Page 43 of Speechless

“I’ve seen you work. Taking charge isn’t an issue for you. Aftercare comes naturally to you. All the dots connect, and the shape they make is the kind of guy you are. Take your lass, for example. You want to fuck her, right?”

Images of Jenna beneath him, her slight frame cradled in his arms as he moved inside her, had Connor’s cock stirring eagerly to life. He gave it a mental slap, told it to behave. “That’s not happening for a long time, Cain.”

“That’s an affirmative on the fucking. Say she’s ready, gets those legs spread and that pussy wet. Most guys, they jump right in. Fuck her good, maybe give her an orgasm if she’s lucky, then poof, off they skedaddle. But you, no, you close those legs, hide that pretty pussy away, and spend the night watching movies and cuddling her on the couch. Because those instincts you have as a Dominant are telling you she ain’t really ready, she’s not prepared for the magnitude of what being with you entails.” Cain watched him with a quirk of his lips. “When she is, you spend all the time in the fucking world getting her worked up, so worked up she can’t remember her own goddamn name, before you claim that pussy. One orgasm isn’t a lucky hit on the G-spot. Sheer skill gives her three minimum—we’re blessed in the cock department, Con, you can’t deny that.”

Connor just slapped his hand over his eyes in exasperation and gave up any hope of controlling his cock. Cain had a way with words, the rhythm and imagery rolling into an incredibly lifelike vision.

“That little thing’s sprawled out beneath you, still shuddering and whimpering from the trip to Orgasm City, and you’re not staggering off to the bathroom to take a piss and find your clothes. You? You’re running her a bath, carrying her like some motherfucking princess so you can tend to her. Because sheisyour motherfucking princess, bro.”

“Hate to burst your fantasy there, Cain—it’s a good one, don’t get me wrong—but I’d do that for any woman I slept with. It’s—”Part of who I am.Fuck, Cain was good. “It’s the nature of the Dominant to care for what’s his.”

Cain nodded sagely. “Exactly. The town is yours, Connor. People come to you sick and sorry. Shit, most of the births are overseen by you unless there’s a problem and the mother needs to be shipped off to Helena or Big Sky. You sit with the dying, hold their hands as they take their last breaths. You go to every fucking funeral the Creek has the misfortune to hold.”

“Doctor,” he reminded his brother.

“Dominant,” Cain shot right back. “You wanna know if finding out you’re a Dominant changed my opinion of you? Damn straight it did. It solidified my opinion that my brother is a fucking legend, who sets everyone around him as a priority. Above himself and his needs. Howler’s Creek doesn’t know how goddamn lucky it is to have you, Connor, and if Caleb’s assholery opinion made so much as a dent in that white knight armor of yours in the eyes of the community, I’d call the fucking lot of them on it.”

Speechless, Connor blinked. He’d never heard Cain be so vehement about anything, but the hard undertone of his voice spoke volumes. He wasn’t bullshitting, he was stating a truth he fully believed.

That, to Connor, meant everything.

“I don’t know what to say to that.”

“What is there to say? My opinion wouldn’t change if you were gay, transgender, whatever the fuck. You are who you are, and who you are helps more people than you realize. Your Jenna, for one. Think she’d still be here without you?”

“There are good doctors at the hospital, Cain.”

“Good doctors, good people, not disputing that. But none of them areyou.” Cain tipped his beer back, scowled. “Damn it. You want another?”

“I’ll get them. I need to make a call.”

Smirking, Cain tossed the dead can over the side of the tub to be picked up in the morning. “I’m under strict instruction not to let you call a certain sexy nurse. Think she’ll spank me if I disobey?”

Connor shoved himself from the water, shivered in the cool air as it hit his wet skin, and breathed deep. Tomorrow he’d be bruised and sore, but he was ready to jump back into the fray. “Knowing Sarah, she’ll ask Zeke to smack you around. She’s got a thing for watching her husband wipe the floor with reprobates.”

“And he’s back!” Cain crowed, splashing his fist into the water and cheering. “Fuck the beer, break out the champagne!”

“Reprobate,” Connor confirmed, stepping from the tub and snagging a towel. He headed inside, wiping off the worst of the wet before stepping inside the borrowed cabin belonging to one of Cain’s many friends, and to the phone he’d stashed in his bag.

For emergencies only, he’d promised himself. Just in case Jenna needed him urgently. But it had remained quiet in the time he’d been away—which was a good thing, he reminded himself. No texts, no calls, were agood thing.

He sat on the bed with its pretty handmade bedspread and put the call through, waiting impatiently for Sarah to pick up. He counted seven rings before she answered and was nearly beside himself, plagued by visions of everything that could have gone wrong in his absence.

“Your brother is a dead man.”

His forehead dropped into his palm. “Jesus, Sarah, it took you forever to answer.”

“More like forty seconds, boss. Don’t be dramatic.” But her voice gentled. “My phone was in the kitchen, Connor. I wasn’t. Everything’s fine, I promise.”

“Jenna?”

“She’s…” Sarah paused, and Connor heard the phone jostle, followed by low murmuring. “Hang on a minute, Connor.”

Was she joking? In disbelief, he pulled the phone from his ear and stared at it. Hang on for what? He heard his name, rapped the phone back against his ear. “I’m here, Sarah.” Silence greeted him. “Sarah?”

“C-Connor.”

Fingers numb, he dropped the phone. It hit the floor, bounced across the room, with Connor scrambling after it. He snatched it up as his heart twisted into a savage knot of hope in his chest. “Jenna? Baby?”

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