Page 38 of For Fillies and Monsters

So, I texted her, reminding her who she fucking belongs to. Even if that puts my secrets in jeopardy. Even if that might confuse her between me and “stalker me”. I couldn’t help it. I had to know, had to stake my claim once more.

She is mine. Her pussy is mine. Her fucking cum ismine.

FOURTEEN

AUGUSTUS

April 12th, 2024

I’m sweating,well, closer to melting really. The evidence of hours spent in the spring Texas heat running in rivulets down my back, the long curls of hair stuck to my neck. I like my long hair; I like imagining Stetson running her hands through it. But on days like today? I’m about ready to take a razor to my scalp.

It’s only eleven in the morning and I’ve already put in a full day’s worth of work. I enjoy getting up when it is still dark and working until about mid-day; anything later than that and it’s too fucking hot. I look up to admire the progress I’ve made.

The corral has come a long way since I started two weeks ago, and seeing the evidence of my progress does something to my stomach. Call it pride or irrational excitement in being able to work on my future home, but building this place up feels good. I’ve never had a thing to my name—fuck, the truck we used to drive was in McCrae’s name, and we never lived in a place more than a couple weeks at a time. My brother liked the rambling life; he hated being tied down, which is one of the many reasons he has always hated my existence.

Not me. I’ve always craved stability, and always wanted what my parents had—a home, a job, a partner. It’s taking longerthan I like, but I’m getting there, slowly but surely, and that actually makes me drunk with excitement—going from loving her from a distance to having her close enough to feel her body heat constantly a shock to my system.

Now if only she remembered me.

I chew on the inside of my cheek, my fisted hands leaning against the corral railing.

I know I shouldn’t be upset that she doesn’t remember me—it’s been ten years, after all. And part of me loves the thrill of being anonymous and making her fall for me as a stranger. But there’s also a part of me—a small, shriveled part—that is hurt; hurt that we have a connection written in flames and she doesn’t recognize the burn of our love.

I couldn’t forget a single hair on her head, and yet, she can forget my face, voice, our electric connection? How? Why?

“Fuck this.” I cuss under my breath, breathing raggedly in through my nose. Her life was a wreck back then—cut her some fucking slack.But even as I think the words, the slack is looking awfully similar to a noose, and for someone who doesn’t get scared, I’m a bit terrified.

It’s a complicated mess I’ve made for myself. Now how the fuck do I get out of it?

“You sorry sack, quit fucking bunching up!” Stetson’s angry voice cuts through my wandering thoughts, pulling me back to the present with sickening clarity. I need to tell her everything; I want to.

But again, how?

My eyes trace up to where she’s straddling a young white mare bareback against the fence. Most of her weight is on her opposite foot, pressing into the wooden beams as she leans over the animal. Her touch is confident and possessive, and I can’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy toward the horse beneath her.

I try not to smile at the memory of Stetson bringing homethat skittish filly one afternoon, without any explanation. She simply stated she had seen the mare headed to a high-kill shelter from a page she followed on social media and decided to rescue her.

Fuck me if I disagreed.

Which I don’t. It doesn’t matter that she doesn’t have the money to buy and maintain more horses—she always figures out a way. That’s just how Stetson is—determined and unstoppable. It’s one of the reasons I’m so obsessed with her.

The mare pins her small, angry ears flat to the back of her head and pulls on the lead rope. Her thin back starts to round, her tail swishing angrily. She doesn’t want to be broken. I don’t blame the mare. She has had a horrible experience with humans so far in this life, and no one has ever given her the time of day. Not until Stetson, and she is determined to make a friend of the young horse. Stetson won’t give up on her, no matter what.

God, I love that about her.

I’m familiar with her passionate disposition around horses. I watched her work at the horse rescue off and on for years, watched her tame and help even the most troubled horses. Which, in turn, helped tame her; helped her find peace and safety within herself. It took losing her foster parents—a loose description for the couple that took her in at eighteen—sleeping her way through every dark fantasy she could come up with, and violent depression to get her to want a better life for herself.

Of course, I hate that I couldn’t have done more for her, but she was angry and hell-bent on destroying her world, and I refused to let our love be a casualty of her self-destruction. She had to be the one to pull herself out, and I knew if I was patient, Stetson would be strong enough to do so.

Did I take out my frustrations on her partners when she was finished with them? Of course—I’m only asimple man.

When she found the horse rescue, everything changed. She became the woman I admire now. Strong, independent, a little reckless, and a lot selfless. My time in the shadows was rapidly coming to an end, and even though I’d been ready to be with her from the moment I met her, I’d never prepared for the moment I’d have to explain that to her.

How do you explain that to someone who didn’t know you existed only weeks ago?

I’m a man in love with a woman. The how and why and where seems irrelevant and fucking annoying, if I’m being honest. Picturing her loving me back is the only thing that I want, the only thing I need.

That, and imagining her plump lips wrapped around my cock, drool dribbling down her chin.

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