by Tyla Walker
“How about another dance?” I finally say. She comes out of her trance and looks around the room.
“Looks like it’s a West Coast Swing number. Are you up for that?’ she says, challenging me.
“I am, if you are.” I get up and twirl her onto the floor. There aren’t as many people on the dance floor as there were before, so we have some room to show off. She seems surprised that I know what I’m doing, and we quickly find a rhythm together. It’s like we’ve been partners for years. Like we’ve been doing some kind of mind meld over drinks.
She moves as though she is in some blissed-out zone. And, she let out a few yelps just to punctuate her joy. Every time I twirl her into a momentary embrace, I get a jolt of electricity through my body. I just know everyone is watching us, and I get an overwhelming sense of pride.
The music comes to an end, just as she twirls into my arms again. But, this time, I don’t release her. I hold her tight to me as our chests heave in unison. And then it happens. A long, deep, soulful kiss. A moment of sweet bliss. And, it feels so good.
And it feels so right.
Sixteen
Cindy
Hank’s mouth is warm, and I taste whiskey on his tongue. I wrap my hands around his biceps and feel his shoulders as one of his hands presses into the small of my back. He’s eager to get closer, and I feel the excitement between his legs. His other hand is up on the back of my neck. His fingers are moving up into my hair.
Around us the room is still moving with dancers preparing for the next song.
“Get it, Cindy,” Louise coos as she passes us, and I feel myself blush. We’re entirely too hands-on, even for this dance floor. I pull away and give Hank a smile.
“Should we get out of here?” He asks. I nod and take his hand, leading him to the parking lot. As I pass friends I get a few winks and smiles from the women and a few raised eyebrows from the men. If I had any thought to keep this relationship secret, it’s gone out the window with our very public kiss. It will be all over town by tomorrow.
Let them talk, I think. I hope they tell Andrew all about it.
“My place or yours?” Hank asks as we wander into the dimly lit parking lot. For a moment, I don’t answer. The air is cool and feels good after the warmth of the dance hall. I take a second to look up at him. His brown curls are a bit out of place from our dancing and his brown eyes are deep with desire. He has a slight smile as he looks down.
“Or we can go back in?” He asks, but he knows it’s the last thing I want.
“No way,” I say, punching him gently in the chest. Hank traps my hand with two of his. He’s caught me now, and he pulls me closer to him. I look up to see his mouth coming to mine again. Away from the crowds he’s more aggressive.
Holding the back of my head and pressing hard against my mouth, he takes my bottom lip between his teeth. I stretch up and press my full body against him, pushing him back until he’s caught against the car behind us.
Below his belt buckle I feel how hard he is, and I can’t resist rubbing against him. I run a hand down his chest and over the front of his jeans to between his legs, pressing my palm against him. For a moment this distracts him, and I look up to see his eyes close. I keep rubbing his cock against my palm, and he drops down to kiss me again with a primal growl. I break away and kiss up his neck to his ear.
“Let’s go to your truck,” I whisper.
A clang and splash of liquid at my feet pulls us apart, and I look down to see a can of Miller Lite rolling against my boots.
“Get off’a her, asshole.”
I know the voice before I see him. Andrew. And he’s wasted. He’s slurring his words in a way that’s all too familiar. After a tough ride or a loss at a rodeo competition, he used to come home belligerent. There was no talking to him in that state. The only thing to do was pack up Nate, head to Ashley’s for the night, and leave Andrew to dry out.
Andrew staggers closer to us. He’s got a six pack in one hand with only two cans left, and an open beer in the other.
“Get out of here, Andrew,” Hank says as he steps in front of me.
“He’s dangerous like this,” I warn. “Let’s just get to the car.”
“Listen to yer woman.” Andrew’s talking too loud. I’m worried the guys smoking at the entrance to The Mudslide will overhear him and come over. I already made one scene tonight. I don’t need to make another.
“I thought I made this clear. I want you to stay away from her.” There’s a new tone to Hank’s voice—something different from his confrontation with Andrew at the restaurant. There’s an edge to him and an anger brewing somewhere deep. I grab Hank’s arm to hold him back, but he keeps moving. He meets Andrew face to face a few feet in front of me.
“You going to fight me, pretty boy?” Andrew asks, and he brings his beer up to drink.
Hank’s hand flies up and smacks the beer away from Andrew’s mouth and onto the pavement. Before Andrew can realize what’s happened Hank’s fist flies at his face and hits him square on the jaw. Hank’s had a bit to drink, and he’s certainly loose, but his accuracy is still good. He intends to scare Andrew off, not break his nose.
“Bastard,” Andrew says, and he lunges. Andrew shoves Hank hard and tries to grab the back of his shirt while the other hand throws punches at Hank’s face and shoulders. But Hank easily spins out of Andrew’s grasp and shoves him away. He steps back and watches as Andrew struggles to keep his balance.
“Let’s get out of here,” Hank says, putting a hand on my shoulder to lead me towards his car. But Andrew has found his footing and charges again. This time Hank doesn’t hold back. I watch him aim and throw a punch right at Andrew’s face. Andrew yelps like a kicked puppy and drops to his knees, his hands at his nose. I can’t help exploding at him.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I ask, watching as he cowers on the ground. “I told you I’m not interested.”
“I want to go back,” Andrew mumbles. He’s reached the point in his drunkenness where he’s weepy and needy. “I need you, Cin. Please. Let’s go back to the way things were.”
“The way things were?” I yell. ‘Who cares if the smokers hear me?’ “Okay, let’s go back there. Back to you coming home drunk every night? You sleeping around and not even trying to hide it from me? You spending all our money—all my money that I made at the restaurant—until you had to go crawling to your daddy to ask for more? The way things were sucked, Andrew. No one would ever want to go back to that!”
Seeing him down on the ground trying to wipe blood away from his nose as he cries, I have an urge to kick him. It would feel good to get out some of this frustration. But Nate pops into my head, and I know I won’t be happy with myself in the morning.
“Fuck you, Andrew,” I say, and I walk away from both of them, straight towards Hank’s truck. Hank jogs up to meet me and runs ahead to open the passenger door. As I start to get in, he grabs my arm.
“Are you alright?” He asks.
“Why do you keep asking me that?” I snap back. But then I soften as I look at him.
‘This man is so different from that man groveling in the parking lot. Hank. Kind, good Hank.’ I place my hand on his cheek.
“You punched him,” I smile.
“Sorry. I’ve had enough of that guy,” Hank says.
“He thought he could take you. Just shows he’s even more of an idiot than I thought.”
“Hey now, I’m sure he was something in his day. He caught your eye, didn’t he?”
I’m quiet then. My story with Andrew is a long and complicated one, and the parking lot of The Mudslide isn’t the place for it.
“There’s something much better looking catching my eye right now.”
Hank looks up in mock surprise and his hat almost tilts off his head.
“What? The stars? They are looking particularly special tonight.” He looks back at me and the mischief in his eyes is irresistible. I kiss him.
“You, cowboy.”
H
ank takes my face in his hands and looks into my eyes. It’s like he’s looking into me, trying to read what’s inside. Instead of pulling away, I look back, trying to decipher his own mind.
‘This is all too much for him,’ I think. ‘A belligerent ex-husband fist fighting in the parking lot...It’s practically our first date.’
“Want to bring me home?” I ask. If he wants an out, here it is. He can drop me at home and walk away from this mess.
He keeps staring, and a smile creeps into the corners of his mouth. It’s something I’ve noticed with him—the hint of a smile he gets when he’s thinking of something. He nods his head slowly and traces a finger from the top of my shoulder and down my arm.
“I want to take you home,” he says. “And I want to bring you to my bed.” His hand is at the hem of my shirt, playing with the sensitive skin of my stomach. “And I want to slowly, one piece at a time, take off these clothes.”
He snakes his hand up my stomach and across my ribs. He reaches my breast, cupping it over my bra, but his fingers never stop moving. “And I want to take your mind off any bullshit that happened here tonight.” I gasp as his finger dips down beneath the fabric and finds my nipple.
“Drive,” I whisper.
Seventeen
Hank
Hell, there’s only like six roads in all of Burnet, but with Cindy’s hand in the lap of my Wranglers, we might as well be on the moon. I am blind with passion. I’m lost with lust.
“Left on Elm, right on Azalea. Watch your speed coming to the light. Deputy Boone likes to hide in the alley behind the 7-11,” Cindy’s whispers into my ear while she runs her tongue up the length of my neck. She pulls my earlobe into her mouth and nibbles with enough pressure to make rock hard member strain against the confines of my denim. I am white-knuckling the steering wheel, trying to keep my truck on the road as Cindy works at my belt buckle.
Left on Elm, right on Azaleooooh my God. She unsnaps the button, drags the zipper down and paws at the bulge in my boxer briefs like a panther toying with its catch.
“Oh my! What have we here?” Cindy is tugging at the waistband of my Jockeys. With a delighted gasp, she frees my turgid member from the confines of its cotton prison. “Time to return the favor from the other night,” she purrs, lowering her beautiful head into my waiting lap. “Eyes on the road mister.”
As she takes the head of my cock into her wet and willing mouth, my vision starts to tunnel. Sure enough, there’s Deputy Boone in his cruiser, lying in wait for any late night lead foots. If you only knew, I think to myself as I tip my hat politely in his direction. Cindy has an airlock on my rocket, working her full lips up and down the length of my shaft. It takes every ounce of focus that I possess to keep the car on the road and not explode into her exceptionally talented mouth.
As she delicately works her wet tongue around my throbbing head, I take one hand from the steering wheel and snake it under her shirt, finding the soft, supple mounds of her incredible breasts. I lightly tug her brown, erect nipple and she lets out an involuntary moan, muffled by a mouthful of manhood. Thank Christ for bench seats.
“Are we there yet?” she growls, coming up for air.
“Close,” I shudder. “So very, very close.” She strokes the length of my shaft with her confident, warm grip, stopping to circle the saliva-slicked head with her thumb.
“Good,” she says mischievously, snapping the waistband of my underwear back into place. “Most accidents happen within a half mile of the home. I wouldn’t want you to blow a head gasket before we really see what she can do.” Cindy winks devilishly as she runs her hand along the dashboard of my truck.
“Oh, you are gonna GET it,” I say, putting some weight into the accelerator.
“Promise?” Cindy licks her upper lip and runs her fingers down the caramel canyon of her spellbinding chest.
* * *
I pull the truck into the driveway and skid to an abrupt stop on the gravel. As I throw her into park, Cindy giggles and tears open the passenger door. She races across the front lawn, and for the briefest of moments I admire her shapely ass in the headlights. I can see just the sexiest sliver of cheek peeking out from under her cutoffs. “I am gonna fuck you silly Cindy,” I mutter to myself.
“What are you waiting for, cowboy?” she hollers back at me from the porch. It’s enough to break my trance. I cut the engine, flip off the lights and sprint across the lawn.
As soon as I hit the pool of light on the porch, she’s on me. Our mouths lock in a long, and desperate kiss. The kind of kiss that leaves no questions. The kind of kiss that could crack pavement. She rakes at my shirt as I fumble for the keys. I press her lithe body against the front door with my own. I bury my face in her neck and soak up the smell of her lust and perfume as I blindly thumb through my keyring. God, this woman is hotter than a pistol.
She bites my ear and my neck, clutching at my biceps like her life depends on it. I manage to feel out the front door key, but before I can even get it into the lock, she starts at the buttons of my shirt. We are animals gnashing at each other, lost in a feeding frenzy. I shoulder open the front door and we stumble over the threshold into the darkened front room. There is nothing tender about our desire. It is raw, and steaming, and long overdue.
“Fuck the bedroom. Take me here,” she pants into my ear.
“Happy to oblige.” I back her towards the dining room table as she peels the pearl-snap western off of my shoulders. She unties the knot on her own shirt as I reach behind her and send a stack of paperwork and some dishes crashing to the floor. I lift her by the waist up onto the table and slide my calloused, rugged hands up her smooth, silky back, searching for the clasp to her bra. When I find it, a simple pinch sends her pin-up worthy breasts springing free and, even in the dark, I pause to revel in their ripeness.
“Like what you see?” she purrs, clasping her arms behind my neck.
“You’re the most perfect thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
“Not too bad yourself, but we can look later. I want you inside of me. I need you inside of me…NOW,” she commands.
I don’t need to be told twice. I grab her by the belt loops and lift her hips off the table as I slide her cutoff’s to the ground.
“Leave the boots,” she says moistening a finger, and sliding her black panties to one side.
I watch her arch her back against the table and slowly circle her clit as I kick off my boots and slide my jeans and boxer-briefs off together. My rock hard cock jumps free and throbs in anticipation. The sight of her has me ready to burst.
Cindy sits up and takes me into her left hand while she pleasures herself with her right. She pulls the head of my cock to the entrance of her lips and wraps her knee high boots around my naked waist. As she pulls me toward her with her legs, I break the plane of no return and plunge the entire length of my rod into her waiting wetness.
Time stops for a moment and we both gasp. Little diamonds pop in the corners of my vision. It’s… it’s transcendent. She draws me in further and our mouths meet in hot communion. I can taste the bourbon on her breath as we began a slow, undulating rhythm. Her fingers dig into the broad line of my back, begging me, willing me to plunge deeper into her depth. Our tongues dance and she moans softly into my mouth.
I grab both sides of the table for leverage and begin to quicken my thrusts. The creaking of the wood, the slap of skin on skin, and the lusty moans echo through the dark in concert.
“Oh God, Hank,” she yells, her breasts bouncing with the rhythm of our connection. I slide my hands up her ribs and take her hard nipples between my fingers. I pinch them softly as I bury myself deeper and deeper inside of her. I can feel the finish beginning to bubble below the surface. She has her hands and feet around my waist now, pulling me into her ferociously like she’s trying to make us into one.
“I’m gonna… Oh, fuck, Hank!” I feel her walls tighten around my shaft. She groans and closes herself around me. I’m close too. She’s panting. We’re
panting together. “Cum inside me Hank!” she screams. It’s more than I can take. She squeezes her orgasm around me as I lift her from the table into my arms and sink my shaft to the hilt filling her with hot seed.
I hold her there, still pulsing inside of her, legs trembling. Her boots are still wrapped around my hips as she hugs my neck, her face buried in the crook of shoulder. I breathe heavily into her chest and we hang there for a long moment without words. Two heaving bodies, framed in darkness by a lone street light casting its glow through the front window.
I carry her down the hall and softly lay her into the bed. She finally peels off her boots as I join her, drawing her head into me.
“That was… I can’t…” I mumble quietly in the dark.
“Perfect.” She sounds blissful. Content. I can’t remember ever feeling this happy, this at ease.
“Perfect,” I agree.
Cindy raises her head from my chest, and kisses me softly on the mouth. It’s the kind of kiss that you take with you wherever you go. The kind of kiss that stops you in your tracks months later and brings a smile to your lips.
She nestles into me. I pull the sheets up under our arms, and we both drift off into the sleep of fulfillment.
Eighteen
Cindy
When the morning comes, my head is foggy, and I’m not ready to open my eyes just yet. Did last night really happen? Road head hadn’t been on my to-do list, but I was just so horny I couldn’t help myself.
When was the last time I let loose like that with a man? You know what? It’s not worth thinking about. Living in the now feels much more tantalizing, especially with a man like Hank sleeping next to me.
My eyes flutter open and take a look around his bedroom. For just a few seconds I wonder what time it is, when suddenly, he’s straddling me. He has me right where he wants me. His weight pins me to the comforter, my head nestling deeper into the pillow. He gets really close to me, so close I can feel the whiskers in his beard. Looks like breakfast will have to wait.
