by Amber Faye
I ease back on the table as far as I can go, and he leans in closer. His hands sit on either side of my legs, and I feel a panic start to rise in me. It’s all kinds of wrong. My eyes dart side to side, but I only see the barflies ignoring me. I’m trapped. This whole week I had fears that Gage would be the one to do this, and now it’s Russ. A thought flies through my head as I’m trying to avoid getting any closer to Russ: if it was Gage, you’d let him take you right here on the table.
It’s a crazy thought to have in that squirmy moment, but it’s true. I’d let him be the first to break me down. My brother had always been overly protective, so this moment with Russ is probably the closest I’ve ever been to any other guy.
I’m out of room. There’s nowhere else to move back. I’m paralyzed. Russ’s hand looks like it’s reaching up to my face to pull me into his slobbery lips, but it’s interrupted by a larger, bulky hand. I turn my head to see Gage right there, his eyes shooting daggers into Russ’ shocked face.
“Gage!” I say. Russ backs off and gives me enough room to get up. I see Russ struggle to pull his hand from Gage’s grasp, but Gage let’s go and stands firm. The man seems to be made of granite. Russ straightens his shirt, then himself. Russ must be 6’3, the epitome of the tall rancher, but Gage looks down on him as they get nose to nose.
“There a problem here?” Gage says. It comes off halfway between a statement and a question. I can see his jaw tense in time with his fists.
Russ eyes Gage up and down, and his eyes focus on the tattoos on Gage’s arms. I hadn’t really noticed them before. Flowery, ornamental skulls line his forearms like leaves on a tree. They trace like a treasure map around his muscles, and I find my mind drifting to how those muscles might feel against my lips.
“No problem, buddy,” Russ says. He cowers from Gage’s imposing frame, shrinking like a flower in the shade. Gage grunts in approval.
“Thanks,” I say. “Can I grab you a beer?”
“You sure can, Kay.” His smile is bigger this time. Meanwhile, Russ takes a seat at the far end of the bar.
“Thanks for helping me out there,” I say. “I think I owe you more than a beer.”
“I think you do.”
He’s giving me that look again. It sends shivers down my spine, and I feel my nipples harden a bit, and I’m fantasizing about those rough hands wrapped around my breasts. His strong, defined forearms rest on the table in front of me. His voice is low, like thunder crawling in across the Texas plains.
“Was he giving you trouble?” he asks. My heart skips a beat.
“Please,” I say, “Don’t cause any trouble here. Russ didn’t mean too much harm there. I over served him.”
Gage turns his head. His brows furrow towards Russ, and I notice how angular and handsome his face is. He’s permanently broody, and a part of me wants to tease him for it, if that same part wasn’t also frightened by it. Still, I’m tempted to reach out and touch his face.
Gage doesn’t say anything. He just stares, then brings his eyes back to me. He’s taking me in. I look past his shoulder, but I enjoy the way his eyes are scanning me bit by bit.
“I’ll do whatever you say. You can count on me. But I can’t make any promises if he crosses a line.”
I break the stare and start wiping the counter. “What kind of line?”
“Oh you know, the usual lines that are crossed in a bar like this.” His hand reaches over and cups my whole hand. It’s warm, pulsing. Our eyes lock again. “He might try and cop a feel, like brush your breasts or maybe grab your ass. Some men are real bold, too. Maybe slip a hand up those short jeans of yours and try and touch your pussy.”
I immediately blush. Gage’s poker face is completely still, except for a small tremble in his lip.
“What men would do that?” I ask. I feel something bloom under my shorts. I know the type. The type that I’m sure was touching their large cock outside my bedroom window. The type that I wanted to trace his large, warm fingers around places that no one had touched before.
I feel the heat starting to come up from my blouse. Gage grabs the beer and raises it, takes it down in seconds.
“Want another one?” I ask. I realize I’m breathing a little heavy. He nods. I try and shake his piercing look. I walk over to the middle of the bar. “I’ll grab you a draft. It’ll last longer.”
I pull on the handle and the beer fizzles. Great. It’s out. I shrug my shoulders at him.
“I’ve got to go change the keg in the back,” I say. Gage stands up again, and I can see his pecs poking out of his tight black tee shirt. “I’ll give you a hand,” he says. There isn’t any room in his tone for me to say no.
We leave the main bar hall together. I see Russ give me the evil eye as we make our way into the back. The swivel doors squeak as we enter the kitchen. It’s a ghost town; the grill cooks left over an hour before. Gage crosses his tree trunk arms and smiles.
“Reminds me of where I worked in Iron Ridge,” he says, looking at the ranges.
There’s an excitement in the tips of my fingers. “Is that the—”
He cuts me off. “Prison? You got it. There’s no such thing as a soft soul there.” The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Damian told me never to be alone with him.
“Where’s the keg?” he asks.
“Over here,” I say, and pull hard on the fridge door. The cool blast hits me, and my shirt clings to my chest. I walk over to a line of kegs at the end of the room. My legs are electric, the cold dancing on my skin. A run of goosebumps shoots up my body. I’m grabbing the empty keg when his arms slip around me. They pause as they grab the keg barrel. His body feels warm in the cool air. I feel small. Something large and hard pushes against my ass. His hands aren’t around my waist, but on top of my arms. Fire and ice rush through my veins at the same time.
“Do you want this?I know you want this.”
I nod. His voice is firm, but gentle. He rubs it into my jean shorts. I close my eyes. My hips move. I feel it throbbing, so close, just thin layers of frayed denim stopping me from what I want.
He holds me firm and rubs harder. I feel his hands move with purpose up to my tits, massaging them as he pushes himself into my shorts.
I feel a mix of worlds. Stars are in my eyes. I come up for air.
“Not...yet,” I say. He grunts hard, then stops. I feel something wet and cold on my shorts.
He doesn’t say a word. He grabs a keg effortlessly from the top shelf, places it on his shoulders, and switches them out before the color has come back to my cheeks.
He’s walking out the door before he turns to me and says, “Every time I see you, you make me come so hard it could kill me.”
The door shuts and I’m left. It’s freezing, but if I was any hotter, I’d melt everything in the damn room.
Chapter 4
Gage
I put all my force into the arm curls as I’m watching Karlee do her morning routine. My muscles bulge with the heavy weight, and they’ve been asking me to stop for at least ten minutes. I give a grunt and ignore them. I tighten my grip on the metal knurling. The weights are cheap and dig into my calloused palms. Sweat pours down my brow. I watch her admire herself in the mirror. It’s a thing of beauty. Her curvy legs move from side to side, and she innocently throws the towel on the bed to reveal a moment of perfection.
My cock springs to life as I catch a small tuft of hair covering what’s been driving me mad for the last two weeks. I clench my teeth hard and throw the weights to the floor. She bends that tight ass down and gently places her legs into her thong. I get on my knuckles to do forty push ups, and with each dip I think about grabbing those flimsy panties with my teeth and biting them off. I count forty, then decide to do forty more. I hope by the time I’ve done eighty, she’ll have enough on to keep me from losing control.
Right now, I’d do anything to get her off my mind. Since the night at the roadhouse, I can’t stop thinking about her.
I’ve been back a few time
s since, watching her drive away to work. I end up parking my pickup outside the back door of the roadhouse, and like clockwork, the chefs leave out the back door. Karlee always comes out to wish them a goodnight. I lean forward in my seat as I see her usual get-up: tight ripped jeans and draping blouse that leaves little to my imagination. I think of leaving my car and rushing up to her, placing one of my hands behind the back of her head while ripping off that shirt with my other one. I imagine her moan as I would taste her tits, flick her nipples with my tongue.
It’s the same fantasy, every night for the past two weeks. But every night I hold back. Instead, I grip the steering wheel, my calloused palms strangling the wheel. I stare at the other cars in the parking lot. I’ve become familiar with them now. One in particular stands out to me; a gaudy, bright red Hummer. It’s something a man with a small dick would drive, so it only leaves one possible owner: Russ Carlson.
I boil over again, but this time with rage instead of desire. The Carlson family is the reason I spent five years in Iron Ridge. Five years of trying to explain that the so-called sheriff of Hico Canyon is actually West Texas’ largest cattle rustler. Five years of Carlson trying to shut me up any way he could. The prison guards sent to rough me up, the new bunkmate with a shiv, the fights in the shower. It ended badly for all of them. Very badly.
Still, despite the battle scars, I promised myself to live a better life. A life with something to live for. A life with someone like Karlee. She makes me cum like a volcano. I think of her hips pushing into my dick that night in the freezer, and I punch the side of the car in frustration.
I will take her. I will make her want it. I’ll make her beg for a warm load on her face; all over those big, innocent eyes.
But first, there’s other business to take care of.
I wait for Russ to stumble out, his usual loose stumble back to the shining piece of male insecurity. I quietly open the door to my truck. I can hear him singing to himself now. I walk forward with purpose. In my hand, I grip the cheap weight I brought from home. It weighs over 50 lbs, but it feels light as a feather.
He’s fiddling in his pocket when I come up behind him.
“Hi Russ,” I say. The weight is jumping in my hand. I smack him square in the chest with it, and he deflates on the ground, his belly sending him rolling on the way down. I stand over him as he lays there trying to catch his breath.
“Recognize me?” I ask. I can tell by the open mouth and wide eyes that he does. His chubby, grizzled cheeks start to quiver, and the ten gallon hat slides off his head to reveal oily, gray hair. And this man had the audacity to think someone like Karlee would even give him the time of day if it wasn’t attached to a tip.
“Now that I have your attention, I want you to listen to me and my friend”—I point to the weight— “about something. And I only want to repeat myself once. I feel that you and your son don’t tend to listen very well. I think we both know about all those messages I received at Iron Ridge. Don’t you agree, Russ?”
There’s fear in his eyes now, and as he coughs I can tell he’s starting to get the wind back in him.
“I...you...you don’t know who...you...just fucked with,” he says.
I kneel beside him, the shine in the weight obvious under the parking lot lights.
“Oh, I do Russ. I know exactly who I’m fucking with. Which brings me to someone you’re never to fuck with again. Karlee Davis. If you ever pull the shit like you did two weeks ago again, I’ll make sure this weight will meet your balls while they lay on the pavement. You like having balls, don’t you Russ?”
Russ nods emphatically. He’s wheezing now.
“Now I’m gonna be real nice and give you an easy sentence. You can still come here and order from Karlee. You can be polite. But you’re never to look at her body. Her body belongs to me now. Looking at it constitutes theft, Russ. Do you want to steal from me?”
Another nod, and then he throws up on the pavement. I take a step back to make sure it doesn’t come anywhere near my boots. It smells like Fireball. You’d think a man like him would have more taste.
“I’m glad we have an understanding, Russ. Say hi to your son for me. Tell him if he wants to have a talk about this, he knows where to find me.”
I turn and start to walk back to my car. I’m halfway when I notice Damian’s mustang peel in off the rural road. Karlee comes striding out, her curvy legs casting magic as she walks through the lot. It’s big enough and dark enough in this corner that she wouldn’t see us there. It is quiet enough in the humid Texas air for their voice to carry over to me.
“Get in,”he says. “We’re going to a little party.”
I can't catch anymore, but I hear enough to know that I’m following them to the party, even if I’m not invited. Something feels off about the situation. I wait until she’s in, then turn on my car to follow.
Tonight might be the night I get her out of my head, one way or another.
Chapter 5
Karlee
Damian seems out of his mind. Right at the end of my shift, my phone started vibrating like crazy. I looked to see Damian’s name in a flurry of texts.
COMING TO GET YOU NOW. BE READY.
It seemed so ominous. So unlike my brother. I hurry and get everything in order behind the bar. I ask the other bartender to cover the end of my shift. He nods in a sleepy agreement as I hang up my server bib and head out the door.
Damian comes peeling in the parking lot, his yellow mustang kicking up dust. He seems agitated.
“Get in,” he says. His hands dance on the dash. He won’t look me in the eye. It’s really strange behavior for Damian.
“What’s so important, Damian? Why did I have to —’
“We’re going to a party. I need you to be there. Someone asked for you to be there. Just get in. This is important for us.” He taps the seat next to him. He stares forward.
I get in the car. Damian doesn’t say much. He just guns it out to the road. I grip the side of the door. There’s a feeling of dread in my stomach. A pack of cigarettes sits on the dash. Damian hasn’t smoked since our parents died. Something is up.
“What’s going on, Dame?” I ask.
He snorts a bit, wipes his nose. He seems twitchy.
“You know things have been tough since Mom and Dad died,” he says. He sounds so sad. He’s right. Since the head-on collision that took them, Damian had been protective of me. Sometimes too protective. He tried his best, but he often cut corners, looking for quick ways to make cash. I think about his friends, and my mind drifts to Gage. I feel scared. I think of his hand clasping over Russ’. I think the warm feel of his body against me, his thick arms wrapping around my breasts.
I want them there again. Right now, feeling like a little girl again, I want more than that. I want to wrap all of him around me, feel him inside me, taking in everything about me.
The screech of tires brings me back to reality.
“Who are we going to see?” I ask.
“The sheriff and his friends,” he says. My heart stops.
“Damian, no. Let me out,’ I say. He doesn’t respond. “Damian, let me out!’ I scream.
Damian’s hand comes off the steering wheel and strikes me like a cobra. Stars enter my eyes. I feel dizzy. I’m in shock.
“Don’t get smart with me, Karlee. You’ve been holding me back ever since Mom and Dad died. You barely carry your own weight. I always try to make good on things, but you’re never grateful. Now I’ve made a deal with the sheriff. If I give them Gage, and Russ gets to spend some quality time with you, then they’ll let us in on their next acquisition.”
I grab my cheek. It tingles and burns.
“Acquisition? I know you’re up to no good Damian,” I say. I want to cry. “And what do you mean by quality time? Damian?”
He says nothing. The car turns off the main road. I think of opening the door, but the car is going too fast. There was nowhere to go, either. Damian would just catch up to me. I sink deeper
in my seat.
The car finally stops outside a dimly lit ranch house. A police car and line of motorcycles are parked along the front of the house. Sheriff Carlson and other friends. Looking at the designs on the bikes, it doesn’t seem friendly. What is going to happen to me?
“Stay here,” Damian says. “If you leave, you’ll get it twice as bad.”
I nod, say nothing. He disappears inside. I keep thinking horrible things. but I’m frozen in fear.
I’m settling deep into my dread when the door next to me opens. I try and let out a squeal, but my mouth is quickly covered by firm, solid hands. The figure picks me up out of the seat as if I was a feather, and then wraps me up in their front arms. I brace myself for the worst when I meet their eyes.
“Don’t make a sound,” he says.
It’s Gage. His look cuts daggers into me. He looks wounded and angry. I melt into him more. I move my head in understanding, and he removes his hand from my mouth to swing me up in his arms. I feel his hand underneath my shorts, and I can feel his fingers slide up my shorts as he carries me back to his car. I feel terrified, but I want those fingers to search deeper, to move so much closer to the fire that burns beneath my panties.
He puts me down in his pickup and gets in.
“We’re going to a place for a while. Just you and me.’ It’s got that typical Gage ring to it. There’s no debating this.
As he gets in his truck, his eyes trace every piece of me. They’re eating me alive. I see him bite his lip. The moment is quick, but I feel it’s primed something in both of us. Gage snaps back, turns on the truck, and blazes out from the homestead. As we turn a corner and drive into the night, I find myself moving closer to him. My legs touch his, and his hand moves to grasp my leg. His powerful hands are reassuring, as if he’s holding all of me. I can’t help but let out a slight moan.
“Don’t worry. I’ll keep you safe.’ he says. A trace of a smirk on his face appears. His hand once again moves up my shorts. This time his fingers find their mark. I turn into a fireball as his fingers move to undo my shorts. I feel like I’m standing too close to a bonfire, the heat making my clothes heavy. I don’t even pause as I help him remove my shorts, revealing the small wisp of underwear. He keeps his eyes on the road, but a low whistle escapes his lips.