Bourbon & Branch Water (3 page)

The crude word turned her on even
more. No one had ever talked to her like that, like she was a sexual person who
had urges to satisfy. Without saying a word, she let his dick slide out of her
mouth and kissed her way back up his body until he led her to his face.

They kissed, gently at first then
more forceful. Stormy loved his passion and returned the kiss with passion of
her own. He rolled her over on her back and kissed her deeply. She wrapped her
legs around his waist like it was the most natural thing to do at the time. And
maybe it was. His pajamas were around his knees, but neither of them cared as
he reached under a pillow and came back with a foil-wrapped condom. It took him
less than thirty seconds to open the packet and slide the clear latex on
himself. Finally, he sank into her, his cock fitting into her wet channel like
it had found a home.

“God but you feel good,” he said on
a soft groan.

“More.”

“Yeah, I want more, too.” He rose
on his arms and began to pump his hips, stroking her shallow and deep. The
pressure inside her was incredible, ribbons were curling in her belly and her
clit was throbbing in time with her heart.

She cupped his face, suspended
above her, and he tilted his head into her hand, his
stubbled
cheek rasping against her palm.

The pace picked up and
Stormy’s
excitement began to reach a fever pitch. A slight
sheen formed on Jeff’s chest and shoulders and Stormy was incredibly turned on
by the wet sounds of their bodies where they joined. She stroked his back,
feeling the muscles ripple, and arched up against his pelvis. He curled over
and took one of her nipples in his mouth, sucking and nipping while she moaned
and writhed beneath him.

They were breathing fast, ever
faster, panting together as their exertions increased.

Finally, Stormy breathed his name
and cried out softly as her body pulsed with a mind-shattering orgasm. But he
didn’t let her come down from her high. Jeff continued fucking her while she
arched and squeezed him with her knees.

“Oh God,” she moaned. “I’m going to
come again.”

“Okay, babe, let go. I want to feel
it.”

Sex words again. The rational part
of
Stormy’s
mind, barely heard above the screaming of
her libido, noted how deeply
well-chosen
words could
affect her. It was the stuff of future fantasies beyond Jeff, for this time
with him was going to end soon. Stormy pushed that idea away and let the
feelings overwhelm her again, but this time his groan mingled with her cries as
they both reached their peak together.

Panting, he slowed until he was
motionless inside her except for the pulsing of his cock as he came. Stormy
gripped him tighter and reveled in the idea that she could have this gorgeous,
sexy guy between her legs and make him lose himself in the moment.

He lowered himself to rest on his
elbows, poised against her gently,
smiled
, his hands
stroking her hair. “I think we’re getting better at this. What do you think?”

She giggled. “Maybe practice really
does make perfect.”

Jeff kissed her lightly. “We’ll
have to put some effort into it next time,” he joked.

Laughing, she ran her hands up his
thick biceps and stroked his face. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, miss we aim to
please.”

Gravity returned and settled into
Stormy’s
bones. Jeff was a temporary madness for her. And
it was time to go. He couldn’t possibly want her to stick around. She was
quickly wearing out her welcome. She kissed him lightly, pressing her hands
against his chest gently. “I ought to go,” she whispered.

His cock slid out of her as he
moved against her, “already?”

She nodded, “yeah. I should.”

Jeff rolled to her side and drew
her against him, “I wish you’d stay for a while longer.”

“I’ve already stayed too long. I
don’t belong here. This isn’t me. I don’t do one night stands.”

He tensed beneath her cheek. “Okay,”
he said, pulling his arms away from her. “Let me help you find your clothes.”

Chapter 2

Jeff parked on the gravel drive in front
of the well-kept ranch house. It was butter yellow with white trim, flowers and
shrubs all around as well as in the grassy yard. This was obviously a
prosperous ranch, which explained how they could afford his services. He didn’t
come cheap.

As he approached the screened, open
front door, he heard slapping sounds and a crying woman within. Immediately,
his senses heightened. The woman was mewling and sobbing pitifully. Maybe an
intruder had her. Maybe someone had come to this ranch to rob them, and now had
the family captive. There was a garage, but no other vehicle on the drive but
Jeff’s.

More slapping and
crying.
Well, he couldn’t just stand there at the door when someone was
being abused!

“Hey!” he called, opening the
screen. “That’s enough!” The interior was dim in the homey room, but Jeff’s
eyes adjusted quickly, unfortunately.

Sitting on the couch was Mr. Randolph,
his wife draped over his lap, bawling her eyes
out.
Randolph
was swatting her bare behind vigorously, but it came to an abrupt halt when
Jeff stumbled in.

“Oh!” Jeff felt his face heat. How
embarrassing for everyone. “I…uh…I thought something was wrong.” But maybe Mrs.
Randolph wasn’t going along with this. Maybe the husband was abusing the wife.
Every couple had their own way of dealing with disagreements. Jeff wouldn’t
involve himself unless Leland Randolph was abusive. “Mrs. Randolph? Is this…I
mean…are you okay?”

She sniffled, raising her head to
look at him. Her eyes were wet and red-rimmed, her face pink, but she answered.
“I’m okay. I-I-
I’m
really okay. Leland? Maybe we
should stop.”

Leland, who was frowning mightily
at Jeff, pulled his hand back from where it had been poised over Nan Randolph’s
behind. “Don’t let me catch you gossiping again, Nan. You know it’s bad
behavior.”

“Yes, sir.”

He let her up and she pulled up her
jeans and stepped away to grab a tissue and wipe her nose. She gave Jeff a
watery smile. “I’m really okay, Mr. Hand.”

Leland
rose
from the couch, a middle-aged man with a powerful physique and ham-sized hands.
Jeff wasn’t too keen on the idea that Leland might take a swing at him for
barging in on a family matter, but if he did, Jeff could defend himself.

“You sure know how to make an
entrance, Hand,” Leland said. His frown was clearing.

Jeff held out his hand for a shake,
giving the older man an embarrassed smile. “I’m sorry, Mr. Randolph. I thought
something was wrong. I apologize for coming in uninvited.”

“Well,” Leland said, as he shook
Jeff’s hand. “We were expecting you. I lost track of the time. Nan has a way of
distracting me.” His wife grinned and flushed. “She only wraps me around her
finger most of the time, not all of it.”

She giggled, “oh, Lee.”

Leland released Jeff’s hand and
smiled. “Well, now you know about us. I’d appreciate it if this didn’t get all
over Fire Gorge.” He gestured to a sway-backed upholstered chair across from
the couch.

Jeff sat as he responded. “I rarely
have business in Fire Gorge, Mr. Randolph, but in any case, I would keep your
confidence. I guess we can call this privileged information.”

“Right.”

“I’ll make some coffee.” Once
again, Nan smiled a reassuring smile at Jeff, but her eyes lingered on her
husband with clear affection. “Or would you fellas rather have lemonade?”

The sun was hot outside, and Jeff wanted
something cool after the heat of his gaffe had warmed his face. He’d never seen
a man spanking his wife as a punishment; spanking had always been reserved for
the bedroom in his mind. Live and learn. “Lemonade, Mrs. Randolph, if you have
it.”

“Of course. Lee?”

“Sounds good to me, don’t linger
though, Nan. I want you to be part of this discussion.”

She nodded and with a smile hurried
off toward the back of the house.

Leland looked a little sheepish. “We
don’t do that often, Mr. Hand. We have a…particular relationship. I wear the
pants in the family. It’s an agreement Nan and I made years ago, before we got
married.”

Jeff nodded. “No need to explain.”

“It works for us. I don’t expect
other people to understand.”

“Really, it’s okay. I can see that
you two are close. Does the…the…um…”

“Spanking, son, that’s what it is.”

“Yes. Yes, of course. Well, does
that settle things?”

“Almost always, it reminds her of
her contract with me, to respect and obey, and sometimes it leads to other
things more pleasant.” Now it was Leland’s turn to be a little embarrassed.

Maybe they should move on to
business, though the idea of having a relationship like the Randolph’s’ was a
very interesting thing for Jeff to contemplate. “Thank you. Now, let’s discuss
the matter you hired me for.”

* * *

Stormy raced along the highway,
trying to get to the
Porterman’s
spread on time. It
was her first real legal case as a lawyer and she wanted it to go perfectly.
She’d worked for this ever since her first year in college, through law school,
and then three years as a law clerk in Montana. Mr. Holyfield, her boss and the
senior partner in the small law firm in Fire Gorge, had warned her that she’d
better do a good job on this. He’d said it in a kind way, he was a kind man, but
she knew there was a thread of advice in there, too. She’d better do well or
she’d be back performing clerical duties again. There was only one law practice
in Fire Gorge. The next closest was clear in Las Vegas, and she didn’t want to
go that far from home each day. She had to make this work.

The
Porterman
farm lay on a bend of Cicada Creek. It was a big spread with crops and a small
herd of fancy
Piedmontese
cattle. From what Stormy
could see as she passed through the farm road along its macadam thoroughfare,
it was carefully tended. She wasn’t much of an expert on farming or ranching,
but she could tell that the
Portermans
were doing
okay. Maybe they weren’t the richest farmers in the county, but they weren’t
poor either.

Despite the day’s heat the front
door was closed tight when Stormy arrived. Her knock was answered after a few
moments, and
she was greeted by Ella
Porterman
.
She’d met the woman before, when the
Portermans
had
come to Holyfield, Ramus and
Fyne
to hire an
attorney. Ella had classically beautiful
features,
she
was a tall woman, several inches taller than
Stormy’s
five-foot-six, but a whole lot more willowy and narrow. Although Stormy was by
no means heavy, she had the kind of curves that Marilyn Monroe was famous for.
Stormy and Ella were exact opposite versions of what the male population
considered pretty. Unfortunately for Stormy, their attractiveness to men was
about all they had in common and finding a friendly welcome was highly unlikely.
Ella was bossy, manipulative and shrill. Her voice reminded Stormy of the
Wicked Witch of the West, and her attitude wasn’t much better.

Well…one couldn’t necessarily pick
one’s clients. Faced with making the best of it or going back to her law clerk
status, Stormy opted to do whatever it took to deal with the
Portermans
, including Ella.

Patting a lock of blonde hair that
wasn’t out of place, Ella
Porterman
looked down her
nose at Stormy. Stormy knew it was because she was a Paiute, with Paiute
features. Too many of the people in the county thought of the Native Americans
as lazy and irresponsible but that wasn’t true. The Paiutes were much like any
other people; they worked hard and tried to prosper. They worshipped and
struggled. Her own father had built a small business, a construction company on
the reservation. He had his problems, but when he’d been alive he’d tried hard.
That meant something and deserved a modicum of respect.

The fact that Stormy was only a
junior lawyer in the firm didn’t help matters but Ella might not have realized
that Stormy had been law clerking in Fire Gorge for several months before
getting the promotion. Hopefully, it wouldn’t matter in the long run.

Stormy wondered if the woman was
going to let her in, but she offered her hand to Ella and gave her a warm
smile.

“Mrs.
Porterman
,
you might remember me from Holyfield, Ramus and
Fyne
.
I’m Stormy Stillwater.”

“I remember you.” She stepped back
a bit. “Come in. You’re letting the cool air out.”

“Of course,” Stormy squeezed by
Ella and tried not to be intimidated. Russell
Porterman
came into the modest living room from somewhere in the back of the house. Everything
in the room was crisp and tidy. It hardly looked lived
in,
it was so clean and fresh.

“Ah,” he said, with a pleasant
smile, “our new attorney, come in and sit down.” He glanced over at his wife. “Ella,
maybe you can bring in some iced tea. It’s mighty hot out there.” Russ
Stillwater was a little mussed, with dirt on his work boots and denim overalls.

“If you’re thirsty, Russ, you can
get it yourself. I’m sure Miss Stillwater is fine.”

Stormy would have loved some tea,
but she kept that to herself. “Yes, I’m fine.” She sat where Russell had
indicated, and put her briefcase in her lap. The couple sat down in
fussy-looking chintz-upholstered chairs, and looked at her expectantly.

Stormy addressed Mr.
Porterman
. “I’m Stormy Stillwater, sir. You might remember
me. I was present when you were talking with Mr. Holyfield in Fire Gorge.”