Probably Me [Davis Hollow, Davis Ranch 3] (Siren Publishing Allure)

by JQ Jones

  He fucked her deeper than he had ever fucked a woman who didn’t do it for a living. He could read her wants and needs as clearly as if she were a page on the internet, and she was enjoying the way he made love.

  He bent over her, working his strong muscular ass as he tried to get more of his cock into her accepting pussy. He couldn’t stop touching her smooth skin, running his fingers from the crack of her ass to the top of her fuzzy head.

  He bit down on her shoulder, causing her to lunge away from the nip. That made him slip into her pussy slightly off center. He hit both her clit and her G-spot at the same time, going and coming. She came.

  Her muscles quivered their acceptance and drove him over the edge. His cock throbbed, enlarged and spewed into her. His yell echoed hers as he came with his new lover.

  Clint usually left his bedmates as soon as he came. Nora had clamped down on his dick and intertwined her fingers with his. She pulled him down so that he lay slightly askew from her with most of their bodies touching. She slowly came down from the incredible high of coming so powerfully. She wallowed in the sweaty heap that they created until she had relaxed enough to release him without discomfort.

  Clint crawled off the bed to the bathroom where he ran the hot water on a washcloth. He stared at himself in the king-size mirror, trying to figure out how he had lost control to the dark fairy so fast.

  When he came back into the room, Nora hadn’t moved. So he washed her gently, lifted her up, pulled back the covers and placed her in the middle of the bed. After another quick trip to the bathroom, he finally slipped back into bed and gathered her into his arms. Nora kissed his chest a few times and was asleep within minutes. Clint stared at the ceiling a long time before his need and his voracious dick made him give in to his growing insatiable lust. He positioned Nora on her side, nudged her legs open and gently slipped inside her already wet, slightly swollen pussy. She moaned and pushed back softly. He sighed at his overall sense of contentment before he went to sleep.

  Chapter Nine:

  You’re Not Mine

  Nora snuggled into the solid warmth curved around her back. Her eyes popped open to take in the predawn light of the hotel suite. She didn’t want to move too quickly. Clint was only partially inside her, but he felt really nice where he was. Plus, he was deep asleep and she wanted him to get as much rest as possible. She gently moved away to get more room so she could watch him for a while. For the first time, she noticed that he had tiny lines around his eyes, and that he slept with a tiny frown. Who frowns when they’re asleep unless they’re having a nightmare? Nora allowed herself to leisurely look at his face until an active bladder forced her to get up.

  Making her way out of the bed took longer than expected because for every inch she made away from Clint, he pulled her back two. Finally he grumbled and turned over the other way, and she was able to slide out of the bed and tiptoe into the bathroom wearing Clint’s shirt. After taking care of the ultimate morning ritual, she placed a call to the front desk from the phone on the bathroom wall.

  “Charles Edward, it must still be very early for you to still be here. You told me you were off at seven,” she said. Charles Edward, the rotund twenty-year-old black front desk clerk with a wide grin and lots of information on the local attractions, had joked with Nora that Clint was the kind of man that made a girl walk funny the next day. Clint had stepped closer to Nora as she and Charles laughed loud and long.

  “Miss Nora it’s not even five yet. Why are you still up?” he said. His wispy southern accent floated over the phone.

  “I only took a quick nap. I need two things from you. First, can you send us a big breakfast with coffee, tea, mimosas, scrambled eggs, bacon, lots of bacon, toast, southwestern hash browns, and fruit? Clint is a big old Oklahoma boy,” she said. Her voice pitched low to keep from waking Clint.

  “That’s done, I can’t get it to you until about 8:30. What else?” Charles said.

  “You are just golden. That’s fine. Second is how long does it take to get to the Jamaica Inn from here? We have a 1:30 lunch appointment.”

  “I’m twenty-four karat, Miss Nora. I’ll schedule a cab to pick you up at 12:45. You’ll have plenty of time. Anything else?”

  “Last thing is you are more than welcome to come up after your shift and share some mimosas with me,” Nora said.

  “Girl, I take all gratuities with an open hand. See you around eight. You want your breakfast a little earlier?”

  “Oh no, I still have things to do,” Nora said. She hung up on his laughter.

  * * * *

  She tried to crawl back into the bed without disturbing Clint, but he grabbed her before she was halfway in the bed. He growled in her ear. Nora gave him an open-mouthed kiss that allowed her to push two mints into his mouth.

  “Morning breath cure,” she said. He choked a little as he chewed them up.

  “How is it that you can spend that much time on the phone with a desk clerk you met last night? And from your end of the conversation you were very chummy.” He fit her close to his body with his chin pressing down onto her sparsely covered head.

  “I’m personable and I like to give people what they need. That’s usually attention and conversation. You need a little bit more so I give you what you need,” she said.

  “What is it that you think I need?”

  “Attention, conversation, somebody who will kick you in the ass when you get too full of your own shit, plus lots and lots of no-holds-barred sex.”

  Clint stopped kissing her neck to rise up on his elbow over her with a heavy scowl on his face. His eyes smoldered with menace, which would have been frightening, but she already knew that it was one of his defensive faces.

  “When exactly am I full of shit?” the low voice rumbled through her stomach.

  “Most all the time, but especially when you’re trying to save me from your super-strong masculine body. I think I’ll fuck you myself this morning. I’ll do it the way I want you and make you come until you can’t breathe, then make you come some more.”

  She rode him to two orgasms until he peeled her off of his chest, wrapping both arms tightly around her and forcing her to stop.

  “I really like fucking you,” she said.

  “Thank you, I like you fucking me, too,” he said.

  * * * *

  They dozed until Charles Edward brought up their breakfast. Clint and Nora noshed on different foods. Nora and Charles Edward talked about the local drag community. Charles performed in several different shows locally and wanted to branch out into the region. Nora pumped him for gossip about Mr. Maxwell’s area, which ran for most of the dock area and spread into a small working class neighborhood that surrounded it.

  “Oh, Miss Nora, honey, that’s Jamaicans, and Jamaicans are fierce homophobes so my house stays away from them, but you know that at least one or two or seven are way, way, way on the DL. Except for the creeping and the kicking sissy asses all the time, they have a great reputation in the community.”

  “I’ve always liked them. The homophobic aspects make me uncomfortable, but you can’t change peoples’ upbringing.” Nora poured more mimosas while she nibbled on fruit and a little bacon and waffles. Charles Edward took a long pull on his drink before gently placing it on a nearby table.

  “I don’t have time for men who are all over you at Peckers then when they see you in the neighborhood they don’t know you. I’ve been an out, proud, black man since I was fourteen,” Charles said. “Don’t plan on going to a closet over a piece of good dick. No offense,” he said with a nod to Clint.

  “None taken,” Clint said.

  “I hope I see you again sometime.”

  “Probably not, I’m out of the business but if I’m back this way I’ll call the hotel.”

  Clint watched her escort her guest out of the suite from the arm chair in the corner. He shook his head at their back-and-forth banter that sometimes left Clint in the dark. He liked the young clerk, but he really liked the way
Nora charmed people without trying.

  She sat at the small table, doing serious damage to the leftover food. She drank two more mimosas from the carafe.

  “To save time would you like to take a shower with me?” she asked. Her smile was inviting and radiant. Clint felt himself stir even though he shouldn’t have the energy, but anytime the dark fairy wanted him it seemed that his body responded. Their shower was intimate, sensual and over before it was consummated.

  Clint wore another tailor-made black suit, crisp white shirt and blue tie. He wondered what personality she would put on. Today she was flowing blue dress, flat sandals and dreamy eyes. She grabbed a bunch of grapes on the way out the door.

  As promised, a cab was outside waiting for them. Neither spoke until they pulled up to a small concrete structure with tiny windows, fake palms and, once the door opened, the inviting smell of Caribbean spices. Most of the patrons were from the neighborhood and spoke in deeply accented voices over not-quite-loud reggae music.

  They were escorted to a banquet room in the back. Vibrant greens and bold gold were highlighted on all the walls, with just a hint of black used as accents. Cushing Maxwell sat at the head of a large, long table in a handcrafted chair made from walnut that was stained and varnished to an incredible shine.

  Mr. Maxwell was a polished black man with a darkened ivory skin tone that reflected golden highlights and just a hint of red overtone. He did not rise from his chair as Nora and Clint entered the room. Nora walked over to where he sat, nodding with a smile at the tall, silent men who lined the walls. Most of the men returned her nods and a few smiled but they all went poker face quiet as Clint passed.

  Clint was used to being the tallest, broadest man in any given room but found that he was on the shorter side when compared to the collection of dreadlocked Rastas lining the room. Reggae music was softly and delicately filled the room. Nora was laughing at something Cushing Maxwell said when Clint finally finished his slow, steady walk to the table.

  “Who is this with you, girl?” the older man said in a smooth honey-sweet voice. The honey covered steel that anyone could hear.

  “This is Clint.” She stopped when Clint interrupted her.

  “I’m Clint Menendez Davis, I’m here for Miss Nora in whatever capacity she needs me.” He pitched his voice so that every man in the room heard him.

  “Oh, I see,” Mr. Maxwell said.

  Nora lifted an eyebrow at the declaration but smiled at Mr. Maxwell and took a seat to his right. Clint chose the seat on her left while the rest of the men filled up the other twelve places in a hierarchal order that Clint couldn’t see.

  A group of young waitresses in brightly colored, short, flowing dresses flowed into the room seemingly in time to the music. Their hair, bound in matching scarves, were a mixture of lengths and styles but each had some portion of hair showing. They carefully laid out a feast of jerk chicken and goat, rice, beans, plantains, and fish in banana leaves.

  Nora chatted with them all, even the ones she had to be introduced to. They were curious about Clint but only smiled and placed food within his reach. He was too busy making sure that none of the men, now glaring openly at him, thought for a minute that he was uncomfortable. He was but they didn’t need to know it.

  The staff cleaned off the table, laying out dessert and coffee while Mr. Maxwell chatted with Nora. One of the older men around the table with knee-length dreads did ask about her hair, staring at Clint in anticipation of him being the reason. They laughed with Nora when she explained catching her hair in a centrifuge and Spot cutting it off.

  Clint gave the conversation half an ear, concentrating more on making sure that none of the men at the table succeeded in pissing him off to the point of violence. His cousin Manuela claimed that men were pack animals. It didn’t matter if they had sex with a female, all that mattered was that since you don’t belong to their pack that means you shouldn’t have sex with their female. It became their goal to make sure that it didn’t happen. The dynamic was going on really strongly in this room. Clint drew closer to Nora to protect her from the coming violence, and Nora seemed totally oblivious. She and Mr. Maxwell laughed and sighed and put their heads together like teenagers at a church social. The cooing and simpering were annoying but the worst part was that Clint couldn’t hear what they were saying.

  Nora pulled out her prospectus and pointed out things to the old man but he spent more time rubbing her head and fingering her delicate ears. She just moved her head slightly and continued talking. Clint moved his chair closer to her, almost snarling when the men around the table pushed back theirs.

  “Okay, Mr. Maxwell, I think I’ve covered everything. Call me if you have questions. I’m on the way to Houston so for a few days I’ll be out of pocket, but after that then I’m back home.” Nora stood up, carefully folding her napkin onto the table.

  Mr. Maxwell stood up He was a small man, no more than five foot six, with a delicate frame but had power in his broad upper body. He came to her side of the table to engulf her in a huge bear hug.

  “Your ideas have merits, especially at home. I’ll talk to some of the hometown politicians and see what kind of funding I can scare up for you. As for myself, I have to have a meeting with my board for us to discuss what we plan on doing.” He stretched like a contented, well-fed lion.

  “In the meantime, you have to reconsider giving up on OMG altogether. Most of my men prefer it when they are doing communion. I don’t like to disappoint. I’m sure you wouldn’t want to do that either.”

  “I can’t reconsider, Mr. Maxwell. I plan on being hella busy in the next two years or so. I can’t participate in something I don’t believe in, I won’t do it. No amount of asking is going to change that,” she said. She had clutched Clint’s upper arms right before he surged out of his seat to confront one of the men who was sitting opposite him and had looked at Nora wrong.

  “I don’t plan on asking again and I know for certain neither will the people in Harrisburg or Houston,” Mr. Maxwell said.

  “Do what you must but I have a specific plan that I don’t plan on altering. My new venture is way, way more important to me.” She smiled broadly. Her small hand was exerting a lot of pressure on Clint’s back, edging him closer and closer to the door.

  Nora spoke to each one of the men, thanked the waitstaff, and in the same motion, herded Clint into a waiting taxi before he could act on his intentions.

  Chapter Ten:

  It’s Real to Me

  “Why are you mad now?” Nora said. After yet another quiet ride back from the restaurant to the hotel, Clint had spent his time in the corner, looking at the passing scenery without speaking at all to Nora. Nora thought Clint was moodier than an opera soprano. Nora had endured this with her usual all-is-serene attitude but as they got closer to the hotel the silence was becoming oppressive and affecting her mood.

  “You planned on seeing some of the worst gangsters in the morning in America, fuck in the Northern Hemisphere, all by yourself. What exactly were you thinking?” Clint had an edge to his voice, and it came out tight and clipped with the Oklahoma drawl much more pronounced. People who knew him well quietly left the room or at least left him alone when he pitched his voice in that way, but not the dark fairy.

  “I’ve known them all my life and they did business with my father. Before that, their fathers did business with my grandfather. My family supplied great marijuana grown specifically for connoisseurs since the turn of the last century,” Nora said.

  “One hundred years?”

  “Sure, marijuana is one of the oldest crops in the world. I keep telling you and everybody else, I plan on doing something legal with my knowledge to make sure that Spot has a normal life. I came up with the idea of starting hydroponic gardens for food for developing countries that is cheap and sustainable. I just need a little financial backing,” Nora said.

  Clint’s jaw tightened so much that Nora could see the muscles in his throat stand out. “Why not take Iona
and CJ’s money? Hell, take my money. You don’t have to deal with these people.”

  Nora laughed just enough to escalate his anger. “I have been dealing all of my life with these people. They were the ones who helped me and Spot the first two years after my dad died, without asking for anything. I owe them the chance to get as legitimate as I know they can be. Right now it’s a question of whether or not they want to be.”

  Settling back into his seat, Clint stared at the passing scenery in a silent huff, saying nothing as the cab pulled up to the hotel. They entered the hotel lobby without touching, without speaking, without the slightest acknowledgment that they were going to the same room.

  Once there, Clint threw his clothes into his leather overnight bag while Nora carefully folded up her few clothes and put them in neat little compartments sewn into her denim duffel bag. She finished quickly and sat on the bed, watching him as he stomped around the room collecting stuff that he had no need for like half-empty toothpaste tubes and paper hotel coasters.

  “I thought we were going to fly to Houston. But didn’t you send the plane back to Oklahoma with Miguel yesterday?” she said. She only wanted to break the silence. Their schedule was fluid, as she had planned.

  “Miguel flew in yesterday to pick up the plane. Manuela called me last night and wanted to go to Houston for a short vacation. She never asks for favors and this is the first time I can remember her going on an actual vacation. Iona and CJ took the other one to Europe, so we’re closer,” Clint said.

  Nora sat on the end of the bed, watching as he paced back and forth between the door and the window. He was very nervous and edgy for some odd reason. She couldn’t quite figure it out but then again Clint was a very hard man to figure out.