by Tess Oliver
Jericho’s motorcycle was parked in front of the house, but Gage’s truck was gone. Stupidly, I hadn’t even thought about the possibility that he wasn’t home. He’d said his next job had been delayed a few days and that he had some time off. The house looked quiet, and the dogs were nowhere in sight. I turned to go back the way I’d come when I noticed a cloud of dust kicking up down at the barn.
I headed in that direction. The path leading to the barn was lined by several fenced in fields. The massive black and white horse that belonged to his brother’s girlfriend stood amongst the short brown patches of grass. His giant head popped up from a pile of hay, and he stared at me as I walked down toward the barn.
There was a pen surrounded by metal pipes in front of the big barn. Both dogs were stretched out in front of the pen soaking up sunlight. Gage was on top of a nervous looking brown horse. His black cowboy hat pushed low over his head, his long dark hair curled up along the base of his neck and heavy beard stubble covered his chin and jaw. I was just ten feet from the pen, but he’d been concentrating so hard on the horse, which looked close to jumping out of its skin, he hadn’t noticed me walk up.
“Hey, cowboy,” I called.
He looked up abruptly. The horse startled at the sound of my voice and Gage’s reaction to it. It arched its back and instead of trotting smoothly around the corral, it was bouncing off all four legs as if the area was filled with hot coals. I held my breath as Gage popped up and down on the saddle, managing to hold on for three rough trips around the pen. Then the horse grew wise and pressed into the railing along the top, effectively prying off the pesky rider.
My hand flew to my mouth as Gage rolled over the top rail and fell hard onto the ground on the outside.
“Fuck,” he muttered as his tailbone smacked the hard dirt. His hat fell off from the impact.
I picked it up and dusted it off on my jeans.
He sat up with a groan. I handed the hat back to him. The horse, now rid of the weight on its back, snorted and trotted contently around the corral.
Gage pushed to his feet, brushed off his jeans and shoved the hat low on his head. He gazed at me from beneath the black brim.
I smiled sheepishly up at him. “Sorry.”
“That’s all right,” he answered. “It’s good practice for him…and me.” He leaned down and climbed back through the bars. He walked calmly up to the horse. “Easy, easy,” he said quietly. Then he pulled himself back into the saddle.
“You’re getting back on?” I asked.
He pulled the horse’s head around and walked back along the railing. “If I put him away after I fall off then all he remembers is that tossing a rider to the ground will get him a free ticket to his favorite place, his stall and more preferably his hay.”
“That makes sense. Just seems kind of scary.”
He trotted the horse around several more times. It snorted loudly and tossed its big head a few times. Then Gage stopped the animal in the center of the ring. The dust that had filled the air just seconds before had mostly cleared.
Gage climbed off and took hold of the reins. He adjusted his hat low over his eyes and led the horse to the gate.
“That gunslinger look suits you,” I said. “Although, I can’t imagine there are too many looks that don’t suit you.”
“Ballerina,” he suggested.
“All right. I stand corrected.”
He led the horse out of the gate, and I followed them to the barn. I glanced at him over the horse’s back. “I thought you might come see me last night.”
“Yeah? I thought about it but then since I’d acted like a damn cocksure rooster all evening, I figured it was better if I stayed away.”
We walked into the barn. The moist, semi-sweet smell of hay and pine shavings floated through the dark, cool atmosphere inside. A cat dropped down from the loft above and trotted, tail straight up, toward Gage. It rubbed its lithe body around his legs once and then an unexpected snort from the horse sent it skittering away.
Gage took off his hat and tossed it onto a hook. He tied the horse up in the center of the barn and began unbuckling things to take off the saddle.
“It was a different side of you,” I said, finally addressing his assessment of the previous night, “and there were shades of cocksure rooster…definitely.”
He lifted the saddle off the horse’s back and carried it to a rack several feet away. He returned to the horse. It was obvious he was having a hard time looking at me. I stepped closer as he pulled off the fleece-lined cloth still on its back.
“I guess that makes that saddle a little more comfortable,” I said, finding it hard to keep up the one-sided conversation.
“Can’t throw a saddle on without putting a saddle blanket down first.” The horse was wet with sweat and while the odor was pungent, it wasn’t altogether unpleasant. He walked back toward the saddle and put the blanket upside down on another rack.
“Where are Jericho and Seth?” I asked, grasping onto every morsel of small talk I could find.
“Not sure. They took off with the truck a few hours ago.”
I was either going to snap him out of this funk he seemed to be in, or I was going home brokenhearted.
“Gage,” I said abruptly enough that the horse’s ears perked up. He finally stopped his task and peered at me over the horse. There was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, completely out of character for the man. “For what it’s worth,” I said, “I didn’t mind any of it. I didn’t mind that you dragged me to the office, and well—” I smiled. “As you know, I definitely didn’t mind what you did in there. All I know is I left California stinging from the ultimate betrayal, and having you act so— so possessive and jealous—” His pale gaze made it hard to finish. “I didn’t mind. It was kind of nice, you know. It made me feel wanted. Something that I hadn’t felt for awhile, or at least not wanted for the right reasons.”
He rested an arm across the horse’s back and looked down at the ground. His broad shoulders stretched half the length of the animal. I couldn’t read his body language. It was never easy to know what the man was thinking. He lifted his face. “That guy in L.A. must have been out of his fucking mind. There’s no way to know you and not want you.”
My bottom lip trembled at his words. He returned to brushing the horse, something he seemed to do more out of self-preservation than to make certain the horse looked spiffy for the return to its pile of hay.
I was still absorbing the impact of his words. I wandered down the line of stalls, stopping to stroke the noses of the horses that looked up from their food. I glanced back at Gage. He was leaning down and picking up one of the horse’s legs to clean its hoof. His strong back strained at the fabric of his shirt as he struggled briefly to hold the stubborn horse’s leg. He lowered the hoof to the rubber mat that covered the cement floor.
I stopped and placed my hand on the wooden rung of the ladder that led up to a loft. “I guess this is one of those haylofts, like they have in the movies, where the two actors emerge with straw littering their hair and clothing.”
He looked my direction. “That’s what it is, all right.”
“I suppose you have climbed down that ladder a few times covered in straw.”
“Might have. At least when my grandfather was still around. Otherwise, my bed is more comfortable than a pile of straw. Straw tends to stick in places it shouldn’t.”
I laughed. “It can’t be all that bad. I have to say, a roll in the hay has always seemed like fun.” I stepped onto the ladder and remembered a bit too late that one hand was pretty useless. But I’d started this flirty little drama. “With the right hay roller, that is.” Using mostly my good hand and just the fingertips of the second, I climbed up halfway and hung my head down to look at him.
He was watching as I climbed up to the loft. I hoped he would follow, otherwise my little scene was going to be humiliating. I sat down in the straw and looked around. There were more than enough spiders, and I shuddered briefly
at whatever else might be lurking beneath the dank pile of straw. The romantic notion of a roll in the hay may have just taken a quick turn south. I could hear his heavy footsteps and the horse’s clippity clop below as Gage walked it back to its stall.
Before I could convince myself otherwise, I slid off my shoes and my jeans. I leaned my face over the edge of the loft and sent a waterfall of yellow straw down to the ground below. He slid shut the horse’s stall and then he stared up at me. He could only see the top half of my face.
“I seem to remember something about me having an ass that was just begging to be spanked.”
He walked directly beneath where I was peering over and gazed up at me. “Teasing like that is like playing with fire, Hollywood.”
I discretely slid off my panties and tossed them down to him. They fluttered down with another shower of straw. “Who said I was teasing?”
He snatched the panties out of midair and stared at them. Then his faced turned up to me. “I suggest you climb down from that rat hotel, and then we’ll see what happens to girls who throw their panties at me.”
I shot up to my knees. “Did you say rat hotel?”
“Why do you think the cat looked so satisfied after he jumped down from there?”
I grabbed hold of my jeans. “Toss me my panties, so I can get dressed.
He considered the lacy green panties in his hand and then his long, thick fingers closed around them. “Nope. You’ll just have to climb down as you are. And you should probably hurry. The cat’s been gone long enough that the rats will be coming out of hiding.”
I shrieked and hurried to the ladder. This had most assuredly cleared me of the notion that haylofts were romantic. Already handicapped by my hurt hand, I had no choice but to toss the jeans and shoes down first. I could almost visualize pink noses and beady black eyes amongst the yellow straw. I began the climb down. Descending was considerably harder than ascending, particularly with bare feet. I was concentrating so hard on placing my feet correctly and trying to hold on with my bad hand that I hadn’t even considered what this all looked like from below. But as I looked back from halfway to see how much farther I needed to go, I noticed that Gage was standing directly below the ladder staring up.
I stopped and stared incredulously down at him. “You bastard, you had this all planned out in that dirty mind of yours. I’ll bet there aren’t even any rats up there.”
A grin tipped his mouth. “Oh, there are plenty of rats, but I can tell you, I will never look at this ladder the same. Now get that amazing ass of yours down here before I climb up there and pull you down myself.”
I reached the ground and grabbed up my jeans and shoes. I searched around for a place to sit down and put them on.
“Don’t bother to get dressed.”
“I’m not walking across the yard half-naked.”
Without warning, he swept me up into his arms. “Who said anything about walking?”
I held tightly to my jeans and shoes. Before I could open my mouth to protest he carried me out of the shelter of the barn and into the broad daylight. Fortunately, the only other living creatures were the big black horse and some birds.
“My butt is cold, among other things. If your brother and friend drive up then I will never be able to show my face in public again.”
He wasn’t hearing any of my complaints. He carried me as if he was carrying a pillow, and his long strides didn’t slow as he reached the slight incline that led to the house. He flew up the steps.
“Turn the knob,” he said.
“Huh?”
“The door, Hollywood. My arms are full.”
I reached down from my strong arm perch and turned the doorknob. It clicked and his boot kicked the front door open. He used the same boot to shut it behind us. Then without stopping or putting me down, he carried me to his bedroom.
After carrying me all that way, he plunked me down rather unceremoniously feet first in his room. “I’m going to rinse off,” he said and headed to his bathroom. He looked back at me and made a point of looking down at my naked bottom half. “Get comfortable,” he commanded, “and by comfortable, I mean completely naked.” He disappeared into the bathroom. I stood there slightly dumbfounded, clutching my jeans and shoes and wearing only a sweater and bra.
The shower water turned on. The man was definitely on edge still, almost as if he was fighting with himself over this whole thing. I tried to convince myself that he had enough feelings for me that it scared him some. From everything I’d gleaned so far, those feelings didn’t come easy to Gage Barringer. Unfortunately, the more likely and much more bleak scenario was that he was shutting down his emotions to assure himself that this was purely physical. Then I wondered— was that what it was for me? I had, after all, been having a stream of erotic daydreams, and he was the leading man each time. I had a good excuse though. I’d had very few sexual partners, and being with Gage was like being in a woman’s fantasy world of multiple orgasms and extreme physical pleasure. It was something I could get used to but also an experience I would sorely miss once he’d tired of me.
And with that depressing thought, I decided I should take full advantage while the proverbial iron was hot…and hard…and exceptionally big. As instructed, I stripped completely naked. The room was chilly, but I found that I was slowly getting used to the brisk temperatures.
I wandered around his room. It was the first time I’d been in it. It was furnished sparsely and masculine, as expected. His large bed was unmade and the sheets and blanket were twisted into a long roll. A tall, carved post stood at each corner of the bed, and the wooden headboard and matching lone dresser looked as if they had been weathered by many years of use. Plaid curtains, also faded and worn by time, were drawn back from the small window.
I walked over to the dresser and picked up one of the wood carvings that sat on top. The carving was crude but it was easy to tell that it was a bear standing on a tree stump. It had obviously been done by hand with a knife. There were three other carvings, each one of a different forest animal, each one painstakingly carved by hand. I hadn’t heard the water turnoff.
“My grandfather taught me to carve.”
I spun around and hadn’t braced for the impact of seeing him with just a towel wrapped loosely around his waist. Water dripped off the ends of his long hair and continued in tiny streams over the hard muscles of his chest. It took me a second to find my tongue.
“They’re really good,” I said.
A light laugh rolled from his mouth, and I was glad to hear it. He lifted his enormous arm and smoothed back his wet hair. It seemed every muscle in his body rippled as he moved. A surge of heat rushed through me, even in the cool air of the room.
“My grandfather worked hard to keep me occupied. It kept me out of trouble.”
I walked toward him. A small bead of water clung to the hollow at the base of his throat, and I reached up with my thumb and wiped it away. His chest relaxed as if he’d been holding his breath.
“So, why were you such a troublemaker?” I asked.
“Don’t know. I guess I just had a hard time controlling my temper.”
“Why, I can’t believe that.” I smiled up at him.
“My dad was a cop and he could be really strict. Especially with me. He said he just always expected more from me because I was the oldest. But I struggled in school, and the disappointment showed in his face. I got frustrated and started acting out in class and everywhere else, for that matter.”
“Where does your dad live?”
“He died of a heart attack a few years back.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. But I’ll bet he’d be proud of the man you turned out to be.”
He peered down at me. I leaned forward and kissed his neck and chest and he let me. He didn’t reach up to grab me or take control of things. For a change he let me do the exploring, and I was going to take advantage of my newfound power. The muscles in his shoulders and arms tightened as I ran my fingers over hi
s skin. I stepped behind him. I floated a trail of kisses along the still moist skin of his back from shoulder to shoulder, and as I did, I loosened the towel around his waist. It dropped to his feet, and I reached down with my one free hand and smoothed my palm over his rock hard ass.
“You, sir, could have been carved by Michelangelo and propped up in an Italian art museum.” I walked around to face him. His blue eyes looked glazed and dark. The sight of his erect cock stole my breath.
He saw where my gaze had landed. “I’m not sure what kind of art museum you’re referring to but—”
I smiled up at him and then dropped down to my knees in front of him. I gripped the thick base and flicked my tongue over the moist tip of his cock. He groaned as I opened my lips wide and took him into my mouth. He tangled his fingers in my hair as I moved my tongue and mouth along the impossibly long shaft. The sensual feel of his incredible erection in my mouth made my pussy pulse with moisture. His fingers tightened in my hair, and he held me against him. My tongue danced teasing trails along the tight skin of his cock. His leg muscles tightened as he pushed his hips toward me.
“Stop,” he grunted in tense frustration. I drew my mouth away. He reached down and lifted me to my feet. His lids were heavy with desire and his chest heaved with each rapid breath.
“Was I doing something wrong?” I asked, hiding my profound disappointment.
He combed back some of the dry strands of hair. “Just the opposite, sweetheart.” He leaned down and kissed me, drawing his tongue seductively over my bottom lip. “Even I have limits on control, and those luscious lips of yours are way past the boundary.” His gaze dropped to my mouth and then he looked at me. “Way the fuck past it. I’m going to be reliving those last few minutes over and over.” He kissed me again. “I want to stay hard until I’m buried deep inside of you.” His erotic words made my legs weak as noodles, and he seemed to sense the instant effect they’d had on me.