by Xavier Neal
Arriving in front of her, I begin to move my hips along to the music filling the secluded area. With an uncertain expression on her face, she simply stays frozen in place until I guide her hands down the front of my chest.
She purrs, “God, I've wanted to touch you all night...”
The words stiffen my already stirring cock. “You weren't jealous, were you?”
“Only because I didn't get to stuff anything here.” She cups my crotch causing me to moan. “Oops...am I allowed to touch the dancer there?”
Rocking into her touch, I reply, “That's between the dancer and the client at this point. Any agreement made within these walls, stays here.”
Rory's fingers begin to massage and I plant my hands on the back of the couch on each side of her. “Have you let others do this?”
I shake my head and attempt to continue some sort of dancing.
Who the hell am I kiddin' at this point? The only humpin' I wanna do now isn't fuckin' dry.
Her touch drops. “Then show me.”
The loss causes me to frown in discontent.
Rory grabs the hat off my head. “Show me, what you do back here that makes it worth it for them.”
Seeing the challenge in her eyes, I helplessly smirk. Rather than move away and take the pole, I hike a leg onto the couch beside her and slowly roll my crotch towards her hungry parted lips. Letting my right hand free, I gently graze her cheek, her mouth, and the side of her neck while my body continues to sway. Before she has a chance to let the moan on the tip of her tongue seep out, I slide to my knees and drag my hands roughly down her thighs. She parts them on an orgasmic gasp.
I rock my body backwards until I'm propped on one hand and using the other to undo the button of my jeans. In a low grumble, I ask, “You wanna keep watchin', Sugar or you wanna take a ride?”
She doesn't hesitate to answer, “A ride.”
Swiftly, I shed my jeans and watch as Rory's body prepares to lower itself to mine. In a teasing fashion she tugs up the tight black dress presenting a wet and waxed surprise. The moment she straddles me, my dick darts for the freshly exposed territory, instantly coated in a heat so fierce I damn near come.
Not the type of first time I wanna add to this situation.
Brazenly she begins to bounce, her nails anchoring into my pecks for leverage.
Her pussy pulsates as a confession is made on a whisper, “Coming.”
I bite down harshly on my bottom lip to quit from joining her. Rory's pussy weeps its gratitude at the same time it greedily grabs at my imprisoned orgasm with every glide. Desperate and determined to give her another before I consider letting go, I sharply thrust to meet every movement she's delivering. My dick savagely devours the barrier free feeling, detailing to memory the tightness, the slickness, and the intensity.
Don't know how we're goin' back to rubbers after this.
“Again,” Rory whimpers, one hand now cupping her own tits. I watch her fingers tug at her nipples. “So close again....”
My cock stiffens with jealousy. Knowing I can't survive through another one without joining her, I shut my eyes, both hands still planted firmly on her hips, and tempt, “There's a camera in this room...” Her pussy clamps tighter. “Show them, Sugar. Show them how you come for me.”
Rory's final restraint rips apart and my name reverberates off the walls. “Hunter!”
A deep roar ripples through me as I erupt with such ferocity it shakes our entire bodies. Her pussy ravenously continues to rock until it's successfully consumed every last drop of come my cock could offer.
Somehow I manage to open my eyes to see the gorgeous, satisfied look in hers. With a smirk I drink in her flush face, swollen lips, and still heaving chest. The sight of seeing her freshly fulfilled by me runs straight to my dick that's still nestled deep inside.
Yeah. I can definitely go again.
Rory runs a finger down my chest. In a possessive tone she states, “My Cowboy.”
Hearing the declaration swells my chest. “Only yours, Sugar.”
She giggles before connecting our mouths softly together. I wrap one hand around her nape and lose myself in the unpredictable beauty that is Rory.
Decisions made. I'm not livin' without this woman even if that means havin' to give up part of me to do it. Bein' a stripper for a few more years won't be so bad. Who knows after that? Maybe French'll hire me on to do bodyguard work or somethin'. I'm sure once I'm tired of takin' my clothes off she'll find somewhere to put me. After all this is my family now and this is the woman who'll eventually keep my bloodline goin'. Rory and The Castle are my future. I jus' hope my family respects that.
Rory
Hunter places a plate containing a hunk of bread in front of me.
“This is dinner?”
“There's more to it than it looks,” he chuckles, putting the jar of salsa between us on the marble top island where we've settled. “It's sausage bread. Christmas Eve special in the Montgomery home. And that,” he points, “is homemade salsa. Not for the faint of heart. Pops likes his food spicy too.”
“Can't wait to meet him,” I genuinely coo. “And your mom and brother.”
As in I was nervous for almost eight hours in the car all day and they're not even home yet.
Hunter smiles. “They're traditional about certain things. Family is one. Christmas Eve is always spent with my uncles and cousins. Christmas mornin' Mama will spend the mornin' making brunch, me and Sam will do the dishes after, and then the afternoon and evening is a mix of anything from horseback ridin' to accidental naps by the fire. Kinda jus' depends on the mood.”
I tear off a piece of the warm bread. “Hope it's horseback riding. Can't wait to do that.”
Rather than start to eat, he leans on his arms, and softly smiles.
He's been dreamy eyed like this since the moment we crossed the threshold. I don't know if it's because he's got me in his childhood home or because he's simply glad to be here, but either way, I need it to stop. I have enough rolling around in my mind without trying to figure what's got him all dopey eyed.
“Tell me more about the family business. You mentioned a ranch, which we're clearly on.”
“My family owns the town.” Hunter tries to resettle himself in his seat. “Basically.”
I swallow the bite of warm bread that contains, cheese, sausage and a hint of salsa on a heavy moan. “Holy shit, that's good.”
“Told ya.”
Wiping my hands, I exclaim, “If that's a hint of what tomorrow is going to taste like this is probably the best decision I've ever made.”
His eyes sparkle as he lets out a warm laugh.
Well, second best. Deciding to date him is definitely the first. On the flip side of that coin would be being forgetful about my damn birth control pill and letting him come inside without a condom. Last weekend after the sexiest show I've ever seen in my life, we proceeded to have the best sex we've ever had, sans condom. The next morning, we both insisted we were clean, willing to show the other proof if necessary. The moment that talk was out of the way we went at it again bareback and have continued as such all week. There would be no real cause for concern except I was supposed to start my period on Monday and it's Friday.
I prepare to have another bite. “Explain what you mean by your family owns the town. This isn't the Wild Wild West anymore.”
He shakes his head. “You've been dyin' to make that joke for a while?”
I wink.
“We own everything. The farms and the ranches where the livestock is raised. The slaughterhouse. The packaging plant. The distribution company. We own the neighborhoods you saw when we first entered the town. It's where we house employees. They rent from the company and are allowed to live on the property as long as they work for us. Once they retire we give them an ample sum similar to what it would be to sell the house. We own the strip malls we passed, including the local grocery store. There are no schools in town, rather than have one built, my family donates heav
ily to the next one over to insure school buses make it this direction.”
My jaw drops unsure of how to respond.
That's a bit more than a rancher!
“Our house is on the opposite end. The buses don't route this direction, so Mama had to get up at 5 a.m. to take us to school in the city next to us. Not fun as kids wakin' up that goddamn early for school.”
“No one likes getting up for school,” I tease and he smiles in return. I shake my head still in disbelief, “It's like you’re the Monopoly guy. Here I was thinking you owned a ranch and instead you own a fraction of the damn state.”
Hunter's face tries not to fall. “I don't own anything, remember? I'm jus' a stripper who rents an expensive penthouse.”
Unsure of what forced the change I offer him a bright sweet, smile.
Why do I feel like he's afraid to become part of all of this? What does it mean if he does? What does it mean for us? I mean I'm not meant to be a small town billionaire rancher's wife. I'm not meant to cook or clean or whatever it is his mother does to pass the time until her husband gets home. I'm not meant for this lifestyle and he knows that. Right? Did he bring me here to show me what he's going to give up for me or did he bring me here to guilt me into setting him free? Geez I hope all this emotion babble is just because my period is coming.
The two of us make more small talk while we eat. He tells me tales about growing up in the house and all about the Bloodhound dogs who are sitting on the outside of the kitchen waiting to be called for dropped crumbs. When we're finished, he insists on washing the dishes before leading us through the enormous brick mansion, upstairs to his old bedroom. Inside the large room is a wooden, king sized, four-poster bed with matching bedside tables. The wall beside it is home to three large windows with their curtains drawn back while the wall across from it has built in book shelves and a long wooden dresser. To the right is another door, I'm assuming to a connecting bathroom.
“Were those book shelves actually filled with books when you lived here or dirty magazines?” I ask playfully.
Hunter locks the door behind us. “Ha-ha, Sugar. You haven't met Mama yet so you don't know how gettin' caught with somethin' like that would've kept our hides tanned for weeks.”
I flop onto the edge of the bed. “Prude type?”
“Respectful,” he corrects. “She was well aware of what her sons were up to, but didn't need it rubbed in her face kinda thing.”
“So she's not gonna mind us sharing a bed?”
He shakes his head. “But um...let's try to keep the moanin' below bullhorn level.”
“I'll try,” I giggle.
Hunter drops down beside me. “We should get some rest. I have somethin' I wanna show you in the mornin' before breakfast.”
Immediately intrigued I inquire, “What is it?”
“You'll see in the mornin', Sugar. It's special.”
I pout.
His thumb brushes my bottom lip in an attempt to make it disappear, which is when I snake my tongue out to tease it. The heavy groan in his throat leads me to believe I could probably seduce it out of him.
Sensing my intention, he shakes his head. “No-huh. I'm not tellin'.”
“Fine.” I hop up to change for bed.
Normally we'd sleep naked, but something tells me I should probably wear a little more just in case his mother walks in or tries to.
As I rummage through my suitcase, my fingers knock into the pregnancy test box. I instantly jerk away.
Yes, I brought one to take! The sooner I know I'm just being worrisome the better. And we're not telling him until we know something on a more concrete bases. You know, like how it's clear and we're about to not have sex for a week while I menstruate.
“You okay?” Hunter calls from over my shoulder.
“Fine.” I hum, reach for his perfectly wrapped present, and stroll over to him “Just decided, I should give you this before tomorrow.”
Brian wrapped it for me. When I said I'm not a Christmas type of person I meant it. I don't even own holiday wrapping paper let alone a tree. It's not a jolly season for me, but Hunter made me wanna give it a small shot. So far...the shitty, haunting memories have yet to make an appearance. I'm grateful.
He smirks. “Would it embarrass me?”
“Maybe....”
After a light laugh, he tears open the paper, and opens the box. The minute the green camo colored sign is in his hands, there's a bright burst of joy in his eyes. Proudly he nods, “Fort Hunter. Chicks NOW allowed.”
I snicker as I fold my arms across my chest. “Thought you could use a new sign. I have a feeling the old one was probably made out of cardboard or something.”
Hunter promptly crosses over to me, strong arms wrapping tightly around my waist.
“Sorry it's not something more extravagant, Christmas really....isn't....” The words clog my throat. “I don't....”
“It's perfect.” He tugs me in closer. His forehead lightly leans against mine. “You're perfect...”
Far from it. I just hope once he realizes it, he'll wanna stick around. I've never liked being attached to anyone before and hate the idea of the first person I am, ditching me because I forgot the one thing no woman ever should. God hope I'm not pregnant.
Rory
“Come on, Sugar,” Hunter whispers as he tugs me behind him down the stairs.
“This surprise couldn't have waited until the rooster croaks?”
“Crows,” his correction is met with a grunt.
Whatever. I've never been on a farm or ranch or anything this far away from the city before. When I was a kid and I moved in with grandfather and we lived right on the outskirts of the suburbs, the funeral home on the same property as our home. Before that I lived smack dab in the middle of suburbia. Walking distance to my elementary school. Can't remember much about the house or the school or the people who raised me in it before they died, but I do remember those facts. Mainly because I found pictures before my grandfather hid them.
Hunter grabs a pair of keys off the hook and leads me outside where the winter air apparently missed the memo about the season change. The unusually warm temperature has me thankful I'm wearing a thin pink shirt and yoga pants. We cross the property to where the vehicles are kept and he opens the passenger side of an old black Ford truck. After helping me in it, it takes a couples minutes before he joins me.
He starts the engine with a child-like grin. “This was my first truck.”
The irritation over being woken up too early begins to fade thanks to his cheerfulness.
You know it's his fault I get any sleep to begin with. He's spoiled my body rotten with all the orgasms and restful nights. Before him sleeping was only done out of pure necessity to keep from going insane. Wow. More things I've become attached too. More things I don't wanna cut the strings too.
He pulls off down the road and I sigh, “Figured owning an entire county would've gotten you a nicer first car.”
“Truck.”
The unnecessary correction is met with a glower.
“And there's nothin' wrong with Lucky here.” He gives the dash a good pat. “She's never failed on me.”
“Should I be jealous you're touching her and not me?”
Hunter chuckles and drops his hand into my lap after shifting gears. We take a right onto a dirt road, but he handles the change in terrain like a professional. “Granddaddy didn't like the idea of us jus' bein' handed things because we were wealthier than mos'. He insisted Pop always made us earn it. Insisted it built character.” The bumping causes me to grab the handle. “When Pop bought this truck it was two years old and needed heavy maintenance. Told me I couldn't drive it 'til we fixed it. Worked on ol' girl night and day 'til I knew her under the hood bout as well I know you under yours.”
The comparison gets a giggle.
Well said.
Before I know it, Hunter is stopping the truck and tossing it into park. “Got a brand new truck for high school graduation to get
me to college, but I traded it in for somethin' different when I got to the city.”
“When you were tryin' to be somethin' different.”
He gives me a short smile and a shrug.
But he's happy and at home here. I mean look at him. Really look at him. From the way he loaded up the truck to the listening at all the stories he's ever told about this place, this is his home. This is where he belongs the same way I belong staring out my bedroom window at the glittering traffic lights of downtown. I can't stand in the way of his happiness any more than I would let him stand in the way of mine. At the end of his life I don't want sticking around some place he didn't belong to be my fault. I don't wanna be his deathbed regret.