His cock twitched when he revisited that sexy scene when the guy throwing it to her—he couldn’t help but chuckle again—came in her mouth. Cash had received a few blows in his lifetime but never once, not one time that he could recall, had a woman swallowed his cum.
His balls throbbed then as he imagined Trixie on the bed there with him. Had she slept with Pratchert there? When Stephen had abducted her, had he taken her here on this mattress, in this very bed?
Collapsing against a stack of pillows, he closed his eyes and grabbed hold of his cock again. This time, he had an erection.
He was delighted when his cock moved restlessly in his palm like the damn thing was spooked or something. His penis became longer and thicker and to his surprise he was feeling confident again. Before long, he’d be able to deliver a pretty powerful punch with this kind of weapon between his legs.
“What a woman,” Cash said, fantasizing. She’d practically breathed new life into his once-dead masculine member. “I knew we’d be good together, baby mama.”
Oh yes. She was the one. She would soon mother his children. They’d start a family together and live happily ever after.
An evil laugh resounded, one he barely recognized as his own. Had Stephen Pratchert thought the same? Had he planned beyond a hookup? Probably not. The man couldn’t see tomorrow for hanging on too tightly to the years that had passed him by. What the hell had Pratchert been thinking anyway? He didn’t have a damn thing to offer Trixie.
Cash, on the other hand, had it going on. He pumped faster and faster, recalling how one of the men had ridden Trixie from behind, taking her doggie style. He’d pulled that hair of hers and she’d hollered until she’d cried, but she’d enjoyed the fucking.
God yeah, she’d liked it. He could tell by the way she bounced over one man’s cock while ramming her bottom against another.
His penis shuddered. Man, there was some heavy action down there today. He pulled faster and with firmer yanks. He stuck his thumb in the corner of his mouth and moistened the digit. Then, when he was ready to explode, he pumped his hips away from the bed, stood up, pretended to wrap Trixie’s tan legs around his waist, and lay atop the mattress, dragging his wet thumb across the head of his cock and plowing against the bed.
“Yeah, baby mama. I’m fucking you like a woman wants a man to fuck her.” He pounded against the bed, pretending Trixie lay there before him.
He buried himself into the hot depths of her sweet pussy and finally just let himself go. He came all over the place, the first squirt of his release as painful as it was pleasurable as he raked his cock over the mattress threads and tried to feel the clench of her vagina, certain now she was there with him, urging him on, practically cheering for him.
When he was done, depleted, and finished, he rolled to his back and screamed into the darkness. “I will have you, Trixie Cartwell! I will bury my cock inside you and ride you all night long! Do you hear me? Are you out there listening to me, little whore? I will own you! I will claim you! You will forever be mine!”
He closed his eyes and dragged his fingernails over his nipples. A surge of pain swept over him and he cried out once again. This time, he overlapped his arms and hugged himself as tightly as he could manage. Then, he curled up in a fetal position.
“Shh, baby,” he whispered, rocking himself back and forth. “Shh, shh, Trixie. I’ll keep you nice and warm. Once I hold you like this, I will die before I ever let you go.”
Chapter Eight
“I can’t believe we’re here.” Trixie entered the office Mitch had once occupied. “I feel like that ditzy nineteen-year-old camp counselor.”
“I can promise you—there are notable differences between now and then,” Brock said.
“Is that a fat joke?” Trixie asked, placing her hands on her hips.
“Why hell no,” Brock grumbled. “Where did you come up with that idea?”
“Don’t even try to figure that one out,” Rory said.
Brock laughed. “I’ll take your advice.”
Trixie slipped into yesteryear and revisited memories. “It’s so strange to find this place just the way we left it.”
“Cow Camp isn’t the same, Trixie,” Brock said, acting overly concerned. “It will never be the same again.”
She stopped. “I know, Brock. I didn’t grow up here like you and Rory, but Cow Camp still means a lot to me. I spent one incredible life-changing summer here.”
“One fateful summer,” Rory said, a gleam in his eye. Brock shot him a scornful look, and Rory quickly turned away. “I didn’t mean it like that.”