A smoker’s chuckle rattled from somewhere inside his chest, but his face didn’t alter. ‘Must be good stuff. Mind if I have a snifter of that, then?’
‘Help yourself,’ she said coolly, handing him the bottle. ‘I didn’t know they had Peeping Toms in the country.’ She curled herself on the sofa, and pulled the sweater down over her knees, then looked up at Maddock. He was built like a shit-house.
‘We have all sorts down here.’ He chuckled again. ‘I’d be glad to show you.’
‘One thing at a time, Mr Maddock. Tell me, first. How did you get in?’
‘Not that I needed one, but I have a key.’
‘You could have knocked. Or used the doorbell.’
‘You knew I was coming in,’ he said. ‘I was trying to tell you when I was outside. You invited me, remember?’
He hadn’t blinked once. She kept her eyes on him. She wasn’t going to let him win this staring match.
‘How come you have a key, Mr Maddock?’
‘Maddock. Just Maddock.’
He flung his heavy coat across a chair and stepped in from the kitchen. He had a lumberjack shirt on under the jacket, unbuttoned enough to show a grubby vest, and a wide chest smothered in thick black hair. Sally was determined not to be intimidated by this rustic oaf. The best plan, she decided, was to brazen it out.
‘You can try making yourself at home,’ she said, ‘but, as I said, my friend will be back in a moment.’
Maddock looked immovable and faintly amused. ‘Mr Ben give me the key. I come and go as I please when he’s away.’
‘Well, he’s not away,’ she spluttered. ‘I mean, we’re here, not him.’
‘I’m to keep an eye on the place: maintenance, and the like.’
As if to prove the point he produced a hammer from behind his back and banged it down on the mantelpiece. Sally jumped, but the surprise was followed by a series of thrills up and down her legs.
‘I see you’ve already got the paintbrushes in.’ He gave a dirty laugh.
Sally gripped the brush tighter, and Maddock looked at her, his mouth stretching into a sly grin.
‘Janie’s doing some decorating. That’s what Ben asked her to do. She hasn’t said anything about any maintenance man. Hasn’t said anything about any man, come to think of it.’
‘Good thing I dropped by then, isn’t it?’
‘You think there’s maintenance needs doing here at the moment?’ she asked, her voice going higher with each sentence. ‘Broken shutters, cracked window frames, that sort of thing?’ She unrolled the jumper off her knees and straightened her legs out so they were splayed in front of her on the sofa. The room was baking.
‘I’m to come in every day while he’s away, Ben says. There’s a lot of storm damage to fix, especially up on the roof, and he wants some trees pruning as well.’
Sally felt slightly relieved; at least he sounded like the genuine article. ‘I’m sure there’s lots you could do for us, but it’s too late to do anything about it tonight,’ she said, realising that his presence was making her feel deliciously vulnerable and quite turned on. There was no point being antisocial. ‘Would you like some more wine before you leave?’ she asked. ‘It’s kind of dull here on my own.’
‘Don’t mind if I do,’ Maddock answered. ‘And I wouldn’t say it was dull here, not at all. Just think yourself lucky my lads weren’t peeping with me. I’d have had to cover their eyes. You town strumpets … no shame!’
‘Come on!’ Sally snorted. ‘I bet you have country strumpets as well. You’ll probably be needing a roll in the hay to cool off after what I showed you.’ She absent-mindedly wound the paintbrush through her messy hair.
‘In this weather?’ he scoffed, approaching Sally and standing over her. ‘You must be joking. We’re not that basic. A roll on Mr Ben’s nice dry hearth-rug would be far more welcome.’
Sally took a swig from her own glass. ‘In that case, I wonder how town and country would compare?’
He thumped down on his knees beside Sally and took the paintbrush, shaking it out of her hair. She curled her legs back up again. Her stomach was clenched with excitement. He held the paintbrush up to his face and sniffed it. She could feel the heat beating off him. She would boil if she didn’t rip that jumper off soon.
‘Perhaps we should suck it and see?’ he said.
‘Not sure my friend would like it,’ Sally murmured, glancing out of the window.
Maddock watched Sally from close quarters for a moment or two, and then his mouth began to split into a grin, slowly, as if it was out of practice. One lower front tooth was missing, which made him look to Sally like a pantomime villain. Slowly he leaned across Sally’s body and started to run the paintbrush in circles round her stomach. She lay totally still, but her legs grew slack, and her feet flopped lazily between Maddock’s dirty boots.
‘Maybe your friend’s not getting it,’ he teased.
A wicked laugh bubbled up inside Sally’s throat. ‘But she’ll see us. She’ll be back.’
‘So what. If she’s anything like you, she’ll enjoy the show. I can tell you’re up for it.’
‘I’m always up for it,’ she said, bold as brass.
‘So take the paint brush, and do it.’
‘I’ve had enough of playing with myself,’ Sally whined. Maddock was no oil painting; he was brutish, and looked like a bull about to mount. He was a world away from the pale, besuited men she usually bedded. He looked like he’d grown straight out of the mud. He smelled like it, too. But his blue eyes and his thick fingers wielding that paintbrush, and the slow grin, reduced her to jelly.
‘Tarts like you have never had enough,’ he whispered, too close for comfort. He had the paintbrush in his big fist as if it was a sledgehammer. He leaned closer, and blew into Sally’s hair. She clamped her thighs together and tried to struggle up on her elbows.
‘Now, you look good enough to eat lying there,’ said Maddock. ‘You’re sick of doing it alone, is that it?’
He grinned a bit more, and at last he looked more like a man and less like an oak tree. Sally grinned back, and nodded. She could see that he was used to quelling difficult animals, or felling whole forests. Let him quell her. She was tired of being bold and brazen. She decided to lie back like a lamb to the slaughter. He pushed his sleeves up gigantic forearms and continued to circle the paintbrush over her skin, moving it down towards her pussy, out along her thighs, then back again. Sally’s fingers automatically flew to her golden bush, half covering it, half wanting to reveal it. Maddock peeled her fingers away and pinned her arms out to the sides.
‘I’m not into games,’ he said. ‘Just let me get on with it, woman.’
Sally laughed coarsely, and all at once she seemed to come back to life. ‘OK, Mr Maddock,’ she taunted, trying to free her hands in order to get the paintbrush off him. ‘Show us what you yokels are made of, then.’
Maddock’s grin faded just a tad. ‘If rough’s how you like it, rough’s how you’ll get it.’
Keeping his eyes fixed on Sally, he poked the paintbrush handle towards her cunt and, without further niceties, eased it inside, angling it so that it could reach higher than she had been able to get it. Then he rotated it firmly from side to side, and with every inch that he pushed it Sally gave a breathless gasp.
He continued to work the brush with one hand, and with the other he unzipped his fly. He pulled out his cock, which was almost erect, and circled his fingers round the base of the muscled shaft and ran them up to the knob, then down again. His foreskin wrinkled away from the rounded bulb, and smoothed out over the surface as the blood pumped through. Sally chuckled again. Maddock obviously had no truck with time-wasting.
The farmhand bit his lip as he rapidly handled himself, his sharp face intent on what he was doing, his eyes fixed on the paintbrush. Sally started to frown, afraid that he intended to jerk off right there in front of her. But then she realised it was not wanking that he had in mind; he was getting himself ready fo
r something a whole lot better.
He walked his knees up between Sally’s pale thighs and spread his own legs so that she was virtually doing the splits again on either side of him. Then he slowly withdrew the glistening paintbrush from where its handle had disappeared again into her shadowed hole, and replaced it with the blunt tip of his penis.
The weight of him on her legs filled Sally with renewed energy. She slid her hands under his checked shirt-tails to get at his arse as his muscular buttocks drew back, then inched the stiff length of his dick a little way into her. Her legs came up and wrapped around his hips, trying to pull his groin into hers, but he was stronger, resisting her, always pulling back, totally controlled, tilting his hips slowly back and forth until he was good and ready. At last they were in harmony, like two parts of the same beast, his grizzled head steady above hers. Sally let her head fall back and, as it came to rest on the back of the sofa, she saw the tall shape of Janie standing in the weak light from the hallway.
‘Janie!’ Sally gurgled, her hair bouncing across the sofa as she tried to lift her head.
‘Quiet, woman,’ Maddock growled, though Sally knew he had seen Janie. ‘I won’t be put off my stroke.’
There was a thump and clatter out in the hall. Janie was dropping something heavy onto the floor.
Maddock allowed his hips to increase their speed. Sally tried to twist aside to see Janie, but she couldn’t alter his rhythm and her friend became obscured by the back of the sofa. Now her legs had no choice but to grip tighter and tighter round his thick torso as his meaty cock filled her. She blocked out Janie and anything else that threatened to distract her from what he was doing.
Maddock was evidently as strong as one of his own oxen. Muscles she never knew existed rippled and flexed constantly in his arms, his neck, his thighs. Then suddenly he shifted his position, and sat back on his buttocks. He spread his hands around Sally’s hips and flipped her up towards him so that her back was towards the hallway. They sat upright now on the floor, face to face, Sally straddling his knees with her legs still wrapped around his waist. This way his cock was angled right into the small of her back, filling every nook and cranny, as Janie had put it. They paused for a moment, panting into each other’s faces, taunting each other to see who would move first, testing themselves to see who would crack and give in to the mounting excitement. Sally was acutely aware of Janie’s eyes boring into her back; she hadn’t heard her turn and go. She wondered if Maddock would stop.
But then he pulled his haunches back and, like a double act, Sally copied him. He gave a rising yell and she squealed in answer, and then they slammed their hips into each other, pulling back, arching, slamming back so that they shuddered with the impact of bone on bone. They ground against each other one last time, her body filled with his solid maleness. He started to give an unearthly low groan and Sally screeched triumphantly, feeling his body tense up. She bounced her butt across his legs, tightening her muscles round his cock and her legs round his waist until his face grew dark with the effort of holding on. He was obviously coming, his cock pumping into her, his eyes still blazing, never closing, watching Sally as she bounced and arched herself away from him. She took in every last inch of him before she swore she could feel his spunk shooting inside her, and she allowed her own climax to shatter. Finally she let herself fall back onto the floor as a stifled roar escaped Maddock’s lips and he released her with a crash. They tumbled apart from each other, both falling onto their backs, chests heaving as they submitted to their joint climax. She leaned up to look at his penis; it was still huge and thick across his leg. She watched until it stopped flexing and spurting, and until her own inner quivering had ceased.
‘I’m sorry for intruding.’ Janie’s voice cut into the silence.
They both turned their heads to look at her, too breathless to speak. Janie started to back out of the room, kicking over the logs that she had dropped in the hallway.
Maddock rolled over and sprang straight up from a crouch like an acrobat. ‘Here, give me those.’
He stepped over Sally, his manhood still half-erect. He squatted down beside Janie, picked the logs off the floor, and came back to throw them into the fireplace. Janie just stood there, staring at his bare muscled buttocks, shockingly white above the tanned legs. He stacked the spare logs in the basket beside the grate. Then he grabbed the newspaper Sally had been reading and started ripping the pages and scrumpling them up to make kindling.
Janie and Sally continued to stare at him for a moment, then glared at each other. He was not a man of modesty. Sally shook her hair out of her eyes and shrugged. Janie looked livid. To be fair, even someone less uptight would have been pretty shocked to come home and see the pair of them rutting on the floor like that, thought Sally. She sat up and crossed her legs beneath her. She didn’t know what to say.
Janie spoke first. ‘I saw everything.’
Maddock struck a match and held it to the newspaper, which started to smoke into life. He turned round then and looked Janie up and down, kicking off his filthy boots and removing his shirt as he did so.
‘At last, a real fire,’ murmured Sally, unwilling to address Janie directly and unable to take her eyes off the stocky Maddock, especially now he had demonstrated some other useful caveman skills. ‘That’s what he’s come here for, you see,’ Sally ventured. ‘Maintenance. He’s here to keep an eye on the cottage.’
‘And everyone in it, by the look of things,’ Janie replied.
‘So, did you enjoy watching us, miss?’ Maddock asked, for all the world as if he was referring to a display of country dancing.
He squatted down behind Sally and ran his huge hand round to her stomach. Sally’s knees twitched together.
Janie said nothing, but her cheeks were flushed. She took Ben’s over-sized raincoat off and shook the drops off it before hanging it up.
Sally was tense. It was like waiting for a telling off by the headmistress. Janie came back into the room, twisting her wet hair into a knot at the back of her head, then gripped the sofa.
‘What are you doing here, Maddock?’ she asked, sounding uncharacteristically fierce.
‘Evening to you, miss. It’s like your friend just said, Mr Ben has asked me to keep an eye on the place. I’m surprised he didn’t tell you. There’s a lot of work to be done, inside as well as out.’
‘Mostly inside,’ spluttered Sally, still hugging herself on the floor.
‘I know that. That’s why I’m here,’ said Janie. ‘But we don’t need you working on the house at the moment. We’re supposed to be having a quiet break here.’
‘But there’s work that needs doing constantly,’ said Maddock in defence.
‘You can say that again.’ Sally chortled, and leaned against his chest. ‘Especially after hours. But seriously, Janie, he could help you. You said you thought the decorating was more than you could do on your own.’
‘Not while we’re staying here, thank you, Maddock. It can wait.’
‘You’re beginning to sound like Margot in The Good Life, Janie!’ spluttered Sally, irritation taking over from awkwardness. ‘Honestly! Can’t you see he’s only here to … to help?’
Sally flipped her chin at Janie to mock, then smiled back towards Maddock. But he was still looking at Janie, and Janie was looking at Sally as if she would like to slap her. To Sally’s annoyance, Maddock got up suddenly so that she nearly toppled backwards. He took a couple of muddy steps towards the sofa and glared at Janie. Sally thought Janie looked suddenly beautiful, standing there flushed with anger, her eyes glittering, and her lips parted as if to spit.
‘No need to treat me like an intruder,’ said Maddock, sounding hurt. ‘You and your cousin were the ones who trod all over my dad’s corn year after year. We should have taken the shotguns to you back then.’
‘I’m not treating you like an intruder. At least, I don’t mean to. I just meant that we don’t want any maintenance doing while we’re staying here. We want to be left alone.
My friend here, she’s –’
‘A nymphomaniac? I know.’ He gave one of his dirty laughs.
‘– stressed. And right now, so am I. Anyway, haven’t you got enough work to do up at the farm? For the new owner?’
‘How do you know about him? He’s only just got here.’
‘I met him just now.’ Janie’s face went bright red, and she picked at some loose threads in the sofa cover. Sally started to kneel up, anxious to get the conversation back to her and Maddock.
‘So you’ll know he hasn’t a clue about any of it. The farm is none of your concern, miss. Not really his concern, either. Bloody weekenders.’
‘Well, isn’t our Ben a weekender as well? But you get along fine with him.’
‘Mr Ben could charm the pants off a duchess,’ said Maddock. ‘Frequently does, so I’m told.’
‘Oh, when am I going to meet this guy?’ wondered Sally. But they ignored her.
‘And his family have owned this cottage for decades,’ said Janie. ‘Since before you were a … a tadpole, Maddock.’
Maddock and Sally laughed at her, and Janie flushed again.
‘That’s why His Lordship up at the farm can wait for his renovation work to be done,’ Maddock said, turning one of the logs on the fire.
‘Whatever. I don’t want to argue.’
‘I asked you a question earlier,’ Maddock continued. He was right beside Janie now, and Sally folded her arms crossly around her knees. They both seemed to have forgotten her.
‘And I would like to ask you a question,’ said Janie. ‘When would you like to leave? Right now or in one minute’s time.’
‘My question was, did you enjoy watching us?’
‘A bit difficult to avoid watching, seeing as how you just strolled in here and started shagging my friend right here on the floor.’ Janie still had one foot in the hall, as if she was contemplating her escape. ‘Now, I really don’t want to hold you up any longer. Don’t you have to be somewhere?’
‘His Lordship and the lads can get the pints in,’ said Maddock. ‘I still want to know … did you enjoy it? Looks like something’s flicked your switch.’
Country Pleasures Page 8
