Unlike me, Hunt enjoys the flash of nice things. He grew up in a typical middle-class family, but has always had an eye for the finer things. But he’s never had a thing handed to him. He attended college on an academic scholarship and had most of his graduate school paid for with money he saved from working and a start-up he and a business school friend developed, which they later sold.
He did what any business graduate would do: he went into corporate America, working his way up to a high-paying director’s job, and hated every minute. My friend likes nice things, but no one knows how to manage money better than he does and then make it grow. He’s been smart with every cent he’s made, which made it that much easier to bring him on as my partner.
I drive home in silence. Sometimes it’s the only way I can clear my head. But once again, I can’t. Not when all I can think about is how wet Betty was when I sank my fingers into her panties. I’d wanted to take her right there, hold her against the door with my forearm, with her ass high in the air, begging me to mark her skin.
“Dammit, Nash,” I scold myself.
It’s a ten-minute drive toward the mountains before I hit my mile-long driveway, the path curving upward until it levels out at the top of the hill, revealing my black and gray home. The exterior is modern and square with hints of farmhouse in the exposed wood detailing. It’s what Katherine wanted.
It’s just a house. A massive house that’s devoid of any feeling or the touches that make it a home. The realization that it’s not like the Hughes home hits me like a freight train to the gut. Funny, it’s not like mine either, littered with pictures of us kids growing up and the many moments of Pop traveling to rodeos.
Cutting the engine, I’m quick to hop out of my truck, my legs wobbling, barely able to support my weight after that forty-minute sprint—something I’ve never done.
It’s a shuffle through the motions as I make my way up to my bedroom and into the master bathroom. I make quick work of hopping into the shower, scrubbing my body clean, and then allowing myself five minutes to stand under the spray. Five minutes of my forehead resting on the cold marble. Five minutes to put Betty out of my mind and not fist my cock until I come all over my shower wall.
Five minutes pass far too quickly.
I’m just walking out the front door, dressed in my typical dark-wash jeans, button-up, and suit jacket with my cowboy boots, as Hunt stops at the top of the drive. A relieved sigh leaves me as I spot his Range Rover idling, its music cranked loud enough that I can hear every word, even with the window rolled up.
Climbing into the passenger side, he hands me a tablet with the account already pulled up. I’m quick to turn down the volume, eyeing his custom-made suit. Like me, Hunt has the build of a football player. We’re both tall, with a decent amount of girth that fills out our clothes. He claims his muscles are so large that off-the-rack suits don’t fit, but I order all my jackets online or in-store, and I also bought my only tuxedo in a store.
His money, his choice.
“They’re losing a ton of money doing this sale,” I mumble.
“That’s what I’ve been telling the old man, but they’re adamant that they need to get rid of the land and livestock,” Hunt relays with a distant hum.
“The urgency is just… off. It’s a well-run dairy farm, one of the biggest in the state. Why wouldn’t they want to at least get paid what it’s worth?” I wonder aloud.
“Beats me,” Hunt answers, flying down the back road that will take us to Blumsberry Farm.
We’re silent for a while as I review the numbers for the hundredth time. We’ve been trying to convince the family that they can do better, which should have been easy to see, as they’ve had numerous other offers, including one that was significantly over the asking price. It’s my job to guide them in evaluating the offers and making the right deal, but I refuse to force anyone into a contract they don’t want.
“So, are you going to tell me what this morning was about?” Hunt asks, expertly navigating the weaving curves at a speed too fast to be considered safe. But that’s my fault. I made us late.
“I needed a good sweat, that’s all.”
“Bullshit. What happened at home that got you so worked up? Were your sisters there or something?” He chuckles, knowing it’s always a joyous event when those two make their way back to Cole County with their husbands and children in tow. They’ve both been married for eighteen years, and both have three children; their eldest are sixteen and fifteen. Those two have always acted like they were twins, perhaps because they were born only a year and two months apart. It’s like they planned their whole lives together. They even live in the same damn neighborhood.
“No. I haven’t seen them since Christmas,” I groan, recalling how heinous that had been. They acted as if they were too good to come back to the ranch, choosing instead to stay at the luxury hotel in Carruthersville rather than at our family home. The only reason I was looking forward to it was to hang out with my nieces and nephews. I’ve always loved kids. Even as a youngman, I knew I always wanted some of my own, but some things aren’t in the cards for some of us.
My mind immediately jumps to Betty and how good it would feel to move inside her bare before filling her pretty pussy with my cum. I’d make sure she kept every drop. How else would she get…
“Fuck!” I bark out loud, tossing the tablet on the backseat, only for Hunt to stare at me as if I’ve lost my mind.
“So…” he stretches out the word, and I finally cave.
“Do you remember Beck? The kid from back home I used to play football with in college?” I groan, scrubbing my hands over my face as if that will clear the image of Betty naked out of my head.
“Yeah, of course, but why?” Confusion knits his brow as he turns onto the road that will lead us to the main drive of the farm.
“Uh, so last fall his younger sister told me she has a… crush on me. I kind of brushed it off, but then I started thinking about her—”
“Hold the fuck up,” he interrupts. “The girl who liked to sit outside in the middle of the night?”
I groan, hating that I described her that way now, but it’s how I remembered her best, always staring up at the stars. “Yeah. I kissed her, and fuck, all I can think about is how I passed up on fucking her until she couldn’t stand or say her name.”
“Uh…” Hunt hums.
