by Penny Wylder
“You’re so wet for me,” he whispers in my ear. “Did my cock in your mouth do this to you?”
I can hardly pay attention to his words as I try to angle my hips so he’ll pay a little more attention to where I want his finger most. He chuckles softly in my ear. “Greedy girl,” he says, just before he traces slow figure eights against my swelling bud. Again and again his wet finger slides over my clit, and he’s getting me so close, I can feel it. His cock is now rock hard in my hand.
“Yes, yes, yes,” I pant. “More.”
“There it is, that's what I want to hear,” he says, whispering against my tit. He squeezes my breast, flicking the hard bead with his tongue before sucking my tit into his mouth.
Moaning louder, it seems to fuel something inside him. He growls deeper, shifting his pants down his hips. Reaching down, he grabs my hand and pulls it off his cock, pinning it above my head. He's not being too rough, just rough enough that my entire body is buzzing from head to toe.
He presses the tip of his cock against my pussy and enters me slowly. It's almost torture how slow he's moving. Pulling back out just as slow, I dig my nails into his back, and try to jerk my hips up.
My clit is swollen, aching to feel him again. But he doesn't give. With smoldering fire in his eyes, he watches me writhe beneath him. And he likes it. He's enjoying the feel of my body as it begs for more, demanding to be taken.
He won't crack. I'm not in charge right now; he is. Lowering his hips, he drives his thick length back inside my body. Over and over he fucks me with devastating slowness.
Slamming against my clit, he coaxes a scream from me. My body is shaking as the orgasm builds. I can feel it growing in my lower belly until it finally bursts at the seams.
Curling my legs around his waist, I'm trembling from head to toe as he releases inside me at the same time. Warmth fills me inside as he jerks on top of me, grunting out the last of his orgasm. Dropping onto my chest, Ryder rests his forehead against my shoulder. We're both breathing heavy, our hearts are racing. I can feel his heart beating in his chest because it's throbbing so intensely.
“Jenna,” he says my name softly between broken breaths of air.
“Yeah?”
“Why are you so determined to get me to sell this place?”
I'm surprised by his question, and I don't know the right answer to give him.
It's not me that wants him to buy, it's my step-father. I'm only here as the raven with the message. My mind starts to tumble with mixed thoughts. I'm not sure I'm doing the right thing anymore.
Being with him like this makes me feel alive. But knowing my whole purpose is to tear this world from him is causing me a lot of doubt.
Why did I let Troy put me in this position?
Troy is the one pulling the strings, I'm merely his puppet, and I don't know why I let him force me here.
“Why are you so determined not to?” I ask him, deflecting his question. I can't give him any answer he's looking for. Anything I say will sound shallow and cold.
Ryder gets quiet for a moment. He pushes himself up and adjusts his pants. Dropping back to sit down, he picks up a piece of hay and starts sweeping it across the floor. He won't look at me, he's lost in his mind.
“You know how much my father loved this farm,” he eventually says. I sit up, listening to him intently. “All he ever wanted was to build something great for his kids, and eventually pass it down to us. As he watched the other farms get sold and bought, it only drove him to work harder, to make this place thrive so he didn't need a bail out. He didn't want this place to become some corporate robot. Now, both my parents gone, and this farm is all my sister and I have left of them.” Exhaling a deep breath, he looks up at me. “Can't you understand that? Can't you see that's it not about the money, it's about the memories?”
Hanging my head, I fiddle with the hay in front of me. I do get it. I not only get it, but I also feel it. I don't have a childhood home. I don't have a place that brings a smile to face or drums up amazing memories. . .
Except here.
The time I've spent here recently has woken me up. It's real. I feel more alive than I have in a really long time. This place is special, it's always been special.
What the hell am I doing?
This is wrong. I shouldn't be trying to force him to sell his world. And for what? For something that will never give him what he gets here?
I can't do it. I can't make him give up all of this.
I need to do the right thing and tell my step-father he's going to have to find someplace else. This is only one piece of land. There are plenty of others out there who are willing to sell for the right price.
Troy needs to realize that not everything can be bought no matter how badly he might want it. I have to convince him to move on.
He'll listen to me. He has to. He won’t have a choice.
10
Jenna
“You ready?” he asks as he laces up his boots.
“I think so.” My voice is timid and unsure.
It's the farmer's market in town today, and I'm going to help Ryder at his stand. I'm nervous as hell. I know there will be a lot of people there, a lot of people I haven't seen in years.
We pack the truck and drive to town. The farmer's market is and always has been the place to go on Sundays for as long as I can remember. From what he says, that hasn't changed at all over the years.
It's where he does most of his business. The market is where most of the town does its business. Buying and selling, trading products with neighbors, catching up on local gossip. You can find anything and everything at the market.
Ryder parks the truck at his rented site, and we both hop out. Looking around I see that Mary's Bees is still here, with her homemade wax candles and fresh honey. I used to love the honey sticks, especially the cinnamon ones. Fred's Produce, Val's Dairy, Christine's Country Fresh Herbs, they're all still here.
Ryder unfolds the tables and puts up the tent to shade us. It's hot as hell outside and the sun will scorch these apples in a matter of minutes. We spent two days baking fresh pies with his mother's recipe. Even Melody came by to help with baking and sorting the apples.
She wasn't as angry or withdrawn as she was the last time I saw her, and we actually shared a couple of good laughs. It felt amazing, like we were a family. A real family. I've never felt that before. Even with my mom and Troy, we've always lived separate lives aside from the small role I play in his business.
In New York you're always coming and going. Social life is more important than quality time. Our family dinners are based around business talk, with the occasional question from my mom about school or my plans for the weekend. Other than that, it's like strangers sharing a meal.
Being with Ryder and his sister is so much different. They joked and reminisced about their parents. There was some banter and a few rogue apple slices getting whipped through the kitchen as they threw them at each other. It was nice, and I can't lie, it felt more like home than my own bed in Troy's high-rise condo.
“All right,” he says, wiping his forehead with a rag. His muscles bulge, shining from sweat. It's sexy, making me lick my lips and grin. Ryder smiles. “I know what you're thinking, and we'll do that later. Right now, we have apples to sell.”
Giggling, I say, “But what if I can't wait that long?”
“You best get to selling apples then.” Smirking, he nods his head at the giant barrel of apples.
Pouting, I drag my feet across the ground to the barrel. “Fine.”
Chuckling, he snatches an apple from the bin and tosses it in the air. “How about this? If you sell all of these pies and most of the apples, I'll even throw in a full body massage later.”
“I'm in.”
Ryder throws me an apron, and I slip it over my head. He blows me a kiss and smirks as his eyes run up and down my body. “I'd really like to see you in that apron and nothing else, too.”
“Deal.” Letting my eyes drop to his
waist, I lick my lips.
“You're bad,” he says. Shaking his head, he sets the lock box on the table for the money and pulls up a chair. “We're never going to sell these if you keep teasing me.”
Pulling up a chair next to him, I relax back. “Who's teasing who?” I ask, flipping down my sunglasses and looking out into the crowd of people as they move through the market.
“You started it.” Nudging me with his shoulder, a customer comes up and he jumps into action.
His smile is bold, broad, and eye catching. He's so comfortable, talking to the woman like she's a member of his family. Ryder sells two pies and a five pound bag of apples right off the bat.
The day flies by, and before I know it, we're packing up and heading back to the farm. We sold almost everything, coming back with about twenty pounds of apples. They won't go to waste. He'll either use them, eat them, or feed them to the animals.
Mark is waiting in the driveway when we pull in, resting against his truck. As we climb out, he walks over to greets us.
“Hey guys,” he says. “I had some extra time today and thought I would check out that tractor for you, Ryder”
“Sure,” Ryder says, then turns to face me. “This might take a bit.”
“No problem, I'll go get cleaned up.” Smiling, I head inside.
Standing in the window in the bedroom, I watch Ryder and Mark for a moment. They're looking at the tractor, walking around it and talking about what's wrong with it.
He and Mark are laughing. I'm mesmerized by Ryder's smile. There's a small dimple on his right cheek, and his eyes have a tendency to squint when he's laughing really hard.
It's the same smile I grew up loving. Some things never change, no matter how much time passes. A laugh, a smile, a twitch of a brow or hard eyes when they're upset or angry, those little nuances never go away.
Sighing to myself, I pull away from the window and drop to my knees. Fishing under the bed, I tug out my bag and dig the phone out from the bottom. Sitting down on the floor, I lean back against the bed and turn it on.
It takes a few seconds. The screen flickers a couple times before glowing bright, and then I'm hit with a million pings of new messages and voicemails. Scrolling through the messages, the tones of each one changes from curiosity to anger.
A few of my friends are pissed that I haven't called or messaged them back. While others are worried and concerned they haven't heard from me. And then I start to read the messages from my step-father.
'Where the hell are you? Call me now!'
'What is going on? I've left you four messages! This is unacceptable!'
'You're not on a damn vacation, Jenna!'
Closing the screen, I rub my temples. Pressing the phone to my ear, I listen to his messages and they're even worse. He's yelling, literally yelling, into the phone. He's demanding answers, he's screaming about how I'm a failure and can't even do a simple task.
In a way he's right, but it's not because I'm weak. It's because it's wrong. Terribly, horribly wrong. My step-father needs to understand there's more to this place than just a piece of land.
I have to just call him and explain.
The phone is against my ear, the ringing like a nightmarish echo in my brain. My heart is pounding so damn hard, and my stomach is flipping with nervous knots. It seems to ring forever before Troy finally answers with a yell in my ear.
Yanking the phone away on reflex, I can practically feel him spitting on me as he yells through the phone.
“Where the fuck have you been? Why haven't you been answering me? Do you think you have the authority to just do things any way you please?” His tone is harsh, fueled by rage.
“I'm sorry, Troy, things have gotten a bit complicated.”
“Complicated? What the hell do you mean complicated? Did he sign?”
“No, not yet.”
“And why the hell not? It's not that fucking hard to hand someone a damn pen, Jenna!”
“It's not that simple. He's not going to sign. I'm sorry, nothing is going to change his mind.”
He growls into the phone, speaking through gritted teeth. “So you failed? Is that what you're telling me? You can't handle a simple fucking task.”
“No, it's not like that at all.” Pressing the tips of my fingers deep into my forehead, I say, “This place is his home, Troy. This is his family's world, it's their legacy. His father is gone, his mother is gone, it's all he has left. It doesn't feel right to me to force him to sell it. There's nothing we have that he wants. The money doesn't matter, nothing can replace what he has here. Can't we find another place? A different farm? There have to be others.”
“Do you realize what I've done for you? Do you have any idea how much I've given to you and you're not even my biological child?” He's seething. I can hear him foaming at the mouth. “Everything you have is because of me. Your money, your clothes, school, all of it. I care about your mother, so I do these things for you. And I ask you to do one thing, one fucking thing, and you can't even do it right.”
“Troy, look—”
“No,” he snaps, cutting me off. “It doesn't matter. I was done waiting around for you anyway. I already sent someone else to do what you couldn't.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“You haven't been answering your phone. Did you think I was just going to sit back and wait for you? I'm a businessman, Jenna, it's what I do. This shit has an expiration date that's far overdue.”
I sit in silence. He's actually sending someone else. Troy is determined to get this farm one way or another and there's nothing I can do about it. I'm not going to be able to stop him. His mind is made up and I won't be able to reason with him.
“I want you on the next plane home,” he continues to say. “If not, you're done. No more money, no more fancy things, no more school. I'll cut you off and disown you. You'll get nothing.”
I'm about to speak when the line goes dead. I'm numb. I can't feel anything, not even the floor beneath me. It's like he pulled the rug out from under my feet.
He's going to take my entire life from me.
The thought makes my stomach curdle. Everything I know, everything I have, everything I'm working toward will disappear in a blink of an eye. I'll be right back where I started, with nothing.
I can't let that happen. It will gut me to have to walk away from college and all my friends. I don't know where I'd go, I don't know what I'd do. But none of that matters. Troy made the choice for me.
I have to do it. I have to go home.
Hanging my head, I reluctantly push myself up off the floor. Setting my bag on the bed, I pull the clothes out from the drawers and closet, laying them on the bed. I'm folding them up, stuffing as much as I can into my small bag.
“What are you doing?” Ryder asks, leaning against the door-frame.
Glancing up quickly, I drop my eyes back to the pile of clothes. “What does it look like?”
“It looks like you're packing.”
“Bingo.” Shoving a shirt deep into the bag, I practically punch it in place.
“Whoa,” he says, coming to my side. Ryder grabs both my hands and squeezes himself between me and my bag. “What's going on? Why are you packing?”
Tears bubble up over my eyes, making it hard to see. But I don't want to cry, and I know if I blink the tears will start to fall, and I won't be able to stop them.
Looking up at the ceiling, Ryder studies my face. He knows me, he knows something is really wrong.
“Jenna, what is it?”
“I have to go back.” My lip trembles as I speak, and my hands are starting to shake.
“I don't understand. You haven't convinced me to sign yet, so you can't go.” There's a tone to his voice, a hidden plea, a soft beg. He wants me to stay.
“I know,” I say. Closing my eyes, the tears begin to fall, streaking down my cheeks. “But it doesn't matter anymore. I failed. I couldn't get it done, and now Troy is threatening to take everything from me
.”
Ryder wraps me in a big hug, pressing my head against his chest. “Jenna, calm down.” He strokes his hand down my hair, and over my back. “Everything is going to be okay.”
“No, it's not.” My voice is sharp and almost hysterical. Taking a step back, I wipe the tears from my eyes and look up at him. “He's going to take everything if I stay here any longer. Even college, all of it just gone. I can't lose everything I've worked for. I can't let him do this to me. I need to go home.”
Ryder is quiet, his eyes steady on mine. He doesn't look upset or angry or sad. Turning around, he picks up one of my shirts and puts it in the bag. The silence is killing me. I need him to say something, anything.
“Ryder. . .” His name comes out of my mouth, barely audible.
“I get it, Jenna,” he says. Twisting back around, he reaches out and takes my hand. Pulling me in, he cups my face, wiping away more tears. “I understand what it feels like to lose everything. If you think this is what you need to do, then do it. I won't stop you.”
Stop me! Tell me not to go! All you have to do is say the words.
Tell me you love me. . .
My heart lurches for freedom, hoping and praying he says what I want to hear. His thumbs stroke up and down my jawline, and his eyes glint like gun metal as he leans forward and kisses my forehead.
“Do what makes you happy, Jenna. You can't live your life for other people. If there's something you want, then you need to do whatever it takes to make it yours. It's been nice having you here again, even if it was just for a short time.”
He looks like he wants to say more. His eyes dart back and forth between mine, and his hands tighten around my face. There's so much pain in his stare. Another loss for him. Another thing that's being taken from him and there's nothing he can do about it.
The words I yearn to hear don't materialize, and I'm left with a giant gaping hole in my heart. It's like the air has been sucked from my chest. I hurt all over, but it's not his fault. It's mine. I'm too weak to let go. Too weak to ignore Troy's threats and do what I feel is right.