The Clint Adams Special

by J. R. Roberts

  “You know what would please me?” Clint asked. “Let me get some sleep.”

  For a moment, Clint thought that she was about to surrender and let him have what he’d requested. Felicia was moving a bit behind him, but not much. Instead of climbing down off the bed, she placed her hands softly on his shoulders and leaned forward to whisper in his ear.

  “How about this?” she asked. “Is that better for your delicate sensibilities?”

  “My sensibilities don’t have a thing to do with it,” he replied. “I’m just tired.”

  He could feel the heat of her body behind him. When she started to gently rub his shoulders, he closed his eyes and savored the touch of her soft hair brushing against his neck.

  “That’s nice,” he said.

  “Yeah?”

  Clint nodded and reached over his shoulder to touch her cheek. Felicia turned her head toward him so he could feel her full lips followed by the flicker of her tongue against his fingers. Soon she dragged her fingers lightly down his back and slipped her arms around him so she could rub his chest.

  “You like this?” she whispered.

  Not only could Clint feel her hands massaging his chest, but she leaned against him from behind so he could feel the warm, soft flesh of her breasts pressing against him. He smiled and said, “I like that very much.”

  Her hands wandered down the front of his body but couldn’t quite reach all the way to his groin. Clint twisted around to find that she had indeed stripped out of her shirt. Felicia’s firm breasts stood proudly on display, capped with dark nipples that were fully erect. He cupped one of them in his hand and placed his other hand on her hip.

  Felicia smiled and kissed him. Soon, Clint felt her hands push against his chest with enough force to shove him onto his back. He allowed himself to be brought down, but he tried to sound stern when he asked, “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “If you don’t know,” she replied while stripping him out of his jeans, “then some of the things I’ve heard about you aren’t exactly accurate.” She continued to undress him until he lay naked on the bed. Staring hungrily down at his erect penis, she licked her lips and said, “I see some things about you are even better than I expected.”

  Clint ran his fingers through her thick dark hair as she lowered her head between his legs. She opened her mouth and wrapped her thick, full lips around his cock. As she took him into her mouth, Felicia ran her tongue on him, savoring every last inch. As she eased her head up, she teased his shaft with the tip of her tongue before climbing down from the bed.

  “You better not be through,” he told her.

  To that, she merely grinned while peeling off every last stitch of her clothing. Felicia’s body was taut and muscular, yet curvy in all the right places. When she crawled back onto the bed, she moved like a cat, digging her nails into the sheets while she lowered her head to lick any part of Clint that was within her reach.

  He lay back and watched as she slowly mounted him. Her breasts swayed invitingly, and as soon as she’d straddled his hips, he reached up to cup them in both hands. Felicia let out a soft moan and moved her hips slowly. Although Clint wasn’t inside her just yet, he could feel the slick lips of her pussy sliding against his rigid member. The more she moved, the wetter she got. All she needed to do from there was reach down and guide him to the right spot so he could slip inside her.

  When Clint impaled her, both of them moaned in a mixture of relief and satisfaction. Felicia settled on top of him and placed both hands flat against his body to brace herself. When she saw the involuntary wince on Clint’s face, she said, “Oops. Sorry about that. Still tender?”

  “A bit, but I’ll manage.”

  NINETEEN

  “Here. I’m supposed to be taking care of you, remember?”

  Felicia sat up straight and started to rock her hips back and forth. From that angle, Clint looked up at her and was able to see every line of her tight stomach and large breasts. Since he could no longer reach them, she placed her own hands upon her tits and started rubbing them as she slowly rocked back and forth.

  Clint placed his hands on her legs to feel her muscles working to keep her entire body moving. His cock was deep inside her, and when he pumped his hips up a bit more, she arched her back and started to moan even louder. Felicia put her hands on her knees and bounced up and down on top of him. Her pussy glided along the length of his shaft, and her breasts swayed to the rhythm of her body. Clint closed his eyes until she stopped and started climbing off him.

  He didn’t even have enough time to pull her back before she turned around and climbed on top of him again. This time, she straddled him so her back was pointed toward his face. Considering the smooth lines of her back and rounded buttocks, that wasn’t a bad thing at all. Felicia fit his pole inside her once more and then leaned forward to grab Clint’s legs. His erection drove even deeper into her, touching a spot inside her body that caused Felicia to tremble with delight.

  Soon, she grunted wildly and gripped his thighs as if she was hanging on for dear life. Clint drove her even wilder when he thrust up into her like a piston. Her backside bobbed up and down, and Clint couldn’t help himself from reaching down to grab on to it.

  “Yes, Clint,” she cried. “I’m going to . . .” Suddenly, every one of Felicia’s muscles tensed as she was overpowered by her climax.

  Clint pulled out of her and turned her over. Felicia lay on her back and spread her legs open wide so Clint could climb on top of her. She was still breathing heavily when he entered her again.

  She arched her back, pressing her breasts against him. Clint could feel her erect nipples brushing against his chest as he thrust into her again and again. Felicia locked eyes with him and wrapped her legs around his waist. Burying his face against her neck, all of Clint’s senses were filled with her. He breathed in her scent. He felt the sweat on her skin and the wet lips of her pussy grip his cock. Clint took hold of her hands, pinned them to the bed, and pounded into her with a building rhythm. He drove into her again and again until, with one final powerful thrust, he exploded inside her . . .

  • • •

  “I have a confession to make,” she whispered.

  “Let me guess,” Clint sighed. “Your grandfather wanted you to soften me up so I’d either go for a deal that favors him or stay here as one of his hired hands.”

  Felicia sat up straight and looked at him with her mouth hanging open. “Why would you say such a thing?”

  “Am I right or wrong?”

  Reluctantly, she said, “You’re right . . . but why would you say that?”

  “Because there aren’t a lot of other confessions you’d likely make right about now. I can think of a few, but they’re long shots, and seeing as how Martin Stone is related to you and I’m here on business with him . . . it only makes sense.” After thinking it over for a few seconds, Clint nodded. “Yeah. That’s the only one that makes sense.”

  “Just so you know, he didn’t tell me to . . . you know . . . do what we just did.”

  “Don’t worry,” Clint told her. “I don’t mind being charmed in this instance. But you might be able to help me with one thing.”

  She turned back to him and stretched out on her stomach to use both hands to prop up her head. She kicked her feet back and forth in a way that drew his eye down to the muscular curves of her backside. “What is it?” she asked.

  Clint got up and turned so he could rub her back. As soon as his hands found a tense spot between her shoulders, Felicia’s entire body relaxed. “Have you ever heard of someone named Preston?”

  “No.”

  “Are you sure?”

  After letting out a slow breath that sounded more like a purr, she asked, “Are you trying to use your charms on me?”

  “Do I need to?”

  Turning to look over her shoulder at him, she studie
d Clint carefully. “Where did you hear that name?”

  “From someone around here. I get the impression that it might be someone important. Maybe someone who works with your grandfather.”

  Felicia rolled onto her side, practically shoving Clint’s hands away in the process. “Who mentioned that name to you? Why did it come up?”

  “I just heard it in passing. It’s probably nothing.”

  She obviously wanted to ask more questions, but bit her tongue for the moment. In that amount of time, Clint reversed his previous decision about ending the conversation.

  “You’ve obviously heard the name before,” he said. “Who’s Preston?”

  “Just someone that doesn’t need to show his face around here,” she replied while flopping onto her stomach and turning her face away from him.

  “He does business with your grandfather?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “Did he hurt you?”

  She laughed once. It was more of a huffing breath before she said, “Not hardly.”

  Clint thought about it for a few moments and decided to let it drop. A man like Martin Stone would do business with plenty of folks, and a good number of them wouldn’t be the most pleasant kind of people. In the end, Clint decided there wasn’t much need to rock the boat.

  Best to just wait and see what the next few days would bring. He stretched out and wrapped an arm around Felicia. She turned to face him, draped her leg over him, and pressed her warm body against his. There were certainly worse ways to spend a few days.

  TWENTY

  It was only a matter of hours before Clint found himself summoned to Martin Stone’s office one more time. Unlike the last time he’d been escorted through the large house, Clint was greeted at the door by the man himself. On top of that, Martin Stone was eager to speak his piece.

  “Come on in,” Martin said. “Is there anything I can get for you? A whiskey perhaps?”

  “I prefer beer if you have any.”

  The older man smiled widely. “The best in Texas!”

  Clint was always amused by how many men claimed to have the best of whatever it was they were talking about. In Texas, those claims doubled.

  After telling a young woman with pale skin to fetch the drinks, Martin strode through the house toward his inner sanctum. “I hear there was trouble. Some sort of altercation in front of one of the saloons?”

  “They’re two men who work for you,” Clint replied. “And I’m sure you know all about it.”

  “Cal and VanTreaton. Yes, I did hear. I’d like to hear your side of things, though.”

  “There’s not much to tell. I was being shown around when I saw them staring daggers at me from across the street. When I stepped outside a short while after that, VanTreaton tried to knock my skull into the next county.”

  “Terrible,” Martin sighed.

  “I defended myself and for some reason decided not to put a bullet through anyone’s chest.”

  “You would have been well within your rights to take whatever action you deemed necessary.”

  “Don’t you have any law around here?” Clint asked.

  They’d reached Martin’s office by now. Martin strode inside, walked around his desk, and motioned Clint toward one of the chairs in front of it. “Despite its size, this isn’t a proper town. The shops and such that were built here are privately owned. Although county law still goes around here, we don’t have the luxury of men on hand to enforce it. We’re on our own.”

  “But that’s the way you like it,” Clint said. “Otherwise, I’m sure a man with your means could do something to change it.”

  Shrugging, Martin said, “I suppose you’ve got me there. Anyhow, I am truly grateful that nobody was hurt.”

  “Tell that to my ribs.”

  Martin smirked as if the whole matter was resolved. “You’ll be glad to know that I’ve had some of my men look at that rifle you put together and they were all quite impressed. I’d like to place an order.”

  “That’s good to hear.”

  “Then why do you seem disappointed?”

  Clint leaned back in the chair and crossed his legs. “I suppose I’m just a little skeptical.”

  “I assure you my offer will be quite generous.”

  “It’s not that. I’m more concerned with the fact that I nearly got knocked out of my boots by some of the men on your payroll and nothing is going to be done about it.”

  Martin’s expression darkened somewhat. “There is the option to enforce the law ourselves. That’s happened a few times in the past and it’s never been pretty.”

  “I understand that much,” Clint said. “What I still don’t understand is why it happened at all.”

  “Who knows why some men do what they do? Perhaps,” Martin added while steepling his fingers, “one or both of them were jealous about the time you were spending with my granddaughter.”

  “Or someone else didn’t like it and decided to do something about it.”

  “Did any of them say anything to you? Anything at all that might tell you what happened? When I confront them about this embarrassment, I’d like to know everything I can.”

  Clint doubted anyone at all would be confronted with it after he left that office. “Nothing else to say, really. One of them came at me and I sent him hobbling away. Everything after that has been speculation. Guess I haven’t really had much else to keep me occupied.”

  “You know what speculation gets you at the end of the day? Not a goddamn thing. I’d rather get down to business. That is, if that’s all right with you.”

  “That’s why I’m here.”

  On top of Martin’s desk was a very familiar shape beneath a piece of brown fabric. Pulling aside the fabric like a magician at the end of a trick, Martin revealed the rifle that Clint had brought with him. “This,” Martin said, “is a work of art.”

  Clint shrugged. “I do good work, but I don’t know about art.”

  “Well, I know about guns, as do my men, and we all believe this to be some fine craftsmanship.”

  “You mentioned something about an offer?” Clint asked.

  Martin grinned and nodded. “I want six of these beauties. I’m willing to pay handsomely. I’ve written out the details here.” With that, Martin reached into a desk drawer and removed a small notebook. After opening it to the right page, he set the notebook down, turned it toward Clint, and slid it forward.

  Clint took a moment to peruse the figures written neatly in ink. “There’s money being offered here for more than just the rifles.”

  “That’s right.”

  “What’s this, a consultation fee?”

  Leaning forward as if he hadn’t already memorized every line of what he’d written, Martin said, “That’s just a bonus given for indulging one of my men.”

  “Which one?” Clint asked.

  “He’s done work as a blacksmith. He’s also the one who usually maintains the ranch’s equipment. He’ll be the one maintaining these rifles, so he’d like to be there when you assemble them.”

  It wasn’t the first time that someone had wanted to try and replicate Clint’s work. Considering how much was being offered, he wasn’t about to get his nose bent too far out of shape. Besides, there was more to gunsmithing than just knowing what steps to follow. “Fine,” Clint said while tearing the paper from the notebook and tucking it into his pocket. “I’ll get started right away. With or without your blacksmith.”

  Martin got to his feet and offered his hand. As soon as Clint shook it, the older man placed that hand back down onto the rifle. “This truly is fine craftsmanship. It’s not quite like any model I’ve seen. What’s it called?”

  “You’re paying for it. Call it what you like.”

  “How about the Clint Adams Special? Seems appropriate.”

  “I’m sure one
of your men will come up with something better.”

  TWENTY-ONE

  The next few days were filled with work that Clint knew all too well. Some might have considered it boring to spend hours upon hours dismantling rifles, filing down some parts, reinforcing others, and hammering down new pieces to fit into place. It was slow, repetitive work that took place in a hot room filled with smoke. For Clint, it was a chance to clear his mind and get back to the simplest of all things.

  It felt good to build. It felt even better to have a task in front of him that was familiar and even inviting. The tasks he needed to perform weren’t exciting, but they allowed his hands to stay busy and a good, honest sweat to pour from his brow. It was the sort of work that had made him ply his trade in the first place. While he was wrapped up in it, he didn’t need to worry about anything else. The only reminder he had of Martin Stone was when Clint spent time with Stone’s granddaughter. During those nights, the old man was the last thing on Clint’s mind.

  The job wasn’t one of his toughest ones. In fact, Clint could have been out of there in less time, but he needed to go slower in order for his observer to catch what he was doing. Whoever the fellow was, he wasn’t much of a gunsmith. The way he watched every little thing Clint did, it seemed as if he’d barely handled a rifle before, let alone seen one in pieces on a workbench.

  Clint didn’t use any secret techniques when modifying the rifles. All he did was improve them using different methods that he’d picked up throughout the years. The rest was just practicing his craft. The other man watched like an eager student, occasionally trying to act as if he wasn’t watching the process so he could do it himself later on. For Clint, once the deal had been struck and the first payment made, it was just another job.

  The moment he’d started in on the last rifle, Clint’s silent observer went missing. It was late afternoon and Clint’s hands were busy tinkering with the firing mechanism of an old Winchester. The job was so easy that he allowed his brain to wander. Mostly, he weighed the pros and cons of finishing the rifle as quickly as possible or getting one last night in a comfortable bed with Felicia.