by Kit Ehrman
Chapter 11
She closed the door and smiled. She had every right to. She'd set her trap, and I'd unwittingly walked right into it. Stupid.
Decision making time. I'd been half playing around with it for long enough. I hadn't totally pushed her away. Hadn't actually made up my mind one way or the other. Elsa took off her jacket and let it drop to the floor. It seemed to float in slow motion before landing in a disorganized heap on the dusty cement. I couldn't take my eyes off it. Didn't feel as if I were breathing properly, either. My legs felt wooden, my feet stuck to the floor.
I dragged my gaze upward, looked at her face, and figured I was about to make up my mind. Her eyes were dreamy-looking, compelling, holding me in a trance. She parted her lips with a hint of a smile. Nothing to do with friendship, however.
She reached up and unbuttoned her blouse, slowly, deliberately, one button at a time. Dragging it out, making me wait.
She wasn't wearing anything underneath, and she made sure I knew. Made sure I saw. I inhaled sharply. She walked over to where I stood, pressed her body against mine, and laced her fingers behind my neck. She stood on tip-toe and kissed me on the mouth. Her lips tasted of peppermint, and when I opened my mouth to tell her we shouldn't be doing this, she flicked her tongue between my teeth.
Well, to hell with it. I stepped backward, pulling her with me, until I bumped into the workbench. I reached around, dropped the hammer onto the plywood, and moved my hands over her breasts. It was cold in the room, and her nipples were hard.
She let go of my neck, slipped her blouse off her shoulders, and let it drop to the floor. I explored her breasts with my hands and eyes and thought for about the millionth time that women's bodies were just so damn fascinating.
Elsa moved her hands between us, and for a second I thought she was going to stop me, but I'd misjudged her. She undid my belt buckle and unzipped my jeans, and somewhere in the back of my mind, it registered that she'd done it with practiced ease. She smoothed her hand down my belly, eased her fingertips beneath the elastic, and slipped her hand into my shorts. When she wrapped her fingers around me, a shudder coursed through my body.
I grabbed her breast hard and moved my mouth over her throat. Her skin was soft and smooth and tasted slightly of salt.
She moaned.
The sound was a physical jolt to my senses, and I was afraid I would come then and there if I didn't do something. I pulled her hand away.
She rubbed against me. "What's the matter, Stevie-boy?" she whispered. "You too quick on the draw?"
"Shut up."
She giggled. "Or am I just too hot for you?"
I'd show her what hot was, damn her. With trembling fingers, I fumbled with the snap on her pants.
"Here, let me do that." She pushed my hands away. "It's been a long time, hasn't it, Stevie?"
"Don't call me that."
I watched her strip. She wriggled out of her tight britches faster than I thought possible. Nothing underneath them, either.
"Cute guy like you should be gettin' it all the time. You shy, Stevie-boy? Is that it?"
"Damn you." I grabbed her wrist, pulled her down on the floor, and straddled her, my hands on either side of her shoulders, her legs between my knees. She lay naked beneath me with a smirk on her face and a glint of challenge in her eyes, and for an instant I felt more like hitting her than fucking her.
"Come on, Steve, I was just playing around." She slid one leg out from between my legs, then the other, planted her feet alongside my knees, then reached down and touched herself. She moved her hips rhythmically and whispered, "Come on, Steve. You know you want it."
Damn right I did. I pushed myself upright, yanked off my jacket, and shoved my jeans down to my knees. I lowered myself and thrust into her, feeling the mind-blowing sensation as if for the first time. She moved with me aggressively, and I realized I needed to concentrate on something, anything, to make it last. I studied at her face.
She had closed her eyes. Her lips were parted, her breath coming faster. I watched as she arched her back and turned her head to the side, the movement causing light from an overhead fixture to flash across a horseshoe-shaped gold earring. I admired the line of her neck, the way it blended into the v-shaped depression at the base of her throat, the way her breasts looked, round and firm above a faint line of ribs, the nipples hard and pointy.
When I slid my tongue along her throat and bit her just below the ear, Elsa grabbed my butt. She wrapped her legs around me and tilted her pelvis upward, pulling me in deeper. I bit down harder. She laced her fingers in my hair and redirected my mouth to hers. I pushed my tongue into her mouth while our bodies moved in urgent, frantic rhythm.
The release was incredible, intense, explosive. I collapsed on top of her and tried to catch my breath. After a minute or two, she put her hands on my chest and rolled me off.
"Oh, my. You're still hard. Even after all that."
She slid on top of me and rubbed her crotch against me in a slow, rhythmic grind. I lay there and enjoyed watching her, and by the time she came, I wanted to start all over.
When she moved to get up, I grabbed her arm. "Ride me."
She looked from my face to my fingers holding her tight. "I only do it once, honey."
I didn't let go. "Before, you said you were just playing, not trying to jerk me around. . . . Prove it."
She didn't say anything. I let go of her wrist, and she stood up.
"Guess you're too tired," I said, and she turned to look at me. "Can't last more than one time."
For a minute she stood there motionless, staring at me, her eyes in shadow. Then she squatted over me, reached down, and grabbed my cock. My breath caught in my throat, and I tensed, wondering what in the hell she was going to do next.
"By the time I'm done with you, you won't be able to get off the damn floor." She began to stroke me, slowly at first, with an expert touch. Then she guided me into her.
Damn, the woman could ride more than horses. When she finished, I felt like I had been worked over. Felt like I couldn't lift my head off the floor.
She crouched next to me and touched the bridge of my nose. "How'd you get this bruise?"
"A fight at the party," I mumbled and didn't bother opening my eyes.
"Who with?"
"One of the guys from the hay delivery service we use. His driver. . . . He was drunk."
"Oh." She leaned over and kissed me on the lips. Her silky hair fell across my face. "Don't fall asleep on the floor."
I almost smiled. Opened my eyes instead. She stood and dressed, all the while looking down at me without expression. She had won, or maybe it was a tie. I couldn't tell.
Wordlessly, she walked over to the door and put her hand on the knob. She stood there for a second, then slowly turned to face me. "Stay away from him, Stevie. He's a dangerous man."
I propped myself up on my elbows. "What do you mean?"
"Honey, I know lots of things about lots of people, especially men. Just stay away from him." She turned and left, closing the door firmly behind her.
I stood and clumsily pulled up my jeans, tucked in my shirt, and looked around the room. I had been completely oblivious to my surroundings. Now, as I stood in the middle of the room, I could still smell her, smell myself. The musky odor of sex mixing with the sweet smell of molasses and grain additives. I could hear the horse moving around in the stall next door and, in the distance, a car engine turning over. I looked down and saw where our bodies had smudged the dusty floor. My clothes were covered with dirt.
I brushed off my jeans, switched off the light, and closed the door behind me. I flipped through my keys until I found the right one--a new key with bright yellow fluorescent tape. Dave's doing, no doubt. I slid the key into the lock and the tumbler snicked smoothly into the jamb.
Someone walked into the barn.
I looked over my shoulder. It was only Karen. I glanced at my watch. Almost ten o'clock. Lessons were over, the barns were closing down f
or the night, and I hadn't had a clue it was so late.
She looked at me as if she'd never seen me before, and I wondered if I'd forgotten to pull up my zipper or something. I glanced down. Nope. I hoped I didn't look as if I'd just been rolling around on the floor and suddenly felt transparent.
"What are you still doing here?" Karen asked. "I thought you'd left a long time ago."
"No, eh . . . just doing a few things."
She crossed her hands over he chest, and her eyebrows bunched together the way they do when she's pissed off about something, which is just about all the time. I felt my face getting hot.
"Would you check everything then . . . since you're still here?"
"Sure." It came out a whisper.
She gave me a sideways glance, then departed.