by Mary Winter
“You too good to come in with the others?” Clarice slid the headstall from her shoulders. “Are you being a pouty horse tonight?”
A merry game of chase would be fun about now. He’d lead her around the pasture, toying with her, until she finally caught him. And then what? Once again his sense of fun would have overridden his common sense, and once again she’d see him as nothing other than an equine pain in the ass.
Flynn turned to face her. He flicked his ears back and forth.
“That’s a good boy,” she crooned, approaching his shoulder. With practiced ease, she slipped the halter over his head and buckled it.
Flynn brushed his muzzle across her shoulder. He inhaled her floral scent and probed at her mind. There, amid the maelstrom of worries about the show and her plans to expand the program -- he’d really fucked those up hadn’t he? -- she thought of him.
Don’t worry. I’m not sad you can’t ride me in the show. He projected his thoughts, needed to be close to her. On the heels of his mental words, he projected an image of him as he was last night, down to the green vest and leggings. In her mind, he strode toward her.
“Hey, how’d you get in my mind?” Clarice asked. She tried to step back.
Flynn knew what she saw. In her daydreams he stood in his Elven form. Beside her, his equine form stood like a statue, the lead rope slack in her fingers. He pulled her deeper into her daydream and wrapped his will around her. I wanted to see you again, to touch you. He stopped before her and trailed his fingers down her arm. Don’t you want to touch me? He tangled his fingers with hers and flattened them against his bare chest.
Clarice shivered. Behind her thin T-shirt her nipples pebbled, making their desires known through layers of bra and shirt. Not releasing her hand, he stepped close enough to wrap his arm around her and, with his palm flattened at the base of her spine, pull her against his body.
Surely she felt the hard ridge of his cock pressing against her stomach. He slid his hand lower, cupping her buttock. It fit his palm nicely, and he squeezed a generous handful. His breath teased strands of her hair.
In his arms, she stiffened. “I -- I don’t have time for this.”
“Sure you do.” He spoke the words in her mind.
“You’re not real, and I have horses to bring in.” Her reproachful words warred with her soft curves pressed so invitingly against his hardness.
“If I’m not real, then how can I do this?” He pressed his lips to hers with a demanding kiss. His tongue traced the seal of her lips, venturing inside as she opened her mouth. The hand on her ass brought her closer to him, and his other hand skimmed her side, finding her breast and cupping it.
Clarice moaned. He swallowed the needy sound. Sliding his leg between hers, he rubbed his hard thigh against her pussy. He flicked his thumb across her nipple, the hand on her rear sliding lower so he stroked her through denim and cotton.
He caught fragments of her thoughts. She believed this to be a daydream, a nice one, but a daydream nonetheless.
“This isn’t a dream.” He pulled his mouth from hers long enough to voice the words. “In fact, if you want, I can lower you to the grass and love you until you beg for release. Do you want that, Clarice? Do you want me?”
“It’d be nice, but --”
“No regrets, no questions.” He pressed his finger against her lips. “It’s a beautiful day. Let’s enjoy it. Let’s enjoy each other.”
She sighed and sagged against him. Taking her actions for capitulation, he captured her lips once more.
Chapter Three
Clarice struggled against the delicious lassitude Flynn evoked in her. His mouth coaxed her, teased her, until she opened beneath him. She pressed her palm flat against his chest. Tiny whimpers emerged from her throat, and Flynn swallowed them.
It would be easy, too easy, to give into the sensual pleasures he promised. Except she stood in the pasture and Flynn existed only in her mind. She had to be going mad.
No, you’re not crazy.
His voice filled her mind, deep and resonant, strong like the man standing before her. But, he wasn’t a man, not exactly. Pointed ears showed through his fall of blond hair. Clarice stiffened in his arms.
No! She wouldn’t do this, refused to give into her carnal need here in the middle of the pasture. She stepped away from his embrace, her breath coming in shallow pants, her nipples bereft after contact with Flynn’s hard chest. Her pussy throbbed.
“I’m sorry,” she said to the apparition of Flynn in her mind. “I have things to do. I can’t dally like this.”
You work too hard. Enjoy yourself. You’re a beautiful, sensual woman. Come play with me. Flynn reached for her and tangled his fingers with hers.
Clarice stared at their joined fingers. How easy it would be to forget the duties of the farm. In the cast, her arm ached. Before she never worried about the fiberglass cast, and she realized this wasn’t just another dream. Somehow, this was different.
“I can’t. I have things to do, people who depend on me. I can’t just have fun.” She crossed her arms over her chest, noticing that once again the heavy weight of the cast covered her arm.
All work and no play makes Clarice --
“Stop it! Just stop it!” Clarice stepped back. In her hand, the thick weight of Flynn’s lead rope rested. She closed her fingers around it. “I’m taking you back to the barn, and I’m going to stop this foolish nonsense right now. You. Do. Not. Exist.” Angry at herself for letting her mind run away with her, she turned away.
The halter dropped into the grass. A hand closed over her shoulder. “Clarice, turn around, please.” Instead of in her mind, Flynn’s deep voice spoke directly behind her. She stopped, uncertain if she really wanted to turn around.
She remained standing with her back to him, her shoulders square, her arms crossed in front of her. The lead rope dangled uselessly in her hand. Resisting the pressure to turn around and see what she suspected with her own eyes, she concentrated on the lost money, the lost opportunities for her farm.
“Please,” Flynn repeated, squeezing her shoulder. “You’re not going crazy. Don’t be angry with me.”
“Why not? First that horse breaks my arm, and then you start to enter my dreams.” She whirled to face him. Her jaw dropped. Before her stood Flynn from her dream in all his Elven glory. He looked more scrumptious in life than he had in her fantasies, and her mouth went dry. She gasped, quickly recovering her composure. “Who the hell are you? And where’s Flynn?” She glanced around, searching for his equine form. “He’s gone! What’d you do with him?”
“Flynn, the horse, is just fine. You shouldn’t worry about him. Besides, didn’t you like it when I entered your dreams, when I suckled at your nipples, and caressed the soft petals of your pussy? Didn’t you want my cock deep inside you? Didn’t you like it when you came?”
A red flush crept over her cheeks. His words conjured heated images of their coupling. “That doesn’t matter. And what did you do with my horse?”
“Yes, it does matter. We want the same things. I want you to have fun, to relax, so you don’t work so hard. I want you to enjoy life. You’re a good woman. Your work here with the children spreads an innumerable amount of good into the world.” He stepped forward. Cupping her cheek, he caressed her lips with his thumb. “I’m here to make sure you continue to do that good.”
“You’re not answering my questions.” Her eyelids fluttered closed at his gentle touches. Abruptly, she shook her head and stepped back. “Don’t distract me.”
“I am Flynn D’Artange. I am an Earth Elf from a long and noble line.”
“And what about Flynn the horse? What’s your connection to him?” Her voice shook as she hefted the lead rope with its dangling halter.
Silence stretched between them. She opened her mouth to demand an answer when a popping noise filled the air and before her stood Flynn the horse. He stepped forward and nickered low, blowing gently against her face. Then, he stepped back and ret
urned to his Elven form. “I am he.”
“Oh, God,” she said as her knees buckled. She sank to the ground. She looked at him, pain filling her gaze. “Then you broke my arm. Why? Why?” Tears welled in her eyes.
Oh hell, she hadn’t wanted to cry. Flynn sat down and reached for her. She ducked away, not yet ready to face his touches. He frowned and plucked a clover bud, twirling it in his fingers. “I didn’t mean to. Sometimes when I’m in my horse form, I get lost. Such power, to feel the play of muscles and run, and buck for fun. I didn’t mean to do that. I didn’t mean to hurt you, and if I had some sort of Elven magic to fix it, I would.” He held out his hands. “But I don’t, and I’m truly sorry.”
“So how --” Clarice dashed away tears, “-- do you intend to help me when I needed the prize money from the show to expand my operations? Prize money I won’t win because of this.” She held out her cast like an accusation.
“No one knows for sure that would have happened.” Flynn shrugged. “And I’ll still help you.”
The rational part of her mind knew the truth in his words. Horses were unpredictable creatures. She stifled the bubble of laughter rising in her throat. No one knew that better than she did. “Then you’ll find me some funds. Look, Elf, horse, whatever you are, and I don’t even know if I’m hallucinating right now, I don’t need help having fun. I have fun every day I’m out there with those kids. When I’m on the back of a horse, taking a jump, that’s fun. I have plenty of fun, and I don’t need you to help me.” She pointed to her cast. “I think you’ve done quite enough.”
“I was sent here --”
Clarice held up her hand. Rising to her feet, she picked up the halter and lead rope. “Horse. Elf. I don’t care. I spent $4500 for you, and now I’m out money too. Do what you want, stay in whatever form you want. I’m done. Just stay the hell away from me.” Before he had a chance to reply, she whirled on her heels and stormed away.
Furious. Blood pounding, vessel thumping furious. No one had ever made her madder. First, she was out the possible -- and okay, so Elf-boy had a point -- the possible prize money from the show. But she had spent good, hard-earned money for that horse, a horse she thought she could take places. And speaking of horses, she’d have to find out how in equine form he was a gelding, when clearly, as an Elf, he wasn’t.
A muzzle nudged her in the back.
“What?” She spun around to find Flynn, horse Flynn, standing there giving her the biggest, saddest horse eyes she’d ever seen.
Oh hell, she never yelled at her animals. She couldn’t start now. “I’m sorry,” she said, though wondered why she, and not the creature who broke her arm, was apologizing. Unthinking she slipped the halter over his head. For an Elven horse Flynn accepted it quite well. She led him back to the barn, certain she was losing her mind.
Elves. They were something out of a fairy tale, or Orlando Bloom with damn fine hair extensions, not something she found in her pasture. And why her? Why now? And when he talked about fun his words eerily echoed those of the girls who worked in her barn, who claimed she never had any fun.
Because you do good in the world. You spread good, and the world really needs more positive energy.
“Will you not interrupt my thoughts? An Elf? You’re really an Elf?” She snorted. “And I would have said you made love like a god.”
Thank you, my lady. It was my pleasure.
“I just bet it was.” She glanced back at him and smoothed a hand over his copper coat. “Well in either form you’re a pretty boy, but we’re at the barn now and you have to behave yourself.”
Clarice heard nothing in her mind as she led Flynn to his stall. At least now she knew why it was so clean. He never even used it. She had no doubts he changed forms and let himself out as soon as she closed up the barn for the night.
An Elf who wanted to teach her how to have fun. She glanced down at her casted arm and wondered if their ideas of fun were even in the same universe.
* * *
Night fell, leaving Flynn standing in a quiet barn. He listened to the horses milling in their stalls. Just three doors down stood Jake. To think about going to Underhill when Jake stood there unable to do so felt wrong somehow. He shifted, then reached through to unhook the latch and stepped into the aisle.
He walked down to Jake’s stall. “You sure you don’t want me to mention you?” Of course, coming from him, it might not do any good. After all, he’d totally messed up his assignment, gotten his charge mad at him, and now he hungered for her sweet body.
“No. You have enough to deal with. Best of luck to you.” Jake nosed in his grain bin.
“Thanks. I have a feeling I’ll need it.” He paused for a moment, then reached for the other, and instead of a barn, he stood in the entranceway to the Council Hall.
Blue-green stones the color of a tranquil ocean lagoon lined the walls, blending into yellow, crystal-bright ones that faded to a deep, earth green, and then a fire red. Black stones covered the floor, while the sky above appeared like a starlit night.
An Elf in a white robe bustled forward. “The Council will see you now. You are expected.”
How the Council knew of his arrival, Flynn didn’t know. He held Clarice’s image in his mind, remembered her petal-soft lips and her silken flesh. The heat of her pussy and her breathy sighs filled his blood. He was here for her. He would not let her down.
Flynn strode forward, not bothering to change from his trousers and vest. He stopped in front of the twelve members of the Council. On the right, the three Earth members, his father included, sat followed by the Air, Water, and Fire members. His father scowled.
Flynn bowed deeply.
“Flynn D’Artange, why have you abandoned your post and sought us? What tidings do you bring of Clarice Davenvic?” his father said.
Flynn faced the man whose image and power he’d been held to all his life. “I come to ask for a boon. Clarice will be unable to attend the show to gain funds for her therapeutic riding program. Without this expansion, she will not be as happy as she might have been, and I --” His voice faltered. “I feel responsible. I ask that the Council, in its infinite wisdom, contact those in the world above and make a donation to her program, so that she doesn’t feel a loss. To make Clarice happy.” He bowed deeply again.
“You have failed in your mission.” His father’s condemnation rang in his voice.
“I have not failed.” Flynn straightened his spine. “I am here to ensure I do not fail. If you want Clarice’s happiness, then you will do well to listen to me.”
“You presume to tell us, the Council, what to do?” His father sat straighter, but gave no other indication of his displeasure.
Flynn stepped forward. “Yes, I do presume. You’ve given me a mission. I’ll admit there’s been some unexpected setbacks --”
“Like your breaking your charge’s arm,” his father growled. “I don’t believe you’ve comported yourself very well, my son. As usual indulging in your own happiness and pleasure and not thinking about the greater good.” He waved his hand dismissively. “I should have known you’d fail.”
Flynn tamped down on his rising anger. Standing before the Council, it’d do no good to lose his temper, especially when he asked them for a favor. “I would appreciate the assistance. I will not fail in this mission. You desire to keep Clarice happy. So do I. Should someone come through with a donation to her therapeutic riding program, it will go a long way toward easing Clarice’s worry. Considering that we’re both working for the same goal, I thought I’d mention the opportunity available to you. If you choose not to seize it, then that is your decision.” Flynn bowed again. “I’ll not trouble you further.”
He straightened, then turned and, shoulders square, head held high, strode from the chamber. He refused to beg for them to help Clarice. After all, he’d made his job more difficult. He needed to clean up the mess. Behind him, the muted tones of conversation erupted as the Councilors spoke amongst themselves. Flynn waited until he st
epped into the hall then with a thought returned to the barn, and to Clarice.
Once back at Clarice’s farm he ignored the barn in favor of her bedroom, her dreams. Before, he’d waited outside her window, the polite visitor to her dream. She’d taken the dream farther than he’d expected, pleasantly surprising him. Now, he wanted her to know the truth, to be wide awake and know Flynn loved every inch of her delectable skin.
He paused at her threshold. About the only true Elven magic he possessed was his ability to change into his elemental form, the horse, and travel to Underhill. Still, he held the ability to manipulate physical objects, like the tumblers in a lock. Holding out his hand he concentrated on the lock.
Let me in. His mental command passed through wood and metal and the slight click announced the releasing lock. He opened the door, stepping inside, before closing and locking the door behind him.
He sensed her. Like a siren song, her presence called to him from her bedroom. Unbidden, an image came to him, of Clarice lying there in bed, the pink horse nightshirt tangled around her endless legs, her hair surrounding her like a halo. She lay sprawled on her side, a book resting on the blanket. He strode forward.
Mine. Mine. The need to possess her, to claim her as his, burned in his veins. Since facing his father and the Council, he burned with a new intensity. Given Clarice as his charge, his mission, Flynn vowed to fulfill his orders and ensure her happiness.
Clarice looked up at his arrival. Her surprised gasp filled the room, and her mouth formed a perfect oval. Flynn’s cock tightened just thinking about her sweet lips sucking him to completion.
Dog-earing the page of her book, she sat up and tugged the hem of her shirt down over her thighs. Several inches of creamy, white flesh still showed, and Flynn kept his gaze focused on it as he strode toward the bed and sat down behind her.
“What?” Clarice’s voice caught. “What are you doing? How’d you get in here?”
