Chapter Six - Westin

CHAPTER SIX

WESTIN

She goes upstairs. I wait in her kitchen, tapping my hat against my leg. The clock over the stove etches out the seconds. It's still early with plenty of time for lunch, so I'm not in a hurry. We both have all day.

I hear her boots on the floor upstairs after a while before she comes slowly down the steps, like she's feeling shy.

I don't say a word, because there's nothing in my head.

She's stunning.

Her dusky blonde hair is tied in a braid down her back, flyaway bits around her face. The hair near her scalp is darker, the sun having bleached the rest blonde. It's long enough for me to get my fingers tangled up in those curls.

Her short sundress clings to her upper body and flares out below her waist. It hits the middle of her thigh, leaving those long legs bare down to her cowboy boots. Her thighs are lightly freckled, and I follow them with my eyes, up until they disappear under her skirt.

I'd like to explore that later, with my tongue.

"Is this okay?" she asks, voice hushed.

I put my hat on. "More than okay. "

Her face breaks into a smile. She's got a full mouth, and she pouts it a lot, like she disapproves of something. Now, it's pulled back in a little smile as her eyes glitter.

I'd do a lot to see her smile like that again.

"Where are we going?" she asks.

I jerk my head. "Anywhere."

"So you won't tell me?"

I shake my head. "But I promise I'll have you back by two. How's that sound?"

She nods. "This is probably reckless, isn't it?"

I fill the space between us, and she jumps when I take her hand. "Don't worry about that."

She follows me as I lead her down the hall. My truck is parked just off the porch, and I open the side door, but she's too short to climb into the passenger side. She gives me a look, and I lift her up. For a second, her soft body presses against mine.

My dick twitches.

Then I put her into the seat, slam the door, and get into the driver's side. She smooths her skirt primly. Trying not to stare at her legs, I put the truck in gear and drag my eyes to the road as we head down the drive to the state route below.

We're a mile down the road when she puts her hand on her head and sighs.

"Forgot my hat," she says. "My hair bleaches in the sun."

"You can wear mine," I say.

She bites her lip and glances at me again. I can tell that tickles her, because she has to turn to cover her smile.

We head down a side road leading to a one-lane town about ten miles from Carter Farms. It's got a post office, a gas station, and a grocery store, plus a creek that leads to a swimming hole a little ways down. That's as good as it's going to get for a date out here.

"What's your middle name, Westin Quinn?" she asks, shifting to face me.

"Why?"

"I'm curious about the man taking me out. "

"River," I say. "Westin River Quinn."

"Who do you work for?" Her jaw works, like she's interrogating me.

"Gerard Sovereign. And I don't work for him—I work with him."

Her brows rise. "I know who that is, but I've never met him."

I glance down, distracted by her bare thigh. The window is cracked, and the air blows her skirt up a few inches. Her thigh is so smooth and tanned. I'd like to run my palm up and down it, maybe grip right above her knee.

Fuck me, I'd do anything to feel both those soft thighs wrapped around my head.

"Do you like it?"

I tear my eyes away. "Working with Sovereign? Yeah, I do. I have partial shares in the farm, I live on it, and I work when and how I choose. What's not to like?"

She mulls this over. "How'd you meet?"

"We were friends as kids."

Her eyes get distant. "That sounds nice. I've…never had any real friends. We live so far out of the way, and Nana did most of our schooling."

That strikes me as sad. I know David Carter well enough to know that he's not the type to think about anyone else. If I had to guess, she has been cooped up on the farm doing chores and cooking for most of her life. I know I've never seen her in town before.

Lost in thought, I pull off the road on the other side of the town. There's a gravel stretch and a dirt path that runs down to the creek. Across the road is a little convenience store with a single gas pump.

I get out of the truck, circle it, and lean in her open window. She chews her lip, suddenly shy.

"You want to come inside?" I ask. "Or should I pick something out for you?"

She smiles. "I trust your judgment," she says.

"Alright," I say. "I'll take my keys so you can't make a run for it."

She smiles. "I'm not making a run for it, Mr. Quinn."

I take my hat off and fit it on her head. "Be right back. "

The store is empty except for a man smoking on the porch and the clerk. I move through the aisle to the deli at the back and pick up two sandwiches. There's a liquor shelf and a row of cigarettes below it, so I grab two bottles of green tea and a whiskey before I head to the front.

I'm almost to the register when the kiosk by the door stops me short. Medicine, bandages…and condoms. Pausing, I look down at the minimal options.

Do I need a condom today?

What are my intentions with her?

If I had my way, I'd pull that truck off in a private space and lift her into my lap. I'd let her unfasten my belt and take my cock out. I'd dig my hands into her soft hips and work her down onto my length.

She'd gasp, and her big, brown eyes would widen. Her lashes would flutter, her nails drag down my neck.

"Can I help you?"

I jerk my head up to find the clerk is staring at me expectantly.

"No," I say, setting my things down.

"Did you need anything else?"

I glance back at the condoms and take my wallet out. "No, this is it."

When I step onto the porch, Diane is standing outside the truck. My hat is big, and it sits too low, close to her eyes. Her flyaway curls flutter in the hot wind. She's got her arms crossed over her chest.

"Where are we going now?" she asks.

I jerk my head towards the dirt path. "Down there."

She circles the truck, staring down the hill. "What's down there?"

"Just a place to sit," I say.

A place to be alone.

She doesn't wait for me. Short skirt swaying, she moves down the dirt path. I follow a few steps behind until we bottom out at the dusty bank of the creek. The trees move slowly overhead, and the air is hot already. It's private, which makes it a hot spot for couples trying to skinny dip or fuck on the bank .

But she doesn't know that.

She starts taking off her boots. I sink down and set the bag aside. Her legs are long, even though she's not that tall. They keep grabbing my attention, pulling my mind under her skirt. I rest my elbow on my cocked knee, squinting up at her as she tugs her socks off.

"You want to go wading?" she asks.

I shake my head. "No, I've got the best seat in the house right here."

She blushes again, and it's the prettiest thing I've ever seen. Without thinking, I beckon her, and to my surprise, she comes, standing between my boots with her hands tucked behind her back.

"Have you ever been kissed, Miss Carter?" I ask.

Her blush deepens as her eyes dart down. She's embarrassed, but she's got no reason to be. Finally, not meeting my gaze, she shakes her head.

I have two reactions at the same time: surprise and satisfaction.

"Come here," I say, reaching for her waist.

She gasps when I lift her and set her on my lap. Her skirt rides up and bares her thighs. I lean in, my hand sliding to her lower back. The air between us is thick, like static electricity.

Her lips part, and my eyes fall.

"I hope you weren't saving that first kiss for anyone, Miss Carter," I say quietly. "Because I think it's mine."

Her throat bobs.

I lean in and kiss her softly. At first, she tenses, and I rub her back in slow circles absently because I'm occupied. Her lips are so fucking soft, and the feeling of them on mine goes right to my dick. I'm rock hard under my zipper.

All I know is, I can't be too much, too soon.

But, God, I want to be. I want this woman with every fiber of my being.

Instead, I go slow and let her catch up. She's clumsy at first, but as the kiss goes on, she figures it out. Slowly, I increase the pressure until her lips part. Then, I kiss her long and deep, giving her a taste of my tongue.

Her thighs stiffen, and she fucking moans into my mouth. My entire body burns. We break apart, and she's so pretty, all flushed and panting in my lap.

"Can I have that again?" she breathes.

She could ask me for the moon, and I'd drag it down for her. I grip her by the nape of her neck as my other hand moves up between her breasts, cradling her face, holding her head steady so I can lean in and really kiss her this time.

Her hips buck.

I die a little inside, knowing she's feeling things between her thighs that I can't see, taste, or touch. My head spins, and my heart thumps so hard, I feel it in my mouth.

She tastes like sweet lightning.

Like she's going to fuck me up, good and hard, and I'll just keep drinking because she's so good. I swear that, as her lips part and she offers me the tip of her soft tongue, the ground shakes.

Something good is coming.

And so is something cataclysmic.

Mindlessly, recklessly, I flip her onto her back on the bank. She gasps as my mouth runs down the side of her neck. My teeth graze her collarbone. My hand slides down, down, down to the hem of her dress.

I pause. I'm so horny for her, I didn't put all the pieces together until now. If she hasn't been kissed, she definitely hasn't been fucked.

I pull back and her dark eyes are dreamy with desire. Her full mouth pants as her breasts heave under her thin dress.

She's my judgment day, my test of what kind of man I am.

She probably thinks I'm a good one, but she doesn't know about the tin cans, the bodies in the ground, or the list of names carved into my bed. Names I've been scratching off, one by one, as I take care of them .

I should let her go—tell her I'm no good for someone as sweet as her—but I don't. Instead, I slip my hand up under her skirt.

She gasps, and I catch it in my mouth. This time, the kiss goes on and on as I move my hand back and forth over the seam of her panties right below her navel.

She moans, her hips riding up. I break contact.

"Is it too much too soon?" I ask.

She shakes her head. "Don't stop," she begs.

Her thighs shudder and my heart thumps. We're on the shore, her on her back with her thigh cocked. Our bodies mold together, and I swear I can feel the blood pump in her veins.

I shift my hand, slipping my fingertip under the seam.

"What are you going to do?" she whispers.

I move over her, keeping my weight up so I don't crush her frame. My mouth runs over her throat and goes lower, kissing the faint swell of her cleavage. I should stop right now, but I can't—I don't want to.

I want to push her skirt up and eat her out, right here on the riverbank. It's summer, and I haven't gotten laid in forever. I've been like a bull on the other side of the cow pen since we met, all tied up in knots and hornier than I've ever been in my life.

Something changed in that kitchen, a shift strong enough that it made me set aside my guilt about how young and vulnerable she is. For the first time, I've met a woman who looks at me, really looks at me, like I'm a man who could love her right.

Like I'm more than just a gunslinger.

My hand dips down, and I feel a little patch of trimmed hair. Then, there's soft, naked pussy and, God—my fingertips slip over her wetness.

Fuck me.

Her thighs tremble, and a gasp slips from between her lips as her nails pierce my chest. My hands tighten on her panties, and I need to go down, to taste all that sweet arousal on her cunt. But she bats my arm away, and I drag my gaze up to wide eyes.

"What are you…going to do?" she whispers .

Her voice is raspy, but it's not scared. Head spinning, I bend down and kiss her open lips harshly. I know she feels the drumbeat in my body, the one I hear in the distance, getting closer with every second I'm not buried in her sweet pussy.

This is inevitable. I have to have her, even if it means taking her virginity on the bank of the creek.

I pull back. There's no fucking point in lying.

"I need you, Diane," I say hoarsely.

Her throat bobs. "Like…how?"

I brush her hair back, my thumb dragging down her cheek. "I need to touch you, kiss you…be inside you. God, girl, I feel like I'm fucking dying."

Heat waves rise from the dusty riverbank where our bodies lay together. Her lashes flutter, and I know my words are a million filthy images in her mind. I see it in her flush, feel it when her hips rub on me, just a little bit.

"I…um…I haven't…."

I nod. "I can guess."

My eyes rove over her face. Her big, dark eyes have a little droop to them that I find so sexy, especially when they're hazy with desire. Her full mouth parts, showing me a flash of white teeth, one tooth slightly overlapping the other. The pink tip of her tongue flicks out and wets her lips.

I'm so hard it hurts. My hand tightens on her body.

My girl. This could be my girl.

All soft, warm, sun-kissed skin, dotted with summertime freckles. Blonde curls so fine, they feel like silk in my calloused hands.

I should stop. She's twenty-one years old.

She doesn't know what she's getting into, consorting with someone like me. Up at Sovereign Mountain, we do things with little regard for anyone's law but our own.

This girl doesn't know who I am.

Or what I've done .

If I was a better man, I would take her home with her virginity intact, but I've never been particularly good—just good at pretending I am so the world doesn't guess what I do in the dark.

But I can't pretend with her—something about those brown eyes makes me honest.

I know what I'm going to do, even if I shouldn't, and so does she. The inevitability is intoxicating. When our eyes meet, it thrums like wire through a fence. We're going to fuck.

"Do you want to do that…here?" she whispers.

"Would you rather it be in bed?"

She nods. "Yeah, I think I would."

Reluctantly, I extract my hand from her panties and help her to her feet. She's flushed as she puts her boots back on, and I take the opportunity to lick my fingers.

My head spins.

She's sweet with a little hint of tartness, and fuck , I need more. I want it saturating my senses. Before I fuck her, I'm going to eat her out. Thoroughly.

She's getting a lot of firsts today.

We're both quiet as I take her hand and lead her to the truck. She hands my hat back to me, and I set it on the dashboard. The engine rumbles as I pull back onto the road, and she clears her throat.

"Are you going to tell anyone?" she whispers.

I glance over. Her arms are wrapped around her body. I slide my hand down her thigh and grip it, holding her tight.

"No," I say firmly.

"I don't take the pill."

"I'll pull out," I say.

"Maybe you could use a condom?" she says, glancing sideways. I can tell she's not used to conversations like this—she's glowing pink.

I shake my head. "No, I'll pull out."

She starts biting her thumbnail. I rub my palm over her bare thigh in slow circles. After a while, she takes that hand and twines her fingers through it, and as we drive, some of the tenseness ebbs from her body .

We pull up the drive, and I park behind the trees, even though no one is home. She lets me lift her out of the truck, and I stay a few steps behind her, watching her short skirt twitch as she walks.

And I toy with the idea of not pulling out.