Martinis & Moonlight (A Country Road Novel - Book 3)

by Andrea Johnston

  Standing on my porch with his left arm on the door frame and a smirk on his face is one Owen Butler. All six feet something of him in a form fitting T-shirt, loose-fitting jeans that I know are hugging his backside perfectly, with a sexy-as-sin smirk on his face. I’m pretty sure that sound you’re hearing is my ovaries exploding.

  “Hey, beau…holy fuck, woman. What are you wearing?” His eyes widen as he stands up straight and stalks toward me. In two steps he’s through the door, standing so close I can feel the heat radiate from his skin. My heart flutters and my hands twitch. He looks intense, focused, and thoroughly ready to fuck me silly.

  “Just pajamas.” My voice is a whisper.

  His hands grab my waist, pushing aside the robe to fully expose my lace-covered breasts to him. Suddenly shy, my chin drops and my toes curl as I place my hands on his forearms. Damn, construction does a body good. As I’m having this thought, his hands slowly fall to my ass and tug me toward him.

  “Well, I approve of these pajamas. You look hot as fuck.”

  “Shh, the girls are asleep. And, uh, thanks?”

  Owen moves his hand from where it rests on my butt up to my face, pulling my gaze to his.

  “I mean it. You look amazing.” His voice is low which almost makes him more sexy if that’s possible.

  I’m suddenly overwhelmed and my mouth dry. Owen must sense my nervousness because the intensity he showed a minute ago vanishes and, in its place, is a smile that reminds me of a kid in a candy store. Then, as quickly as the sweetness took over his expression, he smirks and reaches down to pick me up. My legs wrap around his waist instinctively, my arms resting on his shoulders, and without another word spoken, his lips are on mine, he’s quietly closing the door, and walks down the hall toward my room.

  I didn’t plan on going over to Minnie’s house the other night. I had a few beers with Landon, flirted with some girls, and when the leggy redhead with perky tits offered to drive me home—in more ways than one—I had no desire to accept her offer. I’ve never turned down a free ride, ever. Instead, I drove to Minnie’s house, parked in front of her house, and had an extensive conversation with myself. I unsuccessfully attempted to talk myself out of texting her.

  Then, she opened the door in that lingerie and I couldn’t get my hands on her fast enough. Her long blonde hair was flowing over her shoulders, her perfect tits full and straining to break free from their lace confines, and her long legs peeking out from the hem of the bright-blue satin slip. She tried to cover up with a robe, but all that did was draw my attention to the detail on her chest.

  I thought the first night we were together was hot, but something about this impromptu stop by her house and the fact that we had to be quiet made this time more intense. Or times. Something about Minnie keeps me hard like a teenage boy and I can go all night. Of course, she was with some buttoned-up dick that let her go so she probably hasn’t had a proper fucking in years.

  Regardless, it can’t happen anymore. That’s what I am telling myself. I also sent a thanks to her sister, Dakota, for being far away and taking Minnie away for a few days. I need the space from her. I know if she’s here I’ll be at her house again and she’ll be wrapped around my waist while I fuck her against the wall.

  On the kitchen counter.

  In the shower.

  Every fucking where.

  We have to stop this. It’s becoming too comfortable. As much as she says she’s not looking for forever, Minnesota Walker is a forever girl. And, I’m not the guy to give her that.

  Regardless, of the can’ts and shouldn’ts, none of this has stopped me from texting her. At first it was a simple “Drive safe” message. Then it was something stupid Landon said. Of course, she’s also peppered me with her own text messages. Something about roadside bathrooms and hookers. Which, of course, I managed to turn sexual in two seconds. I could imagine the way she attempted to, unsuccessfully, roll her eyes at me and that only encouraged me. She sent me a selfie at a gas station where there was an assortment of various nuts and told me she hoped that wasn’t a sign of where she was headed on this trip with her mom.

  Minnie sent me a text a few minutes ago to tell me that they made it safely and were checking into their hotel. I reply thanking her for telling me when something smacks me on the side of the head. Pissed off, I look up at Landon, who is sitting in the recliner across from me, the PlayStation 4 controller in his hand and a shit-eating grin on his face.

  “What the fuck, man?” Irritation and confusion are evident in my response.

  “Sorry, loverboy, but if we aren’t going out tonight, which is weird since it is Friday night, I’d at least like to get this game started.”

  “Why do you think it’s weird? We don’t have to go out every night. We aren’t twenty-one years old anymore.”

  “Why? Because there hasn’t been a Friday night since you were twenty-one that we haven’t gone out. That is, until you started up with whatever piece you’re banging now.”

  Rage consumes me. I may be hooking up with Minnie on occasion—okay, twice—but she deserves respect. All women deserve respect and Landon usually agrees with me on this. Minnesota Walker is different. She deserves much more than being referred to as a “bang” or anything else degrading. She is a good person and … fuck, she deserves better than the way I treated her the other night.

  “She’s not a piece. You’re usually much more respectful than that. She’s … a friend. No big deal,” I grit out. My patience is thin.

  “Ah man, you like her.”

  “Shut up, Landon. You know I don’t do feelings.”

  “Why is that again? Because you play the tough-guy player role well, man, but you aren’t that guy.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t see you running and wifeying it up.”

  “Doesn’t mean I’d turn it away if someone came along. Dude, we’re almost thirty. There’s more to life than drinking, partying, and fucking. Don’t you want someone to share your life with? The good and the bad times?”

  “It’s been my experience that people don’t stick around for the bad times. So, no, I don’t. Are we playing or what?”

  Landon pauses, his controller posed to start a game. “Man, don’t be such a little bitch. Not everything is shit and not everyone leaves. And, even if they do at least you have the time with them. Look, I’m not going to sit here like I know what I’m talking about but if you like her, don’t push her away.”

  The moment he pushes the button to start the game, my phone signals a text. I look from where my phone sits on the cushion next to me then to Landon and back. He’s watching me intently and flicks his gaze to the phone and then back to me. I know he’s challenging me. My hand itches to pick up the phone. I know it’s Minnie. Or, it’s one of the girls I see most Friday nights at Country Road. My luck it’s the latter.

  “Tell Minnie I said hi. I’m going to take a piss and grab a beer.” Landon tosses his controller on the recliner as he leaves the room.

  I pick up my phone and see two notifications.

  Minnie:

  I click on the image. A selfie of Minnie appears. She’s laying on a bed, her hair a blonde halo on her pillow, and her lips curled into a sad face. She looks exhausted and beautiful.

  Minnie: This is my sad face. Fifteen minutes after climbing in bed and my mom is snoring.

  I laugh to myself and tap out a response.

  Me: I bet her snores aren’t as cute as yours.

  Minnie: Shut your damn face! I do NOT snore.

  Minnie: Do I?

  Minnie: OMG! I’m so embarrassed.

  Me: Relax. I said they’re cute snores.

  Minnie: Whatever.

  Me: Are you already in bed? It’s early.

  Minnie: We’re exhausted. It was a long day. Plus, we have to meet Dakota at 9.

  Me: Ah. Well, get some rest.

  Minnie: Is it weird I text you? I don’t want this to be weird.

  Me: Nah. It’s cool. We’re friends, right?r />
  She doesn’t respond. I watch the three dots flutter on the screen and stop at least three times before Landon comes back in the room and sets a beer down in front of me. I don’t acknowledge or thank him. I simply stare at my phone, waiting. After what feels like minutes, I tap out a text.

  Me: Sweet dreams, Minnesota.

  Minnie: Night.

  I toss my phone and scoff. This is why I don’t date. Not that we’re dating. But, this is why I avoid hooking up with a woman more than once, especially in a short period of time. Emotions. Feelings.

  I’m no genius but I speak chick; I know I said the wrong thing. I’m not sure exactly what it was but it was wrong just the same. I toss my phone aside, reach for the beer, and finish it in only three long drinks. Landon doesn’t respond and simply starts the game.

  A few hours and many victories later, I crawl into bed a little drunk and a lot horny. I pick up my phone and scroll. I could text one of the randoms I have in my phone but what Landon said pops back in my head. I am almost thirty years old. I’m only getting older while the women I meet at the bar are more girls than women. Somehow, they all stay about twenty-four and full of energy, able to function on little or no sleep. I, on the other hand, am not as lucky.

  I look at the time and contemplate a text to Minnie but decide against it. Regardless of the hour and my decision not to call a hookup, I’m still horny as fuck. The tension in my neck is significant. The hardness of my dick more so.

  I click off the light and punch my pillow a few times before laying back down. Nope, didn’t help.

  I count sheep.

  Nope. Still hard as fuck.

  I tell myself I’m not going to jack off to the visual of Minnie in that picture she sent—her hair spread out on the pillow, her pouty lips puckered, and her nipples hard and ready to be sucked.

  Fucking lies.

  I slid my boxers down, gripping my dick. Goddamn.

  Closing my eyes, I allow my hand do what has come naturally, no pun intended, since I was like twelve years old.

  Gripping from the base, I slide my hand up my cock and back down quickly. A sheen of sweat covers my shirtless body. It’s not going to take long when the visual of Minnie in my shower, on her knees, gripping my cock as she licks the tip like a fucking lollipop flashes before me.

  Closing my eyes, I continue stroking; the vision of her looking up at me with her lips painted red and a sinister twinkle in her bright-blue eyes as her free hand scratches my balls with her nails.

  Fuck.

  If the reality is half as good as my imagination, I’d be a lucky man to have Minnesota Walker with my dick in her mouth. Her tongue swirling around my shaft, her hands on me, her moans vibrating as she sucks. All of it is too much. It’s like I’m there, with her, grabbing her head, fucking her mouth.

  It only takes a dozen strokes before I feel the tightness in my balls and I let out a groan. My stomach is sticky and my mind numb. I can’t see her again; this is too consuming. She’s too consuming.

  I stand from the bed and grab a towel from my hamper and wipe off my stomach. I’m standing in the dark and I’m reminded of Minnie, again, and her love of the silence and moonlight. Tossing the towel back in the hamper, I leave my room and go to the kitchen for a water. Since I’m here, I grab a few aspirin as a precautionary measure and toss them back with a large drink of water before heading back to my room. The darkness that blankets the room makes the flashing blue light on my phone obvious.

  It’s probably an email or a Facebook notification. Call me curious but I pick up the phone as I lay down.

  It’s a text message.

  Minnie: Sorry I was short earlier.

  Me: Shouldn’t you be asleep?

  Minnie: Yeah. I just felt bad.

  Me: Don’t. It’s no biggie.

  Minnie: K.

  Minnie: Night, Owen.

  Me: Night, Minnesota. Sweet dreams.

  A nagging feeling looms over me. I’m getting in too deep with a woman I barely know. Nothing good can come of this. A restless sleep awaits me.

  After a restless night of sleep, I’m happy to be hugging my sister. She looks fantastic and is visibly healthier and moving with more ease than I’ve seen since before the accident. My mom is greeted with hugs by some of the staff while I stand to the side and hold Dakota’s hand. Regardless of where we go or if my mom knows anyone, she always leaves her mark and this place is no different.

  Dakota takes me on a tour of the property while my mom visits with some of the women she’s met on prior trips. One of the things I’ve missed most during Dakota’s absence has been the comfortable silence we’ve always been able to have. Every so often, she points to something and tells a little story.

  She’s laughing. I’ve missed that sound.

  When we approach a small stream, she picks up a rock and sends it skipping across the water. Small ripples appear and I pick up my own rock to attempt the same result. I’m not nearly as successful as a “plop” sound is my result and my rock sinks like the remakes Hollywood is doing of eighties classics.

  I promise you, if they attempt a remake of Top Gun I’m going to have to write a letter to someone. It will be scathing. Mark my words!

  “Dang, what’s got you all wound up?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Uh, no. Something. Let’s sit over here, there’s a bench.”

  I follow Dakota and take a seat next to her. The view before us is beautiful. I imagine the canopy of large trees shields this spot from the blazing afternoon sun while the sounds of nature surround us.

  “Talk.”

  “Honestly?” She nods the affirmative. “I was just thinking how Hollywood has clearly run out of ideas if it is remaking eighties movies and I better get out my stationary because I’m going to have to write a letter if they attempt a remake of Top Gun.”

  Dakota begins laughing. This isn’t a chuckle or a giggle. No, this is full-out belly laughs with a snort for good measure.

  “I’m glad I could humor you. I’m serious.”

  “I know! I think that’s what is making it so humorous. Should Hollywood dare remake the cheesiest movie ever, I will fully support your campaign to put an end to their shenanigans.”

  I smack her arm in mock anger. “It is not the cheesiest movie ever. It’s romantic.”

  “Whatever. So, tell me what’s going on? I Skyped with Dad and the girls this morning. I can’t believe Cali has more teeth! What are you feeding her? Steak?” I hear Dakota’s effort to tease but her heart breaks at the milestones she’s missing.

  “Of course. Nothing but the best for the littlest Jennings. Nothing is different than when I talked to you yesterday morning. Mom and I drove, she fell asleep, and she snored. Loudly.”

  “That is not what I mean and you know it.”

  She nudges me and winks. I roll my eyes. It’s like we’re still teenagers and she’s trying to talk to me about boys I like. I’m not biting. Sure, I told her about Owen. Mostly, I told her he was a guy from work and was being friendly. Then she saw him on that one Skype session and she hasn’t let up.

  “What do you want me to tell you? I slept with Owen? It was amazing? I’ve never had orgasms like that? Well, there ya go. The nitty gritty. Owen Butler is amazing in bed, his body is like something straight out of Greek mythology, and I’m pretty sure he’s packing more in his pants than the average guy.”

  “You’re pretty sure?”

  “Well, I haven’t exactly been around the block too many times. I mean, I bought into the stereotype and lost my virginity to my prom date. Who, by the way, never called again.”

  “Yes, but you dated in college. And, you were with Kent for years.” Her attempt to try and make me feel better is noted but unnecessary.

  “Yeah well, I’ll tell you this. Each of those guys combined don’t hold a candle to one orgasm from Owen.”

  “And, dearest sister, how many have there been?”

  “I’d like to just plead the fifth on t
hat.”

  Dakota doesn’t push anymore. We sit in that comfortable silence again before standing and walking back to the main building. The next few hours are spent with us meeting with Dakota’s counselors and discussing her transition back to her life. Concerns were raised about too many changes in her life and the stress those may bring in her recovery. A primary concern was being far from her support system. But, eventually they realized she had support and in the end only Dakota knows what is going to work for her.

  Still exhausted from the drive and emotions of the day, Mom and I returned to the hotel and ordered room service. Something Dakota said to me when we were leaving keeps playing in my head on a continuous loop.

  “I know you like him. That’s a good thing. When you talk about him, you look … happy. Min, it’s okay to be happy. I’ve been there. I want that for you too. Love is an amazing thing and to share a life with someone that loves you is never something to be regretted.”

  If I took anything away from today, it was that my sister is right. I want to be loved. I want to be happy and make someone else happy. I’m not quite sure the orgasm giver is that person, but considering the only person I want to talk to right now is him, that must say something. Still, I’m not going to call him. And, I’m not going to text him. I made last night awkward and I won’t do that again.

  Twenty minutes after starting a movie, my mom is asleep. I’m enjoying the ensemble cast of the movie she chose when my phone chirps a message. I push the button, bringing up the home screen to see I have four messages. Funny, I don’t remember hearing it chirp multiple times.

  A quick glance confirms one is from Piper and the other three are from Owen. I open Piper’s text first.

  Piper: I know you’re out of town but I messaged you three book recs. I’ll talk to you when you get back! I hope you’re having a good trip.

  I’ve really lucked out finding friends in Lexington. It’s made my decision to stay so much easier. I also know that both Ashton and Piper will welcome Dakota into their lives without question. That’s just the type of people they are. Taking a deep breath, I tap on Owen’s contact and note three messages all sent within the same minute.