by Knox, Abby
But I know Jet wouldn't want me to drop out, even if he is planning to do the right thing by not voting for me.
I will my hands to stop shaking the microphone and watch as Jet pulls a random question out of the box and reads it out. The look on his face tells me he's fighting with all his might not to roll his eyes. "If you could be any animal in the world for one day, what would it be, and why?"
He drops the slip of paper, rubs his face with his palm as if he's trying to forget what he just read, and looks back up at me. At the moment I do believe I'm seeing my future. This man has reached his limit with pageantry for the day. He has no patience for nonsense, and I respect that. He's going to make me pay for this silliness, and I fully intend to pay in full.
I'm all over this question. It's so hot out here, and this crowd has been so kind to have stayed through it all. This entire day has been nuts for everyone, and I intend to send people home with something funny to talk about.
"Well, I'm a very hard worker, a bit of an overachiever, outgoing, friendly, and nothing can stop me reaching for my goals. I live in a humble trailer by the river where I'm fairly self-sufficient. Sometimes I even fish for my dinner right there in my backyard. So because of all of that, I would say I am…"
I look out at the audience. I know what they are expecting me to say. I'm supposed to say worker bee or a trusty steed. I can't tell you how many times I've heard other contestants at various pageants say they would want to be a dolphin because they're fun-loving, or a pit bull for their tenacity. Yes, we get asked that question a lot.
"…a beaver."
I let my answer hang in the air without further comment, at first. When it lands, the expected titters and chuckles float up from the audience. After everything that's happened today, why the hell not?
"If you think about it, beavers are determined to get their way. Well, I can relate. This beaver," I say, pointing at myself, "Always gets her way. And that's all there is to say about that. Thank you very much!”
Chapter Nine
Jet
I'm still laughing at my Rocket's answer to that ridiculous question when the governor gestures for all of us judges to huddle together for a quick confab.
The poise and congeniality portion of the event is finished, and we're tallying up our votes.
"I gotta tell you folks. I wasn't sure about the idea of including someone like Aleesha in this contest, but after all, it's not my pageant. I think she's the clear winner," the governor marvels. His tone changes after he glances around to make sure nobody is listening. "I'm going to catch hell for voting this way — that young lady Paris's daddy runs the biggest meatpacking company in the state, and he thinks he can buy my vote, but that daughter of his made my ears bleed with her screeching and wailing and carrying on. Aleesha's magic show, on the other hand… Did you see the way she put a knife through her hand? I still can't figure out how there was not a drop of blood."
I nod my head in agreement, as do the other judges. The one wearing a tiara and a sash from last year nods enthusiastically. "I for one can't stand magic shows, but that was exciting to watch. I think we know all know who the next Butter Queen is."
Chapter Ten
Rocket
At the end of the day, I don't lose because Paris got to me, and neither do I lose because I dropped my baton, lit up the stage, and described myself as a beaver.
I lost because Aleesha freaking destroyed us all. She earned it.
But the best part of all was when the governor stood up to deliver an unprecedented announcement.
"It's never fun to be the bearer of bad news, but I'm afraid that we judges have just learned about an incident of sabotage at the pageant. The police and fire department are investigating food poisoning, injury, and arson. I cannot comment other than to say that our first runner-up has been disqualified, and instead our first runner-up is Rocket Montgomery!"
I'm both elated and mortified as I shoot Jet with a questioning look. His expression and hand gestures tell me he is not responsible for me earning the votes for this title, and I've won it on merit alone.
I try to keep my calm as the governor comes over to pin on my ribbon. I can feel Jet's eyes shooting guided missiles into the governor's back for daring to touch me. I'm not against the idea of this little bit of jealously I feel coming off of him from twenty feet away.
Bursting into happy tears as Harley Jensen attaches the Butter Queen crown on top of Aleesha's head, I sashay over to help her don her title sash. I'm genuinely so happy for her.
Jet's eyes are boring into me, and he looks like he's going to bust out a caveman club and drag me away by my hair. Honestly, I don't hate that image.
"Aleesha, I know I'm supposed to stay for the photoshoot but…"
"Don't even start with your excuses. I see what's going on here," she interrupts. For a moment I'm terrified, but then her face breaks into a laugh. "Rocket, go on and get him before I tell everybody that I saw you two go off to dry hump in the back of the butter sculpture truck. Imagine if someone drove that truck to the exhibition hall and opened it, a thousand people waiting to see it, and there you were, with that flyboy all up in your business."
"You saw us go in there?"
Aleesha rolls her eyes. "Go on and get."
I turn and run smack into Jet's chest. "Oh! Hi. Listen. Give me five minutes in the tent to change, and I'll meet you outside."
Although I'm keeping my eyes straight ahead, I still can't help but take a ridiculous amount of enjoyment at seeing Paris in my peripheral vision backstage, dabbing at crocodile tears while undergoing the third degree from Cameron and the state fair president himself. It takes everything in me not to stop and ask if anyone needs a witness testimony to her shenanigans, but big things are about to happen to me. At least, one very big thing, the thought of which is making me salivate.
* * *
Makeup removed, changed into my comfortable T-shirt, cutoffs, and sandals, I gather up my garment bags and luggage as quickly as I can.
When I open the tent flap, Jet is already there.
I expect him to make a fuss about all my luggage, but he says nothing as he takes every piece of it off my hands.
I show him the way to my car—being a pageant contestant affords me a close parking spot adjacent to the stage. When he loads all my stuff in my trunk, he opens my driver's door for me.
"I thought you were going to ask for the keys. Most men can't stand riding shotgun with their girlfriend."
The sensation of Jet's index finger sliding between my denim waistband and the skin just below my navel sends prickles of heat skittering all over my lower half.
"Who gives a shit about that? Unless you want me to take the wheel because you're tired." He drives his mouth over mine in a searing kiss, sucking my bottom lip into his warm mouth, his index finger tugging at my waistband and slipping lower against my bare skin, and I moan. His one naughty digit is now dangerously close to fingering me in public.
I try not to let my mouth water when I speak. "Careful. You're just a few inches shy of striking gold there, prospector."
"Gold, huh?" He puffs out a small laugh, brushing his lips against the spot where my neck meets the collar of my tee shirt.
"That's right. So much gold it'll change your life," I say.
My words provoke a growl out of somewhere deep in his chest.
"Already did that," he says, his breath tickling the skin of my neck. "Therefore I claim this land," he says, kissing my shoulder. "This hill…" He slides the palm of one hand over my ass. "And this valley…" His fingers glide down across my ass cheek and nuzzle the crevice at the center seam of my shorts. My body jolts. "In the name of Me."
I laugh, but it does nothing to hide the all-over trembling.
"You need a map to navigate this land?"
Jet brushes his lips over mine and traces the tip of his tongue over my top lip. "Nah. I'm thinking I'd like to explore it all in close detail."
"Careful. You might com
e across some explosive terrain," I reply.
Jet pulls his finger out of my waistband and sinks both palms down the back of my pants, the view hidden—hopefully—by the interior of my car. "I can take it, and I want to know every single inch of it."
Chapter Eleven
Jet
As soon as we arrive at her small Airstream trailer, Rocket and I have our hands all over each other. The only moment I've forced myself to stop touching her is to text Henry, letting him know where I am, and that he can take my truck back home and Rocket will take me to pick it up later.
The ever-chill Henry replied only, "You might need clothes to change into, dumbass. I have a feeling you're going to be a while, so I'll drop off your duffel there before I head home. I'll reserve a family pass to the pumpkin patch next year with your name on it."
I don't care if he's giving me shit or not. I don't need to look at my phone anymore today, or for the next month as long as I'm with Rocket. I need to touch her and kiss her and keep her tight against me as soon as possible. Judging by the feel of her mouth opening to me, her tongue tangling with mine, her hands on my chest, she does too.
"I need to get you inside," I rattle out.
"Jet, I need you to know. It's not much to look at," she replies, tugging at my shirt.
"Fuck that, anywhere with you is where I want to be," I say, pressing a kiss to her neck before sliding out the passenger side, running around to the other side, and snatching her out. Any second without her body held tight against me is a second wasted.
Rocket fumbles for the key while my hand explores her back, her neck, her ass. I tug at the collar of her T-shirt so my mouth and teeth can savor the soft skin of her shoulders.
"Better get that door open or I'm gonna make sure the neighbors call the cops on us for indecent exposure," I say.
When she finally opens the door to her trailer and steps inside, I don't wait for her to hang her keys or take off her shoes or switch on her little window air conditioning unit. I come in behind her and kick the door shut behind me. Before she even has time to jump at the noise, I spin her around and have her pinned against the inside of the door. Her mouth falls open and her eyes are wide in shock. I grind against her pelvis, and she pushes against me while our hungry, frantic mouths and hands lay waste to each other.
"Get those jeans off, get them off now," I rattle against her damp throat. I see her swallow hard while my hands help her lose her bottoms. She helps unzip my fly while our mouths find each other again.
No time for pleasantries, I shove my briefs part of the way down, freeing my dick, which wavers in the air like it's already searching for her. She takes it in her hand.
"Nuh-uh," I say. "A good sailor always carries protection." I slip a condom out of my wallet and let her help me slide it over my dick.
Then, bracing her against the door, I hoist her legs around my hips, caressing her wet pussy briefly with the pre-cum covered tip before sliding it in.
"All the way in. Now. I need it," she says breathlessly. With a curse of pleasure, I slide into her wet heat.
"Fuck, you're so tight, Rocket."
She bucks against me, her legs sweating and clamping me tight to her. I rock into her, and her head falls back against the door.
"Careful, sweets," I say, cupping the back of her head while I pull out slightly and quickly thrust back in all the way. This simple consideration has her pulling me into her even more tightly, her mouth moaning into mine as we kiss. The urgent thrusts increase into a fevered rhythm. Her body grips me and sucks me in. Her scalp is warm against my fingers, her soft locks dampening with sweat.
"I want to go deeper, baby, but I'm just…"
"Jet, you just came home from how many days at sea? Take what you need. You don't need to cradle me; I can hold myself up. Just go for it. Now. Just bang me until you can't anymore. I can take it. I want it."
Our fused hips gyrating together, I ramp up the pace while letting go of her head so I can brace myself with one hand on the door. I want to stroke every inch of her, but I hesitate, still thinking I need to hold her steady with my other arm. But Rocket seems to have the core strength of an acrobat because when I let go she's held up by her legs and by her back against the door. Making sure she's balanced and safe, I slam into her while her whole body is wrapped around me, my hand caressing that gorgeous ass that had me spellbound before I even knew her name.
The tingle at the base of my spine signals that I'm getting close. I keep up the pace because I can't get enough of the sensations of her heated feminine walls gripping me as I slide in and out. I bury my face in her neck, and she grips me tight around my taut shoulders. A roar rips out of me when I blast inside her, her sex bearing down and gripping me tighter than I thought possible. Her moans, her scent, her soft skin, all of her, pull everything out of me. Just when I think I'm finished, my whole sweat-soaked body shivers, and I am empty of every last drop of my essence.
I roar, long and loud, into the comfort of her soft shoulders and welcoming arms. Her fingers grip my hair while her body continues to cinch around my shaft, setting off more sparks of pleasure.
Spent, I push off the wall and hold her to me, keeping my cock inside its new favorite place. With her wrapped around me like that, I walk us over to a small sofa.
This. This is all I need. To be snug inside of Rocket, her soft, damp breasts brushing my chest, her hooded eyes gazing into mine, full of love, her cheeks flushed.
She might look happy and content, but she's not done with me. And I'm the man to finish her.
Chapter Twelve
Rocket
Nobody has ever fucked me against the door before, let alone carried me while still buried to the hilt inside me after going off like a bomb.
Just as I am beginning to wonder if he's going to fall asleep like this, his eyes take on a mischievous glint.
"Sit back just a little bit, baby."
Trembling at the assertive tone in his deep voice, I obey and scoot just an inch and lean away, trusting him completely.
Jet plunges his hand down to the space where our bodies are joined together, finding my center and roaming his fingers inside my folds.
The air is so steamy in here, but all I feel when I close my eyes is Jet touching me there, making me ten times as hot as this sweltering trailer ever could. Suddenly my pleasure is doubled when he starts to nuzzle my tits through the material of my sweaty T-shirt.
"Tell me how you like it," Jet says, rubbing circles around my clit with the pad of his thumb. "Like that?"
I bite my bottom lip and nod, barely able to utter a whispered "yes."
"Or this?" he asks, using the backs of his rough knuckles to nudge my taut, aching button.
"Both," I whimper.
His soft growl makes my pussy clench down around his shaft involuntarily.
"Fuck me, you're getting me hard again, sweetheart."
His fingers work me over, his mouth enjoying my breasts, kissing me all over my chest, neck, and arms, his other hand holding me so tightly I feel like somebody's treasure. His treasure.
"Open your eyes, sweetheart, and look at me," he says.
When I do, I'm floored. His eyes bore through to my soul. He sees me. I'm nearly overcome at the thought. He sees me, and the thought of this ramps up all of my senses.
"I'm gonna come, Jet!" I rasp.
"Not yet, Rocket. Look down. I want you to look at us."
I gape at him in my haze of lust and happiness, but I do as he says. The sight of us joined together, with his hand working me over, is by far the most erotic fucking thing I've ever seen in my entire life.
I smile. "Aren't we a pair?"
He smiles back at me, and my climax slams into me like a flash flood. "Jet! Oh my God!" It's so powerful I wouldn't be surprised if I looked out the window to realize my little trailer was floating downriver.
As if that weren't enough, Jet moves his hand away while my body is still in the throes of the most amazing orgasm of my li
fe, and, maintaining eye contact, has me watch while he sucks my juice off his fingers.
The sight of my essence on his tongue sets off another wave of trembling pleasure.
"Open that mouth," he says, one hand coming up to cup my breast. "I want to share."
Jet pushes his two fingers into my mouth, and I suck them, my whole body still shaking through powerful aftershocks.
"Look at you," Jet says. "My Rocket is on fire. I can still feel your pussy milking me."
I'm fucking ruined. This man has ruined me completely. I collapse against his chest in the best way possible, his arms wrapped around me.
Chapter Thirteen
Jet
We've wisely taken a break for some water and to wait for the tiny air conditioner to do its thing.
It doesn't take long to cool the trailer down, because there's not much trailer to begin with. Her home is as homey as I would have expected, if not wall-to-wall trophies. Sure, she's got a few trophies and ribbons displayed here and there, but also inspirational quotes, homemade abstract paintings, and photographs of her with someone who looks like an older version of herself. The sofa we were sitting on folds down into her bed, and there's a small television mounted on the wall. The window blinds are accented with curtains that look like she painted them herself. Everywhere I look, there are little touches of her. None of these pageants she enters seem to mean any more to her than any of her other interests.
"Is that your mom?" I ask, pointing to one of the photographs. Rocket putters in the kitchen.