Page 46 of The Cowboy and the Bombshell
“Stone,” I said breathlessly, drawing his eyes back to mine. “Please,” I said, wiggling my hips in a vain attempt to gain some friction. “Please, move.”
He began slowly, drawing out almost all the way, then thrusting back in, bottoming out with a grunt. Stone gradually increased his pace, holding my leg tightly against him and running his lips over my body wherever he could reach; my chest, my neck, even up to my ear where the sound of his harsh breathing only increased my enjoyment.
Kneeling up, Stone released my knee, instead drawing both my legs around his waist and placing his hands on the mattress on either side of my chest, allowing him to continue to pump steadily while also having access to my breasts, where he ran his tongue around each nipple in turn and caused my entire body to light up with sensation. Digging my fingers into his dark hair, I held him tight against me, wanting more of his warm mouth as he worked us with a steady rhythm. When Stone took my nipple between his teeth and bit down, I was surprised by the orgasm that hit me seemingly out of nowhere, crying out his name and clenching down on him tightly. His responding curse only heightened my own pleasure, knowing that I was the reason he was swearing.
Stone was moving rapidly, his previously smooth motions seeming frantic as he chased his own release. Finally, he pressed against me, buried deep within me, shuddering out my name as he came. For a while, neither of us moved, content to just stay where we were, our sweaty chests pressed together, hearts pounding against each other. After a few moments, Stone pressed a tender kiss to my forehead and held the condom in place as he withdrew. I felt strangely empty inside as I watched him walk to the attached bathroom, and I was unsure of what to do next. Was this the part where I left? Headed back to my own room and back to our rolls as roommates and coworkers?
I was saved from my wandering thoughts when Stone reappeared, a lazy smile on his face. He didn’t hesitate as he turned the lamp off and climbed back into bed, moving close to me and pulling me against him, my head nestled on his chest while his arm wrapped around my shoulders. I was glad for the darkness, knowing my face was likely etched with disbelief. I huffed out a shocked laugh before I could think better of it.
“What is it, Blondie?” he asked, his voice muffled with sleep.
“I just can’t believe it. Stone Pennington is a cuddler.”
“Yeah,” he said, his chest moving with is silent laughter. “Don’t tell anyone, it might ruin my rep.”
“It’s okay,” I said, my jaw cracking with a yawn. “Your secret is safe with me.”
He ran his fingertips lightly up and down my back, the touch now more emotional than sexual, but the feeling of electricity that I got whenever he touched me persisted.
“Good night, Penelope,” he said softly.
“Good night, Stone.” It was the last thing I remembered before sleep took us both.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Stone
Walking through the hotel grounds, I couldn’t shake the feeling of pride that was building in my chest. The exterior work was almost complete, and the limestone bricks that made up the façade reminded me so much of home, their warm creme tones identical to those on the actual Alamo mission in San Antonio, that I couldn’t contain my excitement. Even the date on the keystone above the main door, 1758, was identical. The walkways were poured concrete in a taupe color, reminiscent of the deserts of Texas, and the landscaping was done in an array of various cacti and other hardy shrubs and palms surrounding intricate water features and stone sculptures. The entire scene presented as a beautiful and welcoming oasis. I loved it.
Moving through the main doors, I entered the reception area and the casino proper. Staff moved around like bees in a hive, everyone trying to get as much done as they could in as little time as possible, and I did my best to engage with as many of them as I could with a quick word or a nod of acknowledgment. The space smelled of fresh paint and wood varnish, as the gaming tables and bar areas were getting their final touches. Once the exterior was well on its way, the secret theme was out. Penelope had done an incredible job with the reveal, and her social media campaign was a hit. Reservations were coming in fast and hot, with the hotel already nearly fully booked between now and Christmas. We were ten weeks from the Grand Opening, but only six from the Soft Launch and there was still so much to do before we could even think of calling ourselves ready.
Thinking of Penelope and the Grand Opening at the same time brought me up short. I stopped, realizing that as soon as our project here was done, our time together would be finished as well.
Two weeks had passed since that incredible night in the hot tub, and things had only gotten better. I expected awkwardness the next morning, but there really was none. We just seemed to slide into this comfortable routine. Everyday, we came to the hotel, worked hard and kept it professional, then headed back to the house, where we spent time together. Sure, some of that time was spent on sex - awesome, mind-blowing sex - but a good portion of it was spent just getting to known each other, and the more time I spent with her, the more I liked her. We cooked together, watched TV, talked about our families, our childhoods, even the awkward teen years that no one really likes to discuss. Penelope and I talked about everything.
Except what would happen when these next few months ended.
Shaking my head to dispel the thought of her going back to New York and how that made my heart clench in ways I wasn’t prepared to examine, I continued through the main casino and toward the center of the property. Along the way, I glanced at the displays stationed at the main intersections and thoroughfares. Harold had gone to a lot of effort to find and secure western memorabilia during the last year or so. The boxes had not stopped coming to my office, and I eventually had to assign a team to deal with them.
They had been working hard, and now as I traveled the property, moving from the gaming area and into the high-end shopping district, there were displays of items everywhere you looked. Some were historical pieces, things like clothing, tools, and even documents from the American Frontier. There were photographs and other artwork that depicted this quintessential period of American history which spanned from the tail end of the Civil War to the end of World War I. The men and women of the Wild West had shaped a great portion of this country, including my beloved Texas, and it was important to me that our future guests were able to appreciate the part they had played in making America the great nation that it became.
Just before I exited the building to the interior courtyard and pool area, I paused again to look at the most recent display case. A mannequin stood inside a tall glass rectangle wearing none other than Clint Eastwood’s poncho from the film“A Fist Full of Dollars”.
I didn’t know how Harold had accomplished it, but I couldn’t help but smile as I looked at it, the brown and beige poncho that was so iconic to western film, fringe and all. He had asked me about my favorite Spaghetti Western movie, then gone out and acquired the damn thing. It was a really…fatherlything to do.
There went my chest again. Shit.
Maybe I was having a heart attack. I should probably see someone about that.
When I called to thank him for it he had sounded so pleased, so genuinely happy to be talking to me about something that made me happy, that I couldn’t help but smile as he went on and on about other film and TV items he hoped to get a lead on. Apparently, Harold had a thing forBonanza,and was in negotiations to get his hands on the leather vest Lorne Green wore in the opening credits. After we ended the call, I spent hours on my laptop searching for other items available from the show. I didn’t understand it, but I really wanted to do something nice for him in return.
Nope, I didn’t understand that one bit.
Walking through the automatic doors that led outside from the shopping area with its giant air conditioning unit in the vestibule working hard in the afternoon heat, I headed outside to The Oasis, the giant spread of pools and lounge chairs that made up the outdoor space of the hotel. The different pools were spaced around the area, with cactus gardens and palm trees throughout, and the bars and eateries were made of the same pale limestone as the rest of the building. The place still carried the western feel, with the cabana beds made to look like chuck wagons, their arched canvas covers in place to protect our guests from the relentless desert sun. There were tables made out of barrels and wagon wheels were assembled side by side to take the place of fences. Some people might say that the aesthetic was over the top, but, hey, what in Las Vegas wasn’t?
Making my way past the pools, I followed the meandering pathway to the farthest back corner of the property, directly opposite from where the business offices were kept, to the corals. Carson Young had done an exceptional job with his team, and the place looked straight out of the movies, with split rail fences and a beautiful classic looking barn to house the animals. He and I had debated which animals would be kept on the property and had finally settled on only a couple horses and some goats. The maintenance was low, and we could rotate them out regularly to the property that was owned by the company out in the hills so that the animals wouldn’t get over exposed to the people coming and going around the hotel.
That property also afforded us another option for our guests to experience the Old West, and that came in the form of trail rides, an option I would be taking Carson up on today.
