The Clint Adams Special

by J. R. Roberts

  Although some of the other customers inside the place were looking toward the bar again, they were most definitely not taking much notice of Clint. The woman standing in the doorway to the back room had full curves that could not be hidden by the loose-fitting clothing she wore. Her hips were wide and round. Her breasts swayed with every motion, and her long, dark hair flowed over her shoulders. She acknowledged all the hungry stares from the customers with a little smile and an upward nod to a few of them. When Clint stepped past her into the back room, she turned away from the others and shut the door behind her.

  “So?” she asked anxiously. “Was George full of hot air like always?”

  “Not quite.”

  Her features brightened into a wide smile. “So there was something in those caves?”

  “Just one cave, but . . . yes.”

  “Gold?”

  Clint let the question hang in the air for a few moments before he stepped up close to her and whispered, “Yeah. It’s gold.”

  She straightened up and pressed both hands against her mouth so she could muffle the scream that was bubbling just beneath her surface. Any moment, it seemed she would lose control and let the whole town know just how excited she was. Instead of hollering out loud, she reached out to grab Clint’s face in both hands and press her lips against his mouth.

  Clint was somewhat surprised by her sudden move, but recovered quickly enough. His hands soon came to rest on her hips, and he returned her attentions with ample enthusiasm. And almost as quickly as she’d started the kiss, she broke it off.

  “Was it Preston’s gold?” she asked.

  “The whole Preston story is just that, Drina. It’s a tall tale.”

  “There was a man named Preston who lived around here, Clint!”

  “I know. I even did some work for a Preston who lived in this county some time ago. Preston isn’t exactly an uncommon name.”

  Drina’s eyes sparkled with unbridled excitement. “There should have been markings. A brand or something . . .”

  “There were, but . . .”

  “There were? Did anyone recognize the markings?” Drina asked in a rush.

  As much as Clint wanted to say otherwise, he told her, “Yes. There were markings on the gold.”

  “And?”

  “And . . . George said he thought the coins we found came from Preston’s coffers.”

  Although Drina was happy to hear that, she restrained herself before asking, “Did anyone else tell you anything?”

  Clint sighed, knowing there was no way he could get out of this without stirring her up even more. Even if he tried to float a lie past her, it would only be a matter of time before George came along with a conflicting story. “Ramon verified that the coins were gold. He also said he recognized the markings.”

  “Markings from who?”

  “El General.”

  Drina jumped in excitement and then kissed him even harder than before. Within seconds, her hands had wandered down the front of his body to start eagerly tugging at his belt buckle.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, although her intentions were becoming clearer by the second.

  “Celebrating,” she said while pulling open his shirt.

  Grabbing on to her ample hips, Clint decided to indulge her. Perhaps stirring Drina up had some advantages, after all.

  FOUR

  Once they both gave in to the urges that raced through their bodies, Clint and Drina didn’t have to say a word. Their hands raced over each other, pulling at loose clothing and touching whatever bare flesh they could find. Soon, Clint had her skirts gathered up around her waist and was reaching between her legs to feel her damp pussy. When he started rubbing her, Drina leaned her head back and let out a soft moan.

  The room was part storeroom and part office. Since the desk looked too old to support her weight, Clint moved Drina toward a row of three barrels lined up against a wall. She shuffled backward until her heels bumped against a barrel. When Clint grabbed her backside, she hopped up and allowed him to set her on top of the sturdy wooden container.

  Her eyes were every bit as excited as when she’d been thinking about the prospect of a fortune in gold. When Clint pulled her blouse off and opened her legs wider, she became even more anxious. Drina had already loosened his jeans, so now all she had to do was pull them down past his hips to free his erection. She grabbed his stiff cock in both hands, stroking it until it was even more rigid.

  Feeling as if he was about to burst, Clint positioned himself between her legs and guided his penis into her. The barrel was just tall enough to put Drina at the perfect height, and he plunged his rod into her. Drina wrapped her legs around Clint’s waist and clasped her hands behind his neck. When he began thrusting in and out of her, she pumped her hips in time to his rhythm.

  Soon, the motion of their bodies got the barrel to rocking back and forth. They wouldn’t have noticed it if there were no noise involved. The loud thumping of the barrel against the floor, however, was difficult to ignore.

  Drina stopped and showed Clint a mischievous smirk. “Did you lock the door?” she asked.

  “Didn’t think I was supposed to.”

  She shifted upon the barrel so she could look over Clint’s shoulder. The movement was slight, but made it even tougher for him to remain still while inside her.

  “We should be quieter,” she said. “Not so much knocking against the floor.”

  “Here,” Clint said as he backed up a step and helped her down. Once she was on her feet, he turned her around so her back was to him and then hiked up her skirts again. Leaning close to her ear, he whispered, “Now you just have to try and keep your voice down.”

  Drina bent over the barrel and widened her stance so she could accommodate Clint’s stiff cock. When he entered her from behind, she tossed her hair back and let out a satisfied grunt before quieting herself down again. Clint grabbed her hips in both hands and held her tightly while he pumped in and out of her.

  Looking down, Clint was treated to the sight of her wide, rounded hips and generous buttocks. Every time he pounded into her, Drina’s entire body trembled. From where he stood, he could bury every inch of his shaft deep inside her. When he pulled her toward him every time he thrust forward, Drina grabbed the barrel and let out a deep, labored breath.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “Harder.”

  Clint was more than happy to oblige. He placed one hand upon the small of her back, feeling the contour of her body and the smooth texture of her flesh. With his other hand, he grabbed some of her hair and pulled her head back until her neck was taut. Even from his current angle, Clint could see the wide smile on Drina’s face.

  Every time he pumped into her, Clint gave her hair a little tug. He could feel her pussy becoming even wetter, which allowed him to slide in and out of her like a piston. When he let go of her hair, Drina turned around to look at him as if to beg him to take hold of it again. Instead, he slapped a hand on the side of her hip and pounded into her.

  Before long, they’d built up enough momentum to test her grip on the barrel one more time. Drina gripped it until her knuckles turned white. She then lowered her upper body until her chest was pressed against the top of the barrel. Her back formed an upward slope of taut muscles that shook every time Clint pounded against her. The more Drina fought the urge to make a noise, the more ragged her breathing became. Soon, every exhale sounded more like a growl and she tensed for her approaching orgasm. When it came, she arched her back and clawed at the barrel. Clint could feel her tightening around his rigid member and pushed into her as far as he could go. When he eased out of her, Drina let out a breath that must have emptied her lungs.

  She turned and brushed her hair back. “I’m not through celebrating just yet,” she said with a hungry smile.

  Clint could hear voices in the next room. In fact, he could hear Geo
rge’s voice babbling on in the same excited rush that had been coming out of him ever since they found the caves in the hills outside of town. Clint couldn’t make out any exact words, but he didn’t have to think very hard to figure out the gist of what George was going on about.

  Pushing him against a tall stack of crates, Drina stroked his cock in long, smooth motions. Then she lowered herself to her knees in front of him, opened her mouth, and wrapped her lips around his shaft. When she slid her mouth all the way down to the base of his erection, Clint was no longer concerned with what George was yammering about in the next room. He simply leaned back, ran his fingers through Drina’s thick hair, and savored every moment.

  She bobbed her head back and forth, sucking him like a stick of candy. Soon her tongue started working as well, sliding against his thick column of flesh. Clint pushed his hips forward out of instinct, and she was eager to devour him further. Drina eventually slid her mouth all the way down, taking him deep into her throat and holding him in place for a long couple of seconds.

  “Jesus,” Clint exhaled.

  The corners of her mouth curled into a smile, and her hands reached up to press against his stomach. As she sucked him faster, she scraped her nails against his skin, moaning softly as he grew even harder in her mouth. Enveloping just the tip of his cock with her lips, she swirled her tongue around him. When she picked up speed again, she seemed to be working for her own pleasure. Drina devoured him greedily and sucked him faster as if she couldn’t get enough.

  Clint grabbed the back of her head and clenched his eyes shut as he felt his climax swiftly approach. The heat started in his legs and rushed all the way through his entire body. He knew the end would be intense, and when it came, he let out the breath he’d been holding and emptied himself into her.

  She drank him down while slowly licking him.

  Clint didn’t realize his ears had been filled with the rush of his own blood through his veins until his pulse slowed down a bit. When all of his senses returned, he could once again hear the busy sounds of the saloon that was just on the other side of the nearby wall.

  Drina eased her head back, and looked up at Clint. “Now that,” she said as he helped her to her feet, “is what I call a celebration.”

  FIVE

  Drina stepped out of the back room first, which sent George into an excited frenzy of happy gestures and sputtered exclamations. When Clint emerged from the room a minute or so later, he wasn’t even noticed. He had enough time to buy a fresh beer, take a few sips, and then walk over to the spot at the bar where the other two were standing.

  “Clint!” George said. “There you are! I was just telling Adrianna here about how successful—”

  Stopping him with a firm hand on the shoulder, Clint leaned over to him and said, “Why don’t we have our discussion where the whole town can’t listen in?”

  “Too late for that,” Drina said.

  George, on the other hand, wasn’t about to be swayed from his joyful frame of mind. “Of course, of course,” he replied. To the bartender, he added, “And our drinks are on me.”

  The bartender nodded and lined up three glasses so he was ready when the next round was needed.

  Choosing the table at the back of the room in a corner that faced the front door, Clint put his back to a wall and sat down.

  Barely able to contain himself until his backside hit the chair, George asked, “So, Clint, did you have a chance to tell Adrianna about our good fortune?”

  “Please don’t call me that,” she said. “Only my father calls me Adrianna and it sends a cold shiver down my spine.”

  “We’ve been going out to those hills for the last few days,” Clint explained. “There’ve been caves in every damn nook and cranny, but we finally found one that had something in it other than bats.”

  “How did you find it?” Drina asked.

  “It was on Preston’s map!” George told her in an excited whisper.

  “According to what you were told by the man who sold it to you,” Clint warned.

  “Right, but the markings we found on an old sign outside the cave as well as the ones stamped on them coins,” George continued without losing his enthusiasm, “all match the markings on the map that Preston used as his brand.”

  “Again . . . that’s only according to the man who sold us the map.”

  Drina’s eyes bounced back and forth between the two men as they traded off. She was about to say something, but decided against it when George thumped his fist against the table.

  “What the hell is your problem, Clint?” George asked. “You think I’m stupid?”

  “No. I just think you’re mighty eager to believe something. Am I lying when I say we’re basically going on the word of that salesman?”

  “He wasn’t just some salesman.”

  “Fine,” Clint said. “Whatever you want to call him, he could have scribbled down any markings he wanted onto that map and told you it was the Preston brand.”

  “He didn’t make up the markings, damn it,” George snapped. “They were right there on the coins.”

  Although Clint wanted to point out that the salesman could have seen the coins and copied the marks onto the map, he knew that would only make the conversation loop around a few more times. As it was, he was already feeling dizzy. Fortunately, Drina stepped in to steer them onto a different path.

  “Why would anyone want to pass something off as belonging to this Preston fellow anyway?” she asked.

  George looked at her as if she’d just inquired as to why there was so much sand in the desert. “Don’t you know who the Prestons are?”

  “I’ve heard the name a few times since I got to town,” she replied. “But I’ve only been here less than a year. From what I’ve heard, the Prestons were just some rich family whose menfolk all held rank in the Army.”

  “Army men aren’t usually the kind who get rich,” Clint said.

  Happy to have the audience he’d been craving, George leaned forward with his elbows resting on the table and dropped his voice to a hushed, almost reverent, tone.

  SIX

  “The Preston men weren’t rich,” George said, “but they served their country. When some of them . . . brothers, I think . . . came home from the War Between the States, they took up as lawmen. Their brand of justice was rougher than most, and when the sheriff of their county was killed, they took over.”

  “Where was this?” Clint asked.

  “Just across the border in Texas,” George told him.

  “Anywhere near San Antonio?”

  After a bit of thought, George said, “I believe so! I must have told this part of the story to you a few times, I reckon.”

  Clint hadn’t heard this part of the story at all, but he simply said, “Go on.”

  “Well,” George continued, “those Prestons kept their town clean, and as more of the family came home to roost, they cleaned up a good portion of their county.”

  “Until one of them got greedy,” Drina said.

  Scratching his head, George muttered, “Did I already tell both of you this story?”

  “No,” she said. “I’m just making the leap between overzealous lawmen and someone who comes into the possession of a store of gold.”

  “It’s not far to leap,” Clint said. “I take it that greedy fellow was this El General?”

  George nodded. “Jebediah Preston. Once he came home, he decided the rest of his clan wasn’t performing to the best of their abilities. He took it upon himself to hire on some more gunhands, form something close to a small army, and put his kin in charge. Needless to say, Jebediah was at the top of the heap.”

  “Where does the gold come in?” Clint asked.

  Leaning back in his chair, George took a drink before saying, “They brought down a couple outlaw gangs riding through Texas that were probably on their way h
ere to Old Mex. Word has it, between that gang and some other outlaws they wiped off the face of the earth, the Prestons confiscated a pretty healthy sum.

  “Usually, whatever money they took was handed in to the town or the county or . . . whatever the hell someone does with money they find that way. But ol’ Jebediah didn’t see it that way. He figured his men should reap the spoils of war and them that live in his family’s care should live better than them who didn’t.”

  “And how did you come to know all this?” Clint asked.

  “Lots of folks know,” George replied with a shrug. “Some of them that moved on after living in that county spread the word. Some of it leaked out through other means.”

  “Could have been spread by the Prestons themselves,” Drina offered. “Might help scare away any more outlaws thinking to pass too close to the lands under their protection.”

  Glancing around and leaning forward, George obviously thought he was digging back into the juicier portion of his story. “It wasn’t long before them Prestons came into possession of a whole lot of gold. I heard a gang of train robbers ran afoul of them after hitting a locomotive owned by the U.S. Treasury itself. Of course, I also heard one of the Prestons did some exploring even farther south than here and came back with more gold than he could carry. Who knows which is true.”

  “Or if either of them are,” Drina scoffed.

  George continued unabated. “What matters is that they got some gold and Jebediah wasn’t about to let it go. After years of runnin’ his own county as he saw fit, I imagine he lost some of his faculties if you know what I mean.” To illustrate his point, George pointed to his temple and grimaced while waggling his finger as if he were tracing the path of a horsefly. “Once he lost his hold on his mind, Jebediah treated his family property like it was his own sovereign country. Minted his own coins and everything.”