by Xavier Neal
Rick places down another keg behind the booth. “Hey boss man. Checkin’ in?”
“Yeah.” I scan the area at the same time I ask, “Where’s Blake?”
He twists his lips to the side.
“It’s fine. Really. You can tell me.”
The hesitation continues.
“I’m not going to let Blake fire you.”
Rick’s eyebrows lift.
“Even if my dickhead brother swore up and down he would fire you even after I said you wouldn’t be, he won’t. Truth is he can’t. He doesn’t possess the power.”
We may run the business basically together, but in all actuality the rights, the taxes, the loan we took are all in my name. If shit ever goes up in flames, which it almost has in the past, it all engulfs me. He won’t get so much as a burn. Having this brewery and selling my beer was my dream. I think Blake’s still not entirely sure what his is.
“Oh,” Rick sighs. “He followed a white halter top that way.”
“Why am I not surprised?” I mumble under my breath, getting a small bump from Ollie.
When I look down at her she says, “Relax, Farm Boy. It’s a holiday. He probably just wants to assure he sees some extra fireworks tonight.”
Wouldn’t mind seeing a few extra myself…I swear when she comes Heaven lights up. It is the most beautiful, most invigorating thing I’ve ever fucking seen. I almost come instantly. Every. Time. Which is a major problem considering I’ve managed to become addicted to feasting on her pussy. That shit tastes sweeter than a watermelon on a 102 degree day.
“He needs to be here, so I can be out there with you. That was the agreement.”
It’s the whole reason I spent every night this week working late, missing time with my girl and my hog, prepping everything so all he had to do was sit around and smile charmingly.
“Excuse me,” a man with a slim, muscular build calls out.
Ollie allows herself to get distracted by Dani’s excitement over the stuffed creature at the same time I answer the stranger who has a sample cup in his hand. “Yes?”
“Is this your tent?”
“Yes.”
“Are you the owner of the company or a representative?”
“The owner.”
He allows for a smile to come across his face as he extends his free hand my direction. “I’m J.T. Reese. I work for Wilcox Whiskey.”
I shake at the same time I greet, “Ford Shaw. Pleasure to meet you.” Our hands fall their separate ways and I add, “Love your products. It’s basically the only alcohol my girlfriend likes to drink.”
“She’s got exquisite taste.”
“I do,” Ollie pops into the conversation. “Another reason Runt’s Beer is the only beer I will drink.”
Her sly yet not so sly way of advocating me brings a genuine grin to my face.
J.T. chuckles at the comment. “I don’t blame you. This is great beer. I was just curious. Do you sell this in stores?”
Reluctantly, I shake my head. “At this time, no. We only sell to bars and restaurants. While we would love to sell wholesale, we aren’t equipped do it.”
He hums. “But if you were, you would?”
“Absolutely.”
“And you mentioned bars and restaurants. Here in Highland?”
“Outskirts,” the answer feels somewhat shameful to say when speaking to someone from a global brand. “Small nearby town.”
This hum feels more judgmental than the last.
“But we are trying,” I emphasize promptly. “We have reached out to several of the local bars and restaurants in the downtown Highland area. Unfortunately, they just don’t have room to take a risk on a smaller brand.”
“You have to be willing to take a big risk sometimes to reap the benefits of a large reward,” his counter causes me to lift my eyebrows in surprise. “Would you be willing to meet with me in a more formal setting? Perhaps sit down and talk about Wilcox backing your company? We would want it to continue to be your brand. Your name. Your logo. which by the way the one with the boots is better than the bland basic name one. Makes more of a statement.”
Ollie squeaks a small sound of victory from beside me.
“We would look into financially investing in your expansion into stores as well as bars and restaurants. We would seek a small cut of the profits. Mr. Wilcox has a fondness for building up local businesses with individuals driven by passion of their product and not dollars they’re trying to stuff into their pockets.”
Swept away into complete awe, I barely push out, “I love my product.”
“Yeah,” he nods, “I can tell. You learn to read people quickly in this business.” J.T. pulls out a business card and offers it to me. “On the back is the direct line to my work cell. It’ll bypass all the bullshit protocols set in place to slow down unwanted solicitation. When you have time this week, give me a call and we’ll set something up to look at your numbers, your ideas, and where you see your company going over the next five to ten years. Hopefully, we will work out something we both profit from.”
Holding my composure becomes even more difficult as he hands me the card. “That sounds…fantastic.”
J.T. nods and points, “Gonna pay for a beer and go check out that coconut shrimp food truck. Have you tried it yet?”
Ollie gags. “Don’t. They put something strange in that mix and no matter what they say, I swear it isn’t coconut.”
He laughs and I shake my head. “Just grab a beer. On the house.”
His compulsion to argue is obvious.
“Seriously. Enjoy it on me.”
J.T. nods his gratitude before scooting around the crowd for the other side.
With sheer disbelief plastered on my face, I peer down at my equally giddy girlfriend. “Did that…Did that really just happen?”
Ollie nods profusely. “Hell yeah it did! Holy shit, Ford!”
I try to downplay the situation, “It’s just a meeting…It’s probably not that big of a deal. He’s probably going to all the booths and-” She punches me in the arm with more force than ever before. “Ou!”
“Knock it off,” she commands sassily. “This is an amazing thing to happen to you, Ford. Act like it. Give yourself the same, ‘you’re incredible and the world knows it’ speech you would give to me.”
Her comeback causes me to smile again. “There’s not that much twang in my voice.”
“Oh you should hear yourself when you get really excited, Farm Boy. You sound like something out of one of your favorite westerns. It’s almost like an overacted Clint Eastwood is suddenly in my apartment.”
She snickers and I quickly wrap my arms around her, embracing her from behind. After dropping a couple kisses on her neck and cheek, I sigh, “What am I gonna do with you, Ollie Steele?”
The instinct to call her Ollie Shaw catches me by surprise.
All that time I spent with Carol Ann and not once did I want her to carry my last name or my child, yet a couple months with this one and I have to remind myself dropping down to one knee would be crazier than how we met.
Her touch on top of my arms soothes the anxiety of my runaway thoughts. “Feed me something greasy and take me to a good spot to watch the fireworks.”
Tugging her closer to me, I agree, “I can definitely do that. Can you wait a few more minutes, so I can chew out Blake?”
“Chew me out for what?” My brother innocently asks from over my shoulder. When a displeased look begins to shift onto my face he tries to turn the tables, “And what are you doing over here anyway? You’re supposed to be out there enjoying the festival!”
I prepare to snap, but Ollie stops me. “Yeah, Ford. Yell at Blake later and feed your hungry girlfriend now.”
“Yell at me for what?”
My eyes twitch him a glare, but I offer her a sweet smirk. “I love that idea.”
“But no coconut shrimp. I’m telling you. It’s not coconut, and I’m not certain it’s even really shrimp…”
We laugh, slip our fingers together, and head back into the lively crowd.
The remainder of the evening is spent stuffing our faces with various types of food and enjoying the fireworks they set off the moment the sky is dark enough to properly enjoy them. Afterwards we make our way back to her apartment, grateful we both live close enough to avoid the traffic nightmare we would be stuck in otherwise.
Once we’re there, I immediately busy myself with getting Princess Pinky fed while she ditches the sneakers I insisted she wear.
She hates shoes she can’t just slip her feet out of at the drop of a hat. It’s cute. As is her hatred of heels and virginity in the cowboy boots department. I plan to change that however. Someday.
The two of us meet in the living room on our way back to one another. We both lightly laugh at the gravitational pull we seem to have.
I love we’re never too far apart for too long. I love how my mind naturally sends me her direction and vice versa. There’s an inexplicable comfort to it.
Casually, I ask, “Should I go ahead and get going?”
Ollie’s hands land on the edge of my polo where they give it a small tug. “You could stay…”
Her eyes fill with an unfamiliar gleam. I swallow the instinct to jump the gun and assume I know what she’s referring too. “For a couple hours?”
She pulls herself closer to me. “Or…longer.”
A groan seeps free and my arms wrap around her. “Meaning?”
I watch her lips press together as if unsure she should express what she really wants.
But I need her too. I need to hear her say she wants the next step. I don’t wanna ruin a great thing. Hell, a fucking amazing thing…
With my eyes piercing hers, I state, “Ollie, if you want me, you’re going to have to say it.”
The nervous look she tends to get when we talk about sex appears.
It’s not like she’s afraid of discussing it or too prudish. I think having some bad past experiences with assholes has just left much of her self-confidence in ruins. Thankfully, I’m a patient man and don’t mind gently nudging her to be more comfortable with what’s happening between us.
“I promise I’ll only bite if you ask…”
She graces me with a smirk. “Do I really have to ask?”
“Do you really wanna be bitten?”
“A little…”
My dick darts upward prepared to have a vote on the topic in question.
Ollie crushes her hardened nipples against my chest as she closes the gap between us. “Stay the night with me, Ford. All night.”
The declaration grabs another groan yet I give her face a gentle stroke with my thumb. “You sure, baby? I’m in no rush if you’re not ready…”
I’m not in a rush. But I’m not exactly a fucking saint either.
Ollie slightly moves her face to suck the tip of my thumb into her mouth. She whirls her tongue fiercely around before dragging it out, gently scrapping it against her teeth. This time the groan that escapes is something a little louder. Definitely darker. Borderline purely primal.
My mouth hastily descends on hers to relocate my tongue to where my finger just was. The abrupt change of pace is rewarded with her nails cutting into my sides and a sweet sigh of surrender. While the actions command every cell in my body to respond fast and harsh, I battle against it knowing Ollie needs our first time to be slow. She needs to be worshiped. She needs for the fears the previous fuck head left behind to be thoroughly erased.
Still locked by our unwilling to detach lips, we stumble our way towards her bedroom, only eventually pulling apart to assure we don’t trip over Princess Pinky’s toys. As soon as we’re inside, the intensity of everything increases exponentially. Our hands start tugging to free each other’s bodies and our mouths cruelly consume every inch of skin they can find. With every brush of her lips across my flesh, the need to claim her grows to be more and more unbearable.
Finally naked and underneath me where she belongs, Ollie tangles her fingers in my hair, tugging me closer, clearly indicating she wants me inside. I keep our eyes pinned together at the same time I reach to her bedside drawer where the box of condoms is waiting.
It was my purchase and my suggestion. After she gave me a hand job in what was technically the middle of the work day, it seemed like a natural conversation to have the next morning. I swore it wasn’t my less than subtle way of stating we should be having sex and once she listened to my rather safe than stuck in the heat of the moment without one scenario, she believed me.
Wanting there to be no room for regret, I take my time to allow time for any possible objection. Ollie watches me lean upward to rip off the rapper and begin to slide it down my painfully hard dick. All of a sudden, she stretches out to help me secure it on. The intimate action combined with the feeling of her warm hand against my throbbing cock almost causes me to ruin what I’m certain will be the last of firsts for either of us.
I’m done. And by the time this night is over I’m going to make sure she is to.
There’s no further hesitation on my part. Swiftly, I slide myself inside and watch her entire body bow off the bed to meet the first blow. The sight is so intoxicating, I don’t debate whether or not to repeat it. Ollie duplicates her previous response yet this time adds a breathless moan that sends my senses whirling. My hands anchor themselves onto the outside of her thighs while my dick begins a ruthless rocking, each thrust sharper than the last. She attempts to wiggle away from the continuous deep strokes, but I grip her tighter, anxious for her to commit to taking all of me the way I am devoted to taking all of her. I watch Ollie’s face contort, clearly not used to the amount of pleasure she’s enduring. Her pussy, which feels like it’s holding on for dear life, begins to contract at a more constant rate forcing me to grit my teeth to prevent succumbing to the bliss. She whimpers and her pussy echoes the cry. All of a sudden a warm, wet heat submerges my cock and attempts to falter my pumps. Ollie comes harshly, my name shouted like the only word she knows. For a moment, I let my head fall forward and get lost in the luscious sound of her heaving breath and satisfied screams. Her fingers curl around my biceps and my eyes lift back to hers where I watch the beautiful battle of whether to pull me in further or push me out completely is in action.
In a quiet whisper, I encourage, “Just take it, Darlin’…”
Ollie’s breath hitches, and I assume the sound is her agreement.
My body spreads hers a little wider, dick desperate to go as deep as it possibly can. To carve my name, my initials, my future into her core. Sweat slowly begins to christen her body and I instantly smirk at the sight. Unfortunately, I can tell it embarrasses her by the abrupt shift in her movements and the way she attempts to divert my attention elsewhere.
“I love seeing you like this…”
There’s a faint hum of uncertainty.
“Covered in me inside and out,” I growl out, hips grinding harder against her in the process. “You look perfect, Ollie.”
She gives her bottom lip a small bite before returning to freely enjoying the situation. With her guard now completely down, Ollie brazenly meets each push, pussy warning my dick of another orgasm on the brink. It doesn’t take long for us to tear away from our tantalizing slow pace into a slightly more savage one. The build up to bursting is shorter than predicted, but it’s also more intense. In a soul shaking tandem, we come undone while our moans clash together to create a concert of cries loud enough to piss off her neighbors. My body falls to cover hers and reconnect our lips that have been separated far too long.
She is why being engaged to someone else felt so wrong. She is why I’m happier than I’ve ever been. She is where I belong.
Ollie Steele is home, and it feels damn good to finally be here.
Holy shit I can’t believe I’m late to work! I’m never late. Ever. In six years. Not. Once. And of all the mornings I could possibly be late for, I pick the one where they want to discuss the game I’m helping develop the concept
for?! Can we say fail?! I refuse to blame Ford for this even if it is kind of his fault. He shouldn’t be so damn good in bed. He also shouldn’t be allowed to have stamina and an unwavering dedication to making me come. How am I supposed to be expected to ever get anything else done again? Time factor aside, I am currently so sore, in so many spots, getting dressed this morning felt like I was being tortured by a foreign government for information. I wanted to give it up! I would’ve had I known what it was, that’s how tender my muscles are. All of my muscles. Oh. Items to add to the list of things Ford shouldn’t be allowed to have. Length and girth.
