“Bye! I’ll be in touch!”
But it was just an act. Was I in foreclosure? The Double H was six months behind on our loan payments. That was, let’s see … a hundred and eighty thousand dollars, not counting interest. I picked up the statement Mr. Moses had left on the table, fingers trembling, and the numbers swam before my eyes, blurring into a sea of black and white. Where in the world was I going to get that money?
And with a thunk, my legs gave out. Right there in the middle of the kitchen, my generous behind hit the kitchen floor with a muffled thwack. Dazed, I shook my head. Fortunately, there’s a lot of padding on my behind so I wasn’t seriously injured, just jarred to the bone.
Because where was I going to find the cash? How would I come up with some humongous sum? Options swirled in my head. I could borrow more from the bank, and maybe use the new loan to pay off this loan. But that made no sense because eventually, I’d have to come up with even more money.
Or perhaps I could sell something. I still had Ma’s diamond ring, plus Granny’s ivory comb set with semi-precious stones. But my gut churned, heavy with dread. Because first, they were heirlooms, and my heart hurt thinking of selling them. Plus, the two items together weren’t nearly enough. Ma’s diamond was more of a flake, a tiny glint in your eye. And isn’t ivory illegal these days? I wasn’t even sure I could find a buyer for the comb, much less sell it for a substantial sum.
So slowly picking myself up from the kitchen floor, I dusted myself off. Oh god, oh god, what were my options? Nothing came to mind, but there had to be something right? Limping slightly, I took the stairs one by one, bottom still aching from my fall. There had to be a way. There had to be something I could do, and the words rang in my head again and again as I got into bed, forcing myself to fall into an uneasy sleep. Even without a knight in shining armor … I had make it out of this maze somehow.
CHAPTER TWO
Maisie
On a farm, life goes on no matter what. It doesn’t matter if you’re losing the shirt off your back, the cows still need to be milked and the chickens fed. So bright and early the next day, Betsy’s lows hit my ears.
“Mooo!” came her bellow. “Mooo, moooo!”
I scrambled out of bed, hastily throwing on a loose plaid shirt and some old jeans, sighing. If only Betsy knew what trouble I was in, maybe she’d be a little more sympathetic. But no, my favorite cow was mooing up a storm, swinging her head back and forth with anxiety.
“Shhh,” I said, sitting down. “Shhh, everything’s gonna be okay. Momma’s here now.”
Because what could the animals do? My problems weren’t their fault. So I started milking, fingers squeezing rhythmically at the heifer’s udders.
“Well, even if I lose the farm, we’ll still have each other, won’t we, Bets?” I mumbled to myself, still blinking sleepily, fingers moving in smooth, swift motions.
Bets lowed in reply, before turning back to her feed, munching noisily.
I sighed.
“Gotcha. Well, at least we’ll have real good milk this morning,” I said, staring at the bucket. “There’s definitely a lot.”
Betsy lowed again, lifting her head and belting out another musical moo, loud as a siren. Seriously, if we were attacked for some reason, I wouldn’t need an alarm. I have my cow, and she’s just as good.
Suddenly, a low, throaty “unnnnnnh” prickled my ears.
What in the world? As a farm girl, I can recognize every animal noise, from the silent pad of deer, to a woodpecker’s mating call. And the “unnnnh” was definitely not in any of those categories. Was it Betsy? I paused for a moment, waiting.
But then it came again. Another throaty “unnnnh,” this time even louder. Holy cow, was Betsy alerting me to an intruder the whole time? Had I been ignoring her signals?
But the cow turned to look at me, blinking slowly, completely unconcerned. I, by contrast, was on full alert now.
Because what in the world was going on? Awareness tingled in my frame, the hairs on my arms standing up. Swallowing heavily, I stood. This was my farm now, and it was my duty to take charge. If there were vandals on the property, I had to chase them off.
So silently, my hand found a nearby shovel. It’d make a good weapon, with its heavy metal spade and long handle. I could definitely smash someone’s head in, if it came to that.
Betsy turned around to gaze at me, still calmly chewing her cud, and I lifted a finger to my mouth in a “shhhh!” motion, feeling a little like James Bond. Fortunately, my heifer blinked back slowly and didn’t make a sound in return.
With silent steps, I let myself out of her stall and towards the source of the noise. It was dark in the barn, still the early gray gleam of dawn, and I padded like a thief towards the back.
“Unnnnnh!” came the noise again, more of a grunt this time. “Unnh unnnh!”
What in the world? That definitely wasn’t a farm-like sound, and hesitantly, I poked my head into the last stall on the left.
And I saw him then. A huge man with broad shoulders and long legs, collapsed against the back wall. He was partially in shadow, so I couldn’t see what he looked like, but it didn’t matter. Because a shaft of sunlight penetrated through the wood slats, and it was clear that one leg was at a weird angle, painful and twisted. This was clearly no criminal, he was a wounded man. Slowly, I crept in.
“Hey,” I whispered. “Are you okay?”
The man didn’t move, his forbidding bulk slumped against the wall. So I tried again.
“Hey,” I whispered, more loudly this time. “Are you okay?”
And it was then that the dark form stirred, grunting with pain.
“Unnnh,” came a low moan, deep from the man’s chest. “Unnnh.”
And as his leg jerked reflexively, suddenly I saw. The denim he was wearing soaked in blood. Literally there was a reddish black stain on his right thigh, sopping wet and growing bigger by the moment, like an ink blob expanding in size.
Immediately, I flew into action, rushing to kneel by him, applying pressure to the wound.
“We have to get this bleeding to stop,” I panted, even though he probably couldn’t hear. “I’m gonna apply pressure, it’ll hurt but just bear with me,” I said, lowering all my weight onto two hands, hopefully stanching the blood flow.
And suddenly the man jerked beneath my hands, a buck so powerful that I was thrown onto my ass, bouncing messily into the straw.
“Fuck!” the man roared. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
But I’m quick on my feet, and besides, I’ve been around animals my whole life. First aid comes natural to me, whether helping a cow give birth or tending to a litter of new kittens. So immediately, I was by his side again, pressing both hands onto his wound.
“I know it hurts,” I said urgently, “but just bear with me. Please mister, just let me do my job.”
And this time, the man didn’t move much, although there was some more muffled cursing. I pressed mightily against the wound, feeling warm liquid oozing about. But fortunately, the pressure did the trick, and the bleeding seemed to stop somewhat. So after a couple minutes, I let up, sitting back, still on high-alert mode.
“Mister,” I said, making a split second decision. “I’ve gotta get these pants off you. I have to see your wound so that I can treat it right.”
“Fuuuuck,” was the stranger’s only growl, his face still half-hidden by shadow. But slowly, he leaned to the right, enough so that I could see the outline of his features, and the breath caught in my throat. Because the injured stranger was sexy as hell. Bright blue eyes looked at me hazily, with a square, strong jaw, his nose straight and proud. My heart leapt into my throat, pulse beating erratically, body going soft and hot at once.
What is wrong with you? The voice in my head screamed. Here’s a human being bleeding out in front of your very own eyes, and you’re thinking how handsome he is? Get with it, girl!
Chastened, I lowered my eyes and stared at his wound. God, my subconscious was right. There
was blood seeping through his jeans, a huge, dark red spot about ten inches long and five inches wide. If we didn’t do something, I was gonna have a dead man in my barn.
So I looked up at the man, trying to assess the situation. Could he help me take off his pants? Could he make any decisions at this point? Evidently not because those crystal clear eyes were going hazy again, swimming in and out of consciousness.
“Unnnh,” came another masculine groan, and this time, a thunk sounded as his head hit the barn floor. Oh yeah, he was out, dead to the world. This guy wasn’t going to be able to assist at all.
Leaping to my feet, I ran to the tool shed outside before coming back in, a huge pair of shears in hand. I was gonna have to cut this guy out of the denim, it was the only way to get him free and tend to the wound.
But my feet skidded to a halt, eyes going wide as the air in my lungs froze. Because oh my god, the man had rolled slightly while I was gone, and suddenly it was there, in full view. A huge ridge showed itself under the stiff denim, long and thick, demanding and impossibly masculine. Immediately, my pussy moistened. Was that … was that … ?
I couldn’t even finish the thought because I’ve never seen a man’s privates before, not in real life. Sure, there’s on-line stuff and I’m not above looking at a little porn on my laptop now and then. But faced with the real thing, my heart beat unsteadily, insides mushy and hot. Because what would his cock be like? What would it feel like? Rubbery? Hot? Stiff? Soft? What color would it be, exactly?
I flushed, embarrassed. Oh my god, these thoughts were so wrong. A man was literally bleeding out on my property, and instead of saving his life, I was ogling his package.
You should be ashamed, the voice in my head scolded again. You should be ashamed, Maisie Jones.
But I couldn’t feel bad for some reason. Maybe it’s because I’ve never seen a man, but suddenly, the choice was clear. Because I wanted to see him. I wanted to see that huge fuckshaft, gleaming and strong, proud and naked.
Quickly, I stole a look at the stranger’s face. Good. He was still out like light, and my heart beat quickly, fluttering like a butterfly.
Taking the huge ten-inch shears in hand, I began snipping at his jeans. Starting at the knee, I cut upwards, all the way to his waistband, and then down, all the way to his ankle. The denim fell away like paper beneath the sharp edges, and pretty soon, my handsome stranger was nude waist-down, wearing nothing but air.
And shit, but my pussy throbbed then, wet with fluids. Because his monster lay out in the open now, and my mouth watered hungrily. Thick and long, the dark pink snake lay against one thigh, reaching almost to his knee. The head was a deep, shiny purple, in contrast to the veined skin of his shaft, powerful even in rest.
Oh my god, oh my god. My breath came in shallow, uneven pants, pussy tingling delightedly. What would it be like to feel that anaconda inside? What would it feel like to ride that magic stick of glory, the shaft crammed deep into my most private part? I whined slightly then, unable to stop myself, almost drooling with need at the sight of the hard man meat.
But my conscience swept in again.
You’re such a slut, Maisie Jones! It screamed. You’re thinking of sleeping with a man while he’s bleeding to death? What’s wrong with you? Get with the picture!
And at that, I leapt into motion. Immediately, the antiseptic was in my hands and I cleaned off the wound with quick, sure strokes. The gash was wide but not deep, and definitely not life-threatening, it just bled a lot. This guy was lucky, he’d escaped with just a surface injury.
So my hands swift and confident like a professional nurse, I bound his leg in gauze, my small hands only sometimes brushing against the huge snake. Trying not to breathe, it’d slip past my palms, once, twice, and my fingers would jerk involuntarily. But right, there was work to do, so I put my head down and kept my eyes on the prize. The leg injury, not his massive monster.
And once I was done, I sat back on my heels, boobs heaving up and down with adrenaline, face flushed. The straw was matted in blood, and I was a mess, panting and sweaty. But my dark stranger was going to live. He was absolutely going to live, and slowly, my eyes slid over to his frame again.
Oh god, the cowboy was handsome enough to take my breath away. The light had improved, and now I could see that strong profile, a bit of dark stubble on his jaw. Plus his hair was an inky black, skin bronzed from lots of work outdoors, with broad shoulders and a thick, powerful chest.
But my eyes just wouldn’t behave. They kept sliding downwards, down, down, down, until I was looking straight at that massive cock again. And my mouth went dry once more. Because his length was impressive, almost hitting the knee, but it was also the width. He was as big around as a soup can, one of those chunky, hearty broths that come in round, aluminum pop-tops, and my fingers itched to touch. My small digits literally twitched by my side, and before I could help myself, they reached forwards.
It was almost like a slow-motion movie. From the bottom of my periphery vision, my fingers trailed upwards, sliding past his wound until I had the base of that cock firmly in my grasp, squeezing experimentally. Oh god, he was so thick and solid. Plus, I had my answer now, a cock is scalding to the touch, appetizing and strangely musky, his personal spice filling my nostrils.
The stranger groaned, and immediately I paused, barely daring to breathe, hand going completely still. But no more sounds came, so I began my movements again, gripping that giant fuckshaft in my small fist, slowly sliding towards the tip, and then back down. It was wonderful, insanely glorious, and so fucking dirty at once. Because that iron rod was both hard and soft, delicious thickness coated by the most delicate skin, beckoning to me, making my pussy gush.
And before I could stop myself, my head bent and I licked right up that hard shaft. That’s right, right in the middle of the barn, I went down and licked an unconscious man’s dick. Don’t ask what came over me because I don’t know. All I know is that some slut took over my body, and I had to taste, the strange cowboy was so gorgeous and appetizing. So in slow motion, my head lowered, tongue delicately tracing over one huge vein that pulsed and throbbed.
“Unnnh,” came a guttural moan from the man. “Unnnnh.”
Oh my god, had I woken him? My eyes flew up, startled, pausing like a butterfly. That was my chance to stop. I was acting so slutty, not to mention unethical. So I should have pulled back, I know.
But again, the whore inside had seen her first dick and I couldn’t put her back in the box. Because when he didn’t make any more sounds, lapsing back into unconsciousness, I leaned forwards again, and this time, pulled the skin at the tip of his glans apart, spreading that hole before pushing my tongue in.
Unnh, it was so good, and going with it, I went for more. Slowly, I sampled his shaft again, licking up and down the sides, circling my tongue around his head before going back to the tip and tasting the man goo. Experimentally, I played with it, lifting my tongue a bit, a sticky trail of the stuff connecting my lips to his dicktip. Mmm, oh mm, this was so good, his pre-cum thick and nutritious. My pussy twitched reflexively, hot and creamy, begging for its own taste.
But this would never do. I was literally assaulting an unconscious man in my barn, one who was wounded and bleeding. How the hell had this happened? I’m a virgin for crying out loud, a curvy girl that barely knows her way around boys. In fact, I barely even know any boys, my days were spent on the farm helping Pa.
So maybe that was why. I was a nympho, desperate for a taste of man, and one had been presented to me on a silver platter. I shouldn’t have, but I did, and my pussy twitched in the air again, begging for more.
But I couldn’t. This was so bad, and the internal war kept raging.
You can’t have sex with an unconscious man, especially not for your first time! The voice inside screamed.
My subconscious was right. Reluctantly, I popped that heavenly dick out from my lips, glistening and wet. It beckoned to me still, bobbing in the air, more cream oozing
from the tip. But no, I couldn’t. This was too wrong, going against all the rules.
But what I didn’t count on was the man himself. Because while I’d been busy having my fun, he’d been dead to the world, or so I thought. But actually, the cowboy had been drifting between wake and sleep, and it seemed my heavenly oral play had dragged him onto the right side of life.
Because as I stood slowly, body quivering, humming with need, the man’s eyes drifted open then, still dazed but knowing. A smile quirked the corner of his lips as he took in his massive dong, glistening and wet, and a deep rumble escaped his lips.
“You gonna finish me off, sweet thing? After all that, you’re stopping now?”
I gasped, hands flying to my mouth. Oh my god, the handsome stranger had just woken and caught me red-handed. Or more accurately, he’d caught me with his dick in my mouth, my sweet pout drooling all over his pole. Oh my god, oh my god, I was so embarrassed, never more humiliated in my life. It was wrong! Everything I’d done was so wrong, even criminal. And yet … all I wanted was more with this gorgeous stranger in my barn.
CHAPTER THREE
Tyler
I wake up with that disoriented feeling that usually follows a night of binge drinking, when I can’t remember where I am. My vision takes a while to focus in the dark, but the smells are instantly familiar. I’m in a barn, but I can’t quite recall why, until I move to sit up and feel the sharp pain from my leg. Then it all comes flooding back. Aww shit, where is she? Where is that gorgeous brunette?
Because I was knocked out. My fucking horse took the hell off for some godforsaken reason. We must have galloped for miles like a racecar, my head knocking up and down, ass bouncing and jouncing like I was on some damn rickety roller coaster ride.
But it was the river that fucking did me in. Gallant saw the river and skidded to a halt suddenly, throwing me off to land in some brambles.
Some gallant horse he was.
Because shit, it’d been so painful. I sat up, ass hurting, covered in gook. Tar Baby? Please. I was more like the tar human, completely covered in dirt, shit, who knows what else. And not only that, but my leg was messed up in some damn way. I could barely haul myself up to stumble around like a blind man before collapsing.
Buck Me Cowboy: A Secret Baby Romance Page 2
