Chapter Ten
Cash
The distillery is lit up in lights, Main Street is buzzing with folks, and the rain is pouring down harder than it has all day. It hasn’t stopped the crowds, though I reckon most of that has to do with the rednecks who are here endorsing the place.
With all the shit they’ve given us over the past couple of months, I figure there has to be a catch, but right now, I’ve got bigger fish to fry.
Andrew is here, and he’s walking straight towards us with Violet’s dad. My best friend, a guy who should be able to trust me. A guy who stood out in a snowstorm with me, getting a broken fence upright before the wind took it down completely. A guy who’s never once let me down.
Fuck. It’s all more real now, the damage I’ve done.
I land my hand on Violet’s back and take a deep breath as we step down into the noisy distillery. Truth be told, this is the busiest I’ve seen the place since we opened.
“Your dad’s book looks great,” my buddy says to me as he hugs his daughter hello. “Your idea to put it in a vintage case like that?”
I shake my head, and clear my voice, attempting to sound as normal as possible, like his daughter’s not dripping with my come right now as I say, “Nah. I’m pretty hands off with this place lately. Thinking about selling my share to stay home a little more.”
Violet snaps her gaze toward me, a smile on her face. “Really?”
“Yeah,” I nod. “It’s a lot dividing my attention between the distillery, the ranch, and the family. I reckon it’s time I focus on what’s important.”
I can feel her beaming, and I want to wrap her up and talk about the plans I have to build her a studio onto the house. A place where she can escape to when she needs time to herself, or when she wants space to work on her craft.
“This is why you need to take that job in Dallas,” her dad says, shaking his head. “Job stability is important these days.”
“How did you know about the job in Dallas?”
“You left your email logged in at the house.”
Violet rolls her eyes. “I really have to stop doing that everywhere! So, everyone knows about this job in Dallas?”
“I suppose,” he says as he shrugs and straightens his button-down. The man never dresses up. Tonight is a rare occasion. “Are you going to take it?”
“She’s not.” I answer for her instinctually, though I wish I could take it back immediately.
“Is that true?” Her dad narrows his heavy brows. “Honey, I don’t want you moving that far away, but Andrew said he doesn’t mind going out there with you for a while. I’ll miss him, but he has connections at the fire department, and they said they need the help out there.”
My face heats and my fists clench instinctively. “She’s not going.”
I know for sure I’m fucking up now.
Her father glares toward me with a long, burning stare. “I know she’s helping you, Cash, but you said yourself that you’re taking time off to be with the family more. She’s got to think about her career long-term.”
My jaw locks as I stare back at my best friend, unsure of how to take the conversation. I could tell him I’ve chosen his daughter, and she belongs to me now, though something tells me that won’t go over well.
We’re quiet again as rain mutes out the sound of violins from the live band playing in the corner. “How’s your shoulder, Violet?” Andrew asks, attempting to change the subject. “I tried texting and calling, but I haven’t heard back from you.”
She swipes her hand over the cut we rebandaged this morning. “It’s fine. I forgot it was even there.”
He nods one long, slow nod then pinches his lips together before he says, “That outfit looks familiar, Violet. Is it new?” Andrew pauses. “It’s a lot like the one Cash was buying today at the shop on Main.”
Heat tightens behind my ribs. This little prick thinks he’s going to start some shit.
“I bought her those clothes today.”
“You may not know this, but did you hear he was in the dressing room with someone?”
I scratch the side of my head, trying to be a classy fuck, considering the crowd.
“What Cash does on his own time is none of my business,” Violet says, her voice shaking.
“Okay.” My buddy inhales quickly as though the topic is getting too weird for him. He’s one of the most wholesome people I know. Church every Sunday, and prayers every morning before work. The man is on the poster for the all-American neighbor. “Well, good luck tonight.”
“Thanks.” I nod and exhale as he and Sherlock fucking Holmes turn away.
“Why does it feel like Andrew thinks he knows something?” Violet turns toward me, her eyes wide, the scent of lilacs on her skin.
“Because he knows something,” I say, my hand never leaving the small of her back. “We don’t owe anyone answers, though. He has no proof.”
She pinches her lips together slowly then raises her gaze to me. “What if he took pictures? What if he’s got video?” She glances down at the pinewood floor. “Why does this have to be so complicated?”
“It doesn’t have to be,” I say, sliding her hand in mine as I guide her toward the long hallway down the back end of the distillery for a breath.
She’s hesitant at first, her steps small and reluctant, as the sounds of folks chatting and music playing fall into the background the further we get down the hall.
Her fingers tighten around mine as we pass the office.
I’d planned to sneak in there for a moment to breathe, but my brothers are in a heated discussion about something.
It’s probably the deal with the rednecks.
I should probably join in, but I have more important things to do right now, so I head directly for the storage room instead.
It’s not a huge space, but it’s large enough that it holds our jarred surplus, as well as our condiments and paper products, with plenty of room left in the middle. As a bonus, the room smells like cherries, thanks to three club sized jars of maraschinos ending up on the floor last week.
“What are we doing back here?” Violet asks, staring up at me the sweet innocent way she does.
I lean into her lips, my hand around the back of her neck, a growl in my throat as I say, “I can’t stand being out there with everyone’s eyes on you. I need them all to know you’re mine.”
“You’re jealous?” Her eyes search mine. “Why would you be jealous? You’re like… the hottest guy here. I’ve seen at least twelve women look at you since we walked in.”
“They weren’t looking at me. They were looking at you.”
She tilts her head to the side. “And why would they be looking at me?”
“Women do that, you should know. They look at women they’re envious of.” I drag my gaze over her curved frame, the short, black dress she’s wearing still too revealing in my opinion. “Look at you. You’re gorgeous.”
She laughs. “And you’re delusional.”
“Tell me you don’t want to go to Dallas with Andrew.”
“What?” Her forehead wrinkles as she stares up at me. “Why would you think I would?”
“He’s your age, and as much as I hate it, he’s handsome. Plus, your dad likes him. Life would be easy.” I scratch my hand down over my beard as I talk, knowing full well if she tells me she wants to go with Andrew, I’ll probably have to murder him.
“No,” she lifts onto her toes for a kiss, then grabs my cock with her free hand, “I don’t want to run off to Dallas with some meathead. I love you, Cash. I want you.”
Relief hits me like a sucker punch as she slips her hand into my slacks, stroking me through my briefs. Her tiny little hand, wrapped around my cock, pumping slow and steady as she looks up at me with a moan in her throat.
I’ve had her twice today. I should be able to control myself, but the thought of her tight, little asshole on display as she bent over in the dressing room haunts me.
Bright and pink, tight and puckered.
Fuck.
Heat rises in my chest, and my thoughts narrow to instinct, sharp and immediate, as my cock stiffens at the memory, and without thought, I have her bent over the whiskey barrel in the corner, her panties pulled to the side, her ass plump and waiting.
“Princess, tell me what you want again.” I grab the canola oil inadvertently placed on the back shelf and slide my fingers into the organic lube before rubbing them in circles around her tight, little asshole.
“I want you,” she pants. “I want you everywhere. In my mouth, in my pussy, in my ass. I need it, Cash.”
Tonight is really fucking important and I know I should be out in the bar, mingling with guests, thanking locals for their support, helping my brothers with the dozen things that need doing. Rationally, I know this.
I know how stupid it is to finger Violet’s little asshole in the back room, two rooms away from her father. I know how destructive it is to slap her ass and demand she’s louder. I know how fucked up it is to stroke my cock with oil and inch inside of her, desperate to feel the stretch.
If I could stop myself, I would.
Pulling my fingers from her back hole, I tighten my grip around her waist and lean in, biting her ass cheek with a groan. The anticipation is killing me as she looks back, mouth open, lips swollen as she grips the whiskey barrel for dear life.
Her ass lifts as she shakes it back and forth tauntingly, like she’s ready for adventure, and I know what’s happening. The last shred of composure I’d been holding onto is gone.
“This is going to hurt.” I spread her ass cheeks wide and smooth my cock over her tight, little hole, my head dizzy as I press in slightly.
“I like it when it hurts. Go hard.”
Jesus.
I’m barely inside before I’m on the verge of release.
Fuck, she’s tight. Tight and slick. I thump in and out against the cheeks of her round ass. One hand fisted into her hair, the other planted firmly on her hip as I chase ecstasy.
“Oh God!” She grips the sides of the barrel tighter, her knuckles turning white. “Go deeper!”