by A. J. Downey
A burst of noise out of the phone loud enough for Bailey to hold the phone away from her ear for a moment, she returned it and said, “Absolutely sir, I am one hundred percent on board with what you are saying and I don’t disagree in the slightest.”
A few more words on his end and Bailey turned to us and rolled her eyes, “Alright, now. Bye-bye.”
She hung her head and pinched the bridge of her nose, “That man is just like his horse, a royal pain in the ass,” she breathed and I shook my head.
“Does he not realize you have security in the client stables and that’s likely why Boaz was targeted?”
“What, you sayin’, the farm’s stables don’t?” Dragon asked.
Bailey shook her head, “I’d been trying to get father to put in security cameras on the rest of the farm for years; we’ve had the odd vandalized fence but nothing beyond that until now.”
“Shit, and your brother’s the one that did it. Don’t he know how the family thing is supposed to work?” Dragon growled the last and Bailey frowned.
“What do you mean?” she asked and Dray sighed.
“That you have to ask means that you never learned either,” he said unhappily.
“So give her a lesson,” I said and both of them looked at me. Dragon nodded and picked up his phone, a few taps and clicks and he put it to his ear.
“Yeah, Data, you busy?” He paused. “Good, come on out to Blue Hills. Bring your truck and all the fixin’s. We’re gonna see if we can get this trustee to give Bales a little trust to pay for it. If he won’t, then I got it.” A few more things said on the other end of the line that we couldn’t hear then, “Yeah, see you when you get here.”
“Get on the horn, girl. See what you can wring out of that rich bastard,” Dray said.
Bailey sighed and nodded, she looked exhausted and I shook my head, “I think a nap might be in order first.”
“No, Dray’s right… I should call Caleb.”
“Fine, but you ain’t slept since what?”
“Um, I think it’s something like 39 hours now,” she said with a sigh, looking at the clock on her phone.
“Right, make your call and go try to get some sleep while we handle things ‘round here,” Dragon ordered and Bailey opened her mouth to argue. That was rich. “Sweetheart,” Dragon interrupted before she could even say anything. “Is there anything ‘round here that Rush don’t know how to do?”
“No, I mean, not that I’ve seen since he’s been here…”
“Okay, then. You think the rest of your staff is shit?”
“What, no! My staff is fantastic, well at least the ones I have left.” She dropped back into her seat and covered her face with her hands, scrubbing at her eyes which were rimmed red she was so tired.
Dragon perked up and called out in Spanish to one of the passing hands. Jorge stopped and looked up, answering Dragon back with one of his typical smart ass responses. Dragon put up his hands laughing and identified himself as Bailey’s uncle by marriage and Jorge nodded. He was much more willing to answer Dragon’s questions then. Bailey watched rapt and I could tell she was struggling with the rapid-fire Spanish going back and forth.
She knew it, but struggled with it as it wasn’t her first or, I think even second, language. I was a little more up on it as I’d lived with it more back in AZ. Still, even I was having a little trouble following along. The gist of it was Dragon asking, who was Renaldo’s right hand man. Jorge said that it was another guy who’d taken off because his wife and kids had been threatened with deportation.
He and Dragon went back and forth and finally Dragon asked him point blank, with Renaldo gone, who would be a suitable replacement for him. Who was the most qualified? Jorge took his time thinking about it and Dragon gave him a look, raising an eyebrow waiting him out. Finally Jorge nodded and committed.
“The Gringo would be a good choice but he doesn’t know these horses like I do. I can do it.” Jorge nodded and made eye contact with my president. “I will do it.”
“Good man,” Dragon said and pulled a pad of paper out of one of his pockets. He wrote some things down and passed it over the porch railing to him. Bailey looked on mystified at the whole exchange.
Jorge looked over what was written and nodded, he held up the paper and made a great show of putting it someplace safe. He turned to Bailey and said, “You’re a good Jefe, Sra. Bailey. Your papi would be proud.” Bailey’s eyes visibly misted but she sniffed and didn’t let them spill over.
“Thank you, Jorge,” she said, voice thick with emotion.
Jorge nodded and walked back over to the main barn, he paused outside the door and pulled the piece of paper out of his pocket along with his phone and carefully saved the number. He looked up and called to one of the other men and went striding in the dude’s direction, handing him the paper and pointing over to where we were sitting rattling some things off at him. The dude listened intently and gave a nod.
“On that note,” I said, “I’m going to get out there and pitch in. You get some rest,” I told Bailey. She pressed her lips together and nodded, picking up her phone.
I walked away. I hated the arguments she had with this trustee fella, like enough I wanted to reach through the phone and choke the fucker. I had better, more productive things to do with my time around here.
“Hey, Jorge!” I called out, “What d’you want me to do?”
Chapter 12
Bailey
I woke up and it was night, by the sounds of the crickets outside. I sat up and stretched and looked over at the clock. It was just a little after ten P.M., I’d been out for a good long while. I got up and shrugged into my satin robe that I’d carelessly flung over a wingback chair that served more as a decorative accent than any kind of useful in the corner left by the door and armoire. I slipped out into the main living area and had a quick look around.
No one out here…
I tried the front porch next and found Rush sitting at the table, booted feet propped on a chair opposite him, an all-purpose carving knife in one hand and a piece of wood in the other. I watched him for a minute, absorbed in what he was doing as he shaped the chunk of stick in his hand with careful strokes. It wasn’t the best angle, pressed against the screen, so finally, I hit the latch and opened the door so that I could pass through. The screen door mechanism that closed it automatically made a good old fashioned ratcheting creak and he looked up from his work.
“Hey,” he said softly.
“Hi,” I ventured back. “Can I join you?”
He smiled up at me and said, “It’s your porch, baby.”
“Yes, well, that may be but if you were enjoying the peace and quiet, far be it from me to intrude. Sometimes it’s nice to have some solitude.”
“True, but sometimes you can have too much solitude, too.”
“Fair point,” I said and stepped out onto the porch. I went around to an unoccupied chair and pulled it out, turning it so I could make use of the chair he had his feet propped up on, too. For a full minute I must have stared at our feet taking up space on the same chair. Mine were bare except for the French pedicure on the toes and the backdrop of his well-worn and many times resoled motorcycle boots made me think that it was almost picture perfect. We made an odd pair, it was true, but not for the first time I wondered how and if it might work…
“What’cha thinkin’?” he asked quietly and I turned my head reluctant to pull my gaze from our mismatched feet until the last possible second.
“I was thinking we make an odd sort of pair,” I confessed.
“Surprised at how comfortable it is?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I smiled and nodded.
“Me too.”
“It’s nice, being around someone without any expectations.”
“Oh, I expect things,” he said with a devilish grin.
“Yeah, like what?”
“Sex every day for starters, sometimes more ‘n once a day.”
“Sounds like a real
hardship,” I mocked.
“Oh, it’ll be hard alright. It’s just about always hard when I’m around you.” I laughed and he grinned, “Seriously though,” he said, “I don’t know what it is about the last day with you, but it’s been real nice. Thank you for that.”
I blinked, surprised and asked, “Have you had dinner yet?” He shook his head. “Well I don’t know about you, but I’ve had a really shitty couple of days. I think this calls for ice cream.”
“For dinner?”
“Yep.”
“After ten o’clock at night?”
“Yep.”
“Well, alright then.”
I got up and he followed suit, and we went into the house. I went into the kitchen and brought down two rocks glasses and a couple of bowls while he got into the freezer.
“Your taste in ice cream sucks,” he stated and I looked at him like he was crazy.
He set the carton of pralines ‘n cream on the counter and I asked him, “Are you crazy?”
“Certifiable sometimes, sure, but what’s that got to do with anything?”
I laughed and was amazed at how easy it was around him. He dished up two bowls and I told him not to forget the caramel sauce. He looked at the jar of it in his hand and I just knew he was thinking all kinds of dirty thoughts about it. He finally set it aside and came over to me where I stood with the bottle of my favorite bourbon in my hand.
“Pour a measure of that for me, would you, baby?” I swallowed hard and wondered if I was ready for this. His voice held that same quality it had in the barn. He was asking without asking and it was oh my god, hot. I uncorked the bottle and poured a finger into each glass.
“Take a sip,” he demanded and I did as I was told, nipples stiffening into peaks, a very definite tingle of arousal between my thighs. “Don’t swallow, not yet. Just hold it in your mouth and come over here. Leave the bottle.”
I set the bottle on the counter, but he hadn’t said anything about the glass so I brought it with me. I moved slowly across the kitchen until I stood just in front of him. The bourbon a rich, warm flavor coating my tongue. The amber liquid in the bottom of my glass just two shades lighter than his eyes which were fixed on my face.
“Swallow,” he commanded and I did as I was told. He smiled, a slow, wicked curve of lips and said, “Good girl,” his voice low and husky with desire. It was contagious, the desire in his voice sliding through my veins along with the warmth from the Kentucky bourbon I’d just drunk. He bent slowly, waiting for me to push him away but I didn’t, his lips met mine, tongue barging its way into my mouth, taking control just like he did with his voice.
I kissed him back, setting the glass aside as his arms swept behind my back and he pulled my body into his. I clung to him, arms around his neck as he straightened, taking me with him, setting me on the cool granite of my kitchen island. He nudged my knees apart and stepped between them, his large rough hands slipping inside my robe and along the satin of my short tank nightgown. He groaned and pulled the robe away, sliding it down my shoulders. I followed along, moving where he posed me, letting him slide the robe away until it puddled around my hips, pinned beneath me where I sat. He never stopped kissing me while he did it and it was incredibly hot, stealing my breath away.
He broke the kiss, both of our chests heaving and stared me in the eyes as he eased the straps of my nightgown off my shoulders, letting the peach satin pool in my lap.
“Don’t you move,” he growled and I wouldn’t dare. He picked up the jar of caramel sauce and twisted off the lid. “Put your hands behind your back, flat on the counter. Lean on them, yes… just like that.”
I leaned back casually on my hands but didn’t break eye contact, wondering how messy this was going to get. He brought the wide mouthed jar to one breast and daintily dipped one nipple into it. I closed my eyes at the sensation, probably one of the most sensual I’d ever encountered, gasping as his mouth closed around it, sucking the caramel sauce away. The heat of his mouth combined with the sticky caramel and the velvet of his tongue in such a sensitive place left me arching into him for more. He chuckled against my breast and the vibration of it made me moan.
Oh my god, yes…
The kitchen was silent, save for the faint chirp of crickets from outside and the light smacking noises of Rush’s mouth against my skin and I think I died and went to heaven. He pulled back from his handiwork murmured something about symmetry, and dipped my other nipple just the same. He repeated his worship of my other breast and pulled gently on it with his teeth before returning his mouth to mine. It was a deep, languorous kiss, slower and full of more meaning than any we had ever shared before.
I went for his jeans, fingers finding his belt and deftly loosening it, the leather sighing with relief. I unbuttoned and unzipped his fly carefully, pulling it out and away from his body, the heat of his erection radiating through the cloth and scorching my palm when I gripped it loosely, stroking from root to tip. He moaned into my mouth, and I took a spare second to push his pants the rest of the way out of my way.
He pulled me to the very edge of the counter for better access, shoving my robe and nightgown up, giving a frustrated grunt when he encountered the lace of my panties.
“Rip them off,” I begged breathlessly and he wrapped his fist in the material and gave a hard jerk that lifted my ass up off the granite countertop. The panties partially gave way with a short angry ripping sound, but he had to jerk twice more for them to give the rest of the way. I arched my body and spread my thighs and he dropped the ruin of my underwear to the kitchen floor.
“Put me in, baby. I wanna watch you do it.”
Holy shit, that’s hot. I’d never had a man make any such kind of request, I’d never had any man like Rush period. I stroked him a few times and guided the head of his cock to my pussy, rubbing him up and down the outside of my pussy lips in my gathering wetness. He stared down between my legs, watching me do it, his golden brown gaze transfixed. As much as what he was seeing turned him on, what I was seeing turned me on.
I pressed him to the opening of my vagina with one hand and dug my nails into his ass with the other, pulling him in, my head tipping back and a deep satisfied moan escaping my lips as he slowly filled me. God he was perfect. Not so huge that it was painful when we got rough, but just right for it and I loved that he got rough with me. That he didn’t treat me like some dainty princess.
I wrapped my legs around him so he couldn’t draw back and out of me too far, and reached up, pulling his face to mine. We kissed and it was one of the longest, deepest kisses I’d ever been a part of.
Then, and only then did he begin to move. He did this slow grinding roll with his hips that’d like to drive me crazy and I went with it, the sensations indescribable. He was winding me up slowly to watch me go, stoking the fire so that when he poured more fuel on it I would erupt, and I couldn’t say I minded one bit. Just the opposite in fact.
“Lay back so I can fuck you right,” he demanded finally, just when I thought I was going to lose my mind because while what he was doing felt so good, it wasn’t near enough to get me off and he’d reached a holding pattern rather quickly.
I lay back slowly, carefully against the kitchen island and he bent over me, cradling my head so I wouldn’t smack it against the granite. When he was sure I wasn’t going to give myself a concussion, he straightened up and wrapped his arms around my thighs, dragging my ass practically off the edge of the counter. His hands firmly on my hips he grinned wicked and wild and said, “Oh god, I wanna watch those glorious tits of yours bounce.”
I braced myself, knowing what was coming and he didn’t disappoint. He slammed his body into mine to the absolute hilt and I arched, crying out with just how good that felt.
“More!” escaped my mouth and he obliged, setting a dirty, punishing pace that set me on fire from the inside in all the right ways.
“That’s! My! Girl!” he said, each word punctuated by a mean thrust that did unimaginable, be
autiful things to me.
He fucked me so hard that he would have to pause from time to time and drag me back to the edge of the counter. I closed my eyes, body arching lightly as he filled me and pushed me to the brink. I was riding that fine line where pleasure was pain and pain just added to the pleasure and he knew that he had me; that he played me like a country fiddle.
I opened my eyes to watch him drag the pad of his thumb across his tongue as if to thumb through paperwork. Instead, he thumbed through the curls at the top of my sex, grinning in triumph when he found that hard little kernel of flesh, teasing it gently, surprisingly lightly in counterpoint to the beautiful chaos he was inflicting with his cock.
He shoved into me savagely and stroked over my clit, sparks igniting and catching; the winds of our passions fanning the flames and before I knew what was happening, I was devastated by the ensuing wildfire. My spine bowed so hard just my ass and the crown of my head made contact with the grounding element of the granite stone countertop of my kitchen island. Thankfully, Rush’s arms filled the space behind my back, keeping me from breaking. He gathered me up, holding me tightly and gave one final thrust into my pussy while simultaneously pulling my body down onto him and I swear to god, it felt so good, I very nearly blacked out from it.
Chapter 13
Rush
I sat on the kitchen floor, back to the cabinets under the sink with Bailey straddling my lap. I’d come so fuckin’ hard when she did, but somehow, miraculously, I hadn’t lost my hard-on. She was on her knees, the position putting her a head above me but that didn’t matter. She was kissing me lazily, rising and falling gently, my cock slicking through her wet, wet, pussy and I was a man who’d died and gone to fucking heaven. I didn’t think I could come again so soon, but she was more than welcome to make me try.
She let out this sultry little moan and asked breathily, “You like that?”
“Shit yeah, I like that, baby. You can ride me like this all fuckin’ night.”
