Actually, Rhett probably beat up your cheating ex a couple times. Perry too, actually. They both definitely teamed up on your ex cause you’re “their girl.” Their words, not mine.

Perry likes to call you “their girl” since Rhett has yet to stake his claim on you. It fucking infuriates Rhett. Perry no. 1 Rhett Abbott Ragebaiter!!

Rhett definitely beat up your ex while yall (you and ex) were dating, especially after that one time he found your ex fucking some chic in his car after work.

Rhett’s a hothead and he cares so deeply for you. He never wants to see you hurt. So, when someone hurts you, he has to hurt them twice as hard. Preferably with his fists. Multiple times. Into the ground if he can.

As you shuffled the deck to deal another round, he tilted his hat back and drawled,

“Wanna make this hand a little more excitin’, darlin’?”

“Oh?” You arched a brow, smirking. “And just how’re you fixin’ to do that?”

He leaned forward, eyes glinting in the lamplight. “Loser takes care of the winner… with their mouth.” He chuckled, voice low and teasing.

You grinned, your pulse quickening. “Deal.”

This was bound to be fun.

⸻

You were certain you’d already won—your flush was damn near unbeatable. You were already picturing Royal on his knees between your thighs, and you bit your lip at the thought.

“So, you gonna lay down that hand, sweetheart?” His rumbling voice snapped you out of your daydream.

Smirking, you spread your cards across the table, proud of your diamonds. You watched him slowly flip over his own hand. Your smile died on your lips.

Four of a kind. Eights.

Your eyes lifted to meet his, and he let out a deep, amused chuckle, a dark hunger simmering there. Your gaze dropped to the table, heart hammering, wondering if you could weasel out of this.

But Royal was in no mood for your games. With one rough finger, he tipped your chin up.

“On your knees, pretty thing,” he rasped. The look he gave you made your belly coil hot.

You sank to the floor, hands already sliding over the bulge in his worn denim. He hissed, the sound making you giggle softly.

“Hmmm,” you hummed, working his jeans open and freeing his cock.

You wrapped your lips around the tip, teasing slow, lazy stripes with your tongue. His low growls made your thighs clench. When you finally pulled back, savoring the sight of him straining for more, his big hand threaded into your hair, tugging your head back so you had no choice but to look up.

“Now, darlin’,” he murmured, voice low as a distant thunderstorm, “this here’s a reward. Act like it.”

Then he pushed your mouth down over him. His free hand guided his cock to your lips, tapping it against your cheek.

“Feel that? Feel how damn hard you make me?”

You tried to answer, but he slid deep into your throat. Gagging softly at the sheer stretch, you hollowed your cheeks and began to bob your head, your hand curling around his thick length. He groaned your name, voice rough as gravel.

“That’s it… knew you could be a good girl,” he growled, the last word rolling off his tongue like a challenge.

Spurred on, you worked faster, your mouth and hand moving together. His fingers dug into your hair, guiding you to take him deeper. His hips met your lips again and again until he finally let out a guttural moan and pulled free, painting your flushed face with his spend.

You looked up at him, breathless and giggling. He gave you a lopsided grin, then bent down to hook an arm under your knees, carrying you toward the washbasin. He set you on the counter, and as you leaned your cheek against the cool glass, he began gently wiping your face clean.

In the reflection, you noticed he was nearly naked—his broad chest rising and falling, his shoulders thick with muscle earned from long days in the saddle. Your gaze roamed up to meet his in the mirror, and he caught your hungry stare.

His big hands circled your waist, tugging you closer until your hips bumped.

“Look in the glass, darlin’,” he drawled in your ear, one calloused hand sliding down into your panties. “See what you do to me?”

You shivered as his fingers found your clit, circling slow and deliberate.

“Oh, my sweet girl… suckin’ my cock got you this wet? Or was it just knowin’ I was watchin’ you?”

Your eyes fluttered shut, but he stopped cold.

“Uh-uh. Eyes open, sweetheart. Look at yourself, moanin’ like a bitch in heat.”

He slipped your shorts down and moved your panties aside, rubbing along your slick folds. You whimpered, pleading for more, for anything.

“How many fingers you want?” he murmured against your temple.

“Two,” you breathed, hardly coherent.

Without another word, he sank them in, watching your face twist with pleasure. He pumped them slow at first, his other hand steadying your hip.

When he felt you clench tight around him, he leaned in to nibble your earlobe.

“You close, sugar?”

You nodded desperately.

He pulled his fingers free, leaving you hanging on the edge.

“Goddammit,” you sobbed, grinding against the counter, but he pinned you still with one strong arm.

“That’s what you get for teasin’ me.”

“Please—please, Royal—I need it. Need you to fuck me,” you babbled, tears stinging your eyes.

He smirked, satisfied.

“Yeah? That’s what you want?”

“Yes,” you gasped, beyond caring.

“Alright then.”

He set you on your feet, bent you over the counter, and pushed his jeans down. You felt the blunt head of him nudge your entrance, and then he was inside you, burying himself to the hilt.

“Fuck,” he groaned, sliding almost out before thrusting back in hard enough to jolt you forward.

“This what you were after, huh? Gettin’ split open in front of a mirror like a needy little thing?”

You couldn’t answer—only moan as he pounded into you, your reflection blurring with tears.

“Gonna cum for me?” he rasped, one hand reaching under your shirt to tug at your nipples.

All you could do was nod.

“Cum, baby. Cum all over my cock.”

You shattered around him, muscles clamping down. He kept moving, groaning curses, dragging every last wave out of you.

“One more, darlin’. You got it in you,” he panted, speeding up.

You barely nodded, too far gone.

“Fuck, I’m close—where d’you want it?” he growled, voice fraying.

“Inside,” you whimpered. “Fill me up.”

“Yeah? You want me to breed you, sweet girl?”

“Please…”

That was all it took. He thrust deep, spilling inside you with a strangled groan.

When it was over, he folded over your back, both of you breathing ragged.

After a long moment, you cracked a wobbly smile.

“So… another round of cards?” you teased.

Royal huffed a laugh, straightening up.

“Let’s get you cleaned up first, sugar.”

He picked you up in those big, work-rough hands and carried you to the tub, lowering you in and turning the tap on warm.

“Wait right here,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek before heading out for a cloth.