When we reached the historic downtown, I asked Rock to park.
“Looks right out of the movies,” murmured Stella.
“As a matter of fact, Gunnison’s Main Street has been in some. TV shows too.” The two-block section of town was dotted with diners, shops, and bars that had been in business since before my great-grandparents were born.
I led Stella into a western wear shop and over to a rack of jeans.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” she muttered.
I put my arm around her waist and pulled her close. “Try on one pair. For me.” My smile broadened when she went into the dressing room with no fewer than six.
I stood right outside, hoping she’d model at least one pair for me. “Stella?” I said when I decided it had been long enough for her to take off the pants she was wearing and slip the jeans on. I held my breath when I saw the doorknob turn.
“Holy shit,” I mumbled under my breath. She had her back to me, and damn, if the pair she wore didn’t hug her ass in all the ways I imagined they would. I looked over my shoulder to make sure no one was close by and slipped into the room with her. I closed the door behind me and grabbed her ass with both hands.
Stella giggled. “What are you doing?”
“Making sure they fit.” I squeezed both cheeks and then spun her around, admiring the way they looked from the front just as much. “Your body was made to wear jeans, Stella.”
“There are a couple others I really like,” she said, flipping through the hangers.
“Try them all on.”
“Overkill much?”
“Overkill would be if I went back out there and grabbed all the pairs I wanted to see on you.”
She put her hand on the waistband.
“Go ahead. Take them off.”
“You need to step out.”
I sat in the chair instead; I loved the way her cheeks flushed bright red. “Take them off, darlin’.” I watched as she peeled them from her body, wishing I had offered to do it for her. “You are so fucking sexy,” I murmured, pulling her over to me, so I could put my hands on her bare ass. I put my finger under the strap of her thong. “By the way, I love this.” I leaned forward and nipped her pussy through the sheer lace before moving it out of my way and licking through her folds.
“Buck,” she groaned, resting her hands on my shoulders.
“Shh. Don’t make a sound, or I’ll stop.” I thrust one, then two fingers inside her, pressing my tongue against her clit. I wrapped my other arm around her to hold her still. When I did, I could see the outline of something unexpected under her arm. I ran my hand up and felt the shape of a gun. “Are you carrying, Stella?” I whispered.
Her fingers dug into my shoulders, and her body tried to writhe. “Are you fucking kidding me right now? God, Buck, I’m right on the edge.”
I smiled and thrust harder, knowing the second she came.
“Good girl,” I murmured, kissing her skin above her pussy and raising her shirt so I could check out her concealed carry compression tank. “By the way, this is hot as fuck.”
“Um, Buck,” she said, running her fingers through her hair. “If you want me to try on any other clothes, don’t hesitate to let me know.”
We left that store with all six pairs of jeans she took into the dressing room plus three more, two pairs of boots, and a few western-style shirts. My favorite thing, though, was the pair of Daisy Dukes she added to the pile when she didn’t think I was looking. Man, I could hardly wait to peel those off of her.
“Hungry?” I asked.
“I am. Starving, actually.”
I pointed to a place across the street. “They have the best sloppers I’ve ever had in my life.”
“Sloppers?”
“It’s an open-faced cheeseburger smothered in green chili.”