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Emitting an animalistic grunt, Jack carefully extracted himself from Fiona. She turned, sitting on the ground, her thighs slightly spread, dewy beads glistening wetly on the lips of her femininity. She took his swollen erection in her hands, stroking him, coyly pressing her lips to the throbbing flesh. The last thread of his restraint snapped and his juices spilled onto her hands, all over her breasts, down her belly. Pleasure shook his body, the copious amount of his seed gushing forth until he felt empty and spent. Fiona smiled up at him and they cleaned her with his shirt. Then Jack held her in silence, just pressing small kisses to her lips, until he collapsed, exhausted, beside her.
Jack and Fiona awoke abruptly to the sound of someone banging on the front door of the house. Fiona's soft body had comforted him twice more in the night, and Jack was completely disorientated as she stirred in his arms.
He tried to move without waking Fiona, but she sat up, anyway, and wrapped herself in her shirt. Jack hoisted up his trousers and peered through the window. Bernie was on his front steps.
"Jack, you need to come to the saloon."
"Can't it wait 'till later?"
Bernie shook his head. "Harry Brunson came 'round my place, askin' around for you."
Jack felt a fiery rage ignite inside of him again.
"Said he wants to give the older Dixon a chance to avenge his little brother. That if you didn't agree, he'd make damn sure you joined Billy in hell."
Fiona brushed up against him, her half-clad body concealed by the door so Bernie couldn't see him. She ran her hand up his back as though trying to assuage his pain. His blood boiled, and he felt a murderous rage overcome him.
"Tell him I'll meet him there."
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