by Ellen March
“Where’s your room?” Riley held the sheet across the bed from Emily, tucking it in firmly around the mattress. She paused and looked at him pointedly as he dumped her case unceremoniously onto the floor next to her holdall.
Jago indicated the direction with his head. “Across the way. The bathroom is next door if you need to use it.” He glanced around the spare bedroom, which was rarely used. Almost tasting the musky smell, he crossed to the window and opened it up, allowing the cool night air to float in.
“Are you trying to kill me?” yelled Riley in horror. Diving before him, she edged him firmly aside before slamming it shut.
“I was trying to freshen it up in here.” He clamped his hands on his hips to keep them from locking around her throat, struggling to keep his temper in check
“The smell is better than a hospital ward’s if I get pneumonia.” The subject closed, she turned and bounced on the bed. “This seems comfy.”
Emily smiled. “I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.”
Jago tried not to stare as with each bounce her huge breasts appeared to take on a life of their own, shuddering and quivering. He was worried they were going to fall out, or worse, that he’d try and catch them.
“I’ll leave you to it.” He turned to leave, his voice strangely high pitched. “Em will sort you out with food. You’re probably hungry.” With one more brief glance at her, he muttered, “See you in the morning.”
He needed to get away and gather his wits about him. All he could think of were those huge creamy tits. He tried to picture her nipples; they’d be a dark chocolate brown, he guessed.
“Okay, what time?” She was already on her hands and knees, rummaging in her bag for the huge alarm clock that that could wake the dead. Meanwhile her backside jutted up in the air.
“Six thirty,” said Jago sharply, trying not to dwell on the sweet curve of her ass pointing invitingly upwards. He was itching to put his hands on the roundness that beckoned to him.
“What!” She spun around, her mouth gaping. “Surely to God you’ve got to be joking!”
“You heard, so I suggest you get an early night.” He was thankful that at last he’d left her speechless.
“I’m having food first,” she shouted after him.
Jago paused and rolled his eyes.
* * *
Emily cut another slice of chicken and leek pie. She couldn’t believe anyone so small could eat so much and wished she had her metabolism.
“Is he always like that?” asked Riley. A mouthful of crust in her mouth, she savoured the golden flakes of pastry.
“More or less,” agreed Emily with a grin, used to his brusque manner. Taking her apron off, she folded it and placed it neatly in the drawer. “Well, that’s another day over for me. I’ll be going shortly.”
“Think I’ll make a move up to bed,” Riley said, “since sour puss expects me to be up at the crack of dawn. Okay if I take a glass of milk up, and maybe some biscuits?” She was already moving to the jar she’d spied on the table. “Sometimes I get peckish in the night.”
“Help yourself,” laughed Emily. “They’re homemade. It’s nice to have someone here who appreciates my cooking, not like Eve, who lives on water and fresh air.”
Riley watched her leave, and gathering her stash of food, wandered slowly up the stairs. A long and restless night stretched ahead. She’d never been to bed so early in her life.
* * *
Jago woke before his alarm. A shaft of sunlight pierced through the open window, the curtain fluttering softly in the cool, early morning breeze. It had been a long time before sleep claimed him.
His mind had been full of luscious breasts and large, deliciously suckable nipples. He could almost feel the weight of her tits in his hands and taste her skin as his tongue danced seductively across those smooth, round orbs. He knew damn well she couldn’t stay. His cock was already in a constant state of hard-on just thinking of her.
She was a distraction he couldn’t afford.
He flung the sheet back, stood and stretched. The time was just past six. He wore no clothes, always preferring to sleep naked, so the first order of the day was to slip on a pair of snug boxers. Remembering his houseguest, he didn’t want to be caught off guard crossing to the bathroom.
Jago stepped into the shower, luxuriating in the hot spray gushing over his body. It was his favourite time of day, filled with quiet and serenity. The sweet silence provided a welcome reprieve where he could think and plan ahead. Pouring a generous handful of gel into his hands, he slowly rubbed it in soft circling motions across a chest dusted with a smattering of dark curling hair.
Suddenly the whole house reverberated with a loud, ear-splitting scream.
Jago almost fell out of the shower in his haste to get to the source of the noise. The screaming continued, and he knew damn well where it came from. Struggling to pull on the boxers that clung stubbornly to his wet legs, he flung the door open and marched into Riley’s room.
“Will you turn that off!” he yelled at her prone body huddled beneath the quilt. The only visible sign of her presence was a hand that flopped to the side of the bed. Her head was covered with the pillow.
Receiving no response, he flicked at the clock till he managed to silence it. Still she slept on. No more, he vowed. She’d almost given him a heart attack.
He pulled the pillow off and threw it to the floor. Shaking her shoulders hard, he shouted, “Riley, wake up!” Then he noticed the crumbs in the bed. A plate of half-eaten biscuits lay on the floor.
Riley’s eyes flickered slowly open and she stared tiredly up into Jago’s irate face. “What time is it?” she mumbled, desperately wanting to snuggle back to sleep.
“Time to get up.” He quickly stepped back when the sheet slid down. Judging from the amount of bare shoulders and cleavage on display, she wore no clothes.
“My God, I don’t believe it. I’ve never been up at this time in my life.” Exhausted, she rubbed at her eyes.
“So how have you coped in the past?” Jago tilted his head to the side, his expression sceptical. He wondered how she’d managed to support herself.
“I worked in a lap-dancing club. More sociable hours.” Gradually coming awake, she blinked her eyes, focussing on his gleaming body. The boxers he wore left nothing to the imagination. Damp and hugging his frame, they drew her attention directly to his package.
Jago shook his head and sighed. He might have known. Her revelation just reinforced his opinion that she had no morals or ethics. Obviously she was used to trading her body for money. He hated everything her lifestyle stood for. He’d seen her type before and would be damned if the trollop was staying.
“Come on, shift your backside. You’ve got ten minutes,” he said tersely, striding angrily out of the room.
“Jago?” she called sweetly as he reached the door. He turned and paused and saw her eyes drop to his crotch. “Very nice.”
Glaring at her, he slammed the door behind him.
Chapter Three
Jago sat in the kitchen, sipping thoughtfully from a large mug. He tried to work out how long the farce with the horses was going to take. He knew damn well she wouldn’t have a clue.
But he’d stand by his word, and then, thank God, she’d drive back out of his life. She had already proven to be too disruptive to his orderly routine.
“Morning,” chirped the nemesis of his dark brooding thoughts as she bounced into the room, full of life.
“That coffee smells good. Not your cheap brand, I bet.” She helped herself to a steaming mug and slurped loudly, shuddering at the strength of the pungent liquid.
Jago cricked one dark eyebrow and realized she didn’t possess any table manners, either. It was hardly a surprise; ladylike she certainly was not. He’d already decided what type of person she was.
“Toaster’s over there. Help yourself.” He closed his eyes for a second. Slowly his eyes ripped over her body and took in her outfit. Jodhpurs so tight the
y fit like a second skin and a shirt with its ends casually tied in the front to reveal a sneaking glint of a diamante flashing from her belly button.
The only sensible thing she wore was the high moleskin boots. He bet she’d borrowed them because an item so practical couldn’t possibly belong to her.
“I’m starving. Want some?” Riley mutilated the bread, hacking it into giant doorsteps. Her tongue edged between her lips as she concentrated on the matter in hand. When she couldn’t squash the mammoth slices into the toaster, she squeezed them under the grill instead.
He wrinkled his nose at the acrid aroma of burnt toast wafting through the air. “Er, no. Coffee’s fine.”
“Don’t suppose you’ve got any jam?” She raised her head, sparing him a glance as she smeared the butter on top of the charred toast. Great yellow globules dissolved into the stark blackness.
“Top cupboard.” Jago couldn’t believe the calorie-laden breakfast she was about to devour. It was a mystery how the hell she stayed so slim. Obviously the word diet wasn’t in her vocabulary.
He couldn’t help but admire her slim legs and shapely ass, ripe and ready to be plucked. Yep, he was a leg man.
“You should eat breakfast,” she mumbled, a large piece of toast wedged in her mouth. Pulling out a chair, she sat opposite him and swiped at a dribble of butter that slithered down her chin. “Most important meal of the day.” She cricked her head thoughtfully. “I think they say ‘breakfast like a king and supper like a pauper,’ is that right?” A line creased her forehead, then she shook her head. “Oh well, never mind.”
She pushed the rest into her mouth, and her tongue flicked out to lick the jam from her sticky fingers.
Jago simply stared at her in disbelief, amazed that she never seemed to come up for air. She appeared to do everything as if on speed. Her voracious appetite had a dissipating effect on his sexual thoughts. Until a new image rampaged through his mind. If I put jam on my cock, would she lick that? He could almost feel her tongue rolling tantalisingly over it.
He rose abruptly, washed his cup out, and left it on the drainer. “Are you ready?” he asked, unsure why he was even wasting his time. He knew she’d be on her journey home within the hour.
“I’m always ready,” she teased with a saucy wink. “Lead the way.” She was looking forward to showing him exactly what she was capable of.
She knew damn well what he thought, the pompous ass. Well, two could play at that game. He might be good looking but she decided he had the personality of a gnat and was just as irritating. But then her attention dropped to his ass. She did enjoy the sight of his backside rolling sexily as he strode purposefully ahead. His wickedly seductive gait almost reduced her to tears.
“The horses are stabled across there.” He pointed to a red brick building that stood alongside a stand of large trees. “I’ve just got to make a call. I’ll follow you over.” He was already holding the small mobile to his ear as he left her to her own devices.
Riley ambled towards the horses, gently patting the heads that jutted inquisitively out from over the stable doors. Their glossy coats were a sea of colours that varied from pale dappled grey to deep bay along with a dash of ebony black. They stared curiously at her, eyes warm and liquid, ears flickering back and forth. Their nostrils quivered as they waited for a treat.
And then she saw him.
A stunning bright-red chestnut, and judging by his neck, huge and crested, still entire. The name over his door was Farley. Mesmerized, she walked slowly towards him.
“Hello, big boy, I used to eat a rusk named after you,” she breathed. Reaching up, she gently stroked the splash of white that ran down his face.
He nickered softy.
“You want some of these?” She held out a round polo mint, which he gently accepted, crunching loudly. Pawing at the door, he slammed his giant hoof loudly against it.
“Come on baby, stand back.” Riley slid the bolt across and slipped inside, sinking into the smell of horse and sweet meadow hay.
Taking hold of his head collar, Riley led him to the back of the stable and tethered him loosely. Feeding him another mint, she said, “If we’re going out together, you’ve got to look smart.” Admiring his burnished coat, she grasped a comb and began running it through his long mane, glorying in the feel of powerful muscles beneath her hands.
She gave a woof as his large head nudged her again. “Okay, okay, take it easy.” Looking up, she noticed that he’d pulled free. Riley shrugged, unconcerned. Seeing how he was enjoying his pampering time, she bent down and began brushing at his legs.
Jago glanced around the deserted yard and tried to work out where Riley had disappeared to.
“Riley!” he called, and listened to the silence, only broken by a squawk of birds overhead. “Riley!” he yelled again.
“Flaming hell, calm down! I’m over here.”
God, didn’t he possess any patience? She giggled at the soft breath of Farley blowing warmly over her head.
Jago swallowed and shut his eyes. When he opened them again, he saw her looking at him questioningly. She was leaning on the stable door with her arms dangling loosely over the top. The big horse stood quietly behind.
“Riley, listen to me,” he said softly, treading slowly towards her. “I want you to come out of there, like now. And do it very carefully. No sudden moves.”
“Why?” She tilted her head curiously, wondering what was freaking him out. She felt a nudge at her shoulder and fed Farley another mint.
“Don’t ask questions, just listen to me!” he growled. “Do you enjoy acting stupid?”
“Okay, okay, whatever.” Turning, she wrapped her arms around the stallion’s huge neck and buried her head in his warm coat, revelling in the scent and feel of horse. “Be back soon,” she whispered.
“Oh for the love of God!” groaned Jago. Unexpectedly she disappeared with a loud scream followed by a crash of metal.
He sprinted to the stable, afraid of what he was going to find, and stared in at her, spread-eagled on her back beneath Farley. His giant hooves hovered close to her head.
“Flaming bucket!” she shouted. Kicking it to the side, she held on to one of the stallion’s legs and propelled herself to her knees. Seeing his thunderous expression, she said, “Yes, I know you want me out of here.” She stood, brushing herself off whilst muttering beneath her breath, “Cantankerous git!”
She passed Farley and gave him a final sharp slap on his rump. Jago briefly closed his eyes and flinched, waiting for the stallion to kick out. Then before he knew it, she stood beside him.
“Well?” she asked, and folding her arms, stared expectantly up at him. “What’s so urgent?”
“Don’t ever go in there again.” Relieved now that she was unscathed, his temper exploded. “That horse is dangerous. Do you understand me?”
Riley looked at him, and then at Farley, confusion furrowing her brow. “What, him? Are you sure?” Her voice dripped with disbelief.
“I’m not making it up.” Jago was incensed. What, did she think he was lying? He scrubbed a hand through his hair in agitation.
“Well, watch this.”
And before he could stop her, she slid back into the stable, and placing a polo in her mouth, stood in front of the stallion.
“Riley, are you mad?” he groaned, unable to shout for fear of spooking the horse. Instead he looked on nervously as Farley gently accepted the treat.
“See?” she said. She caressed the smooth velvet of his muzzle and pressed a kiss on his big head. “He’s a pussycat.”
Jago glared at her, deciding they were well matched and deserved each other. Both were psychotic.
“So, can I ride him?” She waited for his refusal, ready to start another argument.
“Why not?” he bit back in frustration and threw his arms up in the air. “I mean, it’s not as if you listen to me. I’ll get his tack.” Jago stormed off, past a surprised Eve who had just pulled into the yard. “Don’t ask,” he s
houted, striding to the leather room.
She stared after his departing back and then looked over at the stable, where Riley gave her a cheery wave. She did a double take when she saw where she was.
Still angry, Jago returned and threw the saddle on. His actions were jerky, oblivious to the horse’s sudden change in manner. Farley’s ears flattened threateningly to his head, and he swished his tail angrily back and forth.
“Don’t think he likes you,” said Riley calmly. She stroked his blaze and planted a flurry of little kisses on his muzzle.
“I don’t really care. I should have had him shot a long time ago.” He tightened the girth and pulled the stirrups down.
“Oh my God, don’t listen, baby.” Riley pulled Farley’s head down into her ample chest and covered his ears.
Jago glared at her and the horse, wishing he could change places. Then he shook himself. She’d be going home soon. No way would she be able to handle the ornery stallion. “Baby,” he snorted. No one in their right mind would call that horse ‘baby.’
“Come on,” he said, “I’ll lead him to the paddock. You can try him out there.” He snatched the door open and added harshly, “When you come off, you’ll have a soft landing. It’ll save me trying to catch him later.”
Riley glared at his back, wondering why he disliked her so much. She hadn’t even been there for a day and so far all he’d done was yell and scream. No wonder the horse hated him, she thought tetchily.
“Good luck,” grinned Eve, leaning against the rustic fence encircling the paddock. “I’m going to enjoy this.”
“Luck has nothing to do with it,” winked Riley, and then whispered, “He looks better with his clothes off, don’t you think?” She chuckled at the look on the other woman’s face.
Eve’s lips were drawn back into a slash, and her eyes narrowed they burned across Riley.
Jago glanced over at them and squinted at Eve. Her features were hard and pouting and she kept flashing hot looks towards him.
He turned to Riley, his gaze skimming her tits. “Come on. I’ll give you a leg up.”
