Chapter 32 Tally
TALLY
“It’s unfair how pretty every part of you is. This beautiful cunt is bound to make any red-blooded man lose his damn mind.” Rust’s calloused fingers part my sex and his hot breath on my slick lower lips has me shivering. He taps my clit and I let out a whine.
“Who owns this pussy?” he asks.
“You, Rust. My pussy belongs to you.”
“Again,” he growls.
“I’m only yours! Please, don’t make me wait any longer.”
“That’s right. Because you…” His lips clamp around my clit. “Are.” His tongue flicks. “Still.” He sucks on the sensitive nub. “My.” A gentle scrape of his teeth. “Wife.”
My back arches. I’m crazy with desire, driven so mad I don’t mind his possessiveness. It only stokes the fire of my lust. Desperate, I dig one hand into his shoulder, the other slipping under my shirt to twist my nipple. I leverage my position above him to grind my center against his face.
He looks up, my wetness glistening on his lips. “That’s it, Trouble. Use me. Ride my mustache like a good girl.”
A shudder ripples along my spine. Fuck, a man who likes to give pleasure as much as he enjoys receiving it is such a massive turn on.
His fingers press hard into my thighs as he pulls my pussy tighter against his mouth, licking in long strokes along my slit and sucking on my clit.
Unlike other men who have eaten me out and acted like it was a sacrifice, Rust isn’t in a hurry. And from his hand sneaking to his cock, giving himself a tug as he hardens again, I think he loves this almost as much as I do.
His fingers stretch my entrance, scissoring before he’s knuckle deep inside me. He knows exactly what I need, how I need it and when I need it.
His digits curl against my g-spot and I combust. I slap a hand on my lips, muffling my cries as my insides coil with pleasure bordering on pain. My thighs tremble and I buck against his mouth, gushing my release. He drinks every drop like a man dying of thirst.
Rust waits for my thunderous orgasm to ebb before rising to his feet. ”Delicious,” he mutters, licking his lips. He strokes his proudly standing cock, regarding me with a wide smirk. “I hope you didn’t think I was done with you.”
“You’re… not?” I ask, stunned by the mind-blowing climax and the infinitely sexy sight of a blushing Rust with my essence on his lips.
He grabs me by the throat and pulls me off the counter, spinning me around. My legs feel like overcooked spaghetti, still shaking as he forces me to bend over, pushing my tits against the sink. His boot kicks my feet apart and he rips on my hair, making me look in the mirror.
Mascara and eyeliner run in black streaks down my pink face and my hair is a mess of copper in his fist, but I’m smiling. I’ve never seen myself like this before. Wild and raw and free.
Rust hikes up my skirt, bracing the tip of his cock against my entrance. Slowly, he slides into me, savoring every inch of his hardness splitting me wide. Goosebumps break across my skin as we become one and he holds himself deep, bottoming out.
“Do you see how beautiful you are when you’re stuffed with my cock?” he rumbles into my ear. “And when you come this time, I want the whole damn bar to know how good I make you feel. I want to hear you scream for me.”
He pulls out and slams back in. It burns as he stretches me, but the ache fades into red-hot pleasure. He pounds into me and his hips meet my ass with loud slaps. Every thrust is a punishment. Hard. Fast. Merciless. I’m reduced to a mess of moans and cries.
This is the best sex I’ve ever had. Shocked, I realize that every encounter with my ex-husband is the best sex I’ve ever had. He manages to outdo himself every time.
He gives a sharp tug on my hair. “Who’s makin’ you scream, Trouble? Say my fuckin’ name.”
“Rust! Oh damn… Your cock feels so good inside me, Rust!” I shout, not caring who hears. “Fuck, I’m going to come!”
“That’s alright, let go. I got you. I wanna feel you coming on my dick.”
My climax is a toe-curling, leg-shaking, thigh-quivering earthquake that makes me feel like I don’t have a single bone left in my body. Rust soon joins me, filling me for the second time since we entered this restroom.
This restroom that’s definitely not soundproof, I think and giggle.
Rust grins at me in the mirror. “Now the fine people of Pine Bluff don’t need to see a ring on your finger to know who you belong to. They heard all those dirty noises you made for me.”
I blow a stray, damp curl out of my eyes. “Let ‘em hear and let ‘em see, Big Guy. I’m not ashamed of being with you. Never have been.”
His smile softens and he presses a kiss to the crown of my head. “C’mon, let’s clean up before I get my revenge in pool.”
I laugh. “Since you gave me orgasms this good, I might let you win.”
“We said the loser buys the next round!” I protest.
Rust shakes his head. “You let me win.”
“Noooooooo!” I giggle and the room spins.
“That’s cheating.” He clicks his tongue. “I’ll be right back with our drinks.”
Swaying slightly, Rust swaggers toward the bar. Even being drunk looks good on him. I make a rectangle with my fingers and center his ass in it, mimicking the noise of a camera shutter.
“Perfect,” I mumble and grab my beer.
Draining the last liquid from the perspiring bottle, I nod my head to a twangy country song coming from the jukebox.
“A pretty milf like you could do much better than that washed-up hillbilly,” a nasal voice cuts through my bliss. “Lucky for you, I’ve always wanted to do it with an older woman.”
“Ew!” I burst out, looking for the source of those disgusting lines.
A young guy in a white hat leans against the other end of the pool table. He seems barely old enough to drink. I give him a closer once over and my tipsy brain catches up, recognizing him from earlier.
It’s Trevor.
I snort a laugh. He looks like he’s wearing a costume. His snakeskin boots look brand new and his pristine white Stetson sits too high on his head. It’s definitely a few sizes too small.
But you gotta have a little patience with kids, I reckon. So I bite back my annoyance and raise a brow.
“Excuse me?” I ask, giving him a chance to find his manners somewhere in that mouth of too artificially white, too square veneers. I’m surprised they don’t glow in the dim bar light.
“I got your message, honey,” Trevor says.
“Excuse me?” I repeat, now genuinely confused.
I’m drunk but not so drunk I’d forget sending him some sort of message.
Ugh, is he one of those weird stalker-ish fans who believe a musician is secretly sending them coded messages through songs?
“You’re wasting your talent, touring the country with that lame old fart.” He tugs on the sleeve of his silk pearl button shirt and flashes another blinding grin.
My lip curls with disdain. “Mind your mouth, boy. Don’t you have a girlfriend? Go and play with her, kiddo.”
Trevor completely ignores my interjection. “I’ll buy you a whole record studio. You just gotta get rid of that stinky geezer and come home with me.”
I slam my empty bottle onto the pool table.
That’s it.
I don’t give a shit if this guy’s family owns the town. I don’t give a shit if his daddy owns the whole damn world. With Rex on my ass, I’ve had my fill of arrogant men who think they can get away with anything.
Being famous, I’m used to people getting overly familiar or inappropriate with me, giving backhanded compliments, or shit-talking me. But I won’t have anybody talk badly about Rust. He’s been glowing since we walked off the stage and I won’t let this wannabe cowboy manlet ruin it for him.
I spot the back of Rust’s head sticking out over the crowd by the bar. That means I got time to teach this stupid kid some manners.
Emboldened by the alcohol, I step closer and get a nauseating whiff of Axe body spray layered over old sweat. You still can’t buy taste. Or personal hygiene. Guess blondie isn’t his girlfriend for love but for the oil money.
“Take. That. Back.” I poke Trevor in the chest for every word. He’s taller than me, but almost everyone is cause I’m fun-sized. That won’t deter me.
He laughs as he grips my wrist. “Honey I’m not taking back the truth. Don’t you see that he’s ballast keeping you down? Don’t be a fucking cocktease. You gotta—”
My palm flies and connects with Trevor’s cheek. Hard. He squeals like a mouse, the impact knocking the hat from his head as a red handprint blooms on his face.
With perfect timing like in a fucking soap opera, his woman steps out of the bathrooms behind us. “Oh my God, Trevor!” she screeches and stomps in my direction, red bottoms clicking.
With her ironed pantsuit and a pearl necklace peeking out of a light pink blouse, she looks like she stepped out of a finance firm. Or a courthouse. Either way, I’m certain she’s never seen a dirt road or a dive bar before tonight.
That’s probably why I underestimate her.
“Keep your hands off my fiancé, trailer trash!” she yells, throwing a punch.
I’m drunk and slow and her knuckles graze my jaw.
Ouch.
I rub over the ache. Fuck this! I’m gonna have a bruise to cover tomorrow.
“Now I ain’t the type of woman to start a bar fight, but I’m sure gonna finish it, city girl.” I take off my hat and put it upside down on the pool table before I raise my fists. “Bring it, bitch.”
I swing. She ducks. I miss.
Oh God, how embarrassing.
If the ground could open up and swallow me right now, that would be awesome. I stand there, smiling awkwardly.
“In my defense, it’s been a hot minute since I got in a tipsy brawl.” I chuckle thinly.
“How dare you try to hit my snookums!” Trevor screams, his voice cracking.
They come at me two against one. This ain’t good, but I’m not gonna run. I’ll stand my ground and go down fighting. I’m calculating which one of them will be easier to take out first, when a wall steps in front of me.
That wall looks suspiciously like Rust’s broad shoulders.
He rears his arm back, fist cocked. “I’ve fuckin’ had it with you people!”