…

Billy wasn’t the same after that confrontation. Before, he used to fill every corner of the house with his loud laugh, his shameless teasing, his possessive gaze. Now, when he came by, it was different.

He kept his eyes on your parents, his tone clipped, his words sharp, like knives meant to cut away every trace of softness that once lingered between you.

He came by one morning to pick up supplies from your father—feed sacks slung over his shoulder, boots thudding heavy on the porch. You stood at the doorway, heart pounding at the sight of him, waiting for him to glance your way. He didn’t.

“ Need anything else, old man?” Billy asked your father, voice rough, almost mocking.

“ Boy, you sound half-drunk.” Your dad replied, eyeing him. “ You been hittin’ the bottle this early?”

Billy smirked without humor, wiping the sweat from his brow.

“ Better than hittin’ somethin’ else.” His words dripped sarcasm, and though your father frowned, he didn’t press further.

When your mother mentioned you might go along to help with deliveries, Billy barked a bitter laugh. “ No thanks. She’s slow as hell. Workin’ with her’s like draggin’ a plow through mud. I’ll get it done faster on my own.”

The words cut deep, though you didn’t let it show. Your parents exchanged puzzled looks at his sudden cruelty, but you stayed silent.

That night, your father knocked softly on your bedroom door. He came in, sat on the edge of your bed, and sighed like the weight of the world was on his shoulders.

“ I've been thinkin’ about what Billy said yesterday.” He began carefully.

“ He’s right. I was too pushy about settin’ you up with my friend’s boy. That wasn’t fair of me.”

You blinked at him, unsure what to say.

He rubbed his face. “ I canceled the plan. No more talk of courtship. I’m sorry, sweetheart. I just thought…maybe you needed a nudge. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

You forced a smile, even though your chest ached. “ It’s okay, Dad. Really.”

But it wasn’t. Because the one man you hadn’t chosen but had ended up tangled with anyway was now pushing you away like you were nothing.

Since Billy refused to work with you, you busied yourself elsewhere. The barn became your world. You brushed down the cows, cleaned the stalls, even spoiled the goats with extra handfuls of feed just to have something to do.

The animals didn’t care about your bruised pride or your aching heart. They just nuzzled you, warm and forgiving. When the chores were finished, you wandered to the old mango tree on the edge of the property. Its branches stretched wide, shading the ground where you sank down, your back pressed to its trunk.

The sweet, faint scent of ripening fruit clung to the air, mingling with the earth’s musk. From there, you watched the sunset pour gold over the fields, painting the farm in soft firelight.

It should’ve been peaceful. It should’ve been enough. But it wasn’t. Something gnawed at you, hollow and restless. The laughter that used to echo in the fields, the way Billy’s shadow used to fall across yours, the way his presence always filled the silence—gone.

Now, the farm looked the same, smelled the same, sounded the same. But it didn’t feel the same. You wrapped your arms around your knees and stared out at the fading light, trying to convince yourself that this ache was just passing, that you’d chosen the right words, that distance was better than destruction.

But no matter how many times you told yourself that, your heart whispered the same truth—

Something was missing.

And that something was him.

…

Billy hadn’t been himself for days. The ache in his chest wouldn’t quit, like a knife had lodged itself between his ribs and no matter how much whiskey he poured over it, the damn thing wouldn’t budge.

So he found himself at the watering hole with a handful of his fellow cowboys. Men he’d ridden fence lines with, men he’d fought and drank and laughed alongside.

Normally, Billy would be the loudest of them all, cracking filthy jokes, tossing back drinks like they were water, his grin sharp and cocky. Tonight, though, he wasn’t grinning.

He sat slouched over the table, hat pulled low, a half-empty bottle sweating by his hand. He swirled the amber liquid inside his glass, staring through it like maybe the bottom held the answers he was desperate for.

One of the older hands nudged him. “ You’re quiet tonight, Rocks. Somethin’ gnawin’ at ya?”

Billy chuckled bitterly, a sound that carried no humor. “ Yeah. Gnawin’ like a pack of damn wolves.”

The men exchanged looks—surprised. Billy never cracked. He was fire, spit, and confident. Not this.

After a long drag from his drink, Billy muttered, voice rough, “ Tell me, boys. What the hell’s wrong with me? Why the woman I…why she don’t take me seriously?”

His jaw tightened, eyes glassy. “ She laughs like I’m just a goddamn joke. Like all I ever been was a filthy mouth to keep her entertained.”

Silence fell over the table. One of the younger cowboys shifted uncomfortably. “ Billy, I ain’t never seen you like this. You’re talkin’ about—her, ain’t ya?”

Billy’s throat worked, the confession burning. He leaned forward, elbows on the scarred wood, and rasped, “ I thought she’d get it. I thought after that night—after what we did, that she’d see I wasn’t fuckin’ around. But no. To her, I’m just…just some sick bastard she got tangled with.”

He slammed his bottle down, liquid sloshing. His voice broke, harsher, louder. “ It’s so goddamn unfair. I think of her as everythin’ “everythin’” and she looks at me like I’m trash. Like I ain’t worth a damn thing outside her barn.”

The men shifted, not used to seeing Billy like this—eyes wet, jaw trembling as he wrestled with the weight of his own words.

One of the older cowboys, grizzled and kind, reached across the table, patting his arm. “ Son, maybe she’s just scared. Maybe she said what she said ‘cause she doesn't know how else to handle it. Doesn't mean she doesn't feel it.”

Billy barked out a laugh—ragged, bitter. “ Scared? Hell, if she’s scared, what the fuck am I? I been walkin’ ‘round like a fool, dreamin’ of her. Thinkin’ maybe I could give her somethin’ worth stayin’ for.”

He swiped at his face with his sleeve, but the tears kept slipping, hot and shameful. “ Love’s sick. It’s cruel. It’s a goddamn curse. I swore I’d never believe in it. Not until she—”

His voice cracked. He shut his mouth, grinding his teeth until his jaw ached. The table was quiet, just the shuffle of boots and low murmurs of encouragement.

Someone muttered, “ Don’t give up on her. She probably didn’t mean it.”

Billy shook his head, a bitter smile twisting his lips. “ Nah. She meant it. She cut me wide open and smiled while doin’ it.”

He shoved back his chair, standing abruptly, the legs scraping the floor. His eyes were red, his face set hard despite the tears still clinging to his lashes.

“ Ain’t no more to say. I’ll walk it off. Maybe I’ll walk ‘til I can’t feel this shit no more.”

Before any of them could stop him, he grabbed his hat, jammed it down over his head, and left the bar.

The night air hit him like a slap. Cool, damp with the scent of grass and soil. He staggered down the dirt road, boots kicking dust, no direction in his head. Just the pounding ache in his chest, the burn of whiskey in his veins, and the ghost of your voice telling him—this whole damn thing between you two was nothing.

His feet carried him past the fields, past the fences, toward the endless dark of the countryside. He didn’t know where he was going, didn’t care.

All he knew was that if he stopped walking, if he stopped moving, the pain would drown him whole. And still through the haze of drink and anger, your face burned in his mind.

Always you.

…

The sharp cracks of gunfire jolted you awake, shattering the quiet night. Your head snapped up from where you’d dozed off against the rough bark of the mango tree. The air still smelled of sap and earth, the stars sharp against the black sky, but the sound had your heart pounding.

You slid down from the tree, feet crunching softly on the dry grass, and strained to listen. Another shot ripped through the air, echoing across the wide fields. Panic surged in your chest—someone could get hurt. Animals, people, anyone.

Without thinking, you ran toward the noise, your breath hitching with each step. The flashes of light from the revolver guided you through the darkness until you finally caught sight of a lone figure, arm raised, gun firing off into the empty sky.

“ Stop!” You shouted, breathless. “ What the hell are you doing? You’ll hurt someone!”

The man didn’t stop. Didn’t even flinch. He just kept squeezing the trigger, the sound reverberating through your bones. Your frustration rose as you pushed yourself harder, closing the distance until you lunged and grabbed his wrist.

“ Enough!”

The gun dropped to his side, though his body was rigid with resistance. You froze when your eyes adjusted and you saw the face staring back at you.

Billy.

Your breath caught in your throat. His eyes were bloodshot, wet, shining with a mixture of anger and despair. His hair was mussed from the wind and whiskey, his jaw shadowed, and his whole body stank of liquor.

“ Billy…” Your voice trembled.

“ Go home.” He muttered coldly, the words slurred but sharp enough to cut.

“ Go home and let me do what I want. I ain’t important to you no more, remember?”

You shook your head quickly, refusing to let go of his wrist. “ You’re drunk. You need to go home, Billy, not out here with a damn gun.”

He yanked against your grip, lips twisting into a bitter smirk. “ Home? Don’t give a fuck. Ain’t no home for me anywhere. And don’t stand there actin’ like you care.”

His voice cracked, his smirk faltering for a split second before hardening again. “ You said it plain enough. I’m nothin’ in your life. So don’t bother with this fake concern now.”

Your chest tightened, heat rising in your throat until it spilled out in a sharp groan.

“ God, Billy...stop acting like you’re the only one hurting!” You snapped, your voice trembling as tears pricked your eyes.

“ You think it’s easy for me? You think it didn’t tear me up saying those words last night? I’m hurting too, but you don’t see it because you’re too wrapped up in your own pain.”

He blinked at you, his expression cracking for a moment before his shoulders squared again, defiant.

“ I’m stuck in the middle of this—don’t you get it?” You went on, your grip on his wrist loosening but not releasing.

“ If my parents find out about us, it’ll be chaos. And I’m scared, Billy! Scared for you. Scared you’ll get yourself hurt, scared this’ll all end worse than we can handle.”

Billy laughed then, the sound jagged and broken, echoing across the field. He shook his head as tears slipped down his face.

“ Scared for me? Sweetheart, I’m already hurt. Bleedin’ out inside every goddamn day since you shoved me aside. What good’s your worry when the damage is already done? Can’t pour water into a cracked jug and hope it’ll hold. Things happened. Can’t undo ‘em.”

His voice dropped, low and trembling. He leaned in closer, his breath hot with whiskey, his eyes burning into yours.

“ Tell me, why’s it so damn hard for a city woman like you to love? Why’s your heart harder than any rock I ever kicked down these fields?”

You froze, his words slicing deep.

Billy’s lip curled, but the pain in his face was unmistakable. “ You think I was just playin’ around? That I was only jokin’, teasin’? You think I wanted you uncomfortable after what happened in that barn?"

" Hell no. I tried to make it easier for you. I laughed, I teased, I made it seem light ‘cause I didn’t want you thinkin’ I was just usin’ your body.”

His voice cracked, raw and bitter. “ Didn’t want you thinkin’ I was some old bastard takin’ advantage ‘cause of the years between us."

" So I played your game. I tried to fit myself into somethin’ I ain’t, just so you wouldn’t feel like you’d made a mistake with me.”

His chest heaved, the revolver slipping from his hand to the grass below. His voice was a rasp now, worn thin. “ But you still look at me that way. You still think about it no matter how hard I try not to let you.”

The silence that followed was unbearable—thick with tears, gunpowder, and the weight of everything neither of you could take back.

Billy swiped his sleeve roughly across his wet eyes, dragging away the tears as if furious at himself for letting you see them. His chest heaved as he drew in a ragged breath, staring at the ground like the weight of the world was crushing him. When he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse and uneven, but cold all the same.

“ Go home.” He muttered, his words clipped and heavy. “ It’s late. Your parents are probably wonderin’ where the hell you are. Don’t waste more time on me. I’m still a stranger to you after all, ain’t I?”

Before you could respond, he raised the revolver again and fired into the night sky. The deafening crack echoed, making your body jolt. You clapped your hands over your ears and screamed, the sound tearing out of you as your nerves snapped.

“ Stop it!” You shouted, lunging forward.

With everything you had left in you, you seized his wrist with both hands, pried the revolver from his drunken grip, and hurled it as far into the field as you could. It landed somewhere in the tall grass with a dull thud.

Billy groaned, stumbling a step forward, his face tightening in annoyance. “ What the hell you do that for?”

“ Because if this is what you see right now…” You snapped back, your chest rising and falling with the force of your anger.

“ Then I’m just doing it as a concerned citizen! If you’re hurting, Billy, fine—but don’t you dare make anyone else suffer for it. You’re drunk out of your damn mind. If I were you, I’d slam myself into bed and sleep until I forgot the taste of whiskey on my tongue.”

He stared at you, breathing hard, his lips twitching as though he wanted to shout but couldn’t.

You pressed on, voice shaking but sharp. “ If this—whatever this is between us can’t be fixed anymore, then fine. Let’s both be strangers again. Strangers don’t bleed for each other. Strangers don’t tear each other apart.”

You turned, your boots crunching against the dry earth as you began to walk away. Each step felt like it might crack you open from the inside.

But before you could take another, a large, rough hand shot out and seized you by the neck—not hard enough to choke, but firm enough to yank you backward with a force that stole your breath.

You gasped, eyes wide, before his mouth crashed down on yours. The kiss was desperate, brutal, full of every ounce of pain and anger he’d been carrying. He poured everything into it—his frustration, his longing, his obsession, his love twisted into something raw and almost violent.

You struggled at first, your hands pushing against his chest, your mind screaming at you to shove him off. But your body betrayed you. Your knees buckled under the weight of his lips, his breath, the ragged hunger in the way he kissed you.

He gripped you tighter, one hand at the back of your neck, the other fisting in your shirt as if he could anchor himself in you. His lips bruised yours, tasting of salt and whiskey, forcing you to feel everything he’d refused to say in words.

You pushed, weakly, but your resolve crumbled. The pain you felt, the ache of confusion, the rage of what he’d put you through—all of it spilled into that kiss.

It was hatred and yearning tangled together, mouths clashing like weapons. Your tears mixed with his as the two of you kissed, raw and broken, as if the only way to speak the truth was through this violent collision.

For a moment, time stopped. It was only you, Billy, and the dark field—hearts pounding, lips locked in a battle of pain and desire.

It wasn’t tender. It wasn’t gentle. It was a kiss meant to hurt as much as it healed. Your lips were still locked to his, ragged and raw, when it happened then suddenly Billy was no longer holding you. His warmth vanished, and you blinked, stunned, only to find him sprawled across the dirt.

Your heart stopped.

Standing beside you was your father. His face was twisted in fury, red as fire under the faint moonlight. His chest heaved like a bull about to gore, and before you could speak, his fist shot down cracking across Billy’s jaw.

“ Dad—stop!” You cried, grabbing at his arm, but he shoved you back with a force that rattled your bones.

Your father loomed over Billy, seizing him by the collar and yanking him upright just to slam another punch into his face.

Billy, drunk and battered, didn’t even fight back. Blood ran from his lip, his nose, staining the dust beneath him, yet he only let out a bitter laugh that sent a chill down your spine.

“ You filthy bastard!” Your father roared.

“ Creeping around my house…pretending you’re a friend when all along you wanted to put your hands on my daughter!”

“ Dad, please!” You screamed, tugging at his arm. “ Stop hitting him, he’s drunk, you’re going to kill him!”

But your father’s rage was a wildfire, and nothing you said could douse it. He spat, the words sharper than his fists.

“ You think you can have her? You’re old enough to be her damn father! You’re trash, Billy...always have been! And now you prove it by laying your dirty hands on her?!”

Each word sliced Billy deeper than the punches. He tried to chuckle, but it came out cracked and wet, his teeth streaked with red.

Your father shook him like a rag doll. “ That’s why you’ve been acting so strange! That’s why you couldn’t stand hearing another man might court her. You really thought you had a chance with her? You’re pathetic.”

“ Stop it!” You cried, tears burning your eyes as you threw yourself between them.

Your father’s fury snapped toward you. His voice thundered. “ Why are you defending him? Has he poisoned you already with his cowboy lies? You reckless, foolish girl! He’s a creep—don’t you see it?!”

“ He’s not!” You screamed, the words breaking out of you raw and desperate. “ You’re wrong, Dad! You don’t understand!”

But he didn’t hear you. Or maybe he refused to. His hand clamped down on your wrist, iron-strong, dragging you toward the house.

“ Enough.” He growled.

“ You’re coming with me before he ruins you any further.”

You fought against his grip, digging your heels into the dirt, but he was stronger, his rage fueling every step. “ Let me go! Please, just let me go!”

You twisted, stumbled, but he only dragged harder. The sight of Billy sprawled on the ground, bloodied and broken, burned into your chest.

You couldn’t leave him. Not like this. Summoning every ounce of strength, you shoved your father with both hands. For a split second he staggered, just enough. You tore free of his grasp and bolted back toward Billy.

“ No!” Your father roared behind you, but you didn’t stop.

You fell to your knees beside Billy, cupping his battered face, your tears dripping onto his bloodied skin. “ Billy…Billy, look at me. Please, please wake up.”

He groaned, lids fluttering. His voice came weak, slurred, but still carried that stubborn edge. “ Go…just follow your old man. Don’t make it harder…on yourself.”

“ Shut up.” You snapped through your tears, shaking his shoulder. “ I’m not leaving you here like this, not when you’re bleeding all over the damn ground!”

His hand, trembling, lifted slightly, brushing your arm. “ Don’t…make this worse. You and me…it’s already too complicated. Just…walk away.”

Your breath hitched. “ It’s already complicated, Billy! It’s been complicated from the start! My dad already saw us—he knows. There’s no turning back now!”

His eyes widened faintly, realization sinking into him, but before he could protest again, you looped his heavy arm over your shoulders and heaved. His body was heavy, his legs barely moving, but you refused to give in.

Every step was agony, dragging his weight, but your will was iron. Somehow, you managed to half-carry, half-drag him toward the old pickup parked near the edge of the field. Your father’s voice boomed behind you, furious, calling your name, but you didn’t stop.

“ Hang on.” You whispered to Billy, shoving him inside the truck cab. “ Don’t you dare close your eyes.”

Sliding into the driver’s seat, you gripped the wheel with shaking hands. Your father was shouting, growing closer, but the engine roared to life beneath your touch. You slammed the accelerator, and the truck lurched forward, tearing down the dirt road, leaving your father’s wrath behind in the darkness.

Billy groaned beside you, his bloodied head slumping against the window, but you held the wheel tighter, your vision blurred with tears.

Far away from your dad.

Far away from the judgemental world.

This time, it was just you and him.

A world you swore you’d create.

A world where only you and Billy existed.

…

The truck roared to a halt outside Billy’s cabin, headlights cutting through the night before you shut them off. The silence afterward was deafening, broken only by Billy’s heavy breaths and the faint groan that slipped past his swollen lips.

You rushed around the truck and yanked open his door. His body sagged against you, hot and heavy, blood soaking through your shirt as you slung his arm over your shoulders. His boots dragged in the dirt as you half-carried him up the creaking steps and shoved open the cabin door.

Inside, the smell of wood and whiskey clung to the air. The place was dark, messy, littered with empty bottles and clothes, but you didn’t care. You lowered him onto the couch, both of you collapsing with the effort, panting like you’d run for miles.

Billy’s chest rose and fell beneath his torn shirt. His face was battered, bruises blooming along his jaw, blood streaked across his nose and mouth. He tilted his head toward you, eyes glassy but still holding that sharpness that always pierced you.

“ Why the hell’d you do that?” He rasped, his voice rough, thick with drink and pain.

“ Why’d you run off with me? I told you to leave me there.”

Your chest tightened. “ I couldn’t.”

You shot back, your voice trembling but firm. “ Not when you were in that state. Not when my dad—”

You swallowed hard, “ Was ready to beat you to death.”

Billy gave a bitter laugh, the sound breaking in his throat. “ So that’s it, huh? You dragged me here ‘cause you pity me?”

His lip curled, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. “ Poor, pathetic Billy—your daddy’s punching bag. That’s what this is.”

You grabbed his hand, forcing his eyes to lock onto yours.

“ Don’t you dare.” You snapped, tears burning behind your lids.

“ Don’t you dare think this is a pity. I didn’t pull you out of that field because I felt sorry for you. I did it because I care about you—do you hear me?"

" Even if I’m hurting too, even if I’m scared out of my damn mind, I couldn’t just stand there and watch him destroy you.”

For a moment, something flickered in his eyes—soft, raw, but he crushed it with a harsh, broken laugh. “ The best thing you could’ve done was leave me there. Go home. Forget about me. Your old man’s probably ready to search the whole damn county with a shotgun. You stick around me, girl, you’re asking for trouble.”

You tightened your grip on his hand until he winced. “ Too late for that. You think I’m just gonna walk away after what happened tonight? After what you did?”

His brows furrowed. “ What I did?”

You glared at him, heat rising in your chest. “ You pulled me in, Billy. You kissed me. That’s why my dad saw us. That’s why this all blew up. Don’t you dare try to put this on me.”

He let out a rough, humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “ Dammit…I was drunk. Didn’t know what the hell I was doing.”

You leaned closer, eyes narrowing. “ Yeah? And did my dad’s punches sober you up yet?”

That shut him up. He went still, his jaw working, but no words came. The silence stretched, heavy and thick, broken only by the sound of both your breathing.

Finally, you pulled away, scanning the cabin for something, anything, to help him. “ Where’s your first aid kit?”

Billy scoffed, half-amused, half-annoyed. “ You really think a cowboy like me keeps a damn first aid kit? First aid doesn’t exist in this house.”

He winced as he shifted, blood streaking his shirt. “ Just grab a clean rag. Wipe off the mess. Maybe stick some ice on it if you can find any.”

You shot him a glare. “ Unbelievable. You’ve got guns lying around but not a damn bandage?”

His lips quirked, even as his bruised face throbbed. “ What can I say? Never needed one before your daddy decided to rearrange my face.”

You groaned, storming into his tiny kitchen. After rummaging through cupboards, you found a clean cloth—well, as clean as it could be and dumped ice from a tray into a dish towel. When you returned, Billy was slouched against the couch, one arm flung over his eyes like he was already giving up.

You sat beside him, swatting his arm down. “ Move it. Let me see.”

He huffed, but obeyed. You pressed the cold bundle to his jaw, and he hissed, muscles jerking under your touch.

“ Damn…” He muttered, gripping your wrist. “ You tryna kill me all over again?”

“ Quit whining.” You snapped, holding the ice firmly in place. “ You’re lucky I didn’t let my dad finish the job.”

That earned you a crooked grin, bloodied teeth flashing. “ There’s the brat I know.”

You rolled your eyes, but your hand lingered on his cheek, softer now, thumb brushing away the blood. For a moment, the anger, the fear, the chaos all melted into something else. Something tender.

And Billy, despite his busted lip and bruises, leaned into your touch like he’d been starved for it. You dabbed the cloth against Billy’s cheek again, your touch careful, precise, even as his jaw flexed against the sting.

The silence was heavy, only broken by the crackle of the old wood stove and his uneven breaths. When you dared glance up, you caught him staring at you—hard, unblinking.

His gaze tracked every movement of your hands, every shift in your face, like he was trying to figure out what kind of person would be stupid enough to tend to a wreck like him.

You swallowed and muttered, almost to yourself, “ I’m sorry…for what my dad did to you.”

That earned a scoff, rough and bitter. “ Don’t be. Every father would’ve done the same damn thing.”

His lips twisted into a humorless smirk, but his eyes didn’t match it. “ Especially if he found out his little girl’s tangled up with his friend—one who sure as hell ain’t the picture of respectable he wanted for her.”

You stilled, rag clutched in your hand. The words cut, but you couldn’t argue. He wasn’t wrong. Still, the ache in your chest grew.

Then, softer, reluctant, Billy muttered. “ Thanks…for this. For takin’ care of me. Even after everything.”

His gaze flicked away, shame heavy in his voice. “ I’m sorry if I was a bastard earlier. And selfish. That kiss…I shouldn’t have done it. If I hadn’t pulled that stunt, your old man wouldn’t’ve caught us. He’d still call me a friend instead of—”

He gestured vaguely at his battered face, grimacing. “ This.”

You pressed the rag harder against his jaw, making him hiss. “ Stop blaming yourself. It already happened. And you’re right—when I go back, my dad’s gonna make damn sure I never see you again. Maybe he’ll even send me back to the city.”

Your throat tightened at the thought. “ Out of his reach. Out of yours.”

Billy leaned back, staring at the ceiling as if it held answers. His laugh was dry, cracked. “ Maybe that’s what’s best. Your old man’s right about one thing—our worlds don’t line up. You still got a future waitin’ for you out there. But me?”

He glanced around his cabin, the empty bottles, the cracked walls, the dust. “ I’ll rot out here on this land ‘til I drink myself into the ground. There’s no future tied to me. Not one you’d deserve.”

You froze as his rough hand lifted, fingers grazing your cheek. His thumb brushed across your skin, gentle in a way that didn’t fit his voice. “ But right now, you’re here. With me. And you stayed…even when you had every reason to run. You keep givin’ me what I shouldn’t ask for.”

His voice dropped, ragged. “ So if you’re gonna stay, sweetheart…don’t you dare let go of me next time.”

Your heart slammed against your ribs. “ Billy…”

Before you could finish, he leaned forward, closing the space between you. His mouth pressed against yours—hungry, desperate, tasting of whiskey and blood. You gasped, but his hand cradled the back of your neck, keeping you close, as if afraid you’d slip away.

The kiss burned, messy and aching, yet it pulled something from deep inside you that you couldn’t deny. Your hand fisted in his shirt, dragging him closer even as your mind screamed about your dad, about the line you’d already crossed. But your body, your heart—they’d already chosen.

When he broke away, his forehead rested against yours, both of you panting. His voice was hoarse. “ You feel that? That’s ours. No one gets to take it away. Not your daddy, not this place, not the goddamn world.”

And you realized, with a shiver, that the forbidden thing you’d both tried to fight had already rooted too deep. Your world was unraveling, his was already broken, but in that moment, in that kiss, your hearts synced, reckless and defiant, even as chaos closed in around you.

Billy didn’t waste a second. His lips crashed against yours again, harder, hungrier like a man starved. The desperation bled through every movement, his mouth tasting of whiskey and salt, his breath ragged. His arms circled your waist, strong and unyielding, dragging you down onto his lap as though he could fuse you to him.

A shocked gasp slipped from your throat when you felt the unmistakable hardness pressing against you beneath the thin barrier of clothes. Heat flooded your body, shame and desire tangling into something you couldn’t name. Your palms pressed against his chest as if to push him away, but instead they clung there, feeling the frantic rhythm of his heartbeat.

Billy tore his mouth from yours, his lips grazing your jaw, then your ear, before he stopped—frozen, his forehead pressed to yours. His voice was hoarse, raw, threaded with something almost fragile.

“ Are you sure about this?” He rasped.

His hands trembled slightly against your hips, though his grip was firm. “ You don’t know how far I’ll take it if you let me. I need to know you ain’t gonna regret it, ‘cause I won’t. I can’t. The only thing I want now is you—just you. Your heart beatin’ against mine, same as it is right now.”

You stared at him, his bloodied face still streaked from your tending, his eyes red from drink and tears but burning with an intensity that made your chest tighten. You could feel the question in the air, heavy, trembling, waiting.

And you nodded. Slowly, deliberately. “ I’m sure, Billy.”

For a moment, his expression softened, like something inside him broke free. A smile—small, almost disbelieving curved at the corner of his mouth. Then he kissed you again, slower this time, but no less deep, pouring every ounce of yearning into it.

You yelped softly when his arms tightened, lifting you effortlessly from the couch without ever breaking the kiss. Your arms instinctively looped around his neck as he carried you down the narrow hall, his lips still devouring yours in feverish, bruising kisses.

Each step was heavy with inevitability. The door to his room creaked open, and in the next heartbeat he laid you down on the rough sheets of his bed. His weight pressed against you, solid and grounding, his calloused hands framing your face as though you were something precious in a world that had given him nothing but ruin.

His mouth trailed to your throat, tasting your skin, leaving a line of heat where his lips lingered. Between every kiss, his voice was low, strained with hunger and reverence.

“ You drive me crazy, sweetheart. Every damn second I try to push you away, but you come back…and I can’t stop wantin’ you.” His teeth grazed the hollow of your throat, making your body arch.

“ Tell me you feel it too. Tell me you need me as bad as I need you.”

Your answer came in the form of your hands clutching his shirt, pulling him closer, your breath catching as your lips found his again. And as the night deepened around the cabin, the line you had both fought so hard against blurred and finally snapped, leaving nothing but the raw, forbidden truth of your bodies and your hearts colliding.

Billy’s mouth roamed everywhere, hot and desperate, like he was determined to claim every inch of you as his own. His lips left bruises at your collarbone, his teeth scraping enough to sting before soothing the mark with his tongue.

Your breath hitched, your body trembling beneath him as you felt yourself unravel under his touch. His rough fingers slid down your front, unfastening each button of your shirt with deliberate slowness, until the fabric fell open to expose you.

He pushed your bra straps down, his knuckles grazing your skin in the process, before tugging the last barrier away. His eyes darkened at the sight of your bare breasts, hunger flashing in them like wildfire.

“ Fuckin’ perfect.” He muttered, voice low and gravelly, before lowering his head.

His mouth latched onto your nipple, sucking hard, his tongue circling the sensitive peak while his other hand cupped and kneaded the other breast.

The sudden, overwhelming sensation made your back arch, your fingers clawing into his hair as a choked moan escaped you. He groaned against your skin, vibrating against your chest, before switching sides, sucking harder, leaving both aching and wet from his attention. Then his mouth was on yours again, crushing, messy, filled with teeth and tongue.

His hands slid to yours, interlocking your fingers and pinning them down against the sheets, caging you beneath him. When he finally pulled back, his chest heaved, sweat mixing with faint streaks of dried blood from earlier.

His shirt was gone, tossed aside, and in the dim light his muscles glistened—taut, scarred, powerful. Your breath caught at the sight, the reality of him above you raw and devastating.

Billy’s smirk was crooked, dangerous, but his eyes were molten as they drank you in. His hand slid down, tugging at your pants until they were gone, leaving you bare except for your soaked underwear. He chuckled, deep and rough.

“ Look at you…” He rasped, sliding a calloused finger over the wet fabric, tracing the swollen outline of your slit.

“ Already drippin’ for me. You like this too much, don’t you, sweetheart? Bet no one ever made you this wet before.”

You gasped as he pressed harder, rubbing slow circles, making your thighs quiver. He dipped his head between your legs, inhaling deeply.

“ Damn…” He groaned, his breath hot against you.

“ I could drown in this scent.”

Before you could respond, his mouth pressed over the damp fabric, tongue dragging along your folds through the cloth. The lewd wet sounds made you moan, your hips jerking despite yourself. He growled low in his throat, sucking harder until the fabric clung to your skin.

“ Billy—” You whimpered, but he didn’t stop.

One hand gripped your thigh, forcing it open wider, while the other reached up to lace with yours again, holding you firmly as if to remind you he wasn’t letting go.

Only when your whines grew frantic did he finally hook his fingers into your underwear and yank it down, tossing it aside. The cool air against your wetness made you shiver, but then his mouth was on you—hot, relentless.

His tongue flicked over your clit before plunging lower, lapping at you with obscene hunger. You cried out, your hips bucking, but his arm was iron across your waist, pinning you in place.

He devoured you, groaning into your folds like you were the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted. Each sound vibrated against you, driving you higher.

“ Goddamn…” He muttered between licks, his voice muffled and rough.

“ You taste better than I ever dreamed. Don’t you dare hold back from me—let me hear every bit of it.”

His free hand slid lower, two thick fingers pressing inside you, stretching you as he curled them just right. You screamed his name, your body arching as his mouth and fingers worked together. He found that spot quickly and abused it mercilessly, pumping harder each time you clenched.

“ That’s it.” He growled, licking your clit harder as you writhed.

“ So fuckin’ tight…takin’ my fingers so well. You’re mine tonight, sweetheart. Nobody else’s. Just mine.”

The combination of his filthy words, the relentless rhythm of his tongue, and the way his fingers curled deep inside you sent white-hot sparks shooting through your veins. Your hands clutched at his hair, your thighs trembling violently as you were pushed right to the edge.

When the climax hit, it tore through you like a storm. Your moans broke into cries, your body convulsing around his fingers as your release flooded his mouth. He groaned against you, drinking it greedily, refusing to stop until you were shaking uncontrollably beneath him.

Only then did he pull back, his chin glistening, his lips wet. He licked his fingers clean with a low, satisfied sound, his eyes never leaving yours.

“ Sweetest goddamn thing I’ve ever had.” He rasped, smirking as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“And I’m not near done with you yet.”

Billy gave one last lingering kiss to your folds, dragging his tongue slow and deliberate as if savoring you, before finally pulling away.

His lips were wet, his jaw tight, his chest rising and falling like he’d been in a fight. His hand came up, rough palm pressing against your cheek as his thumb swiped across your lower lip.

“ Your turn, sweetheart.” He rasped, voice deep and commanding.

“ Undress. Please me. Show me you can take care of me the way I just took care of you.”

The weight of his stare made you hesitate, your pulse skittering under your skin. But he didn’t let you shy away, his grip on your chin tilted your face up until your eyes locked on his. You swallowed, your throat dry, and gave a small nod.

“ Good girl.” He praised, voice dark but approving. You shifted up the bed, leveling yourself with him, and with trembling hands reached for his belt.

The metallic click of the buckle echoed in the quiet room. You unfastened it slowly, your fingers brushing against the heat beneath the denim. Billy’s eyes never left you, scanning your every move with a hunger that made your breath quicken.

The zipper rasped down, and his jeans loosened under your touch. He shifted his hips to help you tug them lower. You slid them past his thighs, exposing the thick outline straining against his briefs. Your cheeks burned hot, but you kept going, pulling the last piece of cloth down.

His cock sprang free, hard and heavy, slapping against his stomach with a lewd sound. Veins ridged along the thick shaft, his tip already flushed and wet. Billy’s hand lifted your chin again, forcing your gaze upward.

His voice was low, gravel rough. “ Eyes on me. Don’t you dare look away while you touch me.”

You nodded shakily, wrapping your soft hand around him. His length twitched instantly under your grip, and he groaned deep in his chest.

“ Fuck…your hands are so small.” He muttered, his jaw clenching.

“ Can barely wrap ‘em around me. Look at that.”

You pumped him slowly, your thumb brushing over the slick head, spreading the bead of precum down his shaft. His breath hitched, his abdomen tightening as his hips gave a subtle jerk into your fist.

He dragged you into another kiss, his tongue claiming yours while his cock throbbed in your hand. When he pulled back, his lips brushed your ear as he whispered,

“ Mark me. Everywhere. I don’t care if you bite, scratch, bruise—make me yours tonight.”

Heat surged through you at his words. You leaned down, your lips trailing over his jawline, kissing and nipping your way to his throat.

He tilted his head back, giving you access, groaning when your teeth sank lightly into his skin. Red marks bloomed along his neck and chest as you worked your way lower, your kisses alternating between soft and stinging.

By the time you reached his stomach, his breathing was ragged, his cock standing hard and waiting for you. You pressed a feather-light kiss to the swollen tip, tasting salt, and Billy grunted, his hand fisting in the sheets.

“ Don’t tease me, sweetheart.” He growled, his voice breaking into a groan.

“ Put that pretty mouth where it belongs.”

You obeyed, wrapping your lips around the head and sucking gently before sliding him deeper into your mouth. He hissed through his teeth, his hand tangling in your hair, guiding you.

“ Fuck—yeah, just like that.” He groaned, his hips jerking upward slightly.

“ Goddamn…you feel so good. Look at you…takin’ me in like you were made for it.”

You worked him slowly, your tongue swirling, your hand pumping the base as you hollowed your cheeks around his length. Every sound he made only pushed you further, and when you glanced up, his eyes burned into yours, wild and desperate.

“ Keep lookin’ at me.” He demanded, his grip tightening in your hair.

“ Wanna see your eyes while you suck me off.”

You gagged slightly as he pushed deeper, but he pulled back immediately, his thumb stroking your cheek. His voice softened for a fleeting second.

“ That’s it, don’t rush. Take your time. But fuck, I’m not gonna last if you keep starin’ at me like that.”

You sped up, bobbing your head faster, your saliva slicking his cock as obscene wet sounds filled the room. His groans grew rougher, more desperate, his hips thrusting upward despite himself.

“ Shit—fuck—” Billy’s head dropped back against the pillow, his thighs tense. “ You’re gonna make me—”

You sucked harder, pressing your tongue against the underside as your hand twisted at the base. His whole body went taut, his grip in your hair almost painful. With a guttural growl, he spilled into your mouth, hot and thick.

“ Goddamn it!” He shouted, hips jerking as you swallowed around him.

His other hand fisted the sheets, his chest heaving as he rode out the waves. When he finally loosened his grip, panting hard, he looked down at you with a mix of awe and ruin. His cock twitched as you licked the last drop from the tip, and he let out a hoarse laugh.

“ Sweetheart…” He rasped, voice shaking.

“ You’re gonna be the death of me.”

Billy’s body was still trembling from the high you’d just given him when he suddenly grabbed you, pulling you flush against his lap. His cock, still hard and slick, pressed hot against your folds before he lined himself up and pushed inside in one steady thrust.

You cried out, your nails raking down his back as the stretch nearly stole your breath. He filled you to the hilt, so deep it felt like he carved out a place inside you that no one else could ever reach.

“ Fuck…” He groaned, forehead pressed against yours as his arms locked around your waist. “ You feel so damn good—tight as the first time.”

Your whimper broke into a moan as he stilled inside you, letting you adjust to his thickness. But he didn’t let you hide from him. His hand cupped your jaw, thumb pressing to your chin, forcing your teary eyes to meet his.

“ Look at me.” He ordered, voice rough, almost breaking.

“ Don’t you dare close your eyes. Not for this. Not tonight.”

You swallowed, obeying, your body trembling around him. Billy started to move, slow and deliberate thrusts that dragged every inch of him against your walls before sinking back to the deepest part of you.

Each stroke made your breath hitch, his tip brushing your womb again and again until your thighs quivered against his hips.

“ I thought I lost you last night.” He admitted hoarsely, his lips brushing against your cheek.

“ Thought you’d finally turned your back on me for good. Scared me more than I’ve ever been in my whole damn life.”

Your chest tightened as his words spilled out, raw and unguarded. His thrusts stayed deep, unhurried, as if he wanted to drive the confession into you along with his body.

“ I’m already in love with you.” He confessed, his voice shaking with the weight of it.

“ Cliché as hell, but my life doesn't feel complete without you. When you said those things…felt like my whole goddamn world collapsed."

" Like my only happiness despised me just ’cause I’m some old cowboy not worth your time.”

He buried himself deeper with a shuddering thrust, groaning as your walls fluttered around him.

“ I just wish…” His words broke as he kissed your temple.

“ I wish I’d been born in your year. No secrets. No shame. No insults from your dad every time I look at you. Just you…just us.”

Tears pricked your eyes as you cupped his face, your voice breaking. “ I don’t care about the age, Billy. You gave me something no man in the city ever could. You gave me…you. And I’m sorry—for what I said. I was stressed, pressured, scared. But I didn’t mean it. Not the way it sounded.”

Billy’s throat worked, his eyes glassy as he stared at you like he didn’t dare believe you. His thrusts grew needier, still slow but heavier, his cock stretching you with each stroke.

“ Say it again.” He whispered against your lips. “ Say you don’t care.”

“ I don’t…” You breathed, clinging to him.

“ I don’t care. I want you, Billy.”

Something inside him snapped. With a groan, he shifted, laying you down on the bed without ever pulling out. He hovered over you, his muscles tense and slick with sweat, then sank into you in one long, consuming thrust that made you cry out.

“ Goddamn.” He gritted, his hips pressing flush to yours, his cock throbbing deep inside you.

“ I love you. I fucking love you. You hear me?”

Your answer was a desperate moan as he began moving faster now, his slow rhythm breaking into something more desperate. His thrusts grew rougher, harder, his breath hot against your ear.

“ Gonna fill you up…” He growled, his voice low and feral.

“ Breed you ‘til there’s no doubt you’re mine. Knot you so deep no one else can ever touch what I’ve claimed.”

Your body arched under him, every thrust dragging you closer to the edge, your nails clawing his shoulders.

“ Billy—” You cried, your climax surging fast and hot.

“ That’s it, sweetheart.” He groaned, pounding harder, chasing both your releases. “ Come on me—milk me dry. Take every damn drop I give you.”

The tension snapped, pleasure crashing through you as you came around him, your walls clenching so tight he cursed loudly. His hips slammed flush, his cock buried to the hilt as he finally let go.

“ Fuck…fuck, take it—” He roared, spilling hot inside you, grinding deeper as though trying to fuse your bodies together.

His knot swelled, locking him inside you, his seed pumping into you in thick, endless spurts. Your name tore from his lips like a prayer, his forehead pressing to yours as his body trembled with the force of it. He stayed deep, his chest heaving, whispering against your mouth.

“ I love you…I love you…”

And you whispered it back, tangled together, messy and ruined, but finally honest—hearts colliding in the middle of all the chaos.

…

The first time should have been enough. But with Billy, it never was. He didn’t give your body a chance to rest. Even when your legs trembled, even when your lips were swollen from his kisses, he took you again, and again, like a man starved for years and finally given his first taste.

He carried you through the cabin in his arms, his mouth locked on your neck, leaving bruises down your skin as he pressed you against walls and furniture.

On the kitchen counter, he spread your thighs and drove into you, his grip bruising on your hips as he hissed against your ear, “ You’re mine. Say it. Say who fuckin’ owns you.”

On the floor before the fire, you straddled him, bouncing helplessly on his cock as his hands guided you, his head tipped back with a groan, “ Look at you ridin’ me like a perfect little slut. That’s it, sweetheart—milk me ‘til I can’t breathe.”

On the couch, he bent you over the armrest, taking you rough from behind while one hand pressed your cheek to the cushions, the other twisting into your hair.

You begged, moaned, clawed the leather, and he only growled, “ Louder. Don’t give a damn if they hear. Let ‘em know who you’re spreadin’ for.”

But the mirror—that was where he broke you. He pinned you there, your palms flat on the glass, his chest against your back as he thrust deep and slow, forcing your gaze to lock on your reflection.

“ See that?” He murmured darkly, lips dragging down your jaw as your body quaked against him.

“ Look how beautiful you are with me inside you. That face—you’ll never make it for another man. Only me.”

His teeth grazed your ear as he drove harder, your cry echoing in the small room. “ You’re mine to ruin, mine to love, mine to fill.”

Hours blurred into each other. Positions shifted, bodies tangled. The cabin filled with the symphony of moans, wet sounds, skin slapping, whispered pleas and sharp curses. Neither of you cared if the neighbors or the whole damn village, heard the way you broke for each other.

By the time you collapsed back on his bed, you were trembling, drenched in sweat, your throat raw from screaming his name. Billy sprawled beside you, equally wrecked, his body gleaming, chest heaving.

You turned your head toward him, lips tugging weakly into a grin. “ You really wanna make sure I’m carrying your heir, huh? My insides feel like they’re drowning in you.”

Billy smirked, his hand already sliding down your belly, resting possessively over your womb. His voice dropped, rough and certain.

“ Good. ‘Cause I mean to put a baby in you. More than one.” He leaned down, kissing your stomach reverently before looking back at you.

His eyes were softer now, but no less hungry. “ If you’re the mother, I’ll be the luckiest son of a bitch alive. Can’t wait to be a father with you.”

Your heart thudded painfully, the intimacy in his words cutting deeper than his thrusts ever could. But then his expression sobered, the weight of reality creeping back into the room.

His thumb traced circles on your skin as he said, low and serious, “ We can’t stay here. Before the sun’s up, your old man will come huntin’ me. I’m not lettin’ him drag you away. We’re leavin’ tonight.”

You blinked at him, chest tightening. “ Leaving? Billy, where would we even go?”

His jaw clenched, the muscles in his arms flexing as if holding back a storm. “ I don’t know. Don’t care. Could be the edge of the damn world. As long as you’re with me, I’ll take it. You and I are against everything.”

Your fingers touched his face, trembling. “ But…do you really have somewhere? Somewhere he can’t find us?”

Billy’s eyes met yours, blazing with a mix of hope and defiance. He kissed your lips hard before answering. “ There’s one place. A cabin far out—no one knows it but me. Your daddy won’t find us there, not the law, not anyone. Just you, me, and whatever life we build with our own hands.”

His forehead pressed against yours, both of you still panting, bodies sticky and sore from hours of wild love.

But in that moment, you knew: the danger didn’t matter. The whispers, the scandal, your father’s wrath—none of it mattered.

All that mattered was Billy’s hand on your belly, his words burning into your chest, and the promise of escape before dawn.

Author's Note: