Drilled: (Hard 'n Dirty Book 7)

by Ava Sinclair

  “Hey, Iris.”

  We stand like two awkward teenagers at a dance. The crickets are starting to add their song to the cicadas.

  She jams her hands into the pockets of her jeans. “It’s pretty out here.” She turns and looks at the house. I walk over to stand beside her.

  “Yeah, it is.” I nod at the homestead. “That’s my dream house right there.”

  “Yeah?” She shoots me a cute grin. “Needs a horse in the pasture. A couple of dogs.”

  “A family,” I say. “Kids. It looks lonely, sitting there all by itself.”

  I can feel her gaze on me, studying my profile. I turn to her. “But you aren’t here to talk about that house.”

  “No.” She reaches into the back pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper. I take it when she hands it to me, unfolding it. There’s just enough light to read by, and I feel my anger grow with each line.

  “Jesus fucking Christ.” I shoot her an apologetic look. “Sorry.”

  “No need to apologize. I had a similar reaction.”

  “This is what he’s going to tell people?”

  For a moment, she doesn’t answer. When she does, her voice is shaking. “No, Cal. This is what I’m going to tell people. Or what I’ve been ordered to tell people. My father is expecting me to call a press conference and tell everyone that Ray Miller’s carelessness and haste is what injured his men and landed him in a coma.”

  She begins to cry. “I can’t do it, Cal. My father so much as admitted he’s lying. He’s paid the other men off to back him up. Ray can’t defend himself.”

  I sigh. “Maybe he won’t have to.”

  She wipes her eyes. “What do you mean?”

  I tell her about the night at the bar, when Ray made the comment about the pressure he was under to get the well dug before the safety equipment was in place.

  “So you can tell someone?” she asks hopefully.

  “It’s not that simple, Iris. If everyone else is afraid to talk, it would be just one man’s word.” I look over at her. “That’s not my only concern, though. I’m worried for you, too. What’s it going to mean for you, going against your father if it comes down to it?”

  She wipes her hands across the back of her eyes. “My father is a cold man. He holds my future over my head. This is…” Her words trail off. I can tell she’s embarrassed. “This is my first real job. He’ll cut me off if I don’t do as he says. As awful as it is to admit, I’m scared. I’ve always relied on my daddy.”

  I reach out and gently turn her toward me. It’s almost dark, but a bright moon has risen enough that I can see her beautiful face. I take her chin in my hand. “Then you’ll have to find somebody else who will take care of you, protect you. Somebody who will never let you down.” I smile at her in the dying light. “I’ll be your daddy.”

  Does she think I’m joking? I’m not. She stirs something in me. I’d take care of her in a heartbeat if she asked. I’d give her the love and security Roger Tremaine never gave her.

  Her hand goes to mine, then moves down my arm, over my shoulder, to my waist. She hooks her fingers in my belt. Her other hand is on the buckle. “Cal…”

  She doesn’t have to say anything else. All I can think of is the tight little ass packed into those tight jeans, the sweet breasts under the white blouse. My hands move to cup her buttocks as my lips descend on hers. She molds her body to mine. My cock is so hard it’s almost painful. I have to have her. I pick her up and take her to my truck and sit her on the tailgate. She’s pulled my T-shirt from where it’s tucked in my blue jeans and her hands are underneath it, moving up my torso.

  Good god, she’s sweet. I pull her her to me. She moans against my mouth.

  “Fuck me,” she says when she pulls her head away. “Please, Cal. I know it’s wrong, but I need this. I need you. Please. The other night in your room was the only time I’ve been happy since I can remember.”

  I press my lips to her head. “You deserve better than the bed of a pickup truck.”

  She reaches up, taking my face in her hands. “No. It’s perfect. I’m so tired of people thinking I’m some kind of princess. I just want to be a normal girl. A bad girl.”

  She stands, unbuttoning her blouse.

  “Bad little girl,” I growl. “You’d better be careful what you ask for.” I pull my T-shirt off as she removes her blouse. She’s not wearing a bra tonight. The nipples crowning her upthrust breasts are rock hard despite the hot night air. “I won’t be gentle.”

  “I don’t want gentle.” She walks over to me, taking my hands and pulling them down to the waistband of her jeans. I want it hard. I want it to hurt. When I woke up after our night together, I was sore. I loved it. No man has ever fucked me so hard I felt it the next day. When it wore off, it was like losing the connection I had with you. Fuck me like that again. Use me.”

  I’m not about to make her ask me twice. She wants to be taken, used, claimed.

  I pull her to standing, then turn her around and push her over the bed of the truck, my hand moving beneath her to unfasten her jeans, reveling in her desperate little whimper as I jerk them down over the perfect globe of her ass.

  “Somebody forgot her panties.” I grab a handful of cheek, squeezing it possessively. “What kind of bad girl comes to meet a man in the middle of the night with no panties to cover her pussy? I bet you’re already wet, too. Are you, Iris? Are you wet?”

  Iris moans now, low in her throat—a sound of pleasured shame.

  “Such a naughty little girl. Didn’t anyone ever teach you to answer when someone asks you a question?” The next sound is the crack as my hand hits her ass. “Answer me, Iris. Are you wet?”

  She moans again. “Oh, yes…I’m so wet.”

  I stoop down, lowering her jeans where they’re bunched mid-thigh until they’re at her ankles.

  “Step out. Spread your legs. I want to see that pussy. I want to see that asshole.”

  She obey with a shamed hesitancy. I know no man has ever spoken to her like this. She whimpers in need, but I’m just beginning. I spread her ass cheeks, glad that the moon is so bright over the trees. The parted halves of her perfect bottom reveal the little crinkle of her anus. Below it, the swollen inner petals of her pussy are visible between the spread outer labia. I can see and smell the honeyed arousal glistening there. She’s the first woman I’ve ever been with who was shaved smooth like this. Her pussy is like a ripe, juicy peach. Sweet. And all mine.

  I move my finger to her clit, circling the hardened little nub and smacking her ass when she begins to squirm.

  “Hold still,” I tell her. “Tonight, you do what I say. Understand?”

  Her pussy pulses a gush of wetness over my fingers. Iris likes being told what to do. She likes letting go. She’s abandoning herself to me. I’m going to take care of her. I’m going to treat her real good. Iris is about to find out what happens to a dirty little princess.

  I slide my finger through her slit, coating my finger with her slickness. “Does that feel good, baby?”

  She pushes back against my hand, her body answering. I grab the back of her hair as I take my lubricated finger and rub it against her tight little asshole. She gasps in shock.

  “Cal…” She begins.

  “Hush,” I say.

  She hushes.

  “Have you been fucked here?”

  She whimpers.

  “Answer me. Has anyone else had you here?”

  “Almost….I had a boyfriend. He tried. I didn’t like it.”

  My cock strains against my pants as I realize I’m going to be the first one to come in Iris’s ass. She wants it raw and dirty and hard. I don’t know how to give it to a woman any other way. I love to bring out passion in my partner, and I’ve never felt the need to please a woman more than I feel it now.

  I’m pressing against her asshole with my finger, feeling the surrender of the tight ring of muscles as my finger slides in the first digit. I unzip my pants, freeing my cock, palming
it once, then twice before rubbing the head against her clit. She pushes back against me, her hot pussy hungry to be filled. As she does, my finger sinks in a little deeper, but I don’t put my cock in her pussy. Not yet.

  Tonight, my rich little princess who’s never had to ask for anything in her life is going to beg to come.

  My finger is halfway inside her asshole when I push my cock into the velvet heat of her tight pussy. It’s all I can do not to come from the feel of her body’s grip. I can feel the beginnings of her quivering passion.

  “Don’t you come, baby.”

  She looks back. “What?” In the moonlight, her expression is desperate, stricken.

  “Tonight, you don’t come until I tell you to. Understand?”

  She moans, this time from frustration. Iris is passionate. On our first night together, she came hard and easily, grinding her sweet little pussy on my face as I ate her, then pulsing on my cock over and over as I fucked her face to face.

  Tonight she’s going to come harder than she did then, because I’m going to push her to the edge before I let her climax. I stare down at the beautiful sight of my cock sliding in and out of her body, the length of it shiny with her slickness.

  “Don’t you come,” I repeat, pushing into her. My finger is completely imbedded in her ass now and I stop my thrusting as I shove myself balls-deep into her willing body. I can feel her trying to hold back, gasping with the strain of keeping the little ripples in her pussy from becoming full-blown rushes of pleasure that would milk my cock of its seed.

  “That’s a good girl,” I say, sliding my free hand between her legs to pinch her clit. I lower my body to hers, pressing her into the bed of the truck.

  “Come for me, Iris.”

  She orgasms with a scream, the sound of it unsettling a flock of birds roosting in the branches overhead. I feel her sheath rhythmically clenching my cock. I’m moaning as the waves of pleasure wash over me. I can feel the vibration rippling through the thin fleshy wall between the channels of her pussy and her ass, flexing against the finger still lodged inside of her. I want to come, too, but I don’t. Not yet. Instead I withdraw my cock from her pussy as I withdraw my finger from her ass. I’m pulsing with the need to release. It’s all I can do not to shoot my load onto her back. But I force myself to wait as I press the head of my cock against the tight rosebud of her ass.

  “I’m going to be your first, baby.”

  I dip two fingers into her pussy, lubing my cock with her arousal. There’s so much. I’ve never been with a woman who’s gotten so wet. I love it.

  “Are you ready to take my cock, beautiful? I’m going to take this virginity. I’m going to be your first. I’m going to mark this ass as my own, and you’re going to take it, understand?”

  “Oh, god…” She sounds scared, but pushes her body back against me just the same. She’s afraid, but she wants it. She wants it more than she fears it. She whimpers as the tip of my cock presses and presses, finally breaching her defenses. I take it slow, lubricating my shaft as I go, feeling like I’m going to explode as I watch my cock disappear into her ass little by little.

  “Ooooo….” Her moans of pleasure pain alternate with sweet whimpers of submission as she pushes back, encouraging me to keep moving when I stop. She wants to take all of me. She wants me to mark her. I feel my cock pulse as my balls tighten. I’m so damn close to coming.

  She’s a little thing. I have to take it slow, but we have all night here on this deserted country side road. I edge myself in by slow increments, touching her pussy, squeezing her ass, reminding her that this is my claim, that she is mine. She’s emitting more moans than whimpers now, pressing back as I edge forward until she manages to accept my entire cock.

  When I’m fully seated, I still myself, giving her a chance to adjust. She feels so damn good. I can barely stand it. I grasp Iris’ ass, telling her I’m going to move. I take it slow, watching for any sign that it’s too much. I won’t stop unless she wants me to.

  I can tell by the hot little whimpers she makes that I’m stretching her with a sweet, stinging pain, but she isn’t pulling away, and when I reach down between her legs, she’s still pulsing arousal, and I can feel the quaking of her pussy even though I’m embedded in her ass. Iris is coming, and coming hard. I can’t hold back. I release with a cry that joins hers, feeling the ring of her ass squeeed tight around the base of my cock, the length nestled in the soft warmth of this virgin passage as I spill my seed where no man has touched her.

  Afterwards, I ease out of her slowly, raising her from where she’s bent over my truck. The blouse she still wears is dirty from the truck bed. I take it off, leaving her naked, and sit down, pulling her into my lap to cradle her against my chest like a little girl. I press my lips against the side of her head, feeling the pulse of her temple through the sweat-dampened hair.

  She leans into my chest, her fingers tracing the mounds of my chest muscle.

  “How can I be so happy and sad at the same time?” she asks.

  I don’t have an answer, so I just hug her.

  “I wish I could just stay here with you.” She looks up at me and smiles, her teeth straight and white in the moonlight. “I’m going to pretend I’m a farmer’s daughter.” She points to the house across the road. “I snuck out of my upstairs window to meet my handsome lover.”

  “I can do better than that.” I cup her breast in my hand. “We’re a married couple. The kids just fell asleep, and we snuck over here so I could make their mama scream without waking them up.”

  “Kind of early to be talking about kids, isn’t it?”

  I suddenly feel ridiculous, and fall quiet. Iris senses my discomfort and sits up, turning my face toward her.

  “Yeah,” I tease. “You’re right. If you were mine, kids would have to wait awhile.” I’d spend time treating you like my little girl before we had kids of our own. I’d cuddle you when you were good. I’d spank your ass when you were bad. I’d give you what you need, Iris. I’d give you what money can’t buy.”

  She snuggles closer to me. “I’ve been with men who took me out for months and never had any man talk to me like this.”

  I curl a strand of her hair around my finger. “Yeah, but I’m sure those men had other things to offer.”

  “They didn’t offer me anything like you have, Cal. You make me happy.” She sighs. “I just wish we could preserve this moment.”

  “So do I.”

  We bask in this joint fantasy, both of us looking at the abandoned homestead. I wish I could give her the life I just described. I wish I could give myself that life. But as reality seeps through the seams of this constructed dream, I know I can’t. I can’t even give her a house, at least not yet.

  “Did you grow up on a farm like this?” she asks, breaking into my thoughts.

  “No. I grew up in a little white house in Louisiana.”

  “What were your parents like?”

  “My mama was a good gentle woman. Beautiful. I mean, like a queen. She was French Creole. My father was a Mexican farmhand following seasonal work when he met Mama at a street fair. It was love at first sight. He charmed her off her feet. And they made me.” I sigh. “It didn’t last long. He was killed in a car crash before I was born. Didn’t even live long enough to give me his name. Mama never loved another.”

  “At least they loved each other,” she replies. “My father divorced my mother. He remarried the woman he was sleeping with, then repeated those steps again. He’s between wives right now. My mother never got over my dad, either, but she has all the money and Valium she needs to help her cope. I hardly ever see her.”

  “But your dad made you, so he did something right.” I give her a squeeze.

  “Yeah, he did…”She looks away, and I can tell she doesn’t want to say anything more.

  “It’s getting late, baby.” I look up at the moon rising in the sky. “We don’t want the farmer to catch us.” I tip her off my lap. “And I need to see if I can’t help yo
u with your work problem.”

  “How?” she asks.

  “Don’t you worry about it.” I turn Iris to me, wrapping my arms around her. I want to feel her against me one last time, and if I don’t send her home while I can, I’m going to end up taking her again. “I’ll call you on that fancy phone you gave me.”

  I get up from the truck, and we collect our clothes and dress. I walk Iris to her car, kissing her goodbye. Then I get in my car and leave once she’s on her way. I hope I can find who I’m looking for. Not all the men on Ray’s crew were working the day of the accident. I’m going to track down the one man I know wasn’t working, the one I’m hoping might talk to me.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Iris

  Am I being unfair to give Cal hope for a future together? I was honest when I told him no man has ever made me feel the way he does, and I’m not talking about the sex. Sitting cradled in his lap while he spun a vision of home and family made me yearn for a world I can’t have unless I give up mine.

  I know how controlling my father is. He’s holding my trust fund over my head, and the better part of me thinks I could walk away from it and be the ordinary woman I fancied I could be, one who sits on the front porch of a farmhouse watching her working class husband push their kids on the tire swing.

  But giving up my life is easier said than done; that pretty domestic vision would come with a price. There would be checkbooks to balance, bills to pay. I’d have to go from not looking at price tags to clipping coupons. My education would be no guarantee of a good income. Bachelor’s degrees in communication are a dime a dozen. I never thought about going to grad school. My trust fund made additional schooling something I could afford to do on my own timeline.

  If I’d have been a son, my father would have pushed me into business school so I could help him run the business. But he’s got a very archaic view of women and groomed me to be a spoiled little rich girl who’d stay out of sight and out of mind until she married some acceptable man.

  It’s silly to think of a life with Cal. I tell myself that as I drive back to the hotel, dogged by the guilt that given my situation, he’s is the equivalent of a recreational drug I’m doing over the summer. Cal gives me pleasure, an emotional high. But there’s no practical way it could work. My racist father would not just try to ruin my life, he’d try to ruin Cal’s, too.