I panted as his gaze devoured me, pure male satisfaction at my glistening folds. “So wet, my Kara. So bare for me.”
Ever so slowly, he flicked his tongue across my slit. I cried out with the intensity of it, a shot of pleasure coursing electric through my entire body. Slowly, expertly, he began licking me, sliding his tongue along my slick petals, stroking, coaxing pure pleasure from my throbbing flesh. Oh God, it felt so good. I had to touch him. I took my hands off the shelving, bringing them to his silky, soft hair, his massive shoulder, the muscles corded and bunching under his shirt.
“Hands where I told you, Kara,” he growled.
I whined. It was torture to keep my hands off of him. I didn’t see why I had to.
“You don’t want me to stop, do you?” he warned me.
I brought my hands back up, one wrapped around a pole, the other gripping the shelf above me. My breasts out, nipples hard, legs spread wide, I held myself there for him to devour. And he began again, teasing, controlled, slowly licking like flames I desperately wanted to flare into a wildfire. I knew I was making noises, mewling and crying out, but I couldn’t stop myself. Panting, consumed with desire, it was all I could do to remember to keep my hands up. But I had to. I needed him to keep on doing exactly what he was doing, building my pleasure, my body quaking and readying itself for the ultimate release.
“You’re so close so fast,” he praised me and I moaned in response. He brought his hands to my inner thighs, parting my legs even more to give him more access and I gave it, willingly. “But you may not come until I tell you you can,” he instructed me. “Do you understand me, Kara?”
“Yes,” I moaned, eyes closed, head tipped back. His tongue swirled expertly around my clit, teasing, pulling, licking, then fucking me deep and hard. So close to orgasm, my moans turned more urgent, into begging and pleading. I couldn’t take it any longer. I needed to come, right that second. But I needed him to bring me there, to let me come, and he wouldn’t do it. He seemed to always sense when I was right on the verge, starting to shudder and build to release and then he’d leave my clit wanting, waiting.
“Declan,” I begged, hands up grasping the shelf.
Moving his hand up to cup my hot, wet pussy he stood, leaned over me and whispered in my ear, “What do you want, Kara?”
I moaned and arched my back up against his heat, grinding my slippery sex against his hand. I needed relief. He chuckled low and gruff and I felt a flash of anger at his composure. But then he swirled my clit with his finger and every emotion other than fierce lust disappeared completely as he expertly coaxed me once again to the brink.
“Yes, please,” I begged, panting.
“Please, what, Kara?” he asked, infuriating, in control. I bucked my mound against his hand, feeling the rough callouses on him, wanting to come, needing to come. Low and sexy, his cheek against my own, he whispered, “I like you dripping on my fingers like a little slut.”
I moaned. It was so filthy and I craved it from him.
“Now tell me what you need,” he commanded.
All pride gone, I found myself begging. “Declan, please let me come. Please, I’m begging you, please. I need to come.”
“Good girl, I like hearing you say that.” His voice caressed me and I basked in his praise. “What else do you want, Kara?” His fingers began to tease, stroking and sliding up and down my wet slit. “Do you want to serve me?” He started to fuck me with his thick finger, but not deep enough. I spread my legs wider, panting, moaning. Leaning into my ear, he whispered to me, “Do you want to be my whore?”
Arching back my head, I gasped and groaned with lust, his dirty words bringing me so close to orgasm.
He reached up quickly and pinched my nipple, twisting it and then leaving it, tingling and throbbing. I gasped with the mixture of pain and pleasure. “Say it,” he growled. “Tell me you want to serve me.”
“Yes!” I cried out
He pinched my nipple again, hard, then brought his other finger down to my swollen, throbbing clit. He circled it, then stroked directly over the slick nub. “Do you want this, Kara? Do you want to do what I say? Serve me? Pleasure me? In all the ways I’ve always wanted?”
“Yes,” I panted. “Declan.”
“Say it,” he commanded. “Say you want to serve me.”
“Yes, Declan. I want to serve you. Please!”
Roughly, he knelt down before me once again, grasped my ass in his large, strong hands and pulled me toward him. With animal need, he buried his face in my wet pussy and began eating like he’d been starving for it, like he’d never tasted anything he wanted more. I pushed against him, crying out as his tongue instantly found my clit. Swirling, flicking, he worked me in a frenzied rhythm as I cried out and bucked against him, wild for more.
“Now come!” he issued the stern command, then sucked on my clit full and strong. I responded at once, coming hard and completely out of control. Shuddering and gasping, I cried out his name again and again as he sucked me mercilessly.
I barely knew where I was or what was happening, I only knew I’d never felt such intense pleasure, never experienced such complete release. The waves crested and broke over me, leaving me limp and dazzled as he lapped and licked, a growl of pleasure deep in his chest.
“Ah, Kara. So beautiful,” Declan murmured, standing up while I still sat there, dazed and dripping. “There’s so much more I can show you.” Gazing at me with primal satisfaction, he made sure I watched as he licked my juices off of his fingers. “This is just the beginning. But only if you agree to my terms.”
Friday night, the rest of the guys had called it quits over an hour ago. I’d been out mending a fence over in the north pasture. I rode in, gave my horse a good brush and some fresh hay and water, then went to check on a sick calf. She looked skinny. You could see her back vertebrae and her pin bones in the rear stuck out sharp. Most of the other calves seemed fine, they’d taken to grazing grass with gusto, but not this one. I checked her eyes: clear and not sunken, at least not yet. I changed out the water, satisfied she at least looked stable.
Then I decided I’d head to the barn and make sure Bill had brought in the baler for the night. He was getting forgetful, leaving equipment out, neglecting repairs. The belt on that baler looked worn and if we didn’t watch it, we’d be looking at a pricy replacement. I saw why Harlan had hired me, why he’d taken a chance on a 21-year-old kid with a checkered past. I had the drive and the brawn he needed.
I washed my hands before heading out. Wiping my hands on my jeans, I started over. And then I stopped in my tracks.
Kara was walking down from her house up on the hill. The sun hadn’t quite slipped behind the ridge and it reached its last rays out to light up her hair, her skin. She wore a simple white sundress, sleeves and everything. Not like some of the skimpy tops she tortured me with.
Damn, but she looked beautiful. All natural and glowing and fresh. It almost hurt to look straight at her. I ducked into the shadowy barn before she could catch me looking. That was the last thing I needed.
She’d been mooning over me, watching me while I worked, bringing out cold lemonade and fresh baked muffins. I knew she was curious. I was like some kind of space alien dropped down into her green pastures.
And she was right, we were from different universes. The three years separating us might as well be three decades. That girl was as sheltered as they came. She’d lived in the same house her whole life, surrounded by her childhood art projects and family quilts. The girl kept houseplants. They filled up the windowsills and in the mornings I could hear her humming as she watered them, talking to them like they were her babies.
A girl like that didn’t have any idea what it was like to have to move out of a place at 2 a.m., tiptoeing and carrying everything in one big trip so you wouldn’t wake up the landlord. She probably couldn’t even imagine a world where you had to lie awake all night waiting for a creak in the floorboards, wondering who in your new foster ‘family’ might be coming to try to hurt you and how. She’d never know that kind of pain existed, and she never should.
But all those differences, all the many things separating and dividing us didn’t matter, anyway. Bottom line was I wanted this job and her daddy would fire my ass if I so much as touched a hair on her head. I didn’t plan on being a ranch hand the rest of my life, but I liked the feel of a ranch, the rhythms. I understood it, somehow, even though I hadn’t grown up on one. There was a lot to learn on Harlan’s ranch and, hell, I had a small, clean cabin all my own. I had enough money for food, a pick-up truck, and Saturday nights down at the local bar. Life was good.
Shit, she was heading into the barn. Quick, before she saw me, I ducked down behind the baler. I needed to check the belt, anyway. It wasn’t like I was hiding from her.
She walked in, singing to herself as all Disney princesses did. I wouldn’t have been surprised if a few small animals came out to listen, maybe a bird perching on her shoulder and tweeting along. That girl was too much.
She was fussing about something over on the bench. Safe behind the baler, I stretched out to see what was happening. Looked like she was folding something, and taking her time doing it. Not satisfied with the results, she shook it out and then started over again, smoothing out the cloth, carefully creasing the sides then bringing over the arms. It was my shirt.