#tex johnson

He plucks a hibiscus flower from its stem, twirling it between his large fingers for something to do. He is glaring so fixedly at the blossom that you and your gang practically sneak up on him. 

When he looks up to find you in a breezy tropical printed dress he feels like he’s been hit between the eyes with a shovel; completely stunned. Goddamn. He recovers quickly, grinning from ear to ear in a way he’s sure will rub you. “Aw, look who cleans up nice.”

You give him a once over, instantly resenting how good he looks in a black short-sleeve button up and jeans. Everyone else here is in shorts and flipflops, but he’s sporting cowboy boots and bless him for it.

You realize there’s something a little off about him though. Like he’s too dangerous, too real. Like all this definitely isn’t his scene, and you almost wonder what brings a man like him to a place like this. Maybe you have some very distant inkling of the chaos that’s to come along behind this man–and maybe you wouldn’t admit it in that moment, but it makes your idiotic lady parts want him even more. 

“Not so shabby yourself,” you counter, and when he extends the pretty pink flower to slide it behind your ear you allow yourself to close your eyes to enjoy his light touch, just for a moment. He chucks you under the chin with a knuckle, and you meet his gaze just in time to catch the flash of heat therein. 

‘Right purdy for a demon, anyway,” he qualifies with a smirk, and just like that the war is on.

“Pfft. I guess the devil himself would know,” you counter, taking his proffered elbow. 

Jack, Johnny, and your friends who are blissfully tucked under their gym-toned arms respectively, watch this exchange with bewilderment, amusement, and maybe some dread. Looks like it will be an interesting evening for all of you…

🌺🌺🌺

Yet, as it turns out…Tex behaves himself rather well. He’s charming, funny, and the two of you keep your sparring to a playful 5–ok, maybe a 7, but only after tequila. 

The six of you enjoy getting to know each other over margaritas and first-rate fish tacos. 

Johnny is a surf instructor back home. Jack is a personal trainer. And Tex reveals that he’s been a stunt double in several B movies, though he’s trying to make a change to something that will be kinder to his body. Though he plays it cool, Mr. Hollywood himself, you sense the underlying bitterness in his tone for a billion dollar industry that chews up so many hopeful souls and spits them back out again.

You can’t resist teasing him with the requisite old-man jokes, but you find the edge of your tone has softened. Maybe he notices too, because he flashes you an irascible smile, reaching out to toy lightly with the fine curls of hair at the nape of your neck. 

You can barely conceal a shudder, and he only smirks harder. 

As the night goes on the music gets louder, and some people have started filling the dance floor. You've paid for your meal, but Tex senses he hasn’t quite sealed the deal with you yet. If he doesn’t think of something…you're going to call it early and slip right through his fingers.

“Wanna dance?” he asks you with a sparkle in his dark eyes that takes your breath away. Good lord, it’s not fair. 

“I’m not…much of a dancer,” you admit, eyeing the couples down below who seem to actually know what they’re doing, as opposed to the formless writhing most of your own generation adopted as means of physical expression. 

Tex just chuckles. “Aw, that don’t matter here,” he assures you. “It ain’t the point.” You never really say yes, but he grabs your hand and pulls you in the direction of the floor. 

Why aren’t you fighting him anymore?

You’d like to blame the tequila, at least. 

“Then what is the point?” you ask when he pulls you close on the floor. 

“Gettin’ my arms around a wily lil’ honeybadger like you.”

You crack up laughing, poking his chest. “Hey!” 

“Am I wrong?” he asks with a wolfish grin.

You don’t answer…but maybe he’s not. 

As it turns out Tex is a strong lead, and it’s not hard to follow his direction around the dance floor. He mixes it up, from mild salsa moves to what you are pretty sure is really The Texas Two Step. You find you can’t stop grinning, when he spins you around or twists you up in figure-eights that should trip you both but somehow work out in the end. The one time you stumble he catches you, setting you back on your feet like you weigh nothing at all, without missing a beat.

Your knees are going weak, and unfortunately you know it's not the tequila now.

Out the corner of your eye you see your friends have joined you on the dance floor with their dates. Johnny seems to have some salsa moves of his own, and your friend is giggling while he “teaches” her (pulling her close while wiggling his hips). Jack and your other friend seem blissfully content, mostly holding each other and talking with some movement to the music. They seem happy, and that makes you happy, yet another knot you didn't even know you had releasing in your heart.

Tex feels the moment when you start to finally relax and have fun in his capable hands. The triumph of it is intoxicating–but something else softens the victory of the conquest. He knows that someone, maybe multiple someones, did a number on you. He finds that he hopes that he doesn’t hurt you too much when the time comes–and that's kind of a new thing for him.

His big hand on your waist is a menace–you’re starting to feel like a volcano inside, bubbling with red-hot heat and pent up desire. Maybe it’s just been too long since you’ve had fun like this, but maybe…it’s him. You’re afraid it’s him, and you know you’re in trouble, but you’re flying too high to bring yourself down now.    

“How did you learn how to dance like this?” you ask when a slower song comes on, and he’s pulled you in close, his hands perilously close to your ass.

“Took lessons for a role, a lifetime ago,” he tells you with a winsome smile. “The script read like…Road House meets Dirty Dancing. But they picked someone else.”

You realize that on top of the stunt work he wanted to be an actor, a leading man, and it didn’t work out either. “Their loss,” you say, and you find you mean it. This man has a captivating energy about him. It’s drawn you in, kept you hooked, even when you wanted to flay him alive in the plane. 

If the chips fell differently, you have no doubt he could have been a star. 

“Aw shucks, honey, you goin’ soft on me?” he teases with that trickster’s glitter in his eyes, but also a hint of vulnerability that’s there and gone like ripples in a pool, so quickly that you wonder if you imagined it.

“No,” you grumble, even while you reach up to brush a lock of cloud-soft hair behind his ear, caught up in the infinite black of his eyes.

For a moment it's as though time stands still just for the two of you. You don't really hear the music any more, or sense the people around you. Your world begins and ends with this man who is holding you like you're something precious in his arms–and you're not sure which of you is the first to break, just that you are tilting your head and he is leaning in, and then his lips are on yours.

🍍🍍🍍

From a spectator’s perspective, it's hard to tell if you are kissing, or trying to eat each other.

This desperate embrace soon migrates off the dance floor, and the two of you are fast-walking and kissing and stumbling through the dark jungle of the pathways, pausing in dark alcoves and against walls to devour each other a little more.

Your progress is interrupted by a veritable dinosaur stretched across the path, totally nonplussed by your presence. You half jump out of your skin, half climb Tex. “What the hell is that?”

“Just an iguana,” Tex guffaws, taking the opportunity to sweep you up into his arms and step over the thing. You cling so sweetly to his neck, and goddam if that doesn’t do something unmentionable to his caveman brain. He’s got you in his arms, and he has no intention of letting you go.

Somehow, you manage to make it to the elevator, up five floors, and down the hall to your suite. Yet you are so distracted by Tex’s lips on your neck and his huge, clever hands on your body, you barely manage to get your key card into its slot.

“Tex!” you hiss, giggling through your exasperation. “Would you wait five seconds?”

“Nope.” 

He has this theory that your whole dress will come undone if he pulls on the bow on the side just right, and he’s trying to test that out.

God smiles upon you as the little light flashes green and the lock clicks. The two of you are like a tornado as you make your way towards your bedroom, slamming the heavy wood door, as though there could be any question what you're up to should your friends return.

Hopefully, they'll have male distractions of their own. 

Tex presses you back against the door with a tonsil-inspecting kiss, the solid length of his long body molded to yours. That is a BIG…belt buckle he’s got there... He is 6 feet plus of pure man, and you don’t think you've ever wanted anyone the way you want him now. 

He trails wet kisses down the curve of your neck, those dextrous fingers finally finding the right end of the bow at your waist. “Ha!” he gloats smugly as your dress parts for him, exposing half your bra. 

“Congrats. You are surely the first man to discover the wonders of a wrap dress…” you taunt him, winning a nip on the swell of your breast. 

“Ow!”

“Hush woman, let me have my moment of glory,” he grumbles playfully. You tug at a fistful of his [admittedly: luscious] hair, and he soothes the bite with a kiss, and then his tongue delving inside your bra, finding the hard pebble of your nipple. 

“Oh…” 

His dark chuckle goes straight to your clit. 

He trails lower, until he is on his knees before you, and your heart is absolutely lodged in your throat. With lips on your belly two fingers push your panties aside, testing your slick heat with a groan. 

“Oh, honey. I knew you had a gooey, sweet center under all your spines.”

“You did not just say that,” you giggle, gasping as the tip of his finger dips into your hole.

“I better do a taste test,” he muses, and you watch with wide eyes and parted lips as he pulls your damp panties down your thighs. 

“Tex…”

“Shhh,” he soothes you, placing your leg over his broad shoulder. “I've got you.”

That's what you're afraid of, but when his tongue dips into your molten hot center, you forget everything but that wicked, blessed mouth of his. He moans like you are a delicious treat, pinning you with a hand that spans your abdomen when you can’t help but squirm. 

You are this close to cumming on that diabolical tongue when he pulls back to look at you, hunger shining in his midnight black eyes. “You ready for me, baby girl?” 

Again words fail you, but you manage to nod, and you taste yourself on his tongue when he stands to kiss you again, sweeping you up in his strong arms towards the bed. He grins when you fumble with the buttons on his shirt. What is wrong with these things? He tears them open with a smirk and a pop! and you realize they’re pearl snaps.

“You’ve never undressed a cowboy before,” he teases, and it’s your turn to bite him on the bulge of his pec, your nails digging into his ribcage. 

“You got velcro on your booties too?” you tease, winning narrowed eyes and a hand that spans your chest, pushing you back firmly but gently on the bed. 

“I think I like you better when you’re sweet and speechless,” he jibes, kicking off his boots. 

“A rare occurrence, I assure you.” 

“We’ll see, darlin’.” 

The rest of his clothes follow, and you watch the show with your head propped on your hand, enjoying the view immensely. It’s possible you let out a little sigh as his manhood springs free of its confines, praying he didn’t hear you because you know he’d never let you live it down. 

This man…is going to hurt so good.

He takes a moment to admire you too, looking down at you with a disarming tenderness in his eyes while he palms that turgid monster between his legs, rolling on a condom. 

“What?” you challenge when it goes on a little too long for your comfort.

“What what?” he fires back, smirking down at you. “Can’t a man savor the spoils of war for a minute? I’ve been in the trenches all day here.” 

You laugh, wondering if this man is ever going to get around to fucking you, or if he’s just going to run his mouth all night. Either way…you’re not sure you mind. Somehow…he’s starting to grow on you.  

Like a wart, you quickly amend, alarming yourself with the soft feelings blooming in your breast. Oh no. We’re not doing that. 

“Alright, I guess I’ll be over here if you ever decide to join me,” you tease, rolling over to the other side of the bed. 

“Nice try, woman.” Suddenly he is on you, his strong hands and his delicious body and fuck you if it doesn’t feel like you were made to fit this way, tangled up and locked together. Your giggles are devoured by his hungry mouth on yours; they swiftly turn back to moans, and he drives himself inside you with one well placed thrust that steals the breath from your lungs. 

He looks down at you with that infuriating smirk, having rendered you speechless again, though his touch is gentle as he sweeps your hair out of your face. “Alright?” he asks you, and it’s all you can do to nod, your walls fluttering and clenching around the sweet invasion of his cock, begging him to move. He doesn’t taunt you this time. Just presses his mouth to yours, wrapping you up in his strong arms while he fucks what little sense you had left out of you, his ferocity paired with an attention that you definitely weren’t expecting from a man like this. 

But then maybe you’re the asshole, projecting your past disappointments onto a total stranger. Isn’t that what you’ve been doing to this man since the moment you met? 

He makes you cum with your leg hooked over his hip and his thumb between your legs and his cock filling you to the brim, the thick stretch of him so perfect you could die, a violent shining pleasure erupting in your loins and tearing up your spine. His greedy mouth muffles your cries, the snap of his hips as he fucks you through your aftershocks an exquisite torture. “Tex,” you beg, for mercy or more you're not sure.

“Like that, pretty girl?” he growls, his triumphant smile like a baring of teeth. He is fierce and beautiful like this, and again you have the feeling that he is so much more than what he lets meet the eye. You have barely glimpsed the savage heart of this man; why does that just make you want him more? 

“Yes! Fuck…I can’t…please?” you absolutely babble, and you suspect he only takes mercy on you because he’s so close to the edge himself. He kisses you with a wicked chuckle, driving himself inside you with a punishing fury. He cums with a roar, locking against you as he shudders with his release, burying his face against your shoulder. 

Panting for breath, you lay tangled for what feels like hours, unable to move–or unable to let go. When he finally resurfaces to look down at you that insufferable grin is back at full power. You wait for the ribbing to begin again, prepared for the onslaught, yet he surprises you with a sweet, wet kiss that curls your toes all over again. “C’mere, darlin’,” he says, rolling onto his back and pulling you with him. 

You curl up against his shoulder with his arm around you, and the two of you doze.

🌺🌺🌺

You can’t remember the last time you slept so well; no anxious dreams or harrowing nightmares. Just a deep black oblivion that swallows you whole. Yet later you wake when you feel Tex moving beneath you. He’s looking at the bedside clock, which reads almost midnight. 

“Hey,” he whispers when he realizes he woke you. “I’ve got to go.” 

You know he sees your disappointment written all across your face; you’re too sleep-drunk to hide it. “Oh,” is your scathingly brilliant reply. 

Of course, he was never going to stay once he finally got what he wanted. 

“But I’ll be back in a few hours?” 

This seems…odd. 

“Where are you going?” you ask, slightly more awake. 

“Got some business to attend to.” 

“At…midnight?”

“The best time for this sort of thing.” 

You tilt your head, trying to decipher him in the shadows of the bedroom. In only the light of the moon he looks every bit a devil, and still so handsome it hurts. 

“What sort of thing?” 

He only winks in answer. “It’s a secret.” All he knows is that if he pulls this deal off…he’ll be set for the rest of his life, if he’s smart about it. No more breaking his body for Hollywood. No more of his other less than legal activities. This is the big one. 

The opportunity of a lifetime–and the real reason he’s come all this way. 

You have been a delicious distraction, and Tex has always been a man who tries to have his cake and eat it too. 

Life is too short and too cruel not to.

You study him, trying to decipher this puzzle of a man. If you were smart…you’d just let him go.   

“Give me a key,” he tells you. “I’ll be back under the covers with ya before you know it.”

You blink through your sleep fog, still reasoning this out. One thing you do know is that if one of your friends gave their hookup a key to all of your private space, you would be pissed. “Tex, I can’t do that.” 

He doesn’t even argue, like he doesn’t blame you. “Fine. Open your door in…three hours. I’ll be there.” You tilt your head, studying him again. What on earth could he be doing at this time a night that he’s certain will take exactly three hours. “But if I’m not…gimme four.” 

This makes you narrow your eyes, your native annoyance finally coming to your rescue. “Three hours,” you say. “Be there, or that’s it.” 

He grins and kisses you hard, nipping at your lip while squeezing your ass under the sheet, the tips of his long fingers brushing your wet center. Just like that every nerve in your body stands at attention, your nipples tightening to aching peaks. This man. For fuck’s sake, you’ve got to get a grip. 

“For this sweet lil pussy? You gotta deal, honeybadger.”

“Oh my god. You are not calling me that ever again,” you giggle, trying to bite him back. But he’s too quick, out of the bed and shimmying back into his Wranglers. You watch him dress in the dark with an aching fondness that you know is bad business for you. 

“Three hours,” he says again with that fey grin, stealing another kiss. “Keep it warm for me.” 

You’re not sure why you say it. Some woman’s intuition, you suppose, but it falls from your lips before you really have the chance to think about it. “Be careful.” 

He pauses at the door like you’ve surprised him, that fleeting tenderness softening his expression once again. “Thanks, darlin’. I will.”

Then he’s gone like a shadow in the night, slipping out with hardly a sound, and you sit there in the bed knowing you’re not going to sleep at all for the next 180 minutes of your life. 

That kind of pisses you off.

TBC...