Chapter 50

“Oh, hi there, stranger! We meet again.”

John stood at the entrance to Happy Ending Ranch, a drink carrier with three tall Starbucks cups in hand. Flagstone’s arid landscape wasn’t as enticing as the dazzling, show-stopping allure of Las Vegas, but still held a primitive appeal in John’s estimation. Simplicity beautified, expanses of varying brown, gray, and amber stretched beneath the cloudless azure blanket hanging above. Stunning geological titans – Sandstone Mountain, Crimson Spire Rock, Sunset Ridge, Hummell Mountain – pierced the skyline, elevating central Nevada from mere desert to a cathedral of natural magnificence. At ten o’clock in the morning, John blinked the sweat from his eyes as he regarded Jenn and her friendly greeting.

“Hi there, yourself.”

“Do you have an ID for me, sweetie?”

“Yeah, sure, of course.” Accustomed to the protocol from his visit the prior evening, John relinquished his driver’s license without hesitation. The minor inconvenience of the age verification process no longer phased him. Besides, his mind was too preoccupied with the anticipation of seeing Lindsay again.

Once John awoke earlier and had time to reflect on the conversation he had with Lindsay, he felt stunned, unable to comprehend why someone as beautiful, intelligent, and in demand as her would choose to invest so much time in him without expecting anything in return. Seven hours!

To John, Lindsay was not just a courtesan, but a genuine, loving soul who cared about the people she encountered. She had witnessed the loneliness and pain in John’s eyes, the scars left behind by a doomed marriage and years of solitude. And instead of exploiting that vulnerability as many other sex workers would, she had chosen to offer him solace, to create a space where he could unburden himself and feel seen, heard, and valued.

John opened up about the emotional wounds he suffered courtesy of his ex-wife, Stacy. Their relationship was never quite balanced, where he felt more like a consolation prize than a beloved husband. Lindsay listened intently, offering gentle words of understanding and validation, helping John rediscover his self-worth.

In turn, she shared snippets of her own journey, the path that led her to Happy Ending Ranch. Lindsay spoke of her early days in the industry, the challenges she faced, and the personal growth she’d experienced. When John asked, she touched on her admiration for Pamela, too, and how she wished to emulate her in every way not just as a provider, but a human being as well. Captivated by her commitment to bring happiness to the lives of others, John was all ears.

As the conversation wound through the evening, they discovered several shared interests and passions. John was taken aback to learn that Lindsay was more than just a casual major league baseball enthusiast; she had a profound knowledge of the Baltimore Orioles, the team he had supported since childhood.

“Wait. No way. You know about Brooks Robinson?”

“Sixteen Gold Gloves. Pretty impressive, right?”

I’ve gotta be dreaming. This is surreal.

They also discussed their favorite books, movies, and music, and John marveled at their commonalities. Constant laughter served as a delightful garnish, creating a warm, easy atmosphere, turning the initial, white-hot flirtation into a genuine connection.

Once they realized it was nearing four o’clock, they looked at each other in surprise, and altered their plans. They’d meet again first thing in the morning when the house opened for business and have their GFE.

“You don’t owe me anything, baby,” Lindsay told John when he tried offering monetary compensation for her time. “I don’t charge anyone to talk. I’d never do that.”

“Even for seven hours? At least let me tip you.”

She held up a hand. “Nope. I refuse. Keep it. Save it for what’s important – our party six hours from now.”

Back in the present moment, Jenn returned the ID card. “Thank you, sweetie. I appreciate your cooperation. It’s just a formality, but it helps keep everything above board.”

John inclined his head, tucking the driver’s license back into his wallet. “I understand. It’s not a problem at all.” He lifted one of the coffees and presented it to her. “Here, this is for you. I wanted to do something nice for you, a thank you for your hospitality last night.”

When John first extended the cup toward her, a wisp of steam dancing out from the small opening in the lid, Jenn’s eyes widened. “Oh, wow. Wow. Thank you! This is so nice. And unexpected.” Bringing the cup to her face, Jenn inhaled, nostrils flaring as she drew in the rich aroma. “Starbucks in the morning? Count me in. This is exactly what I need to kickstart my day.”

“I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I got a vanilla latte. I hope that’s okay.”

Jenn took a sip. “Hmm, vanilla latte is my favorite. How did you know?”

“Lucky guess, I suppose. I’m glad you like it.”

“Like it? I love it! You just made my morning.” Jenn raised the cup in a toast. “Thank you so much. This is really thoughtful. No wonder Lindsay speaks so highly of you.”

“It’s the least I could do after the way you, Lindsay, and Donald welcomed me last night. Wanted to show my appreciation, you know? I would’ve brought Donald a coffee, too, but Lindsay said he was off today.”

“Yeah, Donald is one of our night bartenders. He won’t be back ‘til tomorrow. And rest assured, we appreciate you too. We love clients who are kind and considerate.”

When Jenn stepped aside, John saw into the parlor, and found Lindsay bouncing on her toes as if she were a coiled spring ready to burst forth at any moment. “Hi John!” The smile that spread across Lindsay’s face was a thing of pure beauty, her teeth gleaming white against the lush red of her lips, a radiant sparkle in her eyes. “Good morning!”

At least she was wearing decent shoes and clothes now. Denim shorts and a tank top. Not that she looked any less devastating than she did hours earlier, when John’s eyes were locked on her in the little popsicle yellow dress all evening long. He choked seeing her again, now, thinking she looked even more appealing in casual attire. Oh my God. Because now she looked like the Lindsay he envisioned outside the house. The quintessential California Girl, a living embodiment of the sun-kissed beauty and carefree spirit that had long captured the imaginations of people from across the world.

For that very reason, he requested she meet him today dressed like this.

“Hmm. You look stunning. Like a dream come true.”

“Thank you.” The soft squeak of Chuck Taylors against the wooden floor signaled her approach. John barely had time to set the drink carrier aside before Lindsay threw her arms around his neck, just like last night, swathing him in a fierce embrace that zapped the breath from his lungs.

“Oh, baby, I’m so glad you’re here.” Lindsay gathered his hand and brought it to her mouth, pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles. “I’ve been counting down the minutes until I could see you again.”

As John slipped his opposite arm around Lindsay’s waist, he noted how perfectly she seemed to fit against him, like two puzzle pieces snapping into place. When she leaned close, her perfume washed over him – a tantalizing fusion of cardamom, violet, iris, and sandalwood. His lungs swelled, the fragrance making him sway on his feet, his knees threatening to give way. He closed his eyes, savoring the moment, etching every detail into his memory.

“If the house opened any earlier, I...” John paused, swallowing hard. “Damn, I wanted to camp outside the door. Last night was... beyond words.” Indeed, it had been surprising, exciting, and wonderful. He’d never gotten completely lost in a woman like that before, a feeling he hadn’t expected to encounter in, of all places, a whorehouse. But John couldn’t have pried himself away from Lindsay if he wanted to. He craved her. He was, officially, head over heels in love.

Throw in that rampant make-out session at the start of their discussion, and he’d become silly putty in her hands. The tiny spot beside his lip still tingled, and a shiver of heat skittered through his bones. The woman knew how to kiss, to touch, and say all the right things. The vivid memories had shocked him awake after a mere two hours of sleep, his mind whirling, body thrumming with an adrenaline surge potent enough to fuel him for days. “I haven’t been able to think about anything but you ... but us.”

“Me neither.” Lindsay stepped back from the embrace, her fingertips tracing the outline of John’s jaw. “I don’t know, but I feel like I connected with you on a level that I’ve never experienced with a client before. That’s saying a lot, too, because I’ve met some really awesome people here. But last night, I, we... wow. I mean, I really love it when guys are brutally honest with me.”

After offering her a coffee, John and Lindsay made their way to the back of the bar and to the same table as last evening. Jenn and a guy John didn’t know, a young Mexican gentleman with a lively attitude, were pulling tables together to make one big, rickety conference table. It seemed the brothel was anticipating a gathering, rearranging the space to host a large contingent.

“That’s Fernando. He’s our chef, certified and all, but helps out wherever we need him.”

Catching John’s eye, Fernando’s smile burst forth, cheerful and pleasant. “¡Hola, amigo! Welcome to our casa. I hope you’re ready for Lindsay because she’s gonna show you the time of your life today.” His head gave a quick twitch and his grin expanded, spreading ear to ear. “Ella va a sacudir tu jodido mundo.”

John blinked, taken aback by Fernando’s exuberant greeting. He caught the gist of the welcome but couldn’t quite follow the rapid-fire Spanish at the end. Not wanting to disrupt the jovial atmosphere, John decided to roll with it. “Hey, thanks man. I’m stoked to be here.” His eyes ran over Lindsay again. He’d pictured this moment countless times, but reality was so much better. “I still can’t believe I’m actually here.”

At the bar’s opposite end, a young woman caught John’s attention. Her combat boots, adorned with silver studs and rhinestones, claimed the adjacent stool as if it were her throne. Locks of hair, an audacious fusion of midnight black and electric purple, spun down her shoulders, framing her face like a painting. The neon lights danced across her features, highlighting the constellations of piercings that adorned her nose and ears, each one a defiant statement against conformity.

Her eyes, heavily shadowed in the same bold hues as her hair, seemed to challenge John, drawing him into a silent exchange that stood in stark contrast to the classic, girl-next-door allure of Lindsay.

The corner of goth chick’s obsidian lips transitioned into a sultry smile as she plucked a chili cheese fry from the basket before her. She raised the fry in John’s direction, offering a salute, before popping it into her mouth and chewing with deliberate slowness.

John’s own lips twitched, a grin taking shape as she wagged her brows.

“That’s Amethyst. She’s one of our new girls. Would you like me to introduce you? Maybe you’d like her to join us?” Lindsay’s eyes darted to Amethyst and back to him. “A ... a threesome, perhaps?”

“No. No, that’s fine.” John’s words were final, leaving no doubt. He reached out, fingers grazing Lindsay’s chin, and stared into her eyes. “I’m only interested in you.”

“Good!” The word burst out like a giddy confession. Lindsay laced her fingers through his and kissed his knuckles one at a time. “Because I want you for myself.”

“So, tell me, Kyle.” Jenn’s voice serenaded the bar as she poured the gentleman a brew from behind the counter. With Lindsay and John having retreated to her bedroom moments ago to discuss terms and prices, Jenn now found herself alone with another potential client. “What can we at Happy Ending Ranch do for you this morning?”

“I, uh...” the forty-three-year-old from Arkansas began, but his voice sputtered. He downed a gulp of liquid courage and tried again. “I heard this is the place to go for, you know, a good time.” He glanced around the parlor, dimly lit with its flickering hues, the cracked furniture exuding a faint, musty odor. “Well, umm, I’m married...”

Jenn’s smile blossomed as she nodded once, her green eyes softening. Putting mongers at ease (and ultimately coaxing them into opening their wallets) had become old hat for her after all these years.

“ ... but my wife is kind of a prude. I mean, I don’t blame her because, I guess, that’s how she was raised.”

“Okay.”

“But, needless to say, our sex life is lacking. It’s literally only missionary position, and blowjobs are completely off the table.”

Jenn’s brows knitted together. “Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that. What about ... you going down on her?”

“Nope. Too dirty for her.” Kyle’s voice dripped with frustration, his fingers tightening around the glass. “She has this idea that sex has to be this wholesome thing. It can only be intimate lovemaking.” He threw his hands up, almost sloshing the beer. “There’s just no room for wild, passionate fucking.”

“What about handjobs?” Jenn asked, free of judgment.

“No. Heidi doesn’t really like to touch me down there.”

Jenn huffed out a sigh, her fingers moving to cover Kyle’s atop the bar. “I feel very sorry for you. A life without oral sex isn’t much of a life at all.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.” His posture crumpled, as if invisible strings holding him upright had been abruptly severed. “God forbid I suggest anything more kinky, perhaps doggy, or something.”

Jenn’s gaze sharpened, her chin dipping. “Did you know that about her before marrying her?”

“Well, I mean, she was always really reserved but, you just, you always expect that she was kind of saving herself for marriage. And then once you get married, get to know each other, open up and try stuff...” Kyle’s neck tensed, his eyelids fluttering like a hummingbird’s wings as he massaged his temples. “First time we had sex was on our wedding night. I was sooooo horny and just ready to do things with her and to her, and she vetoed it all.”

“Oh, my.” Jenn’s body seemed to melt, losing its feminine appeal and blending into the bar’s mundane atmosphere.

“Only missionary position and even then, I couldn’t go too hard.”

“I’m so sorry. So sorry to hear that.”

“I’m starving for just ... some wild fucking.” A synchronized chuckle popped the bubble of negativity, their shoulders shaking in tandem. But when the moment passed, Kyle’s demeanor changed, his voice taking on a more somber tone. “And any, I mean any blowjob.

“But even after all these years, I’ve never cheated on Heidi though I’ve had plenty of opportunities. It’s just, I can’t take it anymore.” His eyes met Jenn’s, pleading for acceptance. “I mean, I don’t really even see this – visiting a brothel – as cheating. Kind of more like, therapy, in a way. Oh, damn, who am I trying to fool? This is wrong.”

“No, no, it’s not wrong. I think you were right originally. Your wife may not agree with me, but you ... you were right. This isn’t cheating. Not at all. I think sometimes men may need something different – like the type of service we provide here at Happy Ending Ranch – to keep their marriage alive.”

“Yes!” Kyle’s face lit up.

“There’s nothing wrong with it.”

“Exactly. Yeah, I agree.” He clinked his mug against Jenn’s bottled water in a toast and lifted it to his lips. The alcohol descended his throat, then jumped to his head. “Do you mind topping me off?”

Moments later, their discussion had shifted.

“You know, this place and I go way back.” Jenn’s pink, polished nails zigzagged across the grain of the bar top. “Two decades ago, I was on the other side of this counter, working as a courtesan to fund my college education.”

Kyle’s brows spiked high.

“Criminal Justice degree. Worked hard for it too.” Nostalgia stirred behind her eyes. “Went on to be a Loss Prevention Specialist in Vegas, then a Forensic Science Technician in Scottsdale.” She sniffed and made a face. “Five good years in Arizona, too, until budget cuts hit.

“That’s when I came back to Happy Ending Ranch.” She aligned her backbone. “Not as a working girl, mind you, but as a bartender.” Her lips curled into a fleeting smirk. “Didn’t know a martini from a margarita back then, either. Guess I’ve come a long way, huh?

“Eventually, I decided to transition back to sex work, but the old house manager, Jim, pulled me aside one day and said I need you more on this side. He wanted to train me as his eventual replacement. That was eleven years ago. Colt, the owner, always wanted a succession plan in place just in case something unforeseen happened.” She expelled a rush of oxygen, her cheeks puffing out before deflating. “And over those eleven years, I did everything here as far as bartending, bookkeeping, politicking, maintenance, cooking, cleaning, laundry, you name it.

“And wouldn’t you know it?” Jenn grinned with all her teeth. “A month ago, that promotion finally came through. Jim retired. Colt moved on. House manager now.” She thrust her shoulders back. “Madam Jennifer.”

With a flourish, she motioned around the bar. “Being under new ownership these days, we have big things in mind as far as giving the ranch a complete facelift too. A few months from now, this place will look totally different than it does now. I, for one, I cannot wait.”

After several more moments of friendly banter, Kyle inquired about the typical protocol for partying with a lady.

“See that room behind you, with the stripper pole? That’s our lap dance room. If you’d like a lineup, I’ll take you in there and seat you in the recliner. Then I’ll gather all our available ladies. They’ll line up against the mirror and introduce themselves one by one, and you can pick whomever you like.” She paused, glancing at the FPD monitor beside her. “We’re a bit short-staffed this week, but everyone you see on our menu here is available right now – except Lindsay. I know you asked about her earlier, but she’s with a client at the moment and, I’m not certain, but I think they’re gonna be a while.”

“But I can pick one off the video board here if I want to, right?” His gaze cut sideways. “I don’t have to get a lineup?”

“It’s all up to you, sweetie. You tell me what you want.”

Anticipation took over and turned his mind to mush. “Oh, fuck me. They’re all gorgeous, but I think ... I think I’d like ... Amelia.” Kyle had a mischievous look plastered on his face. “At least to meet her, I mean, and see if we have a connection. A spark.”

“Of course. You sit tight here, honey, and I’ll go back and let Amelia know you’re interested. The little firecracker is probably sleeping, though, so it may be fifteen or twenty minutes until she makes her way out.”

“Sure, sure, I can wait.” He let out a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding. “No problem.”

John had to work not to squeeze her too tightly, but holy shit Lindsay felt good.

“You’re only the second client I’ve ever had who’s booked a full twenty-four hours with me at the ranch.” Her arms were ensnaring him too. “Thank you, baby. You have no idea how much this helps me out. My bills won’t pay themselves.”

They stood like that for a long time, their marathon GFE commencing just seconds ago. John could feel Lindsay’s heart hammering against his chest.

During negotiations earlier, John confided that he’d recently come into a sizable amount of money through the Maryland state lottery. He still valued his job and wanted to continue working but was no longer held down by financial burdens. Now, he could do all the things he wanted to do.

John had plans of visiting Australia to experience winter in July next year and to gaze upon the Southern Cross in the night sky. He had other travel ambitions, too, such as China, where he’d walk along the Great Wall, followed by a trip to Britain to explore Hadrian’s Wall, a more obscure historical landmark but one he knew and wanted to see.

Yet, the pinnacle of his newfound freedom and the first (and most important) destination on his global odyssey was the unassuming town of Flagstone, Nevada.

“I came here so I could meet you.”

Lindsay was caught off guard by the request for a twenty-four-hour party, but as a professional, she prided herself on being ready for any wish her clients may have. No matter how much time or how outlandish the fetish, she was prepared to accommodate their needs. After discussing the details with John and crunching the numbers on a calculator, they agreed on a rate of $800 per hour. With an additional five percent surcharge for using a credit card, the tally came to a staggering $20,160.

“Go ahead and charge my card a flat twenty-five thousand,” he later told Jenn in the booking office. “But, I have one condition: I know the house gets its cut, but I want the excess to go directly to Lindsay. Every single penny. It’s a tip. You must give me your word that it goes to her. Nothing extra for the house. Just her.”

“Oh, trust me,” Jenn said, “Lindsay will get it all.”

In the bedroom, John’s lips pursed, a thin stream of air escaping. He lifted his hand to the back of Lindsay’s head, dragging it down the length of her hair. “Damn, girl, you smell good.”

A tiny feminine laugh rumbled against his chest. “Well, thanks.” She rubbed her cheek against his shoulder. “You smell pretty good, too, especially after your shower.”

The feel of her cheek against his shoulder made his dick hard.

Well, fuck.

When she made a motion to let go of him, John reaffirmed his grip. “Just another second. Please. God, you feel so good.”

She tucked her head under his chin. “As long as you want, baby.”

“I could stay like this forever, you know. I really could.”

They were quiet for several heartbeats.

“I think I’ve done more hugging last night and today than I have in the past ten years combined,” he said.

“Guess you’ve got some catching up to do, then. Lucky for you, I’m a cuddlebug, and got plenty of hugs to spare.”

John finally retreated, slipping both hands into his pockets, a precautionary measure to resist the overwhelming urge to hold onto her indefinitely. Letting Lindsay go was the last thing he wanted to do, now or ever.

“Thank you for allowing me to hold you so much.”

“You don’t have to thank me, you know.”

“I’m just glad you’re not totally scared of me.”

“Scared of you?” Her mouth bunched into a pucker. “Why would I be scared of you?”

“I don’t know.” John sawed out a humorless laugh. “Experience tells me that I’m not the type of guy women want to be with. Been rejected so many times, I’ve lost count.” He shuffled on his insoles, head down, fingers flexing. “Women never stick around long enough to meet the real me.”

“John, those other women? They missed out. But their loss is my gain, because you’re here with me now.” She put her hand behind his head and leaned closer. “I see you, the real you. And let me tell you, I’m definitely sticking around – and I’m gonna blow up your world and everything in it today in ways you’ve never imagined.”

John’s trepidations melted as Lindsay’s lips met his. He surrendered to the sensations, his mouth seeking hers with a fervor he hadn’t known he possessed. His tongue danced along the seam of her lips, a silent plea for admission, which she granted with a breathy moan that sent shivers down his spine.

Lindsay’s fingers found their way to his neck. Her other hand cradled his jaw, anchoring him in place. John’s tongue delved deeper, exploring the warm cavern of her mouth, savoring its taste and offering his own in return.

Lindsay’s hunger matched John’s, attacking with a ferocity that left him winded. The coarse hair of his beard rasped against the delicate skin of her chin and cheeks as he tilted his head, seeking to deepen their connection. Lost in the throes of desire, Lindsay’s body moved on its own accord, her leg beginning to wrap around John’s waist.

But before she could complete the motion, John’s hand found its way to her thigh. With a sudden, powerful movement, he hoisted her upright, pressing her body against his own. Lindsay gasped, her feet leaving the floor as she found herself suspended in his arms.

John carried her across the room, his hand gripping her ass while the other supported her thigh. His steps were purposeful, driven by a primal need that threatened to consume them both. When they reached the far wall, he chucked Lindsay’s back against the cool, pink stucco, positioning her beside an enormous poster print of Pamela.

Lindsay’s arms wound around John’s neck, clinging as if he were her lifeline. A wanton moan escaped her lips, swallowed by their kiss, his hardened length finding its rightful place against her core. He rocked his hips, dry-humping in a foreshadowing of what was to come.

Lindsay’s fingers dug into his scalp.

John’s lips blazed a trail from her mouth, along the curve of her jaw, until they reached the shell of her ear. His hot breath sent delicious sensations shooting all throughout as he growled, “Fuck, you feel incredible.”

Lindsay’s thighs tightened like a noose around him, her body arching as she let her head fall back against the wall. “You feel incredible, too, baby.”

Laughter stormed out of John’s throat and reverberated against her skin and his lips soon followed, peppering feather-light kisses along her collarbone, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Lindsay’s nipples pebbled beneath the fabric of her black tank top, ready for his touch.

With John handling the grunt work when it came to holding her up, Lindsay seized the opportunity to explore. Her hands glided south, fingertips tracing his torso before dipping beneath the soft cotton of his T-shirt. As her palms met bare skin, John’s muscles tensed, and a guttural moan escaped from deep within.

Images of John’s naked form danced behind Lindsay’s eyelids. She yearned to taste his skin, especially his dick, to map every inch of his body with her tongue. She wanted to watch him bucking and contracting and then coming like a man possessed beneath her as she rode him cowgirl.

Their kisses intensified, a promise of the passion yet to come. Lindsay found herself trapped against the wall, his hands cradling her face as he captured her mouth with an intensity born from ten years of suppressed yearning. There was a possessiveness in his touch, but also a protectiveness that made her feel cherished and secure. In his arms, Lindsay knew she was safe, that John would move mountains to care for her.

He broke the kiss and relaxed, letting her slide to the floor. And then, without preamble, John turned her so she was facing the wall. He took Lindsay’s hands and put them up, and noticed her fingers caressing Pamela’s face via the poster, gazing almost as if Pamela were with them in person. John covered the back of Lindsay’s hands, flattening them.

“I think you’d like it,” he said, “if she was with us now ... if this was a threesome.”

“Oh, yes,” came Lindsay’s quick response. “I love Pamela and would happily share you with her. Oh, for sure, I’d make an exception for Pamela.”

A growl, though somewhat restrained, bubbled outward. “How about any of the other girls?”

“That’s up to you, really, baby. These twenty-four hours are all about you. It’s your fantasy. Just say the word, and I’ll see about making it happen. Honestly, I don’t know what I love more – cock or pussy. I love both, don’t get me wrong, but I go back and forth on which is my favorite on, really, a daily basis.”

“I’ll remember that. You love pussy. Any girl in the house.” His mouth was against her ear when he murmured, “But for now, don’t move.”

John’s hands embarked on a journey, mapping Lindsay’s body, caressing her breasts before settling on her belly. He rubbed slow circles, causing her tank top to ride up and expose succulent flesh. Lindsay gasped as she again felt his hardness press against her backside.

His hands continued their exploration, gliding down to her hips and along the front of her thighs. Just as she believed he might pull away, John surprised her by cupping her pussy through her white denim shorts.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he rasped, his voice against her ear. “I’m gonna worship you like you’ve never been worshipped before.”

Rendered speechless, Lindsay could only nod in response. John’s gentle dominance overwhelmed her senses. It was as if he had created a world just for the two of them, shielding her from anything beyond the pleasures they could offer each other.

John’s hands resumed their upward path, slipping beneath her shirt to catalog the smooth expanse of her belly before reaching her breasts. His touch, though gentle, was deliberate and measured. He took his time, teasing her nipples through the thin fabric of her bra.

Desperate for more, Lindsay jammed her ass against his pelvis. Standing tall and proud, John tugged at her peaks. Her eyes lingering on his weathered hands, she huffed out a sigh and gritted her teeth.