by Kassanna
“Will I be standing over your dead body?”
“Darlin’, you won’t have the strength to stand,” he promised before turning and walking off before he did something colossally stupid, like toss her over his shoulder and run straight to the justice of the peace.
***
“There for the food, huh?”
“Yeah, but I’m going back for the woman.”
“Does she know this?”
“If Bourbon doesn’t know now, she will when her fine ass is standing next to me in front of a preacher.”
“From the almost-porn y’all made, Bourbon definitely wants to fuck you. However, she probably wants to stab you in equal measure.”
“Whatever it takes to get a Lexington on the end of her name.”
Chapter Six
“Well, damn,” Saratoga said, as she sat down hard and fanned herself. “How much do we charge for that, plus a slab of ribs and fixings?”
“I don’t know, but after I play this video back about fifty more times, I’ll come up with a figure,” Saucy said.
Saratoga shot a look at Bourbon who was sipping a glass of sweet tea. “You know he’s coming back for you, right? So if you don’t have ‘get your uterus banged into your throat’ on your to-do list, you might want to hightail it out of here. And by ‘here,’ I mean the whole of Appalachia.”
“It’s not like he knows where I live.”
Gio piped up. “Yeah, he does, because I texted the info to him.”
“Fuck.”
Saratoga smiled. “I do believe that is the key word.
***
This had been a long time coming. Bourbon could pretend that she didn’t want this, but she was from Kentucky, where they didn’t pretend about anything. Plus, she was a Berea, and they met challenges head-on.
She might drive like dudes, hunt like dudes, and according to the many chauvinists within music, play the cello like a dude, but beneath her rough exterior, she was all woman. Cumberland was the type of man who could handle both sides of her…and beg for more of each.
Fluffing her out-of-control curls, Bourbon slid some pink gloss on her lips and waited for Cumberland to arrive. If she was the tiniest bit wet thinking about what he’d do once he got there, it wasn’t her fault. It was all his.
Six feet five inches of pure Kentucky boy, he didn’t do anything halfway. Being pure Kentucky herself, she wouldn’t let him if he tried.
A sharp bang on the door was all the warning she got before Cumberland strolled into her apartment like he had the right.
“Newsflash—this place doesn’t belong to you,” she sassed.
“You’re right about the apartment not belonging to me, but the woman in it does.”
Well, damn.
“I’d ask if you were coming, but even if you aren’t right this moment, you will be when I get you to my house.”
Shit.
He didn’t give her a chance to respond. He simply tossed her over his shoulder and walked out.
Bourbon wasn’t impressed by much, but Cumberland definitely had her attention. As he placed her in his truck, she slid over to the driver’s side. Surprisingly, he allowed that.
“You’re not going to say anything?”
“Nah. I’ll let you drive since I’ll be driving the rest of the night.”
Placing the gear shift in reverse, she peeled out of the driveway.
***
Seeing Bourbon in that camouflage bustier blew his mind. However, seeing Bourbon wearing her camouflage cocktail dress, with matching gloves and heels had him riding the bare edge of his restraint.
Ashland was right. There was no way they were going to make it to dinner. Luckily, his best friend had arranged for food. All of his thoughts were on getting his cock into her.
“You hungry?” he asked when she put his truck into park.
“Nope, but you look ravenous.”
“I am,” Cumberland said as he disabled the locks via his smartphone. “Door’s unlocked, Bourbon. Run.”
“Why would I run, especially from you?”
“Because you want me to catch you.”
“Will you?” Bourbon asked.
Cumberland knew she was talking about something deeper than the physical act of preventing her from falling.
Leaning over, he pressed his lips to hers. “Every damn time, Bourbon.”
“Then there’s no reason for me to run, Cumberland. You’ve already caught me.”
Lifting her in his arms, he carried Bourbon over the threshold knowing that nothing would ever be the same…and glad for that.
“Bourbon,” Cumberland rasped. Going under her dress, he grabbed two handfuls of her ass and squeezed. “Fuck.”
She didn’t just stand there and take it. She arched into him even as she yanked his dress shirt from his jeans and slid her hands over his pecs.
“I’m trying to act civilized.”
“I’m trying to make you lose your control.” With those words, she pulled him down and kissed him.
Cumberland appreciated the fact that Bourbon’s need matched his. While he was all about women being equal, he wouldn’t cede control in the bedroom. He was a Lexington male, and that’s just something they didn’t do.
Taking both of her hands in one of his, he held them over her head. “I’m in charge.”
“Prove it.”
Inserting his thigh between her legs, he pushed aside her panties and slid two fingers into her heat. Her gasp went straight to his cock.
“Cumberland,” she begged him.
“Yes, baby?” he asked as he worked her close to orgasm.
“Please.”
“I will,” he promised, before stepping back.
Unzipping his jeans, he stroked his cock. If he’d been a different kind of man, there’d be candlelight and a bed covered in silks. But he wasn’t a different kind of man. He was a Lexington man and the woman of his dreams was standing before him, with her eyes full of need and her desire scenting the air. There was no way he could make it to a bed. There was no need when there was a wall behind Bourbon.
Stalking closer, Cumberland took her lips. In a demonstration of his superior strength, he lifted her and slammed her on his cock.
“Yes!!!!!!!!!”
She damn near burst his eardrums with the volume of her pleasure, but he’d worry about hearing loss later. Right now, all he wanted to do was brand her in every way possible.
Chapter Seven
“So what do you think about honeymooning in Australia?”
“Ever heard of a segue, Cumberland? Your fingers are communicating with my va-jay-jay right now, and then you trot Australia out of nowhere.”
“Let me remedy my conversational faux pas,” Cumberland said, as he pushed Bourbon onto her back. Sliding into her heat, he slowly stroked into her, drawing out a series of gasps and moans.
“As I was saying, how do you feel about honeymooning in Australia?”
Bourbon dug her short nails into his arms even as she arched into him. Damn. “Did I miss the part where you asked me to marry you?”
“You’re in my bed, with my cock balls-deep in your pussy with nothing separating us. There’s no question you’re marrying me.”
Bourbon moaned at the feel of him inside her. “Arrogant bastard.”
“I have every right to be. I’m a Lexington male with the finest woman in all of Kentucky in my arms.”
Unbidden, tears slid down her cheeks. There was no doubt that she was going to marry this man, but she was going to absolutely make him work for it.
“I’ll give you a trial run. If you don’t make me kill you, I’ll think about marrying you.”
Bourbon was sure Cumberland wasn’t going to go for that, so she wasn’t the least bit surprised when he laughed in her face.
“If by ‘trial run’ you mean having a ceremony that leads to your new last name being Lexington, you waiting in my bed every night, and one day becoming the mother of our progeny, then yes. We c
an do a trial run.”
“Why do you have to be so difficult?”
Cumberland stroked into her a few more times, before rolling onto his back. “Because you wouldn’t have me any other way. Now back to my original question. What do you think about honeymooning in Australia?”
“Out of all of the places to travel, how did you pull Australia out of your ass?”
“It’s a formal penal colony, and so I figured your sorors would feel right at home there.”
His deep laughter removed any sting that may have accompanied his words. Bourbon could not help but smile. However, his next words made her heart skip a beat.
“I know you’ve played all over Europe, but after hearing you play ‘My Old Kentucky Home,’ I’ve wanted to see you play the Sydney Opera House as well as Teatro Colón. Not just because they are in places with beautiful beaches, which would allow me to ogle you in a swimsuit, but because your music is a witness for all of Appalachia.”
If she’d been on the fence about marrying him, those words would’ve pushed her right on over.
“Thank you, Cumberland. Australia does have many beautiful wonders including Uluru, The Great Barrier Reef, and the opera house. But Australia also has Klaus and Heathcliff.”
She felt Cumberland tense. “Who the fuck are Klaus and Heathcliff?”
“They are the president and vice-president of the International Guild of Male Goat Herders.”
“This is going to be a story I need some grain alcohol to hear, isn’t it?”
“You’re the one who wants to marry me, so suck it up. And fuck me harder,” she demanded as she rolled her hips.
“So there was this goat herders’ convention, and I sort of crashed it. Shortly after, I discovered that I hate goats, which is not all that surprising considering that I also hate horses. My hating horses, however is ironic, being as my daddy raises horses. Who knew that goat herders weren’t exactly renowned for their sense of humor? Things ensued, so while I’m not banned from Australia, I did have to flee, under cover of darkness. I don’t think it’s a good idea to return to New South Wales.”
“Or we’re going to New South Wales, and we’re taking a bunch of my kin with us.”
“I don’t trust that gleam in your eye, Cumberland.”
“Because you know me well. Now scream my name, Bourbon,” he demanded and slammed into her.
***
“Hey, Saratoga. Put me on speaker!” Bourbon demanded.
“Done. Do you need us to air-drop a vat of Epsom salt?”
“Nah, Cumberland seems to have recovered well. But guess what?”
“Cumberland has a big dick?” Saucy inquired helpfully.
“Well, yeah. Anyway, get your passports ready. Road trip to Australia.”
Saratoga cut in. “Isn’t there a contingent of goat herders who actually have a bounty on your head there?”
“Yeah, but Cumberland’s in the living room on the phone to his people. There’s going to be a shit-ton of mountain people avenging me. Rho Beta Omicron Tau needs to be there. We can earn our ‘avenge a soror’ badge.”
Her announcement was met with a chorus of whoops.
“And oh yeah, I’m getting married.”
The WTF
Wasn’t this supposed to be a Mother’s Day story?
JandJ: It totally is.
Where exactly do you talk about mothers?
JandJ: Motherfuckers count, right? Happy Mother’s Day to all you moms out there. We could’ve gone traditional, but sometimes you just need a little bit of crazy to balance out the other crazy in your life.
The Jeanie and Jayha
Copyright and Trademark Acknowledgment Page
The following brands/products are copyrighted/trademarked and do not belong to us: Ducati, Dylan Robb, The Dukes of Hazzard, Harley-Davidson, Harley-Davidson, Inc., “Untitled” (How Does It Feel), and USS Defiant.
Pluck Brevard, Saratoga Brown, all of the characters in the Joyance family, Cumberland Lexington and all members of the Lexington family, Simone Pisgah, Sebastian Ryan, and Ashland Crider are copyrighted by Jeanie Johnson and Jayha Leigh.
Ellie McCoy is copyrighted by Shara Azod and Marteeka Karland and used with their permission.
Amanda-Lynn Smith is copyrighted by RaeLynn Blue and used with her permission.
Rachel Vaskin is copyrighted by Serenity King and used with her permission.
Giovannia “Gio” Fordham and the black Dutch draft horse named Magnus are copyrighted by Gynger Fyer and used with her permission.
Lula “Saucy” Delphine Bazanac-Saucier is copyrighted by Tiffany Monique and used with her permission.
Dick N’ Dirty
By
Kassanna
Chapter One
Indiana Mixon wiped away the excess ink and pressed the needle to her client’s skin. The intricate detail of swirls flowed across the customer’s skin in a bounty of black and pink lines. Blended through the design were the words survivor.
She lifted her head and glanced at the slim woman sitting in her chair. Downy soft-looking tufts of hair were close cropped to her head, her cheeks were hollow and her eyes were sunken. Long lines fanned out from her eyes, and weariness was evident in her stare. Deep indentations flanked her mouth. Indiana offered her a half smile and continued to work on the tattoo.
Faint music from the local radio station, combined with the buzz of the machine next to them, gave her the white noise background she needed to focus. Somewhere in the shop beyond the little room she occupied the phone rang, stopped, and rang again. She kept her head bent and spoke above the din of noise. “Almost done.”
“I have survived a double mastectomy and three rounds of chemotherapy. I think I can handle this.” The customer chuckled softly.
“I’ll be as gentle as I can.” Indiana lifted the needle and wiped at the design, studying the image. “Your design is going to be really nice when it’s done.”
The client simply smiled and let her eyes drift shut.
Marty, Indiana’s friend and partner, slid the door to the side and stuck his head over the threshold. “Hey, Dirty, Calista’s on the phone.”
“I’ll call her back.” Indiana pressed her finger on the trigger to continue working and turned her back to her buddy. From the initial conversation she’d had with her customer, she knew the woman was going back into the hospital again soon. She was determined to have the large upper-torso tattoo completed first.
“No. Sorry, but you need to get this.” Marty spun her around in the chair and thrust the phone into her free hand. Bright pink ink smeared the casing. She drew her brows together and peered up at her best friend. He held her gaze and pressed his lips together in a firm line.
Briefly, panic flared in her gut. She looked down at the handset in her palm before gazing up at customer. “Excuse me, LeAnn; I’ll be back in a sec.” She rose from her seat as she lifted the phone to her ear. “Listen, Cali…”
“Aunty Di, you gotta come now…It’s bad. Daddy’s high…Marva’s not moving. They got in a…fig…I’m locked in the bedroom with the Caiv—” Banging and her nephew’s wails drowned out some of her niece’s words. In the background, Indiana could hear her brother Kevin yelling. Damn it, Calista, open this motherfucking door. You poured my shit down the toilet and I’m going to beat your ass.
Cali’s whispered, her voice fading in and out as if she was moving. “Shhh, Caivin, I got you. Aunty, you have to come. Please…” There was a crash, then stomping, followed by Cali’s screams.
Dead air filled the line.
Indiana stared at the phone in her hand. Damn. She spun around and peered at LeAnn. A thread of guilt weaved through her psyche. “I am so sorry, LeAnn. A family emergency has come up. Marty…” she hollered as she trotted down the hall, peeling off her gloves.
“Need me to go with you?” He hovered in the doorway of the reception area.
“No, this is a family matter.” She stopped at the counter in front of the shop and ben
t to pull out the baseball bat she kept near the base of the stand. Wrapping her fingers around its neck, its hefty weight was reassuring.
She rose and snatched her keys off the hook by the cash register, then she hesitated and peered down the hall.
“Kevin won’t be your brother in this state. Right now he’s just another junkie.” Marty pressed his point. “You might not be able to calm him down this time.”
“I’m sure the police are on their way.” She kept moving. “Apologize again for me and reschedule for whatever date LeAnn wants to come back. Offer her a discount or something.”
“Take care of your business. I got you, babe.” Marty followed her through the front door. “Do I need to secure bail money?” he joked.
She stopped and faced her partner. His half-smile withered. “Call the police to be on the safe side, and collecting money isn’t a bad idea. After I beat some sense into my brother’s fucking head, I’ll probably need a good lawyer.”
“Don’t say that.” Marty let go of a heavy sigh. “He can’t help himself. Drug abuse is a disease.”
Indiana threw the bat into the passenger seat of her Jeep. “He made the choice to get high. No one put a gun to his head and said take a puff.” Anger bled into her voice. “I’m making the decision to kick his ass.” She ran around the front end, and jumped into the driver’s side.
Memories flooded her as she turned the key. Their parents were transients—always on the move for one reason or another. In high school she’d learned the term “functioning alcoholic,” and after several hours in the library researching the definition, she realized that label described her dad with scary accuracy.
Her mom skipped out on them somewhere between Boise and Davenport when Indiana was eleven. She woke up one morning and Sheila was gone. Her father George packed them up that morning, and they were on the road again. Never once did her father ever look back. The tasks of getting her and her brother enrolled in school and other mundane, parental responsibilities always seem to fall on her shoulders anyway. She learned how to shoplift at the age of five so Kevin had formula.
George wasn’t an angry drunk—he was actually mellow—but he spent all the money he made at whatever temp job he found on booze, gambling, and women. She lost count of how many times she had to listen to grunts and moans as her father had sex in the other bed in the room. After a while, it just became easier to bundle Kevin up and find a nook or a stairwell somewhere until morning. Then the process would begin again. Until the day she woke up and found her dad gone. Stuck in Little Rock, she was sixteen with an eleven-year-old to take care of and no means to actually do it.