by Jamie Knight
Chapter 7 - Harlee
The door unhinged and the engines whirred down. Caleb buttoned up; just enough to hide his glorious chest from me, sadly, and asked me to walk with him down. It had been a few hours up in the air, and the gust of fresh wind hitting my face got my knees wobbly.
His sweat and cologne struck my nose as he walked by to the cabin door and knocked twice before talking in hushed tone through the small intercom in the wall. He turned to me, all smiles, and honestly, the most glad blink I had seen on his eyes, and smirked.
“Welcome to your temporary home, Miss Sawyer. I hope you like it as much as I do.”
With that, he disappeared into the mansion. I realized my bag was at my feet, and I didn’t remember hauling it in. Had he grabbed it for me?
While I’m standing there puzzling that out, Jillian, his housekeeper, a middle aged wine enthusiast and an absolutely masterful hand in the kitchen, with the gentlest most unassuming smile, had taken me, most surprisingly, by the hand, and led me, alone, towards Caleb Johnson’s mansion and away from the cooling plane and the mildly mannered Mr. Johnson.
The walk was filled with laughs and small talk that I actually enjoyed. Jill, as she wanted me to call her, told me of how deep the farm’s heritage went, and that despite it all, even with the current quarantine lockdown, how she always felt completely and utterly at home with the Johnson family, ever since Caleb grew his first goatee.
I, by virtue of finding out the most dirt on my boss and the object of my every filthy fantasy, of course, needed to know more.
She just smiled when I asked, however, and I took it as a line not to cross.
The mansion was mostly made of thick wood. On time, she told me that most of the logs had been homegrown, but that the ones that made up the barns and the chicken coups were trucked and ferried here from the Congo forest. She said that Caleb loved exotic bark, and that he was the one, with enough help from his men, who built his house. She poured us each a glass of dry wine when she told me this, and as she talked, she cooked, and made sure I had something in my stomach.
By extension, I understood that she was his family, and that she would know so much more. I was a little worried then, how she felt with me staying in a man who she knew as a son. Was she threatened? Worried about my “intentions?”
I could not tell. All I saw were warm brown eyes and the kind of mature and hidden figure that was surely eye candy back in her day.
We talked and walked around the house for an hour, despite my deepening exhaustion and the late hour. Jill showed me the trophy room, the music room, some of the guest bedrooms, the ballrooms, the barbecue rooms, and finally pointed me, through the kitchen windows, to the horse barn.
“Can we go and see one?” I asked excitedly.
She laughed and shook her head reluctantly. “No. Mr. Johnson squarely requested that he will do that in the morning.”
That was the end of that discussion. And truth be told, I’m not sure I could have kept my head up long enough to make it out to the barn. We walked up the soothing light of the staircase and talked about the pandemic. She said there was not much she could say, and that even if the virus took five years, she would know nothing about it. The ranch was fully stocked, she said, and that there was nothing she wanted out there that she could not get in the ranch. She showed me to my spacious guest bedroom, and shut the door behind her when she left.
I locked the door.
Once I was completely confident that I was along and secure, I drew the curtains first and switched the lights off. There was nothing but black. I turned them back on and walked around the marble floor. The cold between my toes excited me.
I brushed my fingers across the white vases, along the lush carpeting, atop the rough-coated walls, along the lampshades, along the edge of a brown, finely crusted frame that entangled around a photo like a vine. I marveled at the beauty in the design, and gasped at the face looming behind the glass.
And then I realized it wasn’t a photo; it was a mirror. The face looking back was mine, but whether it was a trick of the glass or the light, I looked positively radiant. My lips. My calves. My breasts. My thighs. My arms. I, then and there, wanted to see my body through his mirror.
The blouse came off first. I smiled cheekily and tilted my head back, to see how the light kissed my neck. I saw my heartbeat under the thin skin, and I exhaled. My left arm slid down the side of my thigh, and my right arm grazed against the side of my bare ribs. My skin was soft and silky and I wondered how rough his huge hands would feel on me.
Need pulsed between my thighs and I hiked up my skirt. My left hand ventured south, rubbing my slit through the soaked silk of my panties. My right hand worked the clasp of the blue bra cupping my tits.
The embroidery across the C cups matched effortlessly with the lace peeking through the top of my skirt. I let out a little sigh as I unhooked it and let my breasts tumble free, my nipples already hard and aching. Hastily, I wriggled out of my skirt and panties, losing my patience with the game and plunging between the sheets.
I wondered how soundproof this place was, or how close Caleb’s room was to mine. Would he hear me touching myself? Would he know I was thinking of him?
The fingers working through my slippery folds are distinctly my own, but in my head, I’m imagining the thick, strong heat of Caleb’s hands, working my sensitive clit.
I gasped and writhed, my other hand rolling a sensitive nipple between a thumb and forefinger. I lick the digits before resuming, and imagine the warm wetness is Caleb’s tongue, teasing the sensitive bud while he plays with my pussy.
My whole body began to stiffen and I felt the first fluttering waves of climax washing over me.
“Do you want me to let you cum?” I imagined Caleb growling in my ear.
“Yes, please,” I whimpered, and I honestly couldn’t say for sure whether the words were aloud or just in my head, “Please make me cum, sir.”
And when the orgasm rocked me, it tore through me like tissue paper, leaving me in trembling, fluttery pieces as I struggled to catch my breath.
If I thought three days of trying to resist him was bad, how was I going to last…indefinitely?
Chapter 8 - Harlee
When I finally roused myself, the morning had an extra shade of brightness to it. Jillian had made us an excellent breakfast. As I bit into my toast, Caleb walked in. He was chipper. I could tell he had missed his home.
“How did you sleep?” he asked.
Jill walked away when he sat, leaving just the two of us in the dining room.
I finished chewing the bite of toast and swallowed before answering. “Perfect. I loved the quiet.”
“It’s amazing isn’t it?” he replied excitedly, “The city is its own kind of jungle. Here, everything feels slower, more precise and detailed.”
“I love it. You wouldn’t believe how much I hated the mowers in the morning.”
“You lived alone?”
I cocked my head in confusion when he asked. “Yes, I did.”
He did a short ‘huh’ and sipped his juice.
“Is that so surprising?”
He shrugged and smiled. “I guess I just wouldn’t have pegged you to be a loner. A roommate, at least.”
I finished the rest of my bacon. “No. I like it that way. I always felt as though living with someone else cramped my space.”
“Well, I’d hate to crowd you,” he said, suddenly sounding a little wistful, “You know, if you want, I can arrange for the in-house chopper to fly you home.”
“No!” I answered quietly and firmly, then a little more calmly, I said it again. “No, please, I didn’t mean that. I want to work here. With you.”
He nodded, murmuring a quick ‘Ah’ and munched through his toast and eggs. I did not see the need to go back to a place that was empty. No one would be waiting for me, but I did not feel like getting into that conversation.
When he was done, I was too, and was ready to attend to his schedu
le for the day. Caleb’s eyes crossed from my head to my chest, and then hastily up again. I looked great for a day in the outdoors.
“How about we get to the proposal?”
I nodded and asked whether we would be doing it in the attic study or in the one that faced the swimming pool.
He seemed a little surprised by my knowledge, since he wasn’t part of my little tour with Jill, but he took it in stride. “Neither,” he said with a smirk. “I have some place better.”
It was definitely better.
There was a hidden passage between the walls behind his piano. Secret passageways were meant for billionaire vigilantes or mystery novel writers or people with sex dungeons. They were not meant for super rich farm boys. But he had this mysterious passageway all the same. And the inside was just as amazing as the imagination foretold.
It was in the topmost and loftiest section of the house; the blank arc that made no sense when you looked at it from the outside. It had books and books. Lots of books. It had two desks, the predominant one in the corner of the room. While the books gave off sort of a private library vibe, the desks indicated was more of a teacher-student type of situation, and when we sat, I felt like the teenager racked up for detention.
My mind flitted to all those porno stereotypes. “Please, Mr. Johnson, I’ll do anything for extra credit.”
The clear window gave us a view of hills and clouds in the distance. The sound of cows and horses hoofing were a playful dance in my ears. I loved it. He popped up his laptop and began typing, as did I.
We worked for hours, and I asked questions where I saw no end. He answered them patiently enough, until we both realized there was much more to the work tension between us. It was all I could do to stop from glaring at his thick strong arms as he typed. I squeezed my thighs tighter, sliding the arousal-slicked skin together so much that I swear he noticed. I tried harder to concentrate, until I could not.
“I, uh, I think I need a break. How about you?” I asked sheepishly, hoping he did not catch the timidity in my tone, nor the innuendo flirting around my intentions.
He closed off his laptop and pushed his chair back, smiling. His hand automatically pushed away his thick black hair to the side as he walked towards me.
“I know just the thing. Come with me.”
Ten minutes later, my legs were spread, a warm body between them, and my whole body bouncing along rhythmically.
“I have never been on horseback before,” I told him.
Caleb chuckled and tapped his heel into the horse’s side. It galloped for a bit before he pulled the reigns. My own black mare plodded along at a comfortable pace. I’d decided I already loved Macy. She just got me.
Caleb had asked me to head to my room and change from a skirt and blouse into a shirt and jeans and boots, for where we were going ‘a little nature would be in play’. I did not think he would mean a short tour of his farm on horseback.
The land was graced by the hand of God himself. It was so impossibly green, like something edited off of a computer. The trees were thickly stemmed and bore flowers of so many different shades. From as far as I could see there were beasts of all kind, moving together in unison and mooing and bleating and hawing and neighing. It was so fresh, that air, and nothing made me feel so at home than Caleb showing me what it all meant.
“Those right there are Empress trees.”
“Empress trees?” I asked, shifting forward a little on Macy’s back.
“Yes,” he said with excitement. “Not many people can tell you about the fair uses of the Paulowina Tomentosa.”
‘”And I’m guessing you are not ‘many people’,” I replied with a quick tug of the reins in my hands.
He laughed with heart.
“Tell me about them,” I said.
I just wanted to hear that passion in his voice again.
“Well,” he started with a quick pull of his wide-rimmed hat, “Dad told me about them when I was a kid. He said that they are the easiest trees to grow and that when he had traveled to various parts of Asia when he was way younger, he had learned of them and how much use they had in the communities there. He told me of their two-year growth span, and how over there they used to grow the tree when a girl was mature, and that by the time they were ready for marriage, the trees would be cut and gifted to the couple in form of wardrobes of cupboards or chairs or tables. The best part is how fireproof they are. I really got fascinated with them after that. They were a huge basis for The Foundry when I started.’
It made sense why he supported so many farmers who specialized in woodwork.
“So this proposal,” I said when we rode towards a horde of horses slurping from a watering hole, “it’s supposed to merge many of the locals under one subsidiary; yours. Why?”
“Because I saw how strong a unified front would be for farmers and ranchers on the land. I know how lonely it can be and how one good or bad year can make or break you.”
His fire for his work, my God. It was infectious. I could feel him blazing. I could feel Macy tense up too, but didn’t realize why. We did not catch it in time. The horses and bulls had a tiff, and two men on horses rode in to try and quell the rush.
They did not catch it in time.
Macy had kicked her front legs high up, and I slid down her back to the ground, hard. My body crashed on the hard green grass and the soil from her heavy plodding away blinded me temporarily.
I heard a lot of “Hiyah!” and “Heel!”
I pushed myself into the ground face first and covered my head with my hands, hoping to prevent the worst of any damage from rogue hooves. I cowered until I felt warm hands touch mine, and a voice so calming I had to open my eyes.
Caleb was on his knees beside me, and his hands were on my midriff. I forgot the pain.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
It was a first for me to see such a lack of composure on his face. His normally place expression was scrunched. He was worried. I licked my lips and told him yes. I think I stuttered.
His hands were on my ankles, along my thighs, and up my back. They were tough and hard, squeezing through my flesh.
I tried to pull away, suddenly nervous and confused, but he held fast.
“I’m checking for any damage, Miss Sawyer. Are you sure you are alright?”
“I am, Caleb. I’m alright.”
“I don’t know what got into Macy, normally she doesn’t spook that easily. But the foremen have handled the rest of the herd,” he said without taking his eyes off of me.
Oh, how I wanted him then. “Is Macy ok?” I asked.
He nodded. “She took off back for the barn. She knows her way home, she’ll be all right. I really am sorry about that fall.”
“It’s fine, Caleb, really. I’m alright,” I repeated.
“You better come with me on my horse. It will be safer this way.”
Since I no longer had a horse and my back was a little achy from the fall, I could not disagree even if I wanted to. I definitely wasn’t up for the hike back. He helped me up first after wiping my knees down and checking my balance for me. He then hoisted himself up behind me. I smelled him. The sweat and tension and manly musk were back.
“Are you good? All set?” he asked. His arms sheltered my own as he took the reins.
“Never better,” I sighed.
He clicked his tongue and dug his heels into his horse’s side, and we rode.
It was about three minutes into the ride back when I noticed the bulging erection grinding against my ass. His breathing had heated up. His arms were sweaty and rubbing against my own. I could hear him behind my ear, and I could feel his hot gaze fixed over my shoulder against my bulging breasts, tightly held back by a red bra under my shirt.
His hands were so close to the aching juncture of my thighs. I leaned back into him and exhaled as the galloping sent pleasant vibrations humming through me. Slowly, carefully, I turned back to face him, and our lips collided.
I simply could not
resist for one minute more. His lips tasted fresh and minty, and the soft cologne and sweat mixed along his neck and cheek made me let go entirely. I lost myself in him, kissed passionately and did not let go. I was floating. I was soaring. I was riding and meshing lips with my boss. My clit throbbed and I let my pride go. Confidently, he grabbed one of my legs and hitched it over the horse’s back, sitting me sidesaddle and dragging me back on his lab, his arm looped tight around my waist.
My hands clasped his shirt and his own felt me up from the waist up. If I could scream I would, but I threw my tongue in and played with his. My toes stretched and clenched when his thick bulge rubbed me with delicious friction, and we ground against each other on horseback.
It was reckless and thrilling, in all the ways I’d imagined and then some.
He stopped an eternity later and got off the horse. Soundlessly he lowered me to the ground too. We settled under a tree and before he laid me in a pillow of soft grass, he took his shirt off, spread it down and pushed me on top of it. His hands were rough as they tore through my shirt and bra, and I felt naked without my jeans hugging, protecting my flesh.
His tongue dipped and he gripped my panties with his teeth, dragging them down and out of the way before delving into my folds with that talented mouth.
“Caleb,” I moaned.
He hummed into me. He pinched my nipples and squeezed my breasts. He sucked on my clit and lolled around it with the tip of his tongue.
I’ve touched myself, but I’ve never been touched by someone else before, let alone like this. His hands, his mouth, they were so skilled, I was falling.
While I wanted to drag out this delicious bliss and let it last forever, I could not stop my body from giving in. He was just a few strokes in when I exploded and clasped my thighs around his head. Just a few little strokes of his tongue, and I came apart, shattering into a thousand pieces and screaming his name.
I was helpless, pinned like a butterfly beneath him, and I wanted it more and more.
Chapter 9 - Harlee