by Mary Winter
“So full of questions.” Leaning forward, Flynn allowed his breath to tease across her ear. He closed his fingers over her shoulder and began to knead. Soon, his firm, strong strokes had her leaning back against him and making tiny moans of pleasure.
“Strike that. I think I know what you’re doing, and I don’t care about the rest.” Clarice sighed. “Damn, that feels so good.”
“I aim to please you.” With his fingers working on her shoulders, he leaned forward and placed feather-light kisses against her neck. The sensitive nape, with its erotic curve, drew him, and he pressed his lips to it. He licked and kissed her as his hands ventured from her shoulders, down her arms. His fingertips grazed the sides of her unbound breasts, and through the cotton shirt, her nipples pebbled. “My goal is to make you happy. Very, very happy.”
Clarice leaned into Flynn’s touch. He skirted the edge of her cast with his fingers, regretting that he’d ever caused her injury. Caressing her breasts, he wanted her to think about him, only him.
“Make me happy, Flynn. Just for tonight, make me happy,” she whispered.
His fingers closed over her breasts, and his low voice rumbled in her ear, “Your wish is my command.”
Chapter Four
Clarice knew she should be mad. This Elf, man, whatever he was, had ruined her chances at the show. And, if Flynn wasn’t a real horse, then he’d cost her thousands of dollars. But it was, as her mother used to say, so much water under the bridge. And right now she had a handsome man in her bedroom, pleasuring her, and it had been so long since either of those things had happened -- the man or the pleasure.
Tomorrow. She’d play it like Scarlett O’Hara and worry about it tomorrow. Reaching for the hem of her shirt, she pulled it over her head. The material caught a bit on her cast, but she worked it free, and then leaned once more against Flynn. The leather of his vest pressed against her skin, and suddenly, the barely-there cotton panties she wore seemed too much.
Wet and needy, her pussy ached. Flynn’s gentle touches drove her wild. She arched her back, pressing her breasts into his palms. He rolled her nipples between his fingers, his lips and tongue laving the place where her neck met her shoulders. Pressing against him, she noticed his erection poking against her lower back. Oh, to have it deep inside her.
“Flynn, please.” She rose onto her knees, her movements dislodging his hand. She turned, presenting him with her breasts, grabbing his wrist and guiding his fingers to her slick labia.
He stroked her, his teasing caress making her thrust her hips against his hand. “Harder. Deeper.” Licking her lips, she longed for him to part her folds and slide his fingers against her clit. His free hand curled around her hips, stilling her movements.
Clarice shoved at his vest. She managed to slide one side down over his shoulders, the leather skewed against his skin. Flattening her palm against his chest, she stroked his nipples, loving the way they rose to attention against her palms. She leaned forward, tilting her clit into his palm, and pressed her lips to his.
Open-mouthed, she kissed him, swallowing his groan. Her tongue delved into his mouth, and she savored the spicy, sweet taste of him. His scent, a woodsy, outdoors blend that made her think of lying on a plush carpet of grass beneath a canopy of trees, filled her nose. She stroked the length of his tongue with hers, inviting him deeper into her mouth, her body.
Flynn pulled his arms away long enough to remove his vest.
Clarice traced the front of his trousers, working at the lacings. Behind the smooth, supple leather, his cock pressed against the opening. Hard and insistent, it tightened the laces and made it difficult for Clarice to seek her goal -- wrapping her fingers around his smooth flesh.
“Let me,” Flynn growled. He tore at the lacings, pulling them free. His cock surged through the opening.
Clarice circled his girth with her fingers. They barely touched, and all she could think about was getting his width buried deep inside her. With gentle strokes, she worked his shaft until a tiny drop of fluid emerged on the tip. Flynn’s husky groans of pleasure urged her onward until his hand stilled hers.
“Any more and you’ll make me come.”
“Good. Because I want to make you come.” She pushed down, and his answering moan echoed in the room.
Flynn bent her back until he captured her nipple in his mouth. Any more words she might have said were cut off by the pleasure coursing through her veins. Her channel clenched, the knowledge she could have Flynn’s cock deep inside her aching pussy making her nearly cry out with need.
No tomorrow, no regret. The cast on her arm barely got in the way, and then his fingers strummed her clit.
“Ahh… Ahh…” Clarice cried out. Tiny spasms darted through her pussy. “Flynn. Please,” she panted. “Fuck meeeee.” The last came on a wail as her body clenched and her orgasm tore through her. Ripples pummeled her, and Flynn’s fingers stilled, though they didn’t leave her swollen and wet flesh.
He released her nipple with a soft pop. “That’s just for starters.” He lifted her easily, pulling her forward so his cock pressed against her labia.
Even in her dreams he never conjured anything like this. As he slid into her inch by delicious inch, Clarice closed her eyes and let her head fall back. A contented sigh escaped her lips.
“Beautiful,” Flynn breathed. He brushed her hair away from her shoulder, trailing his fingers in a gentle caress down her shoulder and over her breast. He licked her puckered nipple. “Do you know how beautiful you are?”
Denials leapt to her lips. But here, with Flynn’s cock buried deep inside her, his lips on her flesh, she felt like the most beautiful woman in the world. “Only when you tell me.” She cupped the back of his head. “I don’t hear it enough.” She grinned as the head of his penis brushed against her cervix.
Flynn cupped her waist. His strong hands holding her, his thumbs nearly touching, burned against her skin. His teeth grazed her nipple, licking and suckling first one, then the other. She cupped her hand against his biceps, trying to steady herself and keep her cast out of the way at the same time. And then, he began to move.
Slowly, oh so slowly, each inch of him sliding from her, wet and glistening with her cream. A moment of bereavement and then he filled her again. Over and over, deep, slow thrusts designed to keep her on the edge.
Clarice whimpered. Her pussy ached. Each brush of the base of Flynn’s penis against her clit sent spasms of pleasure through her. She tightened her fingers around his arms. Pleasure be damned, he turned her into a pulsing, writhing mass of ecstasy. If she didn’t come soon, she feared she’d implode.
Flynn worked her on his shaft, never wavering in his thrusts. Each one slid the full length of his cock inside her and each one held just as much force as the last.
“Harder,” she breathed. “Fuck me harder.”
Flynn grinned in response, then bent forward to suckle her nipples once more. “All in good time. Enjoy the ride.” He licked the slope of her breast. “This time I won’t buck you off.” His husky chuckle slid along her already sensitive nerve endings, sending a long shudder racing up her spine.
She burned. Each caress, each lick, each one sent her higher and higher. Her pussy clamped onto his shaft, and when he reached between her legs Clarice screamed at the touch of his fingers against her clit.
Her orgasm hit her hard and fast, barreling through her like a freight train. Her pussy clamped onto his cock, the ripples milking him for everything he had. Back bowed, her screams of pleasure softening into whimpers of sated need, Clarice danced on the end of Flynn’s magical cock. Elf or not, his mighty staff packed a hell of a punch.
His cock rock hard, Flynn stilled inside her.
Catching her breath, Clarice looked at him. His hair fell over his shoulders, partially obscuring them. His blond curls mingled with her red ones and the smell of their combined juices filled the air. Never before had she experienced anything as erotic. She rocked her hips. “Your turn.”
She kissed him, lips and tongue tasting, devouring, trying to become as much a part of him as he was of her. Suckling on his tongue, she thrust against him, taking the pace slow, as slow as he had, and then faster. Flynn let her lead. How could he not when it was her pleasure? And then she lost herself to their coming together, the slide of skin against skin. His taste. His scent. He surrounded her, filled her, and the steel of his cock inside her brushed against her sweet spot and drove her over the edge.
She came with a series of whimpers, her cries echoing in the room. A moment later, Flynn thrust. The cords on his neck stood out, a low, masculine growl erupting from his throat as he spilled his seed inside her.
She slumped against him, and he lowered them both to the bed. She lay there, limp, sated, as he pulled the covers over them both. Tucked against his body, she listened to their mingled breath slow and the pounding of his heart. With the heavy weight of his leg across hers and his arm wrapped around her, she floated on a sea of contentment that carried her into the abyss of sleep.
Morning sun slanted through the curtains. Snuggled against Flynn’s body, Clarice ignored the nagging voice telling her he had to be in the barn soon. It wouldn’t do for Flynn-the-horse to be out of his stall, and explaining the reasons why to the barn girls wasn’t a task she wanted to handle, at least not this morning.
Gently, he extracted himself from underneath her arm, the soft puffs of her breath caressing his nipples.
“Flynn,” she murmured. “Don’t go.” Her eyelids fluttered open.
“I’m sorry. Flynn can’t be out of his stall.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
She chuckled and sat, glancing over at the clock on the nightstand. “I should have been awake an hour ago.”
“You needed your sleep.”
She grinned. “Yeah, someone wore me out.” The edge of the sheet slid from her breast to pool in her lap.
Flynn hesitated, one foot on the floor. “I’ve got to --” He swallowed hard.
“Yeah. I know.” She waved her hand at him. “Although I loved waking up with you, I know you need to go. I’d hate for the barn girls to have a heart attack.” She reached for her nightgown, watching avidly as Flynn stood and pulled on his tight leather breeches. He’d allowed her an enjoyment of her body she hadn’t experienced for a while.
He strode to the door, then turned. “I’ll see you soon.”
She smiled. “And when this cast gets off, I’ll really make you work.”
“I’ll count on it.”
After waking snuggled next to Flynn’s warmth, Clarice struggled to face the day. She’d puttered around the house in an attempt to avoid going outside. Her barn crew wouldn’t expect her to help with the chores, not with a broken arm, and frankly, the prospect of seeing Flynn again in his horse form kind of weirded her out. But then one of her girls told her Clancey, an old gelding, had a swollen hock.
In the barn her gaze immediately landed on Flynn. He stood in his stall, copper-colored head and flaxen white mane hanging over the stall door. He whickered when he saw her, the familiar equine greeting warm and welcoming. “Hey, buddy,” she said, stroking her fingers across his neck before concentrating on the stout bay horse standing in the cross-ties.
After checking Clancey’s leg and pulling him out of rotation for therapeutic riding, she had the girl put him back in the stall, then slipped a halter over Flynn’s head and led him out for a walk. It was time for the two of them to clear the air.
In her mind, she mulled over what she wanted to say. Previously, Flynn had popped in with come-backs and thoughts. Whether she held her thoughts closer or he simply chose to respect her privacy, she appreciated the distance he gave her. She led him along the pasture fence, back to some trees behind her house where she liked to sit and think.
As soon as she was certain voices wouldn’t carry to the barn, she stopped Flynn. Clarice dropped the lead rope. He wouldn’t walk away. “Okay,” she said. “We need to talk, and I want to talk to the horse first.”
Flynn snorted, then lowered himself to the ground, legs folded beneath him. Clarice sat beside him, draping an arm over his back, trying not to get comfortable with the solid, warm weight of him beside her. “You dumped me,” she said, determined to get her words out in the open. “Any other horse, I probably wouldn’t have minded. I’d have chalked it up to inexperience or a fluke or even something I did. But you’re not just any horse. You’re -- and God I feel stupid for saying this -- an Elf. You know what you’re doing in both forms. So why did you dump me?”
Flynn turned his head and rested his muzzle against her legs. It was an accident. I never meant to hurt you. The last thing I’d ever want to do is hurt you. I just got caught up in the moment. I was wrong. I’m sorry.
“I accept your apology, but do you really understand what this has cost me? Do you know what this cast has truly cost me? Do you know what your being an Elf cost me? I paid money for you. Good money that could have gone other places.” That’s what she needed to know. He was an Elf, not even from her world. Did he truly glean what her farm, what riding in the competition, one she’d never qualified for until this year, meant to her?
Make me understand. I want to know how this affects you.
“I don’t want to make you feel worse, or feel like I’m beating you over the head with it.” Reaching forward, she scratched Flynn behind his ears. If anyone had seen her sitting here having a conversation with Flynn, they would think she was nuts.
You won’t make me feel worse, and I want to know. I was sent here to ensure your happiness, Clarice. How can I know what makes you happy if you don’t tell me?
“Well, you sure made me happy last night. But why were you sent here?”
Flynn’s proud, masculine chuckle filled her mind. I’m glad to hear that. I was sent here because you change lives for the better. Every good deed we do, no matter how small, sends ripples into the universe. What you’re doing here is a waterfall of goodness. Think of it as sunlight in a world perpetually dark. Just as the sun gives life to the earth, so too your good deeds power positive change in people’s lives. You’re needed, and working yourself to death won’t accomplish anything but allowing the darkness to gain a stronger foothold in the world.
His somber words shook her. She thought back to a teenaged girl standing at the side of the road, listening to the squeal of a critically injured horse. She remembered the horror of watching her sister die. So she told him about the car accident where her sister and her sister’s horse died. Clarice’s injuries had been serious enough to make the doctors pronounce her crippled, and her mount had to be euthanized.
The perfect, angelic daughter had been taken from her parents, while Clarice in all her wildness and tomboy ways had survived. Clarice didn’t tell him about those long agonizing months of rehabilitation when she oftentimes wished she’d died. Instead, she spoke about the horses that had helped her rehabilitation. And now she offered that same kind of help to others through her therapeutic riding program.
She wanted nothing more than to operate a full-time therapeutic riding center, but right now needed to take in boarders and show horses to keep the bottom line afloat. “I couldn’t save my sister,” she said, tears choking her voice, “but perhaps I can keep her memory alive by helping others.” Clarice sighed. “My mother, she wanted nothing to do with the horses after my sister’s death. I think --” Her voice broke. “I think my mother always wished I had died instead of my sister.” Her grief overwhelmed her then, tears she hadn’t allowed herself to shed for so many years.
Flynn shifted into his Elf form. Strong, masculine arms surrounded her, held her, rubbed her back while she cried on Flynn’s shoulder. The loss of her sister, the loss of this chance to gain money for the farm, the failure… the overwhelming sense of failure that once again she was letting her sister down. Clarice shed tears for it all.
Flynn spoke to her, soothing, nonsensical tones that calmed her sobs. He cared. She felt it in his touch, the stro
ke of his hands across her back. And she was falling for an Elf. Clarice pressed her lips together. She loved him. In his arms, she stilled. She loved an Elf. If he weren’t here, holding her in his arms, she’d check herself into an institution. “Thank you,” she breathed against his shoulder. She sat back, putting some space between them. “I guess I, uh, needed that.”
“My job, my mission if you want to call it that, is to see to your happiness. You see, Clarice, you are doing good here, great good that spreads light into a world drowning in darkness. I’m to help you with that.” He brushed his fingers across her cast. “I hate myself for bringing you harm. I should have been protecting you, and instead, a moment’s foolishness --”
Clarice pressed her fingers against his lips to silence him. “I think we both have things for which we feel we need to atone, whether we really do or not.”
“But you had no control over your sister’s death.”
“And the one thing I’ve learned from that is that no one is in control one hundred percent of the time. I forgive you, Flynn D’Artange. I forgive you for my arm. I forgive you for the money buying your sorry, copper equine ass cost.” She grinned, and Flynn’s answering smile was all the answer she needed.
“I’m glad,” he said. “And you know how we can seal the bargain?”
“How?” Several ideas went through Clarice’s mind. A kiss on the lips… or lower. Out here, away from the barn and the house, they weren’t likely to be seen. And she shouldn’t be needed for at least an hour, though she should check on Clancey. The other older horse, Jake, needed some attention too. One of her barn girls had been wanting to take him for a ride, and Clarice wanted to be there to watch over them.
Then Flynn’s mouth slanted over hers, and thoughts fled. Just Flynn. His taste, his smell, the feel of his warm, strong body against hers. Clarice wrapped her arms around him, holding him close as his tongue slid into her mouth. He swallowed her moan, and then he lowered her to the grass, covering her body with his.
