by Xavier Neal
“You heard her,” Dusty echoes, voice even, despite the rage rolling around his eyes. “The lady said not interested. Time to leave her alone.”
Damon tosses Dusty a cocky look. “Mind your business, asshole.”
Dusty’s eyes twitch with a glare and an animalistic sound slips through his gritted teeth. “She is my business. Now, I don’t make a habit of repeatin’ myself. This is your last chance to walk away before I knock your teeth in.”
An arrogant chuckle leaves Damon as he taunts, “Is that how the west was won?”
My green-eyed cowboy moves at the speed of light. Damon’s body goes from shaking in laughter to shaking from suffocation. His feet struggle to touch the ground from the lifted position he’s been hoisted into. There are choking noises. Violent slaps of his hands against Dusty’s stretched arm. Silent cries of mercy being presented in his vision.
“Holy shit,” Cordie whispers. “He’s gonna kill him.”
“Let him go,” I quietly command.
The request is met at an instant. Dusty’s hand unlocks and Damon plummets to the ground. His gasps for breath feel overdramatic, but I’ve never been choked within an inch of life, so I could be wrong.
Dustin’s chest continues to heave until his eyes land on mine. At that point, relief grabs a hold of him along with remorse. He starts to speak yet stops when I lift a single finger into the air.
My attention darts down to the still shaken up man. “What he did was polite. What I’m going to do will require the surgical removal of your testicles from your esophagus. Unless you would like to spend the rest of your vacation in the emergency room, I suggest you leave while you’re still able to breathe without the help of an oxygen tank.”
Damon nods, quickly scrambles onto his feet, and hastily rushes off.
“That. Was. Epic!” Cordie excitedly hollers. “This is now my favorite part of vacation….You know. Until Cooper takes his shirt off again.”
The waiter’s return prevents Dustin from speaking a second time. He passes out the shots along with our beers, though I immediately put both of mine down on the floor beside me. Dustin denies the offer to get him something from the bar and tips the man. However, the action pours gasoline on my already boiling temper.
“I don’t need a big, strong man to come in and save me or pay for my drinks. I’m a big girl, Dustin. I can handle myself.”
“You’re actually not very big. You’re kinda bite-size.”
His teasing is met with the narrowing of my eyes.
“I know you can take care of yourself, baby, but that doesn’t mean I don’t wanna take care of you, too.”
Audrey awes loudly behind me.
She’s not helping….
“Look, I was raised to treat women with more respect than he was. I was raised you catch wind of a situation like that you do the right thing and step in.” He folds his arms defensively across his chest. “But I warned you earlier, baby, about fightin’ for what’s mine. I meant that mentally and physically.” Dustin gives me a short shrug. “Guy’s lucky he didn’t end up at the bottom of the pool.”
Irritation and appreciation brawl inside my vocal chords for the right to be heard.
The guy was out of line. Not to mention, Dustin really was just doing what I imagine any boyfriend would do if he stumbled onto the situation. But he’s not my boyfriend, is he? Labeling him as such on our third day together seems preposterous, yet between the talks of our imaginary future and the casual plans to make us last longer than this vacation, I can’t think of a more appropriate name.
“You’re pissed at me.”
I swallow both emotions. “No.”
His eyebrows lower. “What’d we say about bein’ honest?”
“Okay, I’m not completely pissed at you.” Reaching for my shot cup, I add, “Just a little.”
“’Cause I protected you?”
“Because part of me believes you don’t think I can protect myself.” I rise to my feet, turn my back to him, and lift my cup in the air. “Raise your cups.” My friends follow the instructions. “To another day of fun in the sun and liquor to get us all drunk quicker.”
“Here! Here!” They agree in tandem before the three of us toss back our shots.
Afterward, I relocate my body to the patio chair my dress is occupying. Once I’m settled in it with my beer in my hand, I let my eyes meet Dustin who looks like a puppy with no clue as to why he’s being scolded. An unexpected pain spreads through my chest causing me to pat the space next to me.
He slinks into the chair beside me and our fingers instantly link together. His entire body is rigid, including the unapologetic gaze in his green glare.
The silent decision to stand by his choices is infuriating and intriguing. Most men rush to wear the blame so they don’t have to deal with a pissed off significant other. While I understand his stance in regards to protecting what he cares about, I need him to realize I can protect myself, too. It’s a skill I learned a long time ago. It’s one of the only skills my parents ground into me that I even maintain.
“I like that you wanna protect me,” I gradually begin, keeping my tone calm, “but you’re gonna have to get it in your head that I’m not that woman. I don’t need a protector or a provider. I’ve spent years handling myself. I am more than capable in continuing to do so.”
“True story,” Cordie calls out. “She once knocked a guy out cold in the middle of this bar for putting his hand on her ass.”
Dustin grunts a laugh. “You can pack a punch then.”
“Among other things,” I announce with a playfully arrogant smirk. “Just…know that I like you around because of the way you make me feel, not because I need you to do something for me.”
He slowly nods. “And jus’ know I don’t do things for you because I think you need ‘em. I do things for you because I feel you deserve ‘em.”
Our drifting lips are deterred by Audrey’s swooning. “Can we clone you? Give one of you to every single woman in America?”
“I’ll take mine in brown,” Cordie agrees.
We all laugh together while the band begins to take the stage.
Seeing the sight of the performers sparks me to ask, “Where’s your brother and Sam? Are they not coming?”
“Sam’s by the bar, hitting on a much older woman, and Cody went to the room to drop off the gifts.”
“Did you get something good for the girls?”
“Probably too much,” he bashfully confesses.
“You’ve got daughters?” Audrey quickly questions.
“Twin nieces.”
My brunette best friend smiles and lets her attention float back to the stage.
We’ve come to avoid the topic of children considering that was always a major issue in her marriage. Her ex swore he wanted them until a few years ago; when the truth came to light, he just didn’t want them with her.
I prepare to change the subject, but seeing his elation persuades me to ask, “What’d you buy?”
“Matching sea shell neckless. Stuffed dolphins, one hot pink, one bright blue. Mermaid crowns, again, one pink, one blue. And because they’ve got a never endin’ doll collection, I grabbed ‘em each a bikini wearing Barbie who has brown skin.”
The last gift strikes me by surprise.
“Want ‘em to have a more diverse toy box. Plus, as much as I have to play with the damn things, it wouldn’t hurt my feelin’s to see one that reminds me of the woman I’m crazy about.”
My swoon can be heard for miles.
“Told Cody where he could meet up with us if he wanted.” Dusty leans back. “He might join us or he might watch his best friend try to bag a cougar. Doesn’t matter to me either way.”
I have a sip of my beer and offer it to him.
He has a gulp at the same time Audrey begins to brag about the band we’re waiting on. A conversation about 18 Bent Forks begins between my boyfriend and best friends. I simply snuggle in closer, intently trying to document everythi
ng that’s discussed in case there’s a pop quiz later in the night. During the conversation, Dusty rearranges us, so his arm is wrapped around me and mine around his waist. Unlike the previous encounters, Cordie not only actively engages in the chatting, she makes joking jabs at him that he swiftly returns. Cody joins us right after 18 Bent Forks plays their first track
Everyone I’m with sings along while I merely bob my head to the rhythm. The band only gives us four more of their own songs before playing some popular numbers by other country artists. Dusty takes the initiative to announce the name of the song and artist when they don’t. They cover the classic side by playing tunes like John Denver, “Take Me Home, Country Road”, Johnny Cash “Tennessee Stud”, and Kenny Rogers “The Gambler”, but they also throw in fun additions like Lynryd Skynyrd’s “Sweet Home Alabama” and Big and Rich’s “Save A Horse”. Beers and excitement simultaneously flow for almost two hours. As the group announces they’ll be coming to a close soon, I’m not sure if the buzz in my system is from the alcohol or the amazing time I’m having.
“We’re gonna play one more cover before giving you our last song. This one…,” the lead singer sweetly trails off, “well, this is the one me and my wife danced to at our weddin’ a few weeks ago.” We erupt into congratulations cheers and he offers a small wave of gratitude. “We’ll play it and then the song I wrote for her when we first met.”
The notes that hit my ears are immediately familiar. My attention jumps to Dusty’s and I proclaim loudly, “I know this one!”
He tilts his head with a crooked smile. “Yeah?”
I nod enthusiastically and wait for a chance to demonstrate just how well. As soon as they reach the chorus to “It’s Your Love” by Tim McGraw, I belt out the words, crooning passionately along. My friends mimic my actions singing to one another while I serenade Dusty. His eyes never leave me. Instead of joining us, he silently soaks in the moment, leering in a fashion I’ve always secretly hoped someone would one day. Like I own their heart and they own mine.
We’re only two lines into the next verse when he questions, “Can we get the hell out of here?”
The strain in his voice sends a yearning throughout me. “Where do you wanna go?”
“Somewhere.” He tucks my hair behind my ear. “Anywhere, baby….”
His desperation increases mine.
I give him another nod, this one slow. Intense.
Dusty tosses his voice to the other side of the aisle where Cody is sitting. “You headin’ back to the room after this?”
Cody tries not to smirk. “Do I need to find my way to the bar for another couple of hours?”
He gives him a shy shrug.
His big brother nods his understanding. “Enjoy yourselves.”
The two of us stand and are immediately interrogated by my friends.
“Where are you going?” Cordie quickly asks.
Audrey swiftly whines, “Aren’t you going to the snack bar with us?”
“We’re going back to Dusty’s room,” I casually reply.
His hand grazes the curve of my ass as he whispers in my ear, “I love the way my name sounds off those lips, baby.”
My pussy cries it out, too, wetness coating the inside of my swim wear.
Cordie doesn’t object. She grins widely and lifts her almost empty beer cup. “Enjoy!”
Audrey’s concern remains. “What about dinner? Will we see you for dinner?”
I’m honestly praying I’ll be too exhausted to walk to dinner.
Cordie pats Audrey’s leg. “Let them go. I’m sure they’ll work up an appetite and have to come out into the world for food eventually.”
Dusty squeezes my ass firmly. “I’ll do my bes’ to return her by dessert.”
My head snaps in his direction with an intrigued expression.
Dear Lord, I hope the whole man of his word thing includes his sexual promises.
“Be safe,” Audrey insists right as the Tim McGraw cover ends.
“Promise,” I mouth.
Once I’ve tossed my dress over my shoulder and confirmed I have my phone along with my key card, I allow Dusty to lead us towards their room. Our walk is verbally silent, yet physically screeching. His hand cycles through clutching my hip and slipping down to grasp my ass. My hand mimics his and each time I give his butt a squeeze he groans like he’s in agony. We exchange overheated glances. Taunt one another with unnecessary lip licking. Allow our breathing to become so heavy it threatens to weigh us down. By the time we reach his door, our sexual tension is so palpable, his hand shakes during the process of swiping the keycard.
The moment we’re inside the room our mouths smash together. My hands clench his white t-shirt needing something to anchor onto as his tongue wildly whips at mine, demanding everything it’s capable of offering. One of his hands falls to my hip while the other tenderly slides through my wavy locks, knocking the dress off my shoulder. Our tongues rapidly roll in circles, desperate to rob one another of the ability to breathe in anything other than each other.
We’re both unaware of the distance we’ve covered until Dusty’s body bumps against the edge of his bed. He drops down onto it and immediately reaches out for me to join him.
I shake my head slowly, take a step back, and give him a sultry smirk.
A frustrated but excited groan rumbles in his throat.
My fingers slide inside the top of my halter top swimsuit to retrieve my phone and keycard, wanting to put them both somewhere else for safe keeping. With his eyes planted on me, I saunter to the dresser, exaggerating the strut. Hearing Dustin groan again places a wide grin on my face.
Not sure I’ve ever had a guy this hot and bothered by me while I’m still wearing clothes.
After the objects are safely stationed, I grab one of the condoms from the box beside the television, and saunter my way back to him. I place the very edge of the yellow package between my teeth and begin a seductive show of shedding my one piece black swimsuit. Every tiny movement I make receives a heated growl. However, as soon as the article lands at my feet, he groans with such intensity, the floor seems to shake.
“You will never be naked for another man again.” The possessiveness causes my soaking wet pussy to anxiously pulse. His gaze becomes greedy during the drinking in of my body and the thickness in his tone reiterates his hunger. “Never.” Dustin drags his eyes back to mine. “Have I made myself clear, baby?”
Rather than immediately agree to his commands, I remove the package from my bite, and counter, “Then I expect the same courtesy.”
He shoots me a sweet smile. “Thought that went without sayin’.”
His words rekindle the need to be on top of him. I gradually glide my hands down to the hem of his shirt. In one swift motion, he removes the item and throws it to the floor, allowing me a well-deserved moment to caress the artwork he calls his chest. The definition and hardness have me cursing myself for not going to the gym more. Not keeping everything just a bit firmer.
As if my insecurities are shrieking in surround sound, he tips my chin up and states, “Your body is beautiful, baby. Never think twice ‘bout that.”
A blush colors my cheeks, and I gently push him back to tug off his shorts. Dusty keeps his hand firmly grounded to the sheets. There’s no pressure for me to move faster. No insistence on tasting him before we get started. He simply lies as still as he possibly can while my attention laps up the incredible sight he calls his cock. It’s longer than any I’ve seen recently and much, much thicker. My pussy pulses again; though I’m not certain if it’s in furor or fear. Pre cum glistens through his slit and my tongue can’t resist stealing the offered sample.
Our moans are mutual yet he reprimands through gritted teeth, “Don’t do it again, baby, unless you’re prepared for me to spend hours doin’ the same.”
Hours? Did he say hours? All the men I’ve been with barely make it ten minutes before they’re whining like a child ‘are you there yet’?
I heed his
warning, cover his cock, and prepare to crawl on top. Dusty, however, has other plans. He instantly shifts back up and takes full advantage of my straddled position. His arm hooks around my waist while his dick savagely pierces through the dripping depths of my pussy. An airy scream is all I can surrender. My fingers fly to his shoulder, nails anchoring into his flesh for dear life. Dustin thrusts again and again, each one tearing apart the underworked muscles, and tailoring them back together to accommodate only him. Only his size. Only his speed. Only his essence.
Another attempt to cry out his name is foiled when the thumb of his free hand ruthlessly begins rubbing my clit to the same speed as his diving dick. The confident nature in which he claims my body has it coming with celerity.
Never have I met anyone who didn’t feel the need to ask for directions to my orgasm. Never have I had a man who not only touches me like I belong to him, but like I was made for him.
Shudders shoot through me and my pussy clenches in sync with them.
Dusty’s growling grows deeper. “That’s right, Carly. This pussy comes only for me now.”
The instinct to argue pops onto my tongue, but the lack of reprieve he’s delivering keeps my voice busy moaning my obvious satisfaction.
“By my hands,” he sharply thrusts, “my mouth,” another harsh blow, “or my cock, baby.”
I can’t stop my head from lulling backwards or my pussy from promising with another strong, wet squeeze.
Dusty’s thumb disappears from my clit just as his teeth toy with my nipple. The unexpected shift in sensations has me whimpering and withering right on the edge of another orgasm.
What is wrong with me? My body’s never been this…responsive. This sensitive.
His tongue languorously whirls around the hardened nub. His other movements fade to less frantic, yet not less fierce. For what feels like hours, he roughly drives into me, every push reprograming my entire system to only rely on him for pleasure. I ceaselessly cycle through climaxes, unsure at times when one has truly ended and another has begun. The moment Dusty’s hips falter and his forehead falls to my chest, I know the sweet reward of his release is near. I wind my arms around his neck. Press him into me. Allow for him to bury his shallow breaths between my boobs. His sturdy frame shakes on a harsh hiss and my pussy swells in anticipation of being filled. While I can feel the kicks, the barrier between us absorbs most of the shocks.