Montana (Modern Mail Order Bride Book 2) (22 page)

“You are ruining the sexy jostling time by talking about my brother...talking about money,” she said as she planted small kisses on his neck. Her left hand dropped low, gripping him, squeezing, tugging as her tongue slipped into his ear.

“Shit hell, that feels so good, Honey,” he moaned a little. “We still need to talk...about kids...land rights...Johnso... uuhhhmmm....do that again.”

“Three months,” she told him, her long legs wrapping around his as she maneuvered her body under him, preparing for his entry.

He kissed her hard on the mouth, his need for her starting to overshadow his reasoning. “Three months for what...,” his hands tugged at the lacy bra.

“Starting our family,” she said as she adjusted her back for him to remove the brassiere.

The soft gray eyes stared down at her, “Look at me, Pecola.”  He adjusted his position, pulled her underwear off, aimed, and pushed.

Her back arched as she received him. Her toes dug into the mattress as she cried out. The lovemaking was sweet and slow as he used his body as an exclamation point on every unsaid sentence.

“I love you, Pecola,” he whispered as he took her with a newfound mastery. Every movement, her body reacted to.  Each push, each thrust, every micro-movement brought her pleasure.

“William, I love you, too,” she whimpered as she began her ascent.

He did not disappoint her as he brought her to a loud, lusty finish. She screamed his name as she bucked against him furiously, feverishly, craving that ending. “Now William, take me there now!” she cried.

His body worked hard.  Sweat rolled down his back.  The hairs on his chest matted with sweat as he moved against her body. His back humped as he reached the summit. “You feel so damned good, Honey, I ain’t gonna make it much longer,” he said as he thrust harder. He rolled his hips down, then upwards as she let go.

Billy Joe let out a satisfied growl as he got there, knowing his wife loved him. He held her close, panting, enjoying the blessings she had brought to his life.

“Pecola, Honey, I was wondering...,” he said.  A small kiss was planted on her forehead. “Why did you choose Montana Hart as a pen name?”

A lazy finger made small circles in the middle of his chest. “I have always been in love with the state of Montana, which is why most of my mail order brides are set here, pass through here, or end here. So I guess my heart has always belonged to Montana,” she told him.

“Now, your heart belongs to me,” he said.

“And mine to you,” she replied.

“I waited for you, Pecola,” he told her. 

“My heart waited for you, William,” she told him as she kissed his chest.

“Shit hell, a fella couldn’t ask for more than that. Goodnight, Honey,” he said.

“Good night, husband.”

O
ne year later...

Avery Johnson Peters collected her paint brushes, easels, and paints and headed at full speed over to The Lodge at the Lake. Today, she had four students who had registered for her Intro to Brush Strokes class.  Tomorrow a fresh group of writers would be arriving in the afternoon to begin a two-week residency at The Lodge at the Lake.  She loved the name of the facility.  Zachary had named it.

It was a big building with a quaint dining room and a kitchen that was staffed by  two of the ladies in the town and serviced by Reger Wilmore’s son, Junior, who was genetically special, but functional-like.  He loved having a job and worked really hard to keep the building clean. Billy Joe was good about that kind of thing.  Anyone who wanted a job, he made sure they had one.

The Writer’s Retreat was making great money.  Zachary loved the idea of the cabins for long term stays, but he really wanted a hotel type of facility for writers who wanted only to come out for a getaway.  The lodge, built by the lake, was sleek and modern with all of the amenities of a modern hotel. Large desks were in each room with one corkboard wall and one chalk wall for plotting and storyboarding. 

Check-in began on Wednesday for the five-day intensive, which included think tank sessions for story development. Other programs including Character Development and a course that Billy Joe taught personally,
Setting as a Character
. Not everyone wanted the writer education tracks, which included certificates and CEUS ; some authors wanted to come out and simply write. A special track was added for athletes and celebrities working on autobiographies and memoirs. Thus far, the lodge was booked for two years in advance.

The cabins, which were for long-term stays of 60 days or more, were also booked for the next two years.  Initially, only 4 pre-fab cabins were put on the property at the opposite side of the lake.  A few canoes were added for each cabin, along with fishing poles, but no internet was available in the long term rentals.  Writers who needed internet access had to make a conscious decision to leave the cabin to either hike over to the lodge or canoe across the lake.  Once word reached the writing communities about the Rocking J Writer’s Retreat, six more cabins were slotted to be added to the ranch.

Billy Joe was able to retire his two uncles, who both moved to Florida and sent postcards.  Chad moved into their home, modernizing and updating it. Brooks and Ruby wanted to come back once their new grandson was born.  Avery wasn’t sure when that was going to be.  She was scheduled to do a summer intensive painting program in Paris later in the year. Zachary wanted to make certain that his wife had a chance to live life a bit before she became a mother.

Zachary and Avery’s home was constructed the same time the lodge went up.  It was a quaint four-bedroom cabin with lots of windows for natural light and a large family room.  The large family room came in handy especially when Zachary was home. It appeared as if half of the defensive line wanted to come with him. Billy Joe never like to admit to it, but he looked forward to the times Zach was home as well. At least one game of flag football was played in the back yard with Pap keeping score of the pros against the hoes, which is the name the pro players gave Billy Joe’s team of farmers.

“Your brother is an asshole,” he told Pecola.

“You could have contested the team name,” she told him while her hand rubbed her enlarged belly.

“Nah.  I want the pleasure of saying to him, “You and those overpaid friends got beat by a bunch of hoes,” he said with a chuckle. “Besides, I’m still pissed that he’s married to my cousin. You do realize our children will be double cousins?”

“As long as they don’t marry each other, we’ll be fine,” she told him. Amadeus, now a beautiful young yearling, made his way over to the back porch for his daily sugar cube treats.  She would never learn to ride him, but Billy Joe had given her the horse as a wedding present after she named it. After his treat, Amadeus would whinny and nuzzle her belly, which caused the occupant inside to kick and nearly turn flips.  Today, Amadeus’ proximity got a different reaction.

She grabbed her stomach as a sharp pain shot through. A gush of liquid ran down her leg. “Oh crap,” she cried out.

“Pap!” Billy Joe yelled. “Call Doc.  A new Johnson is on his way into the world.”

Pap was all gums as he grinned at Billy Joe, “I garaunbetcha she gonna name that child something all goofy and
philisophigial
!”

“
Philosophigial
ain’t a word, Pap!” Billy Joe said as he lifted Pecola into his arms and carried her to their bed.

“Shit hell, she’s probably gonna name him Milton or Shelly or something else that will get his tiny ass kicked his entire childhood,” Pap said.

“Focus old man,” Billy Joe yelled.

“I don’t think we have time for the Doc, William,” she said as the urge to push overcame her.

Zach came through the back door, checking to see what was holding Billy Joe up from coming to play flag football.  He rounded the corner to see more of his sister than he cared to as well as the thick black hair on his nephew’s head that was hanging out of his sister’s hoo-hah.

“I’ll be Godda...” was as far as Zach got before he passed out on the floor.

“You can tell they’re related,” Pap said as he ran to the kitchen to boil water, get towels, and sterilize a knife. By the time he returned, the baby was crying, Billy Joe was holding his naked son and Pecola was in tears.

“Well, don’t that beat all?” Pap said as he watched the man, who as a child followed him everywhere, become a father. “I’ll be durn. Who’da thunk?”

-  Fin-

About the Author

@Oliviagaines

Pinterest

Instagram

-                    

| Page