by Mary Winter
Clarice wrapped her legs around his hips. Through her jeans the ridge of his erection pressed against her pussy. Overhead, birds chirped. Wind rustled the leaves. It was almost like Flynn and she existed in their own, private glen.
Would you like that?
She ended the kiss and drew in a shuddering breath. “We could come back?”
“We could come back.”
Clarice smiled. “Maybe later. Right now, the only magical thing I want is your cock deep inside me. I want to know you’re real, that this is real.” So I can cherish the memories for when you leave.
If Flynn heard her thoughts he said nothing. “As my lady wishes.” He lowered his lips to hers once more.
His tongue traced the seam of her lips, a soft caress that had shivers dancing down her spine. She moaned and arched against him. Walking her fingers down his back, she cupped the hard globes of his ass and pressed against the ridge of his erection. She opened her mouth and invited him inside.
Like being bathed in warm sunshine. Aware of the soft grass beneath her back, the leaves overhead, the smell of the woods and loam and sun-warmed air filling her nostrils, Clarice figured it didn’t get any more real than this.
Flynn tugged her shirt from the waistband of her jeans. His palm flattened against her stomach. His touch burned her, filled her womb with heat and need.
“Flynn,” she breathed as he pulled his lips from hers and rained kisses over her neck. Open-mouthed, he kissed her, the gentle suction sure to leave a mark. Clarice wanted Flynn’s brand, wanted the world to know she belonged to him.
She helped him pull her shirt over her cast and then over her head. Plush grass cushioned her, the blades almost ticklish against her skin. Each caress made her aware of her surroundings, the fact that anyone could walk up to them at any moment, and somehow, that only made her more aroused.
Flynn cupped her breasts through her cotton bra. Plain and white, not something she would have worn to a seduction, but then his lips were there, replacing his fingers. Through the material, he drew her nipples into his mouth. Flynn suckled at the hard nub, his other hand palming her breast. She speared her fingers into his hair.
Pleasure shot from her nipple to her pussy, and like a bowstring drawn tight, each pull of his lips against her nipple made her vibrate all the higher. With his lean, hard thigh between hers, she rubbed against it, seeking satisfaction. The friction, her jeans against his soft leather pants, the ridge of his cock against her yielding flesh, it all combined to fill her body with pleasure.
Flynn released her nipple, then suckled the other one. A gentle breeze chilled her damp bra, and her nipple hardened even further. Her pussy tightened with anticipation. He reached behind her and unfastened her bra, pulling it down her arms and tossing it aside.
One look at his face as he stared down at her bared breasts took her breath away. He reached for them, reverently closing his hands over the globes. “Beautiful. Just beautiful.” He plumped them, then leaned forward to kiss the valley between. Open-mouthed, he laved her skin, trailing lower to swirl his tongue into her belly button.
Clarice whimpered. She yearned for his touch, each inch of her skin ultra-sensitive. From his warm breath against her abdomen, to his fingers squeezing her nipples, to his legs, framing hers, he cocooned her in a world of sheer pleasure. If this is what forgiving him gave her, then she wished she’d never been mad at him in the first place.
Flynn unfastened her pants. He pulled her jeans and panties over her hips, paused long enough to remove her shoes, then divested her of the last of her clothing, even her socks. Suddenly, a plush blanket appeared beneath her. She curled her fingers into the fabric.
Flynn knelt between her thighs. He unlaced his pants, and the sight of him had her pussy creaming for him. Anticipation filled her, and when he stroked along her labia with his thumbs, she cried out with pleasure.
He inhaled audibly, then he leaned forward and pressed his tongue along her slit. He drew her clit between his lips and sucked. Her fingers speared into his hair. Her breathy cries filled the air. As if he read her mind, and perhaps he did, he knew exactly how to lick, where to taste her to have her channel clenching, her hips rising to meet his hungry mouth.
He pulled away only to spear her with his tongue. “Flynn,” she screamed as she came. Her pussy convulsed against his lips and tightened around his tongue. He lapped her juices, waiting until the aftershocks lessened to raise his head and pull away.
Clarice whimpered. She reached for him, beckoning him back to her body. She’d had one orgasm, but she wanted another, and another until they were completely sated.
After removing his pants, he knelt between her legs. “Now,” she pleaded, realizing that ever since he entered her dreams, he’d pleasured her fully. She feasted her gaze on his hard cock, watching it twitch beneath her regard. She imagined what kind of picture she made with her dripping pussy and her hair tumbling loose from her pony tail. She lifted her arms over her head and offered him her breasts.
He crawled between her legs and nestled his cock against her drenched folds. Bracing his weight on his arms, Flynn looked down at her. She reached up and cupped his cheek, marveling at its smoothness. Brushing her thumb across his lips she captured a drop of her juices, and she sucked the moisture from her finger.
“Do you want me?” Flynn’s voice rumbled from his chest.
“Yes, I want you. Now.” Clarice twined her arms around his neck.
He surged forward. Clarice bit back a scream as Flynn’s cock filled her. One thrust, and inch by inch, until the head brushed against her cervix, he joined them. So hard, so tight, so full, she thought she should be able to taste him. Her hands clamped onto the globes of his ass. She held him deep inside her.
He withdrew. She clung to him, her pussy reluctant to release the one thing that satisfied it. Better than her favorite toy, better than anything, Flynn made her feel… complete. She refused to dwell on the thought, not when the thrust and retreat of his body from hers sent her flying once more. Higher and higher, body tightening as her nipples brushed against his chest. Flynn knew how to fuck.
He surrounded her, filled her. With the blanket soft beneath her, and his body hard above hers, he enveloped her in his world. And she tumbled willingly.
Clarice lifted her neck to claim his mouth. She wanted the taste of her juices on his lips. She kissed him, and when he thrust his tongue into her mouth, she sucked on it. He tasted like her, all salty sweet and underneath it, his own, unique taste.
Flynn shifted his angle. Each stroke brushed against her sweet spot. Ahh, right there, yes, yes… she lifted her hips to invite him deeper, then locked her ankles behind his back. Her heels pressed into his buttocks.
Flynn lowered his weight onto her. She gladly accepted it, needed that full body, chest to groin contact. The rasp of her nipples against his chest, the root of his penis stroking her clit with each thrust, all if it.
Reaching around, Flynn slid his fingers through the juices dripping from her pussy and soaking the blanket. He cupped her ass, his finger probing. And then, he rubbed her own moisture around the tight hole. The end of one finger slid inside.
Full, tight, Clarice cried out, the orgasm she’d been holding back bursting over her. Her pussy milked him, muscles spasming. Flynn recaptured her lips as he slid a second finger in, his thrusts increasing their pace.
Harder. Faster. Clarice bowed to her body’s demands. She became a mindless bundle of nerves, intent on only one thing -- ultimate release. Above her, Flynn groaned. The wet slap of flesh against flesh filled the air. No longer able to contain her cries, Clarice didn’t care who heard.
His fingers thrust into her, a delicious counterpoint to his cock. Over and over he surged into her. Her cries churned into mewling, needy whimpers, and then, suddenly, she was there, exploding into an orgasm so hard and fast it ripped the breath from her lungs. She dug her fingers into his back, her nails scoring his skin.
Above her, Flynn stif
fened. He roared, his release slamming from the base of his spine, his cock erupting inside her. Jet after jet of his warm seed filled her. He buried his fingers to the second knuckle inside her, then slid them out with a soft pop. He lay draped over her, his cock still semi-hard inside her.
Clarice snuggled against him. Her breath filled her parched lungs. Sweat coated her skin, and her arm lay against Flynn’s back. Damn, if she could do this with a cast she could probably ride in the show.
Clarice grinned. “I’ve got it!”
Flynn rolled to the side and gathered her in his arms. “What do you have? Besides the fact that you’ve just been --”
“No, not that. Though, yeah, I have. It’s been four weeks. I bet I could ask the doctor to give me a brace or something, and I could still ride in the show.” She inched from his arms and sat up, reaching for her bra and undies.
“But your arm? What if you hurt yourself again?”
Clarice stared at Flynn and wondered if he really understood. “I have to do this. For the kids. For me.”
“You’d put yourself in danger. Damn it, Clarice, don’t you understand that is exactly why I was brought here. I’m supposed to keep you from working too hard.” Flynn pulled on his pants.
Clarice struggled into her jeans, then sat down to pull on her shoes and socks. “This isn’t work. It’s what I love, and I’m having fun every minute of every day.” She sighed, fumbling with the laces of her sneaker with her casted hand and arm. Beneath the fiberglass and cotton, her skin itched.
“It’s not fun to risk your health.” Flynn knelt by her feet and finished tying her shoes. Cupping her chin, he tilted her head so she looked into his eyes. “I can’t let anything happen to you.”
“Then don’t. You’re the horse I’m going to ride.” She bolted to her feet. “I’ve got to get the entry form off the website. I’ll have to pay a late entrant fee, but I should be able to make it. Might want to shift forms. Once I get the entry sent in, I’m making an appointment with the doctor, then I’m on your back.” Giddiness bubbled up from her solar plexus. “I can do this! I’m really going to do this!”
She picked up the halter and lead rope off the ground. She heard a pop, and when she turned back, Flynn the horse stood in Flynn the Elf’s place. The sound of thundering hooves and a cry of “Jake” filled the air. Quickly, she haltered Flynn and led him forward.
The big grey gelding halted in front of her. Blowing, with sweat dampening his flanks, he looked as if he’d taken off in a dead run from the barn. Clarice reached out and patted his neck. “What is it, big guy?” She looked over his shoulder to Haley, one of her workers, following behind. “I’ve got him,” she called, and Haley nodded.
The sight of Jake running hell-bent in his direction had Flynn standing at attention. Jake stretched out his neck, touching noses with him. Elven Council member in the barn. Whatever you did, he looks mad as hell.
Human form?
Yep. I don’t envy you, buddy. Jake lowered his head. The barn worker who had been chasing him slipped a halter over his head and buckled it. He snorted.
“You’ve been a bad boy, Jake. Running off like that. You’re just lucky Clarice was here to catch you,” the barn girl said.
Silly thing thinks that I just ran off, Jake told Flynn. Jake butted the woman with his head, and she just chuckled.
“It’s all right,” Clarice said. “I don’t think Jake would have run very far. He’s an old guy.” Her hand tightened on Flynn’s lead rope.
Listen to them. Just because I’ve been in this form a while. I’m not all that old. He snorted with the indignity of it all.
Flynn gently nudged Clarice. He shook with the need to see which member of the Council had shown up and why.
“Yeah, it’s odd. This man showed up, asked to speak with you. I was headed to the house to find you when Jake just took off. Broke the cross-tie and ran from the barn as if the devil were after him. Very strange. He acted more like a three-year-old than a horse in his teens.” She chuckled and patted his neck as she turned Jake back toward the barn. “Well, at least I found you. He sounded really insistent.”
“What’s his name?” Clarice fell into step.
“Guyas D’Etienne. He said he’s with the Silver Ashwood Foundation.”
A shudder raced through Flynn’s body at the news. Could it be that the Council listened to him? Did they perhaps think upon his words and decide to take action? He refused to hope, but feared Clarice’s calling the doctor to get her cast removed. He’d been responsible for hurting her. If he could keep her from further injury, Flynn considered it his duty.
Ever since Haley told her the name of the stranger, Flynn had acted odd. He’d pranced in place, worry evident in the taut line of his neck, his tail clamped down against his rump. Even Jake, good old dependable Jake, acted twitchy. Clarice frowned. Anyone who made her horses nervous did the same to her.
The sleek, silver luxury car caught her attention first. The car radiated money and status. The vanity license plates read ASHWOOD. Clarice struggled against the frown threatening to emerge. She didn’t know who this man was, and her horses acted nervous. With a broken arm, her chance at the show pretty close to nil, she didn’t need any further complications.
“Would you mind putting Flynn and Jake in their stalls?” Clarice asked, handing the lead rope to Haley.
“Sure. Want me to send him out?”
Clarice sent a silent prayer of thanks that Haley knew she wanted to meet this man away from the horses. Her office was a mess at the moment, making it off limits, so out here would be the best place, the best neutral place, to meet this stranger. “That’d be great. Thanks.” Through the doorway, she saw an impeccably dressed man standing at the bulletin board full of photos. Children, with various physical or emotional disabilities, sat on or stood next to horses. Each one had a smile as bright as the sun, and Clarice prided herself on the pictures, knowing she’d brought joy to these troubled children’s lives.
Guyas turned. He stopped Haley as she led Jake and Flynn into their stalls, passing her what looked like a business card. She frowned, hurrying Flynn into his stall and slamming the door with more force than necessary. If he angered or harmed one of her workers… Clarice strode forward.
“Clarice Davenvic.” She held out her hand. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you arrived.”
“Guyas D’Etienne. I’m on the board of directors for the Silver Ashwood Foundation. I’m glad to finally meet you. I’ve heard such good things about your operation, and your pictures only reinforce that.” His carefully modulated voice had an old world flair. He reached into his tailored suit jacket that probably cost more than her monthly feed bill and pulled out a small portfolio.
“Thank you. Would you like a tour? I’d be happy to show you our facilities.” Potential donor, her mind said, put on the niceties, even though his very name appeared to make the horses uncomfortable and Haley couldn’t get away fast enough.
“That’s fine. Thank you. I’m sure you’re a busy woman. I wanted to drop by this check.” He removed a bank check from the portfolio and handed it to her along with his card. “Consider it a small token of my organization’s esteem for your efforts. I hope this will assist with your expansion plans.”
How he’d heard about her plans, she didn’t know, but looking at the five figures -- not counting the zeroes after the decimal point -- Clarice stood in mute shock. “Thank you,” she managed. “I’m honored. Are there papers, a receipt? Anything I can get you?”
Guyas waved his hand. “You can mail it to the address on the card. I’m afraid I have another engagement. I will ask though for a chance to try that large grey horse. My daughter is looking for a mount, and he looks as though he might do. May we return to perhaps inquire about purchasing him?”
With the check held in her hand, Clarice knew she couldn’t deny this man anything, even as she wondered what use this man’s daughter might have for a horse like Jake. “That would be fine. Simp
ly let me know what date and time would be convenient. I’ll admit, I had hoped to use him in my program, but if your daughter likes him…” In truth, she hadn’t given much thought to Jake’s future career. Her entire focus had been on Flynn.
“Thank you.” Guyas shook her hand, then turned and strode back to his car.
Clarice watched him go. Mouth dry, she contemplated the check in her hand. With that much money, she didn’t need to ride in the show. She could expand her farm, even work on doing it full-time. Perhaps she could afford to pay a grant writer to help her apply for some grants, maybe train more volunteer staff. Already her mind reeled with the possibilities.
Gravel crunched beneath the car’s tires as Guyas pulled away from the barn. No sooner had he left than Clarice hurried into the barn. She saw Haley in Jake’s stall, grooming the gelding to within an inch of his life. “You wouldn’t sell him, would you?” Haley asked.
Clarice looked from Jake, to Haley, then back again. The old gelding appeared content, eyes half closed, hind leg cocked as he sighed contentedly at the rub of the brush against his sides. His ears dropped, and his lower lip hung slack, the signs of a truly content horse.
The sight tugged at her heartstrings. The very thought of parting Haley and Jake when she saw them together like this made her think of what would happen if someone tried to buy Flynn from her. “I’ll do my best. I’m sure we have other horses that might suit his daughter better.”
Haley sighed her relief. “Thanks. So what did he want?”
Clarice held out the check. “He made a donation.”
“Wow,” Haley whispered. “That will help out, won’t it? Maybe you can even afford to hire me full-time.”
Clarice nodded. “It’s certainly one of the things on my list. You’ve been more than patient with me.” She glanced at the clock at the end of the barn aisle. “You’ve got the stalls cleaned?”
Haley nodded.
“Everyone has hay and grain and water?”
She nodded again.
“You want to go for a ride? I think I’ve got everything under control here.” Besides, Clarice wanted time alone to talk to Flynn. Perhaps he had some insights into Guyas, and his money. Folding the check, she shoved it in her pocket.
