I Can Do This All Day

“You’re kidding. Right?”

“No, I’m — I’m serious.”

“Then you’re stupid,” Rhett answers as he folds his arms over his chest. “What kind of question is that anyway? — You don’t just go around askin’ people stuff like that.”

You shift awkwardly on your feet and push your hands deep into the pockets of your jeans, “Well, I’m not going around asking people, I’m asking you.”

“Exactly and you barely know me.” Rhett says. He leans back against the wall and looks around to make sure no one is overhearing this ridiculous conversation. “Somebody put you up to this, right? You’re fucking with me.”

“No, I-I-“ You look down at the ground and nudge the toe of your shoe against the gravel. “I didn’t know who else to ask.”

Rhett wants to smack his palm against his forehead. He looks around again. “You don’t ask someone something like this. That’s fucking weird, kid.”

You sigh softly and rub at your temples. Then, Rhett raises his eyebrows disbelievingly as you take a step towards him and look up at him, all stone faced and serious.

“Look,” He half wants to laugh in your face. He has to say, at least you’re original. In all of his experiences with women, he’s never had one corner him outside of the feed store on Main Street and ask him to take their virginity. “I’m moving out in a month. There is no way in hell that I’m moving to Seattle being a stupid little country girl virgin!”

“Keep your voice down!” Rhett grabs your elbow, furrowing his eyebrows at you. “The hell is the matter with you?”

You shake your arm out of his grasp and check over your shoulder, then look back into those pretty blue eyes. He watches you lift your brows and bat your lashes at him, sighing softly as he sinks further back against the wall.

“Well, why me? — You don’t even know me.”

That’s where he’s wrong. You do know him. Better than he thinks. Most girls in town either know Rhett personally, or have friends who know Rhett personally. Most people around town know a fair few things about Rhett. You’ve heard your father talk about him enough to know that this is the guy you should be speaking to.

Rhett has experience. You need experience.

“I’ve heard things.” You answer him. The corner of his mouth twitches. He almost smirks, then scowls once more.

“Can’t you fuck someone your own age? — Probably some altar boy out there just waiting to live out his own Virgin Mary wet dream with you.” You cringe at the crudeness of his words. You’ve been warned that he talks like this. Rhett lifts an eyebrow as he lifts one foot to rest against the red brickwork. You follow his gaze down to the silver cross hanging on your chest. Your cheeks burn furiously.

Now it’s your turn to fold your arms over your chest. He watches you curiously. Rhett looks you up and down. Tennis shoes, smooth skin, a pair of shorts that are most definitely hand-me-downs from your older sister. A pretty blouse tucked into those shorts. The silver cross disappearing under the opened top few buttons. That sweet little ribbon securing your hair back.

Looks aren’t the issue. Based on looks alone, you wouldn’t have had to ask him anything because he would’ve closed this apparent business deal a long time ago.

“Are you going to do it or not?” You sigh. This time he does laugh. At the ridiculousness of it. Of the seriousness to your tone. Of the fact that until now he was actually kind of considering it. You could cry sat the sound of his laughter.

“No.” He says coldly. Maybe he doesn’t mean for it to be cold, but it stings like the sensation of ice being held in the palm for too long nonetheless. Then you catch his eyes fall down to your chest. You realise that with his height, he can see a glimpse of your white bra under the material. He’s not even pretending like he isn’t looking. After all, you did just proposition him in the street — so what does he have to be embarrassed about?

Your brain tells you to cover up and your hand instinctively raises to clasp another button. Instead, you trail your fingers from the top button on the left side, down along the open seam, until it reaches the first button that is fastened. Rhett watches you hand travel along that fine line between smooth skin and soft linen.

“What if we made a bet?” You ask him. He lifts his gaze from your chest to meet yours. The weight of his gaze almost knocks you off of your feet, your knees trembling. The look in his eye is intrigue, but it’s something else too, something you aren’t familiar with yet.

“What kinda bet?” Rhett asks. His brows tighten closer together, but not with disbelief or slight discomfort this time. With genuine interest. Your heart soars. You should have led with this.

Rhett’s a gambling man just like every other cowboy in this town.

“The rodeo this Friday. If you win,” You know his chances are slim after he hurt his hand last week. He knows this too. “Then we go to the motel on the edge of town and you take my virginity. If you lose, I’ll do whatever you want me to do.”

Rhett studies your features. He lifts his chin, “If I lose, you get your Dad off my back about that bar fight a couple of weeks ago.”

“I can’t get him to drop aggravated assault charges, Rhett.” You frown. Rhett pushes off of the wall and stands up straight, looking down at you. It’s a stupid charge anyway. It’s this month’s talk of the town. Rhett turned around in church and punched Billy Tillerson in the mouth. No one knows why, Billy’s adamant he didn’t say anything.

The Tillerson’s are pressing charges and trying to sue the Abbott’s over it. Just the cost of Billy’s medical bills after Rhett broke his nose.

“Those are my terms. You have yours, I have mine. Figure it out and we have a deal.” It’s practically a done deal. As much as he would like to pretend he has a shot this Friday, he’s up against some of the best in the county with a fist that he can barely close, let alone grip on with. He gets his charges dropped and you’ll have to go ask some other poor son of a bitch to put their life on the line.

He smirks, holding his hand out toward you. You hesitate, knowing that in order to get your Dad to throw out his case, you’re going to have to do some major grovelling whilst also avoiding suspicion at the same time. The odds that he’s going to lose, in your head, are slim. The odd that he’s going to win, to him, are even slimmer.

But you only have a month before you move. And no one else that you would dare ask. You stick your hand in his, watching as his fingers curl around your palm and he shakes your hand. “Alright, it’s a bet.” He confirms.

You flinch and drop your hand back to the side as you hear your name. Rhett raises his eyebrows, just waiting for you to turn back into the obedient little door mouse he knows you to be.

“Coming, Daddy!” You call back, shooting Rhett a quick smile before you turn and round the corner back onto Main Street. Rhett leans against the wall and watches as you cross the road toward the police station.

Your father smiles and hugs you, asking you where you’d been hiding before he guides you inside with him.

“What were you talking to Sheriff Clark’s kid about?”

Perry’s voice makes him jump. Rhett turns his head quickly to his brother, now standing in the door way to the store, trying to juggle the four bags of heavy feed in his arms. Rhett rushes forwards to grab two before Perry drops them all.

“Nothin’.” He answers back, his eyes still lingering on the police station now that you’ve disappeared inside. He drops the feed into the back of the pick up and turns towards his brother. “She said good luck for the ride this weekend.”

Perry’s brows scrunch as he drops his bags of feed into the truck too. He closes up the back and leans his elbows against the metal as he turns to look at the police station too. “Huh… Didn’t think her Daddy let her go to those kinda things.”

Rhett shrugs his shoulders and slides into the passenger seat. After that conversation, he realises that you’re probably not too concerned with what your Daddy wants you to do anymore.

Friday rolls around all too quickly for Rhett’s liking. His hand is also feeling a lot better by Friday after the muscle soak his Mom made him stick his hand in for three hours the night before. As calming as that was, he barely sleeps at all the night before.

He just can’t stop thinking about how insane this is. Sure, he knows that he has made a little bit of a name for himself around Amelia County — he just hadn’t realised that it had gotten to the point that the Sheriff’s daughter would come up to him in the street and ask him to take her virginity as if that was a normal thing to do.

“Princess, we’re going to be late!” Your mother calls from the bottom of the stairs.

You adjust your outfit. Tucking your t-shirt into your jeans, untucking it again, whining as you look into the mirror, undecided.

“Coming!” You grab your coat and throw it on top, hoping that Rhett won’t leave you in your outfit long enough to critique it. You fiddle with your hands in the back of the car as your father drives. It’s freezing tonight. You’re early, like your father likes to be to everything. Your family sits near the back, high enough up in the stalls to have a good view.

The Abbott’s show up ten minutes before the competition is due to begin. Celia smiled back at your parents, but other than that, you’re invisible to them. Like you are to everyone around here. You refuse to start off the same way in Seattle.

Your grateful that your parents don’t notice your fidgeting through the competition, on the way that your breath catches in your throat when the announcer reads out his name. The way that your eyes shoot wide open as the clock ticks up to eight full seconds when he rides. The way that when it’s all over, you can’t take your eyes off of his name at the top of the list.

“I’m still allowed to stay at Caroline’s house, right, Daddy?” You ask as your parents begin to move from their spots in the stands. Your father grumbles uncertainly as he turns towards you. You had agreed this with him previously. Caroline has been your best friend since first grade, she’s the only one your father trusts you with.

“Alright, fine. Is she gonna come pick you up or shall I drop you off?” Your father asks.

“She’s going to pick me up. I’m going to go talk to Father Ames about Sunday service first, okay?” No you aren’t. Far from it.

“Alright, Princess, we’ll see you tomorrow.” Your father kisses the top of your head and watches you walk away. You wait until you’re out of their sight before you dip under the rope and walk into the rider’s area.

Rhett’s turning away from a conversation with another man that you don’t recognise when he spots you. He’s already back in his normal clothes, laughing about his win. His smile falters as he looks you over.

You stand up straighter and hold your hands behind your back, smiling. His lip quirks. He waves off the man that he was talking to and walks over to you until he’s standing close enough for you to smell his cologne.

“You serious about this, kid?” He asks.

He watches as your eyes look over his face. You nod at him, “A bet’s a bet.”

“Alright. Truck’s this way.” He expects you to back out. But you don’t. Not during the walk to the truck. Not during the forty minute ride out to the motel. Not once he’s been handed the keys to the room.

“Hope you weren’t expecting flowers or anything.” Rhett jokes as he motions for you to walk ahead of him, the key dangling between his index finger and thumb.

You smile and shake your head, “No.”

He furrows his brows as you reach back and take the key from his hand. Your head turns to examine each door number as you pass them. Finally, you reach 203 and push the key into the lock.

Rhett watches your hand curl around the handle and push the door open. He hesitates and wonders why you aren’t. Why you aren’t hesitating. Then, not wanting to be caught lurking in the hall, he follows you inside and swings the door shut behind the two of you.

He watches as you walk over and take a seat on the edge of the bed, lifting your chin to look at him. You shrug your coat off and toss it onto the chair in the corner.

Rhett stands by the door and shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He watches as you lift your foot and untie your laces.

“I’m gonna need more information about all of this,” Rhett decides, shaking his head as he stands with his back to the door. You look up at him, shoe half off of your left foot. “Why now? Why me — why’s it such a big deal that you haven’t been fucked before?”

He watches the way your nose scrunches in distaste at his words. That baffles him even further.

“I have a list,”

Rhett’s face flashes with confusion. Interest. More confusion.

“Of things that I need to do before I move. Adult stuff, you know?”

He watches as you continue with your laces, kicking off the left shoe first then moving onto the right. It’s just so you don’t have to look into those blue eyes.

“Like what?” It’s like he hasn’t decided if he’s going to go through with this yet. Like if he takes one more step into the room then it’s settled. Like he might still turn around and walk right back out.

He watches you kick the converse to the ground and then pull your knees up to your chest, hooking a thumb into your sock.

“Well, sex, obviously. Um, I bought my first car. Got drunk for the first time last week. Bought my own furniture. Rented a u-haul. I still have to figure out getting into a fight —“

“What?” Rhett laughs at you. “A fight?”

You pause with your sock halfway down your foot, looking up at him and pressing your lips together. You shrug your shoulders.

He steps forward finally, still shaking his head in utter disbelief. Decision made.

“You’re insane.” Hurt flashes across your face and he stops again, realising that that wasn’t what he was supposed to say. Rhett has a history of hurting women’s feelings, but he really didn’t mean to just then. “Not — sorry, I just — I don’t get it. Why the hell would you have to do all that stuff just to move out of town?”

“Because I’ve never been a grown up,” You explain to him, tucking your knees up closer to your chest. “Like, I’m an adult, sure. But I didn’t go to college, I’ve never moved out of my parents’ house. I’ve had the same job since I was sixteen. It’s time to grow up.”

Rhett seems to understand what you’ve just told him. He leans against the wall this time instead, tilting his head and looking at you like he’s waiting for you to continue.

“I want to feel like an adult by the time I move.”

He shrugs his jacket closer to his body. You tug your socks off and push yourself further onto the bed, waiting for him to finally cross the room.

“Kid, I really don’t think that me fucking you is gonna help you feel like a grown up.” He admits. You shrug your shoulders at him.

“Can’t hurt to try.” Rhett’s lips quirk softly at your optimism. You stretch your legs out, dangling them over the edge of the bed. “Besides, a bet’s a bet. I won.”

He nods his head as he finally steps forward, rolling his shoulders back and shrugging his jacket down to his elbows. “Right.”

You lean back on your palms as he drops the jacket off completely. He takes it in his hand and tosses it onto the chair in the corner of the room. Rhett crosses the room to stand before you. You push yourself to the edge.

“So, uh… how do you want to do this?” Rhett asks, reaching out and hooking a finger under your chin and lifting your jaw. You shrug your shoulders like this wasn’t all your idea.

“You’re the expert.” You answer, curling your fingers into the sheets just to have something to occupy your hands. He chuckles, then trails his fingertips from your chin to the curve of your jaw, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“How far have you gone before this?”

“What do you mean?” You frown at him. He sighs as he moves to sit at your side, laying back down against the mattress and looking at the ceiling.

“Y’know, like — third base?”

“That’s like… oral, right?” Rhett nods at you. You turn to look at him, curling one leg under you as the other hangs over the edge of the bed. He tucks an arm behind his head and raised an eyebrow expectantly at you. “No. I haven’t — I’ve never…”

“Second base?” He prods.

“I’ve never actually kissed anyone.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ.” He complains, grabbing his cap and pushing the brim down over his eyes. He groans out loud, squeezing his eyes shut. “Could’ve mentioned that earlier, kid.”

Your cheeks burn angrily. He’s stalling. Making excuses. A deal is a deal. Now he isn’t even looking at you, keeping his cap down over his eyes.

You lean down and press your mouth against his, feeling him tense up against you. He sits up quickly, brows furrowed.

“Now I’ve kissed someone.” You announce matter-of-factly. His lips part, like he’s going to say anything. Words fail him. “That’s all this is, Rhett. I’ve never had sex — that’s why I’m here. Do it and it’s done.”

His lips finally lift up into a real smirk. He shifts closer to you and slides a hand around to cup the back of your neck, brushing his thumb across the bump at the top of your spine. His eyes study over your features.

“You could do with some lessons on talking dirty to start with, kid.” He teases, pulling you back down and kissing your lips. You exhale a breath of relief through hint nostrils. He’s on his back, pulling you just slightly onto his chest.

Rhett’s tongue swipes across your bottom lip, his fingers sliding up into your hair, curling into your roots. He waits for you to figure out what comes next, to part your lips for him. Impatient, he tugs softly at your roots and feels your lips part in surprise. You hum softly into his mouth as he slides his tongue against yours.

“Ouch.” You complain against his mouth.

He reminds himself that he isn’t with some buckle bunny who does this every week, loosening his hold in your hair. You feel him tug you harder against him, caressing his tongue against yours. It’s easy to let him lead. He’s doing all of the work, moving his tongue against yours, taking your top lip between his — you’re just following his lead.

Rhett pushes against you, nudging his knee between your thighs as he guides you onto your back, lips not leaving yours. You’re glad that you’re wearing a thicker material, hoping that he can’t feel how much your heart is racing. He doesn’t need to feel your heartbeat to know that your nervous, he’s pretending not to notice the way your hands are still at your sides, curling into the sheets.

“I’m not gonna get hard if you just lay there like a damn mannequin.” He grumbles, sliding his hand down and uncurling your hand from the fabric. He knocks his cap off of his head and slides your hand around to the back of his neck, pushing your fingers up into his hair.

You’re embarrassed that he said that. That you might not be good enough.

“Just relax, you can touch me,” Rhett murmurs, sweeter this time as he speaks. He kisses your lips softly. “We’re just making out. People touch each other when they make out.”

His hand finds your chest, pressing his palm flat over your breast through your t-shirt. He squeezes softly over the material and rocks his crotch against your hip, feeling you gasp against his mouth.

“See? — Makes a difference, right?” He mumbles. Your fingers curl around the nape of his neck, pulling him tighter against you. “That’s it.”

His hand paws at your chest as he slides his tongue back into your mouth. Curiosity getting the better of him, he yanks your shirt from being tucked neatly into your jeans to a crumpled mess above your tits. You gasp softly as both of his hands slide along your bare stomach, up and covering your breasts with his hands over your bra.

“Now I’m more likely to get hard,” He murmurs. Your cheeks flush. Rhett tugs you forwards and manhandles you out of the shirt, leaving you in your bra before him. He studies the wide-eyed panic on your face. “Sorry. You have real nice tits.” You gasp as he kneads them in his hands. He catches the smile on your face. Pleased that he likes the way you look.

Rhett lifts his head and kisses you hard, sliding his hands down to grab at your thighs. He guides them around his hips, pressing his crotch forward against you.

“I can’t believe you never made out with anyone in high school.” He mutters, squeezing your thighs, kissing you hard. You’re dizzied with how fast he moved. How he’s all over you all at once. “Spent most of my freshman year doing this.”

“I - I had a pretty strict curfew,” You manage, curling your hand into the fabric of his shirt as his mouth presses open-mouthed kisses along the length of your throat. “My Dad was pretty strict.”

“No kidding.” Rhett mocks you, nipping softly at your throat with his teeth as he grinds his hips forward. There are two thick layers of denim between you, so you’re surprised at how exciting the sensation is when he drives himself against you.

He’s rocking back and forth, grinding himself between your legs as he teases along your collarbones. His hands slide up to grope at your chest once more, this time he groans as his hands move over your tits. It gives you a sudden surge of confidence, knowing that he likes them so much.

You know that Rhett has seen his fair share of women naked, so knowing that he finds your body appealing gives you unparalleled confidence after a lifetime of being told to cover up.

You moan out, pressing your heels into the bed and pushing your hips back against his. Rhett’s lips still at the base of your throat, moving slowly as he pulls back and squints, like you’re one of his horses and he’s trying not to spook you. Your entire face flushes, heat spreading down onto your body. Regret fills you. You wishes you could take the noise back.

Rhett sits back on his knees and slides his hand down to his crotch. Your chest heaves as you watch him. He grabs himself through the fabric of his jeans, curling his hand around his cock, watching amusedly as your eyes go wide. It occurs to you that he’s showing you that he’s half-hard.

“See? — When you stop being such a little church mouse, guys want to fuck you.” He breathes out. He squeezes his hand softly around his cock, watching your reactions.

“Do you want to fuck me now?” You ask softly, pushing yourself up on your elbows. His eyes fall down to your chest, they begin to move back up to your face, but then linger on the silver cross hanging between your tits. He hesitates.

You reach behind and unclasp your bra, sliding it off of your shoulders. You cup your breasts in your hands, half to cover yourself, half to try to do what he wants. He watches in intrigue as you press your tits together and squeeze, then let out the sweetest little sigh of contentment. The sound goes straight to his cock.

“That’s it,” He nods, grabbing the fabric of his shirt and tugging it over his head. Your lips part slightly as your eyes rake over his bare chest, tanned and muscled. “You touch yourself when you’re by yourself, kid?”

You smile up at him, then look down shyly, fiddling with your hands, “I…”

“Answer me.” He grabs your wrists in one hands and holds them above your head, rocking his hips forward against your clothed core. You gasp, feeling his cock straining against the denim as he grinds it against you.

“Sometimes.” You admit. You swallow hard as you meet his gaze, finding dark, blown out pupils in those pretty blue eyes. His fingers edge forwards until they find the button on your jeans, popping it open. He looks up at you.

“Yeah?” His voice makes you clench around nothing. You blink at him, taking your lip between your teeth. “How about you show me how grown up you are when you’re by yourself, huh?”

Rhett’s already dragging your zipper down and grabbing at the waist of your jeans. You nod dumbly and lift your hips for him. He tugs your jeans down your thighs, over your knees and off all together.

He eyes trail between your legs, over the white cotton patterned with soft watercolour blue flowers. He purses his lips. Your cross your legs and push yourself up on your elbows once more, embarrassed that you didn’t have anything more special to wear.

Rhett pushes hard against your chest, making your back hit the mattress once more. He stands up, grabbing your knees and parting your thighs for him.

“I asked you to show me, didn’t I?” He repeats, standing upright and lifting his foot to unlace his boots. You bite your lip. He watches your chest heaving. Watches a trembling hand lift from your side and slide into your panties.

You close your eyes, back in your room, alone, thinking of him. He doesn’t even remember it, you know he doesn’t, but that one time he wound up in the drunk tank on a night that you were at the station has been your inspiration for many times like this.

You were sitting at your father’s desk, chin resting against your fist. He was supposed to take you out for dinner, but there had been a domestic disturbance out at the Tillerson place involving a firearm, so the whole department had headed over there. It was just you and Rhett.

You sitting there, all dolled up and dressed for dinner in your pretty little dress, him still drunk and sitting on the floor of the cell.

He had let out a low whistle and lifted a hand, curling his finger for you to come over to him. His shirt had been ripped during a fight, so he was sitting there in just his jeans — exactly like he’s standing in front of you now.

“What’s your name, darlin’?” He had smelled like beer, but you hadn’t minded, too blinded by the attention and those pretty eyes. You’d dumbly stuttered out your name and he’d pushed himself up from the floor. Rhett had pressed his chest up against the bars and looked down at you.

“You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” He’d slurred his words a little, reaching through the bars to graze his knuckles across your cheek. “God spent a little more time on you, huh?”

You’d stood there, all flustered and silent like an idiot. He’d curled his fingers around your jaw, swiping his thumb across your bottom lip, groaning softly to himself.

“Open.” You don’t know why, but you’d opened your mouth for him. He pressed the digit between your lips, eyes heavy with lust as he watched your mouth wrap around it.

He had taken his bottom lip between his teeth, resting the pad of his thumb against your tongue. You had known what he had wanted you to do, sucking softly at the digit. He’d grinned at you, taking his other hand and wrapping it around the bar.

He had taken in a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment and then glancing down. You had followed his gaze all the way down to the straining bulge in his jeans. Then, your father had gotten back. You had jumped away from him and hurried back over to the desk.

Rhett groans softly as he watches your back arch off of the sheets, lips parted, brows raised softly as you pleasure yourself. All to the thought of him, and he has no idea.

He pops open the button on his jeans and yanks open the zipper. Your eyes open at the sound, stilling your hand between your legs. Rhett presses one knee into the mattress, grabbing at your underwear and tugging it down your legs. Your eyes fly wide open, pressing your legs together to cover yourself.

“Fuck me,” Rhett mutters, dropping to his knees beside the bed, burying his head between your legs. You gasp as he nips at your thighs, grazing his teeth against the untouched skin. “How the fuck have I never noticed you before now?”

The graze of his stubble between your legs makes you shiver as he sucks a soft purple mark into your skin. It’s like a claim — he might as well have marked his name.

“So fucking wet for me,” He trails two fingers along your core, gathering your excitement on his fingers. He groans out, pressing his mouth against you, covering your clit with his tongue. You gasp for air, arching your back up off of the bed, fisting your hand into the sheets. “Look at you, so fucking ready for it.”

You lift your head to look at him, propping yourself up on your elbows once more. Rhett sinks his middle finger into you, his cock twitching as he takes in how soaked you are for him. He works his finger in and out of you, curling it softly against your walls.

“Look,” He takes his other hand and grabs the back of your neck. You whimper softly as he pulls you forward, hunching closer, taking your lip between you teeth. He sinks his ring finger into you alongside the other. “Taking ‘em so damn well.”

Rhett lifts his chin and presses his lips against yours, working his fingers deep into you. You’re gasping and moaning against his mouth, digging your heels into the bed as his touch sends sparks through you.

“That’s it, kid,” Rhett groans out against your lips, biting softly at your lip. “Gonna cum all over my fingers, aren’t you, honey?”

He lowers his head between your legs again, pressing his lips over your clit and flicking his tongue expertly over the all too sensitive bundle of nerves. Your trembling arm gives out under you. You dig your heels into the edge of the bed, white-knuckling against the bed sheets.

Rhett palms at his jeans, adjusting the strain in his boxers as his fingers slow slightly inside of you. He presses his lips to your thighs, then your pelvic bone, then your hips.

“Fuck, I’m so hard right now.” Rhett chuckles breathlessly, like he can’t quite believe it himself, standing up and pushing his jeans down. He steps out of them and presses a knee into the mattress once more.

You’re panting, blinking up at him like your head is spinning. You whimper softly as he drops his mouth down to kiss hungrily at your neck, his stubble grazing over your smooth skin.

“I — I want to touch you first.”

Rhett’s so hard it hurts, he’s been straining against stiff denim for going on fifteen minutes now. He hesitates, then let’s out a soft breath.

He rolls off of you, planting himself on his back and hooking his thumb into the waistband of his black boxers. You roll onto your side, chewing at your cheek as you watch him push them down.

You don’t have much experience with the male anatomy, this is the first one you’ve ever seen in person. Maybe you’re biased, but you like his. Rhett wraps a hand around the base of his cock and lifts his eyes to look at your face. His lip quirks.

“Go ‘head.”

You realise you’re staring. Your eyes widen as you lift your eyes to meet his gaze.

“I-I don’t… I haven’t-“

Rhett takes your hand and opens your palm.

“Spit.” He instructs. Your brows knit together as you look between him and your hand. He nods to confirm that he meant exactly what he said. You lean forward uncertainly and spit delicately into your palm.

Rhett looks at the pathetic amount of spit in the centre of your palm, then back up at your face. He presses his lips together, lifting your hand and spitting hard into the centre of your palm. Your pussy clenches around nothing, a heavy pulse thrumming between your legs as you watch him. It’s all kinds of confusing.

“Like this.” He kicks his boxers the rest of the way off as he wraps your hand around his cock, guiding it from base to tip. He works the wetness in you palm over the tip of his cock and spreads it down the shaft.

You take your lip between your teeth, watching. He groans softly, pushing his hips up. He his hand holds yours steady, thrusting his cock into your palm.

His eyes rake over your body, lips parted slightly as he lets out soft groans. Rhett squeezes his eyes shut and rests his head back against the sheets. You take your thumb, swiping it across the leaking tip, letting him work your hand around his cock. He squeezes his palm around yours, grunting.

“Fuck,” Rhett pants out, swallowing hard and stilling both of your hands. He shakes his head and presses his lips together, exhaling through his nose. He lifts himself up, moving on top of you, “I need to be inside of you already.”

He tugs at your thighs, hiking them up around his waist, rocking the tip of his cock against you. “You ready?” He breathes gruffly. You nod furiously up at him.

“Wait, shouldn’t we use a—“

Rhett shakes his head and furrows his brows, “Don’t worry about it. I’m clean, I’ll pull out — feels better like this.” You take in a sharp breath as he pushes the tip into you and slips it back out once more. You nod at him. He’s the expert.

Rhett’s fingertips press so hard into your thighs that they begin to ache. He watches as your eyes squeeze shut the moment he presses into you. “Hey, look at me.” He murmurs, almost tenderly. You open your eyes and grab onto his arm, whimpering softly. He pulls back and pushes into you again, letting just the tip of his cock press into you again. “Gonna have to do better than that, kid. This is nothing.”

You whimper softly as you lift your head and press your forehead against his bicep. Rhett’s grip on your hips tightens as he thrusts softly into you, making you gasp out.

“Shh, shh, shh,” He kisses your temple like he feels bad — he doesn’t. “Just a little more.”

You both groan as he bottoms out, your walls being stretched to their limit. Yours is more of a desperate whimper while his is a deep groan. You adore that sound.

You nod softly against his arm. Rhett rocks his hips back and forth gently, feeling your nails dig into his shoulder as he drives himself as deeply as possible into you.

“It’ll stop hurting.” He promises, pressing warm kisses along the length of your throat as he fucks himself into you. He guides your legs tighter around his waist, eyes falling down to that silver cross as it rocks between your tits with each thrust.

“Promise?”

His cock twitches. He groans softly and nods at you, lips quirking as he brings a hand up to curl around your jaw. He turns your head and kisses your mouth, “Yeah.”

It takes a while, just a couple of minutes. The deep ache, the slightly uncomfortable stretch, it all fades whilst his lips work along your jaw. He feels you relax into him, walls clenching around his cock as you take in that first gasp of pleasure.

“Fucking hell.” Rhett mumbles into the crook of your neck, snapping his hips forward and driving his cock into you hard. You cry out, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you pull him closer. He looks down between your bodies, watching as his cock fills you over and over.

He grabs your thigh and pushes it back, angling himself so that he can drive himself into you deeper.

“Rhett!”

He groans, fingers curling around that silver cross. He tugs gently at it, pulling you forward and pressing a kiss to your mouth that’s just as filthy as the sounds spilling from your lips.

Rhett’s Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he meets your gaze. He drags his knuckles softly against your cheek, punctuating a sharp thrust with a grunt. He slides his hand around to the nape of your neck, curling his fingers tightly around the roots of your hair.

You wrap your legs tighter around his waist. His weight is the only thing keeping you still. He can’t help but notice what a squirming mess you are below him. It’s just stroking his ego.

“Rhett, fuck!” He smiles breathlessly at the proclamation and clutches that silver cross so tightly that it’s going to leave indents in his palm.

His hand was locks in your hair, tugging a little too hard. You yelp, then relax back into your soft mewls as he tenderly kisses your lips. Your soft whines underneath him are driving him crazy, sending him over the edge.

Those pretty eyes flutter up to look at him through thick lashes and lustfully hooded eyes. He snaps his hips forwards hard, then continues at the pace from before.

“I’m gonna cum.” You tell him. It’s a rare occasion that Rhett finds himself caring by this point in the encounter. He’s already gotten the girl off once, what does it matter to him if she gets there again? Only, tonight — he’s just about willing to do anything that’ll keep you making those deliciously sinful sounds.

Sounds that no one else in the world has heard you make except him. His hips stutter slightly. He groans, resting his forehead against the curve of your shoulder as he pounds himself into you. You can barely keep your eyes open, let alone focus on something. You’re trembling before he even makes you cum.

It’s even more intense than the last time. You muffle yourself against his bicep, quietening your scream against his skin. Your walls contract around him as you press your heel into the base of his spine, toes curling.

Rhett grunts out like you’ve punched him, tugging harder at your hair as his hips stutter into yours. His brows knot. He has every intention of pulling out. Last thing he wants on conscience is knocking up the Sheriff’s daughter. But then you’re coming hard around his cock, and you’re so tight, and you’re moaning his name.

You gasp, eyes flying wide open as you feel him spilling inside of you. He’s groaning hard against your throat, tensing as he drives himself deep into you.

He lifts his head and kisses your lips lazily. He looks down between your bodies as his cock slips out of you. He can’t pretend he doesn’t enjoy the sight of himself spilling out of you.

“Rhett!”

He pushes himself back and rolls off to lay at your side, waving you off, “You’re fine. We’ll get you a plan B in the morning,” He pants, trying to catch his breath. He stretches his arms up over his head. “Pretty grown up if you ask me — can check your first pregnancy scare off that little list of yours.”

You wish that you didn’t find that funny. You hit his arm as you lay on your back at his side.

“Do I look different?” You ask quietly. He lifts his head and turns to look at you, then chuckles softly, nodding his head as he brushes a hair back off of your face.

“Look like you just got fucked.” He announces, amused by that. You roll your eyes, cheeks burning as you shake your head at him.

“No, like — do I look… like I’m not a virgin anymore?” You ask. Rhett pushes himself up and looks you over completely. His eyes trail back down to the mess between your legs.

“I’d say so.” He smirks at you. Proud of himself. He stands up and grabs his boxers, then walks out to the bathroom. He’s wearing them when he returns, and tosses a roll of tissue paper to you for you to clean yourself up.

“Do you feel different?” He asks, grabbing his phone from the back pocket of his jeans and laying back against the pillows. You stand, walking to the bathroom to clean yourself up, not wanting to do it in front of him.

You stare at yourself in the bathroom mirror, fixing your hair and your mascara just slightly. “Don’t think so.” You call back to him.

“Maybe we should try it again, for good measure.” He calls back to you, only half joking. It’s after that you’ve fixed yourself up that you realise your clothes are still on the floor of the room.

Rhett’s still on top of the covers, sitting in his boxers when you come back. His brows scrunch as you shuffle towards him, covering your body as you lean down and grab your underwear first. He watches, amused.

You lift your head to look at him, catching him staring. He doesn’t make any effort to look away as you step into your underwear. You smile shyly.

“C’mere.” You slip his shirt over your head and slide under the covers, nestling in against his side. He plucks at the fabric with his index and thumb, raising his eyebrows at your boldness. He lets it go. “Figure your folks think you’re with a friend or something, right? — Don’t have to drive you home, do I?”

“No.”

“Good, didn’t want to have to track you down to drag your ass to the pharmacy tomorrow.”

Rhett makes up for a week of not sleeping well that night. He sleeps like a baby. Makes sense, giving how much he wore himself out. Helps having a pretty girl in his bed too.

He drags you out of bed at the crack of dawn, though, much to your annoyance. You’re still half asleep, resting your head against the window of the truck, using his jacket as a makeshift pillow.

“Here.” His voice startles you awake and the sound of the truck door slamming behind him makes you jump upright. He presses the packaging into your hand and a bottle of water into the other.

Another thing to check off the list. First time taking a plan B, hopefully the last. Birth control should probably be added to the list. As the thought crosses your mind, Rhett unzips the shoulder bag that you had brought to the rodeo last night.

“For next time.” He explains, dropping a box of condoms into the bag and zipping it. Your face flushes.

“Next time? — Presumptuous.”

He just smirks. Might’ve been the first time, but he’s sure it isn’t going to be the last. He drives you back to your parents’ house and parks his truck around the corner.

“Thanks for last night.” You tell him.

He nods, watching as your hand curls around the door handle. Then it occurs to him.

“Wait,” You turn to look at him again. He reaches out and curls his fingers around the silver cross necklace. “Can I keep this?” Not like you’ll be needing it anymore.

You glance down. The way his fingers have curled around it, it’s clear that he’s already decided that it’s his. You nod sheepishly. He grins and tugs at the chain, breaking it free and lifting it to examine it.

“Alright, pleasure doin’ business with you, sweetheart.”

Your face burns as you hop out of the truck and walk back up to your parents’ front door, feeling his eyes on you the entire way. Rhett hangs the cross from his rear view mirror — first trophy he’s ever received for losing a bet.