by Jean Baker
Released to Rapture (Irresistible Inmate)
Released to Rapture (Irresistible Inmate)
Book 1 – Released To Rapture
Midpoint
Released to Rapture
Irresistible Inmate
Book One
Jean Baker
Copyright 2012, 2013
Books written by Jean Baker can be obtained either through the author’s official website:
www.sensualnovels.com
or through select, online book retailers.
Storymill Publishing
All characters and situations in this novel are entirely fictional and any resemblance to any persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
Copyright © Jean Baker 2012
All rights reserved, which includes the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever, including the right to copy, distribute and adapt the work.
Book 1 – Released To Rapture
_______________________
Duncan thought he would be willing to sell his left nut for a bath. He had hitch-hiked for three days, always on the look-out for a pond, lake, or river to jump in, clothes and all. This morning, he saw cypress trees beyond a field of corn and asked the truck driver to let him off.
After vaulting the fencing at the side of the interstate highway, he walked down a row of tasseled corn, running his fingers across the golden fringes. He found himself smiling at the feel of nature surrounding him. Scooping up a hand full of the black dirt, he inhaled the rich scent of loam and tasted it. Hmmm, too much phosphate.
Upon reaching the cluster of cypress trees, he groaned in disappointment. Green slime covered the murky water. He circled the marshy low-land, surrounded by verdant crops, without finding a clean pool of water in which to bathe.
Giving up on having a bath, he pushed his billed cap to the back of his head. He dropped to a log at the end of a soybean field and looked around. At the end of the field, a narrow road glittered in the sunlight. About a mile away, a house and several barns clustered together. He rubbed the sweat from his face and sighed. He needed to stop running and find work. That meant confronting people. The thought made him cringe. Would he get over feeling as if he lived with his past printed on his face?
Maybe, he should have gone to a city where more opportunities were available. Yet, he craved the outdoors. Before losing his freedom, he had lived most of his life on a farm. He left the field and trudged along the two-lane asphalt country road, hungry and tired. Topping a hill, a small country story appeared, a precursor of the modern convenience store. He entered and took a bottled coke from a chest cooler and popped off the top on the opener mounted on the side. The old man behind the counter looked him over with a critical eye when he passed over a dollar bill. God, the man knew about him. A tremor skittered down his spine.
“You looking mighty road-worn, son.” His white, fluffy eyebrows wiggled, and he smiled while ringing up the money. “Where ‘bouts you from?”
Duncan swallowed hard. “Yep, on the move for quite a while.”
“Let me guess. You’re a military man, ain’t you? Have a lost look about you I’ve seen in battle weary men that have come home. Out now?”
His hand began to tremble, and he gripped the coke bottle tighter. “Yes, sir. Just got out. Wore a uniform for a long damn time.” He snatched up his change and started for the door.
“Son.”
Duncan turned back and waited, feeling trapped.
“You gonna’ be moving on down the road, or would you be willin’ to hang around for a while? I know where a strong man’s desperately needed. And you look mighty strong. That is, if you’re foot-loose and fancy-free.”
“I plan to stay at the first farm where I find work, food, and a bed. What’s on your mind?”
The old man’s face wrinkled into a smile, and he held out his hand. “Carl Stanton, here. ‘Bout a quarter mile on down the road is the farm that belonged to my brother, Clinton. His daughter, Goldie, really could use some help. He retired and left the place to her and her husband, Leven.”
Relieved, he nods to the oldster. “Much obliged.” Attempting a smile, he opened the door and with a lift of his hand, left.
Following Mr. Stanton’s friendly suggestion, Duncan walked until a large road-side mail box with ‘Stanton’ printed on its side appeared. He followed the long, dirt path to the farm house. The place needed a lot of care. Knee-high weeds overtook the fencing, the door of the barn hung from one hinge, and the horse looked as if it hadn’t been groomed in a year. A greasy, stooped man cursed as he struggled with the innards of a rusty tractor.
Duncan took a deep breath in disappointment. This place looked like more than he wanted to deal with. He began to turn away, but stopped as if pole-axed. An angel in dungarees stepped from the back porch and headed toward the mechanic. His cock tried to fuck his belly button. He felt like running to tackle her onto the ground, his need so great. Gasping, he stepped behind the nearest large oak and clutched himself. I can’t go to her in this condition. Unzipping, he leaned back against the rough trunk and took his erection in hand.
Only a few strokes, and his manhood jerked and pulsated. Straining to control the gut-deep groan coming up his throat, he pumped with one hand, clutched his balls with the other, and watched his seed spurt to the earth. After regaining his breath and rearranging his clothes, he circled the tree and made for her. He tried to placate his embarrassment over his lack of control by remembering he hadn’t seen a woman in years except a flash of one beside the road while riding in semi-trucks.
He slowly approached her, keeping his eyes focused on the ground. Already, his cock twitched and his face burned.
“Yes, may I help you?”
Her voice rang through his body like a wind chime, and he met her eyes, gasping. The eyes of a tiger. Jerking off his billed cap, he covered his instant erection. His testicles curled into tight balls, and his shoulders slumped forward.
Lips tight against his teeth, he said, “Mr. Stanton, down at the store, said you might need some help, and I’m volunteering. Ma’am.” God, don’t let me embarrass myself.
“Are you alright?” She flipped a long, ebony braid over her shoulder.
He could only nod while his eyes followed her hand as she bit into an apple. More than anything in the world, he wanted to lick the apple juice from her bottom lip. Wouldn’t mind having the apple. His body began trembling as he watched the apple go back to her mouth.
“You’re hungry, aren’t you?” Her expression held caution, but those wonderful eyes filled with compassion. Not waiting for an answer, she said, “Come. Sit on the porch and I’ll bring you something to eat. Want a beer or iced tea?”
All he could do was nod again, follow her across the yard, and up on the porch. Thank God, the old man’s presence would keep him straight. His imagination went wild thinking about throwing this woman to the ground and fucking her brains out. In his mind’s eye, a black-robed man pointed a long finger at him, and saying, “Ten to fifteen.” He ground his teeth together. I’m not fit to be around a woman. As she went inside, he dropped into an old-fashioned porch rocker.
He lifted his arm and sniffed. Damn, she’d probably faint if she caught a whiff. Checking to make sure the mechanic remained, he noticed a water hose coiled on the side of the barn. He ran to it, turned on the spigot and let the hose spray over his body. His head back, he let the water run through his hair and down his face.
“What in Sam Hill you doin,’ boy?” The old guy stared at him.
Gordon turned to answer and groaned. The angel stood on the porch watching him, her jaw dropped.
“Cle
aning myself.” He couldn’t bring his eyes away from the woman and began to have another problem. It seemed simply looking at her made his cock stand at attention. She went back into the house. He turned away from the man’s eyes, slipped his hand under the waist of his pants. Several quick strokes and he ejaculated so hard his legs buckled. Damn, boy, settle down. Two’s enough for today. His balls still felt as if they had a bucket load ready to blow.
Putting the hose down the front of his trousers, he turned, almost bumping into the lovely woman. Her eyes widened and she laughed. Handing him a bar of soap, she spun around and ran to the house. Face burning, he lathered head to toes over clothes and shoes, rinsed and then turned off the water.
Walking toward the house, shivering, a voice behind him said, “Now, there’s a crazy SOB.”
Goldie removed a meat loaf from the oven wondering why the hell she continued to cook as if her husband remained with her. I guess it’s one more way of holding on to the past. Have to stop doing such foolishness. I’m so damn tired of the sadness. After a year, she should be thinking about selling the farm. It had simply become too much for her, and she couldn’t afford help. But, God, she loved this place. Exhaustion and sadness haunted her every move. The on-going sexual frustration didn’t help.
Leven had been an adequate lover, but she always had to accompany his efforts with self-pleasuring. In spite of her raging sexual needs, sex outside the marriage wasn’t acceptable, at least in this part of the world. Always conscientious and loyal, even after his death, she kept to herself. But the screaming need welling up from her sexual center kept her awake many nights.
Come on, girl, don’t think about it. She turned, grabbed an apple, and left the kitchen to see if Harvey had managed to fix that dilapidated, damn tractor. Another thing she couldn’t afford to replace. She crossed the yard and stood by the handyman. “Think you can get it running?”
He straightened up and looked past her. “Looks like you have company, Ms. Goldie.”
Turning, she held her breath. God, he’s a big man. Rough looking too. Before giving into fright, she noticed how his head hung down as he stood in front of her. It touched her such a large man blushed like a child. She relaxed, knowing Harvey kept a close eye on the situation.
“May I help you?
He lifted his head and his face turned fiery red. He jerked off his hat and it tumbled to the ground. Good, he might be a tough one, but he possessed good, country manners. Not many men took off their hats to women now days. As he looked into her eye, heat filled her sexual core. His eyes were large and dark with lashes so long, any woman would be envious. Good God, watch yourself—even pretty could be dangerous.
The first thing she thought after she knew he needed work was, she could hardly afford to pay Harvey part-time. The second, she wondered why Uncle Carl thought to send this big, grubby man to her? Then she remembered, in all the years she’d known him, Carl had proven his expertise in judging anyone very quickly and correctly. She became aware of the man’s eyes following her apple. Damn, he’s hungry. “Do you like meatloaf? If you do, come to the house and I’ll fix you a plate.” His Adam’s apple jerked convulsively, and she smiled. “Come on, now.” She started toward the house without checking if he followed.
After he sat in an old rocker on the back porch, she went inside to prepare a plate. At least, I’ll have some help eating all this food. Her lips curled into a smile. It felt good to feed a man again. She heard Harvey yell and she ran out. Jesus, the man was bathing with his clothes on. Laughing, she found a bar of soap and took it to him. He turned to her, his face filled with such animal sexuality, she ran. Inside, she leaned, hands on knees, she panted while lightening pulses raged through the sexual core of her body. What the hell?
His shoes slapped and squished onto the porch.
Taking a deep, sobbing breath, she picked up the tray of food, braced herself, and went outside. In spite of looking half drowned, the man was the standard of masculine beauty. The wet shirt clearly defined his muscular body. It took all the control she could muster to restrain her hands from running across his powerful chest.
“Pull that little table in front of you, please.” Reaching for the table, his wet shirt strained across his back and arms. His rippling muscles caused her internal ones to respond by convulsing. She felt moisture trickle down her thighs. Her voice became low and breathy. “Why don’t you pull your wet shirt off so you can enjoy the meal?” And I can enjoy the view.
He struggled to take it off. Wet, it stuck to his body and wouldn’t pull over his heavy shoulders. She set the tray down, went behind him, tugged the garment off, and felt him tremble. Is he cold? Or does he hate to be touched? She threw the sopping wet shirt over the banister, stepped carefully past him, and placed the tray before him. “Go ahead and eat. I’m going to fetch a beer for myself. By the way, I’m Goldie Stanton.”
Ducking his head, he said, “Duncan, ma’am.”
Stepping into the kitchen, she thought, the man’s a little lean with his words.
She returned and sat in the companion rocker, trying not to stare at him. In spite of a few days growth of dark beard, she saw a strong jaw line and high cheek bones. Strands of long, black hair fell around his face—wet, the rest had been raked straight back and curled on his neck. From the side of her eye, she noticed he kept his left hand curled in his lap and his bicep bulged. What is he doing? Good God, he’s holding down an erection. A sharp arrow of passion streaked to her weeping sex. She closed her eyes, holding her breath. It had been so long without a desirable man in her little world, having this stranger near was almost impossible to bear. She wondered if Duncan was big all over. God help me, I’m becoming a pervert.
Although, wolfing down the food, he kept the pressure on his crotch. He wiped the last of the gravy from his plate.
“Still hungry? I have plenty.”
He gave her a tentative smile. “Plenty? Are you sure?”
Inside, filling his plate, she stopped and tightened her thighs. Moisture filled her panties. Oh, God. I have to get him away from here before I make a fool of myself. Never in my life have I responded to a man like this. It’s almost frightening. Her breasts responded by throbbing.
After handing him his plate, she said, “It’s obvious I need help around here but cannot afford it. Sorry.”
“Could you feed me? No salary is necessary.” He turned those expressive eyes on her, and her stomach quivered. “I’m desperate for something worthwhile to do. I can sleep in the barn. Don’t need money—need a home.”
She hardened her heart, stood, and took his empty plate. “I know you’re miserable in those wet clothes, but I have some things that may fit. Then you must go. Come inside. I’ll find you something to wear. Those pants look as if they’ve seen their last days.”
“Where’s your husband? Will his clothes fit?”
“Not sure. All we can do is try.” The last thing she needed to do was to let him know she lived alone. She walked into the house and he followed. Setting the dishes on the kitchen counter, she said, “Go to the bathroom down the hall and get out of those wet things. I’ll bring you some shirts and pants to try.”
His mouth turned down and his forehead crinkled.
“It’s okay, Leven died last year. I haven’t gotten rid of his things yet.” Shit, I did it anyway. Damn man could be a serial killer, for all I know.
“Oh, sorry.”
It didn’t take long to gather up a few things. She cracked the bathroom door a bit and handed him the clothes. “Why don’t you take a real bath, minus the clothing? The water is nice and hot. Towels and bath clothes are under the sink. Let’s see if you can wear any of this stuff.” It felt strange giving this man her husband’s possessions but good to help—who? She didn’t even know his last name.
Back in the kitchen, she waited for the sound of the shower cutting off. Harvey came to the door. “Ms. Goldie, I need to go, but with a strange man here, should I stay?”
His
weathered face, lined with worry, made her smile, thinking this small man would barely reach the stranger’s shoulders. “Thank you, Harvey, it’s kind of you. I don’t think he’s dangerous, besides I have several guns.”
He removed his hat and scratched his head. “You sure?”
“Yeah, Harve. And I know how to use every one of them. She nodded and watched him stride away, get in his old pick-up, and leave. The pipes rattled in the kitchen after he cut the water cut off, and she went to the bathroom door to wait. So much time passed, she worried. Tapping on the door, she asked, “How about it? Can I see?”
He pulled the door open and stood with hands on hips, smiling. Goldie giggled. The jeans were six inches above his ankles, and the shirt lacked closing by a hand's width. “I’ll throw your wet things in the washer. After they dry, you can dress in your own clothes.”
Handing his things to her, he asked, “Mind if I shave?”
She smiled. “Everything’s under the sink. Help yourself.” The wet clothes in hand, she moved through the house in a daze. Her breasts swelled in sexual need, and she burned to the core. God, I want this man. I have to get him away before I make an ass of myself. The big SOB could kill me in a flash. Throwing the clothes in the washing machine, she returned to the bathroom and stood in the doorway. For her, one of the most erotic things to do was watch a man shave.
Duncan turned to her. “What’s wrong with me?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why you don’t want me here.”
Her eyes glittered and she swiped her tongue across her bottom lip. “I think you know.”
He didn't, but a sudden impulse came over him. He put his hands under her arms and lifted her to the counter. “Watch if you want.” Lather covered his face. The touch had his hands tingling.
Her chest heaved as the razor made one smooth stroke from beside his ear down to his chin. He glanced at her in the mirror. She’s licking her lips. Their eyes met in the reflection. Her body leaned forward, and her lips separated. Could this beautiful creature want me? Do I dare? Turning toward her, his hard erection hit her knee. Oh, shit.
