by London, S.
“Ah, are y’all done yet?” It’s Cristene, she’s dressed for bed, her laughing eyes on us.
My eyes widen in embarrassment. Not at what we were doing, but that we had an audience.
“You heard us?” I look at Grinchy, and he looks ready for an encore.
The woman’s light brown skin reddens. “This here is mine and Race’s bedroom. We tried to wait until y’all were done with the movie,” she coughs, barely disguising her laughter, “but it’s past our bedtime and the hubby needs his pressure pill.”
Diesel lays one big palm on my ass.
“Go ahead, Cristene. Amanda and I will continue our discussion outside.”
Aghast, I stare at Diesel. It’s snowing and pitch black dark. “Hold up. I’m not going out there.”
He chuckles. “Don’t worry, sweetness. The barn is heated.”
“The barn?”
“Yep. That’s where wild things get tamed.”
Well, dayum. He’s got me there. Obviously, I’ve replaced the heroine in the movie. Why? The way Diesel made me come, now I know I have a boyfriend for Christmas. This grinch ain’t going nowhere. And, neither am I.
Chapter Seven
Diesel
Fucking Amanda. Fucking a dildo. Me and my cock take offense. The woman had the nerve to tell me I’d better deliver. There’s no question, my dick is more reliable than the mail man... and rabbit. Tossing the same blanket hiding her hot pink battery buddy over her shoulders, I enter the barn’s breezeway, spotting the stairs in the center aisle and take them up to the hay loft. Stars sparkle through the skylight and a crescent moon shines down on us.
Turning I plop her little ass on a stack of square hay bales. Graduated, like a massive staircase to Heaven, the layout is perfect for what I have in mind. I part her legs. I growl at the sight of the toy filling her pussy instead of my cock. In a single motion, I snatch the fucker and sling it against the wall. I don’t bother to look where it lands, but Amanda looks downright grief stricken. The sound of shattered plastic and tiny parts cracking is the best country song I’ve heard all year.
Perched up on both elbows, she hisses up at me. “That’s abuse!” she yells. “You could’ve put him back in my bag.”
Yeah, she insisted I grab her magic bag with the lube and oil. She smells amazing, the perfume is warm and spicy, like her.
“Rabbit knows my kitty—”
“Say rabbit again,” I interrupt with a warning, before she says more to piss me off. She shuts. I think she finally gets the message that I’m taking charge of whatever the hell is happening between us. We both feel it, this need to push each other to the breaking point.
“If your daddy’s long stroke is short on performance, I’m printing it in my column.”
“If my dick game is weak, I’ll co-sign.”
“Can I get that in writing?”
“You’re a headache, Amanda.”
“Which head?” she asks, a playful smile curving her lips.
I kick off my boxers. “This one.”
She loves playing with me. Just like at her place, she needs a reminder, toys are for boys. Standing there, I let her drink in the size and girth of my cock. The effect on her is familiar to me. Women always brag about fucking a big dick until their eye-to-eye with the real McCoy. Diesel is a good description of the wide load I’m hauling in the dick department.
Yes, I’m cocky because I know how to lure a woman to that narrow zone between pleasure and pain. Feeling more alive than I have in my adult life and ready to claim my woman, Amanda, on the other hand, has a troubling expression on her face.
“Ah,” she says, rearing back to get a full view, “what the fuck have you been feeding that thing, and where do you think you’re putting it?”
“Down your throat, after I taste that sweet pussy.”
The woman swallows, and I envision that pretty mouth opening wide for my cock.
“You ready?” I reach forward, rubbing my thumb over her lower lip.
She moves to spread her knees.
“Stop,” I command.
I can tell by the furrow between her brows she’s confused.
Slowly, I unthread each button on my shirt until her body is on display. I knew Amanda in jeans tested my self-control, but this. Breasts the color of milk chocolate with erect dark nipples has me salivating for a taste. Her waist is small, and her hips flare into that plump ass that I love to torture with an open palm.
“Turn around, face the wall, and put that ass in the air.”
She hesitates, and then reaches into that damn tote bag. If she shows me another vibrator, I’m reddening her ass.
“Amanda,” I growl.
She pulls out a roll of condoms and a red velvet pouch of... Jolly Ranchers. In my weakened state, my big head has succumbed to the lust of the one pointed at Amanda’s juicy center.
“I’m clean.”
“Me too.” She winks, then asks, “What’s your favorite candy flavor?”
“Don’t like candy.”
“Figures.” She smirks.
“What’s yours?” I ask.
Untwisting the familiar red and green wrapper, she slips a candy disc in her mouth. Irritated, I’m about to lose my shit, until she parts those thighs and buries the luckiest fucking piece of candy in her slick manicured cunt.
“You tell me, cowboy.”
Oh fuck.
She grins at my slack jaw. Never, have I ever seen... what the hell just happened? I can’t stop blinking. My eyeballs just shot a wad, and my dick is ready to go fetch.
Without another word, she drops to all fours. Lowering her head, she pushes that delectable apple bottom in the sky.
“Grinchy... remember I have two holes.”
Shit, I’m in love.
Without delay, I slide my hands up the back of her legs. I use my thumbs to separate her nether lips, and then I lower my mouth to latch onto her pussy. The smell, the taste, the feel, is a drugging to my senses. Instantly, she’s all I want. All I ever needed.
“Oh, Diesel,” she moans. “That’s good.”
Fuck good. I’m going for great and buried treasure. The sounds coming from us both sound more animal than human. Amanda’s breaths come fast, her chest moves in big heaving motions. So, do mine. A trained dancer could take lessons from my woman’s hip rotations. And she is mine.
“Give me more, sweetness.”
“Take it,” she snaps back. I slap her ass. She grins, wiggling in response. Saucy wench. Gripping her ass cheeks, one in each hand, I spy her forbidden door. It winks at me in invitation. I’ll be her last visitor, I think to myself as I breach with my tongue.
“Oh, oh, you nasty... grinch. I love it.” I’m a wild man. Licking, nipping, biting, slurping, and sucking. And then I taste it, sweet and tangy. “That’s my spot,” she screams my name.
“Die... sel, Diesel, fucking Conrad.”
Damn, I know I ate the pussy right when Amanda “Messy Mandy” Murphy utters my whole name. I swallow every precious drop like it’s life-giving sustenance. I suppose for me it is. How have I lived without this crazy, unconventional woman? It’s a question I won’t have to answer.
She stays.
Fuck the past.
Fuck my memories.
She’s mine.
Amanda groans and collapses on her side. I pat her ass. “Your favorite flavor is green apple. It will be my cum before sunrise.”
Before she can recover, I don a condom and plant her legs over my shoulders.
“Look at me, sweetness. I want to see your eyes when I touch heaven.”
Amanda does as she’s told, staring at me. Slowly, I enter her.
“Oh, shit,” she breathes, “that’s big.”
Her thighs are trembling. Already, her tight snatch is sucking my head, tempting me to slam my cock deep.
“You can handle me,” I grunt, feeding my dick into her snug heat an inch at a time.
Slowly she starts pumping her hips. “Oh yeah, that’s
it, cowboy.”
With her legs dangling down my back, I cup her neck in both hands. “You ready to ride?”
“Oh yes,” she moans.
Amanda’s no tease. She mounts an attack on my cock, riding it hard and fast. With her head tossed back, her lips parted, and her eyes closed, she’s breathtaking to watch. The need to claim and mark her is fueled by hunger and desperation. Life taught me not to want much. Now that I want for nothing material, I know what I’m missing. It’s in Amanda’s eyes, in the way her body responds to mine.
Somehow, she’s reversed everything I thought we were. No doubt I wanted her body. From the beginning, I knew she’d be a sweet piece of ass. But this, love, acceptance, willingness to take me as I come. My hold on her tightens. I need to hear her say it.
“You and this good pussy are mine, Amanda,” I growl.
I’m fucking her.
I’m loving her.
The cries and screams of pleasure climb, filling the rafters. Somewhere in the stalls a horse’s neigh joins the chorus of grunts, moans, and crude confessions.
“Yes, Grinchy.”
We’re both fucking each other so hard and furious, spasms rack my aching back. And then she’s coming, drenching me in the sweetest honey. I’m right behind her, planting my load so deep in her cunt I feel roots forming.
We both slump into the sweet-smelling hay, naked, sweaty, and smiling. I discard the condom, pulling Amanda upright. She holds onto my hand, and I swear I feel her touch in my soul.
She twists her lips in that quirky way I’ve seen her do a hundred times for the Messy Mandy videos.
“A grinch by day, a Hulk in the hay.” She giggles, reaching for her shirt.
“What the hell you doing?” I growl. No way I’m done with Amanda.
“Getting dressed.”
I scoop her up and place her bare bottom on a bale.
“You and that pussy need to power up. I’m not done.”
Slowly, I crawl up the first two bales, until my knees straddle her torso, and my cock is pointed straight as an arrow are her face.
“Rest your head back,” I rasp. “Time to get that sassy mouth fucked.”
“You’re not human, and I’m still gonna be talking.” Amanda smiles and then opens wide.
“Not tonight.” I touch the tip to the corner of her mouth, and she snakes out that little pink tongue, laving the head. That’s my que to enter.
“Squeeze my sac when you need to breathe.”
I push in until I hit her gag reflex. My woman waits a beat and then slaps my ass cheek, when she is ready for more.
Yeah, I’m in love.
In retrospect, I’d like to think I maintained some finesse.
I didn’t.
The minute I breached her pussy with my tongue, and that first drop of sweet black berry juice rolled down my throat, I was a goner. Burying my cock in her pussy sealed Amanda’s fate. Her little ass belongs to me... this Christmas and forever.
Chapter Eight
Mandy
The next afternoon, because morning was off the menu after the unbridled fucking Diesel laid down until sunrise. Gurl, the way that man had me hauling his thick wood, I earned a lifetime membership in the Professional Lumberjack Federation. My body still tingles from all the places he punished in the best way for hours.
The sun hangs high above the mountains as warm rays spill in through the windows, rushing in to brighten every room. I’ve fallen in love with the open floor plan custom house on one hundred and twenty-eight acres of lakeside living. The surrounding woods, pasture lands, and hills are more beautiful in daylight. While Diesel slept I snapped pictures of the over-sized garage with its workshop and studio apartment. Last night, I’d overlooked the loft bedroom and bath.
The kitchen table serves as my makeshift office. Connecting the camera via USB port to my open laptop, the only thing left to do is comb through the MLS, multiple listing service for comparable real estate properties, to assist with pricing the ranch. Setting the price too high would stall offers, and Diesel wants a quick sell. It is my job to protect the seller’s interests. Undervaluing the property would mean a smaller check for Diesel at closing and a lower commission for me. I know he doesn’t need the money or want the ranch, but it’s important to me that he trusts my judgement.
Maybe, he’ll see the beauty of his father’s home and decide to keep the ranch. My family shapes who I am, the woman I want to be in the future. I grew up in a cramped apartment, sharing a bedroom with my twin. That explains why real estate is my catnip. To have a home with all this space to breathe, to be me without prying eyes, I would’ve traded all of Maxi’s designer clothes. Thrift stores, not the mall, gets my money. Big Mama and Uncle worked until Maxi and I graduated college. It took six and a half years at Sinclair State University and four majors for me to realize I possessed the skills to follow my passion, no degree required.
But a sister did earn her papers.
I think about Diesel and how quickly he wants to erase this final connection to his father. Must be nice to throw away a gift with four walls and a roof.
Diesel hasn’t mentioned returning to the city. Neither have I. He looks fine after the injury and fucks like a stallion on steroids, but I know he’ll benefit from the peace Elfton has to offer. It’s my fault that he is injured. Technically, it’s my decision whether he’s safe to drive. I can play Florence Nightingale for two weeks in my winter wonderland.
The idea of an extended vacation in Grinchy’s bed makes my nipples hard. Yeah, I know, yesterday I was ready to jet. But, after rolling in the hay... honey, I’m tempted to invest in a couple of chickens, a milk cow, and a shotgun. Is it really a crime to hold a grinch hostage if I’m feeding and fucking him? I don’t think so.
“Morning.”
Diesel enters the room dressed in a Sherpa-lined coat, his Stetson covering that thick mane that moves like silk through my fingers, and of course, jeans that hug his thighs. I watch his powerful body move, the gait is predator, his stride is confident, bordering on cocky.
“Actually, its lunchtime. I have the listing documents ready for your e-signature.”
He walks straight to me, fists his fingers in my hair, and pulls my head back. Our eyes meet, and then his mouth is on mine. Resisting his possession is impossible. Not only because he’s robbed me of breath, but I want this. His potent masculinity is rude and brash, but then the kiss softens. His lips brush mine. His tongue parts my lips and slips inside. Like a blanket, heat covers me. He tastes every part of my mouth. I want to give him more. I feel my way up his thigh, until I locate his candy cane log. Excitement sparks inside when Diesel releases a long, aahhh.
Oh, it’s on.
Fuck him, girl. Fuck him.
But then—he breaks away.
Diesel takes a step back. “Hold up.”
“What?” I protest.
“Race sent a text. He and Cristene went into town to get some help removing the tree blocking the road. When they get back, they’re relocating to the studio apartment.”
I won’t lie. My first thought is Diesel and I would be home alone.
“Was it something we did?” I start to laugh at Diesel’s grim expression.
“Ask rabbit,” he says, pulling me to my feet.
I resist... a little.
“Why are you always putting your hands on me?” Actually, it’s not a complaint. I really do want him to answer the question.
“Like having you in my arms.” He drops his head looking at my bare feet, and then nips at my lip. “Put some shoes on. I’m told there’s one horse in the barn that needs feeding.”
A horse? Gurl, I’m daydreaming about riding his pony. Maybe, laying butt naked under the mistletoe with another hide and go seek Jolly Rancher candy. This shocks me. I’m actually thinking of ways to freak Diesel. Yeah, this calls for an intervention.
“Ah, I’m going to stay here and get some work done.”
”I wasn’t asking.”
He says it so matter-of-fact, that in my heart it feels like we’ve had this exact conversation a thousand times before. This connection between us feels real. Diesel has an excuse for not questioning every response. I don’t. Lucky injured grinch.
“Are you always this straightforward about everything?”
“I am,” he confirms with a trace of doubt. “Did I appear different before the accident?”
“Maybe,” I say, but I’m a little hesitant. Now that I think about it, Diesel has never expressed wanting a relationship. From the beginning, it was obvious through our listing that he wanted my body. But after last night, I am willing to hand over the lock and key. This can’t be good.
Diesel must have noticed the shift in my demeanor.
“Just so we’re clear, Amanda. You’re not going anywhere. No matter what physically happened to my head, I know how to treat... my... woman.”
But I’m not yours. Not in the real world. This is a winter wonderland, I remind myself.
“Diesel, our relationship, if you can even call it that, is nothing like what your head is telling you.”
What happens when my cowboy unbumps his head and his memory returns? We flirt with each other, but Diesel is not the sticking around kind of man. I hate to admit it, but I did pull up his N2U dating profile. Two words. Man whore. So while he’s fixated on my ass this week, it’ll be some other filly by New Year’s.
Releasing my waist, he drags me towards the front door. “You have the softest body. But your head is a damn lead weight.”
“Damn, here you go, Grinchy. I’m trying to tell you that we are not—"
“Last night I wrote my name on your tonsils, woman. That makes you mine. I hit my head, but you’re the one who can’t remember shit.”
“I-I.” Stammering, I try to refute his observation, but I’m speechless. The smirk covering his face is so cute. I want to slap it off and kiss him crazy.
“Yes, I thought you’d agree.” He bends over, grabs a pair of white cowgirl boots, and thrusts them at me. “Bring your little ass.”
