by London, S.
Chapter Nine
Diesel
My queen has me carrying her little ass on my back, not wanting to muddy the borrowed cowgirl boots traipsing through the snow. Explaining that boots are made for ranch work had zilch effect.
The woman is stubborn.
I can’t escape the sense of rightness in the past twenty-four hours. A voice whispers, this could be my life, here in Elfton, with Amanda. The idea should ring with a note of madness. The opposite has happened. Bumping my head might have led to my first sane action regarding a woman.
It’s the reason I signed Amanda’s contract without reading a word. Amanda must be good at her job. She has to be if I chose her. I trust her to handle my business. Like she handled me with her body. Completely under her spell is the only way to described the little witch with her bag of candy.
My dick gets hard every time I think about finding the treasure at the end of her snug tunnel. While I’m clear that Amanda stays; what to do about the ranch is complicated.
I like simple.
Black and white. Never gray.
While I can’t recall exactly what my father has done, my chest hurt worse that a hoof kick to the nuts when I looked at the man’s picture on the fireplace mantle.
Earlier this morning, Amanda left the bed, thinking I needed more rest. Once she padded out of the room, her absence beside me made sleep impossible. Cuddling her curves against me is an erection starter and a sleep aid. Go figure.
I searched my father’s things. The night table, his bookcase of World War II novels and memoirs, and his closet.
Leaving things behind has always been easy for me. A skill learned out of necessity. If I liked something, my father would take it away. His advice to a ten-year-old kid.
A man doesn’t have attachments.
A man punishes.
A man can let go.
Seek and you shall find. That bit wasn’t from my father. But the letter folded in my wallet says differently.
For all the things I took away, I hope you’ll find something here to love.
I’ll always love you, son.
Dad
“Hey, Grinchy.” Amanda’s voice is low, pulled deeper with concern. “You okay?”
“Yes.” Unhooking her legs from my waist, I swing her feet to the ground. Holding her shoulders, I make sure she’s steady before I let go. Amanda can take care of herself in any situation, but I still want to protect her. Keep her safe.
When I turn to walk away, she stops me.
“You’re too quiet.”
“Says the woman who runs a gossip column. “
I believe Amanda when she says the nature of our relationship is different, but she notices the little things about me. I’ve never cared before what other people knew or didn’t about me. With her, I know its genuine. There’s no angles to her questions or observations.
Her eyes widen. “You remember that?”
I shrug. “Yes. Noticed that you talk about others, but not about yourself.”
She shrugs. “When you’re a little girl without a mom, you ask a lot questions and learn to listen. It’s kind of a natural fit. Plus, it’s cheaper than therapy.”
“Huh, in an Amanda way, that makes sense.”
“Now... I guess your Grinchy brain is on automatic reboot.”
She looks almost shy when she says that. I’m used to a confident Amanda. She thinks I’ll change.
I scoop her up. Her legs lock around my hips, which my dick loves. Her arms settle over my head, hands cradling my neck. The contact gets my pulse to humming, but business first. I lift her chin until she looks at me.
“What’s our automatic, Amanda?”
“Arguing,” she says without hesitation.
“Not anymore, sweetness. Believe me. I’ve discovered more agreeable activities for us.” Her eyes dart away. If the woman requires more convincing, I’m game. “Come on. I want to introduce you to someone.”
As we approach one of the rear stalls, I hear the thud of hooves scratching packed earth, the whining sounds, and then a moist muzzle bumps my cheek.
“Hey, boy, it’s been a long time, Hollander,” I say, raising my hand to rub the quarter horse’s forelock, the hair between his ears. My horse, the first one I ever sold, shakes his sleek head in Amanda’s direction. “Oh, her. This is Amanda, my queen.”
“Hollander,” she repeats, scrambling down. “The horse that you had to sell to keep your ranch going?”
“One in the same.”
She looks up at the horse whose several hands taller than her.
“What’s he doing here?”
I shake my head, not quite believing the twist of fate. “My dad left me a letter,” I sigh. “Found it this morning. And it’s clear that he purchased my horse. Paid more than he was worth.”
The thuds grow louder in objection.
“Don’t take it personal, boy. You meant the world to me.” It’s a bittersweet moment, one I’m not totally prepared to process.
“Aw,” Amanda sighs, spinning in a circle. “A grinch and his horse, reunited at Christmas. It’s a miracle.” She laughs. “My grinchy has a heart after all.”
I pick her up, twirling us both. “A heart,” I grin, “and eyes for you, crazy woman.”
“Aw,” she rubs my scruff. “I really like you. Don’t mess this up.”
And bittersweet is out the window thanks to my woman’s antics. The sparkle in her eyes tells me she knows actually how to lighten my mood. Like I said, Amanda gets me. And, all the twirling, showing off her ass, gets me in the mood to make her kitty purr.
Unlatching the stall door, look at the city girl delighting in country living. “Ready for a sleigh ride?”
She gives me a pointed look. “If that’s code language for a hard on... my answer is yes.”
“It is, but there is a sleigh outside.” I wink. “You brought the candy?”
She quietly reaches one hand into her bra and comes out with two Jolly Ranchers. “Cherry and grape okay?”
As if either would taste better than Amanda’s sweet pussy. What will she surprise me with next?
Chapter Ten
Mandy
The first ten vacation days passed in a flurry of fielding offers on the property and ass-spanking sex.
Feeding Hollander twice a day... and ass-spanking sex.
Sleigh rides... and more ass-spanking sex.
Hey, it’s a pretty routine existence, but someone has to suffer through it.
“Grinchy,” I scream, “come in the living room.”
He’s in the kitchen. You heard right. I’m sexing that man damn good, he’s buttering our corn every night.
“I’m doctoring up the popcorn, woman.”
I jump to my feet, catching my babbling laptop before it hits the floor. “Now, Diesel.”
“Must be serious.” I hear his laughter, though he’s out of sight. “You used my name.”
“It’s about the ranch.” I glance up just as a butt naked Diesel, holding a bowl of popcorn emerges from the kitchen.
I open my mouth, but no sound emerges. Diesel strolls over, cocky and so sure of his paralyzing effect on me. He brushes his lips over mine just long enough to heat my center.
“Hallmark Channel,” he whispers. “That’s not it.”
Yeah, in addition to sarcasm and sex, we both love mysteries. Seems he watches with his mom. Just like with Big Mama and Uncle Earl , Mrs. Conrad got him hooked.
“Why are you naked?” He pulls me to him, and I inhale his scent. Oh shit, I’m salivating. He better hold true to everything he told me about us. Especially, the staying together part. I know. If you’ve ever read my column, I’d be the first to say, gurl—don’t do the dick dummy down. But look at me. I’m in love with a man who’s memory is ten days old. Now, that’s some crazy shit.
“We fuck through every episode. I figure, clothing’s optional.”
Grinchy is so cute when he’s being romantic.
“Listen,” I
say, pushing at his chest, trying to create some distance. He doesn’t budge. “I received a contract on the house.”
“Okay. You sound surprised.”
I nod. “It’s a cash offer, Diesel. They want to take possession before the new year.”
His spine goes ridged, and his smile disappears. I know it sounds weird, but I’m glad that the news hits him the way it does me. I love the house. And... the owner. I want to keep both of them, forever.
He clears his throat. “My father wanted me to have it, but... it’s time to let go.”
“You don’t have to accept the offer. Keep the ranch.” And me. In the movies, this would be the scene where the hero admits to always loving the heroine.
“Amanda—"
“Yes.” I wait with bated breath.
“We came here to sell.”
“Yeah, I just...” I whisper, looking around. “You’ve been so relaxed here... with Hollander.” I’m not a part of the package. I know this, but I wish it were different. Somehow, I could transport me and Grinchy back to our life outside of the Elfton magic and the ranch.
Diesel cocks his head to one side. “I know how you can help me relax,” he rasps.
“Wait, wait, I have an idea,” I say, grabbing the bowl away.
“The candy is easier than the popcorn, sweetness.”
I rear back. “Ew, you are nasty.” I can’t just let our winter wonderland go without a touch of a very Mandy Christmas. “There’s a ton of Christmas stuff in the storage room. I want to go all out. Lights. Candles. Blow ups. You name it.”
He’s frowning but says, “Will it make you happy?”
Oh my goodness, how can I not love him? Gorgeous. Romantic. Ass-spanking cowboy.
“Yes.” I nod emphatically.
“It’s done.”
And do it we did, butt naked with sweet Christmas movies lighting our foreplay.
Chapter Eleven
Mandy
“I met a man.” My favorite Dreamgirl, Jennifer “I Liked Her Better Thick” Hudson, carries the note beyond my musical range, but I join the refrain as the horns kick in. Dancing around the coffee table, I grab my iPad, hitting send on an overnight delivery of Jolly Ranchers. “I love him, I do.”
Dang, I sound good. It amazes me how a steady supply of jingle-a-ling, dingle-a-ling has improved my vocal abilities. Well, that’s the magic of Christmas. Moonwalking on bare feet to the first of three decorated artificial trees, I glide the plug into the wall outlet. “Alexa, turn up the volume,” I call, snapping my fingers on my right hand together.
White string lights flicker, their festive twinkle rendering a final salute across my brown skin before stopping. The room dims, but it can’t squelch my holiday cheer. It’s Christmas Eve. I’m putting the finishing touches on the house before I serve a sensual dinner for two, courtesy of Uber Eats.
Catching a glimpse of myself in the hanging wall mirror, I blow a kiss at the masterpiece reflection. My hair is stripper booty bouncy. My brows are sculpted like Michelangelo did my shit with an X-Acto blade. And, my lips, outshine brand-new chrome wheels. “Damn,” I shake my head, “the cowboy doesn’t stand a chance.”
Call me Mistletoe Mandy. Once I unwrap these hips in nothing but a leopard print thong, Diesel will beg to kiss my ass.
Outside, the thud of a heavy weight striking wood jars me. I ignore it, continuing my safety check with the holiday lights strung across the windows, the black tuxedo tree separating the kitchen from the dining area, and the last tree in front of the patio beside the bedroom fireplace. Anticipation zings down my spine. I’m going to tell Diesel that I love him.
Diesel walks through the front door, covered in mud and snowy slush.
“Damn roof is slippery.”
“Aw.” I dance over to him. “Poor Grinchy. I’ll kiss your boo boo.”
I raise up on my toes prepared to kiss him.”
“Amanda, stop.”
Frowning at the change in his voice, I freeze. “Grinchy?”
“I remember,” is all he says.
“What?” I swallow, a team of reindeer suddenly prancing inside my stomach.
“Us, before the fall.”
Okay, I sigh. How appropriate.
“Alright.” I hug myself tight when he doesn’t. His face is a blank mask. I can’t guess what he’s thinking, and he wants it that way.
“I’ll feed Hollander. When I get back, I’ll talk.”
Not, we’ll talk. It’s back to him and me. It’s like he’s erected a wall. He doesn’t want me on the other side.
“Stay in here. It’s warm,” he says and closes the door. Diesel’s been the one to keep me warm, and now... it’s the coldest Christmas ever.
Chapter Twelve
Diesel
Two weeks together, I thought we understood each other.
Wrong.
The woman has my heart, but she vamoosed while I finished the chores in the barn. Luckily, I’d saddled Hollander for a ride around the property. With that cinnamon-colored hair flying in the wind, she’s easy to identify in the sea of white snow and clouds. I lead Hollander into an easy trot beside my loveable little hot head.
“Look, cowboy, you got your memory back. I get it. It’s time to let go,” she huffs, stomping down the path in a used pair of western boots to the main road. “I ain’t your girlfriend, and you owe me six percent.”
“What I owe you is a spanking.”
The sway of her ass in a cheetah print skirt has my cock straining to break free.
Not leaving the saddle, I tilt sideways, plucking her little ass off her feet. “Put me down,” she fumes. “I ain’t your girlfriend.”
“Stop talking.” Leaning in, I place a firm kiss on her lips. “Fact is, you’re the best damn thing that ever happened to me. The ranch is off the market, but—”
“Then why all the ominous, I’ll talk. I swear, Diesel Conrad, if you’re trying to break our contract and dump me the day before Christmas, your nuts will be uglier than a fruitcake when I’m done with you.”
“You’re little ass stays.” She stills, and for once, I’m sure she’s listened. “You’re mine for Christmas.”
She swivels, giving me a twisted frown. “And afterwards?”
“You’ll be mine,” I position her in front of me, her spread legs straddling my hips, “for New Year’s, MLK, Valentines, Presidents’ Day. I love you, Messy Mandy.”
She does this gooey eyed batting of her lashes that has me grinning. “Guess I did bring you to your knees, Grinchy.”
I jostle her a little, waiting for her to say the same to me. Not that I need it, but I damn well want to hear how she feels about me.
“Fess up, woman. How you feel about us making a go of it?”
Packing up her A’Diva tote gives me some idea that she’d go about as stir crazy as I did when I returned to find her gone.
“I heart you too, cowboy.” Compliance still isn’t Amanda strong suit, but she’s not struggling. “What are you doing to me?”
I have a whole new outlook on Christmas, thanks to Amanda. Before her, I dwelled on what I never had. Now, with my woman in my arms, I’m thankful for what I have. She’s a wild one, but I’m looking forward to trying to tame my kitty cat.
“Putting you in position for your punishment.”
Her jaw drops open. That cute little pink tongue is eager to start some mess. “The way I’ve been dipping your nuggets in my secret sauce, I should spank your ass for a change.”
There’s that sass I like, but she’s the only one who gets their ass slapped in this relationship.
“Never going to happen.” I click my teeth, giving Hollander the signal to take us home... the long route. Hell, I might even circle the town.
“Well,” she says, slipping one arm around my back. “My ass objects. I know I saw a snowman huddled around a kerosene heater drinking a forty ounce. It’s too damn cold to be ass out, Grinchy.”
I raise a brow. “Don’t be so quick. Ever had se
x on horseback?”
Her light brown eyes wide in excitement. “No, but hee haw!” she yells. “I’m ready to calf rope your cock.”
Angling my head at my erection, I say. “Pull it out and ride’em cowgirl.”
Amanda makes quick work of my belt buckle and zipper. A blast of cold against my stiff cock gets my attention, but then my woman wraps her skilled hands around my cock and starts to stroke my meat from root to tip.
“Fuck,” I growl.
As we ride, her skirt inches up. My nostrils flare when I catch the scent of my Christmas wish, Amanda’s wet center ready to bury my cock.
“Guess what, Grinchy,” she whispers.
I run my nose along the column of her neck. Extending my tongue, I lick a damn trail to her ear lobe. Chuckling when she shivers in my arms.
“Not in the mood for games, sweetness.”
With her fingers, she’s cupping and kneading my balls. “Oh shit,” I rasp.
“Grinchy,” she sings, “I’m not wearing any panties.”
Carefully, she plants one hand on my shoulder, lifts up and makes a slow descend onto my erect cock.
“Ooooh, fuck yeah.”
She starts to gyrated her hips, working my cock in and out, and I’m lost.
“I’m about to make you a very Jolly Rancher.”
Thanks goodness Hollander knows his way home. I’m keeping the ranch for me and Amanda, holding on to the best parts of my past and future. My queen loves it here, and I love making her happy. I guess in the end, my dad gave me the gift I needed, love.
Epilogue
It’s Christmas morning, and I roll over, placing a kiss to Diesel’s forehead. His boo boo has healed, leaving his handsome face unmarred.
“Merry Christmas, Grinchy.” He’s given me carte blanc to make today a very Mandy Christmas. You know me. I called Big Mama, Uncle Earl, and Maxi to bring my jumbo Santa blow-up doll taking a leak from his glow-in-the-dark yule log to mount on the rooftop.
“A grinch who loves you,” he grunts, slapping my ass.
I pat his cheek in jest. “The way I’m handling your long stroke, you’d better.”
