by Jade West
I smiled, took a fistful of Katie’s hair.
“Loudspeaker,” he said. “I want to hear everything.”
I put him on speaker and dropped it in the IN tray, and Katie let out a little squeal as I pulled her from my cock and onto her feet.
I hitched up her skirt, and pushed her back against her workstation, toppling her onto the desk as I dropped to my knees.
I pressed my mouth to her sweet cunt and she was wet. Her knickers were soaked through. I pulled them down slowly and she moaned for me, moaned for Rick.
And then I licked her, long strokes of my tongue until she was bucking. Until her clit was a hard little bullet, and she was spread wide open. I sucked her between my lips and grunted my approval, and her pussy ate up my fingers as I pushed them inside. Three, straight to the knuckle, and she squirmed and begged for more.
I could hear her sweet little murmurs, and I could hear Rick’s breath through the speaker.
My cock pulsed, and I wanted in, all the way in.
I sucked and grunted and ploughed her wet little pussy with my fingers until her drink-relaxed limbs tightened up for me, until her hands were in my hair and she was crying out, begging for more.
Until Rick was grunting, too, his breath ragged.
“Make her come,” Rick groaned. “Make her come, then fuck her, Carl. I want to hear you fuck her.”
I curled my fingers, and she grabbed my wrist. “Fuck,” she hissed. “Right there.”
She wouldn’t let go, guiding my hand as my fingers worked her from inside. She tipped her head back and arched her spine, and her cunt made such lovely wet noises.
“Come for me,” I said. “Rick wants to hear.”
“Yes…” she rasped. “Oh fuck…”
I picked up pace, and circled her clit with my tongue, and the girl was delirious, all limbs and gasping breath, her leg resting over my shoulder, her heel digging into my back.
She came like a banshee, and it was beautiful. She came loud enough that she drowned out Rick on the loudspeaker, and the world was only Katie and her gorgeous wet slit in my face.
And then I fucked her. I flipped her onto her front and I fucked her before she’d even caught her breath.
She grunted and groaned as I slammed my way inside, and I was grunting, too, and my phone was dancing around the IN tray.
“Fuck me,” she hissed, gripping on to the edge of the desk. “Fuck me hard, Carl. I want it fucking hard.”
“My fucking pleasure.”
I took her hair and twisted it in a braid, then wrapped it around my hand and pulled, enough to tip her head back.
“Tell Rick how it feels.”
She let out a little whimper.
“Tell Rick how it feels,” I repeated, and licked up her face, angled my breath to her ear.
“It feels… deep…” she said. “Oh, fuck, it feels… hard, so hard… it aches… it aches so fucking good…”
“Fuck her.” Rick’s voice was raspy.
My flesh slapped against Katie’s, her body shunting into the desk with every thrust.
“Fuck her, Carl. Fuck that sweet little cunt.”
I changed angle and she cried out, but she was wriggling, bucking her hips right back at me.
“I’m about to shoot my fucking load,” I growled, and she moaned for me.
“Fuck her, Carl,” Rick repeated, and I could hear the edge in his voice, his own ragged breath.
“Shit…” I growled. “Oh, fuck…”
I came hard, pulling Katie’s hair tighter than I should have, but she didn’t care, didn’t even let out a squeak.
I slammed balls deep and pumped my load right the way inside her, as she tightened and bucked and milked me fucking dry.
I rested my forehead on her shoulder, and she leaned back at me, kissed my temple.
“You still there?” Rick asked, “I just jizzed all over my desk.” He laughed. “Fuck, guys, that was fucking something.” He paused. “Told you that was a good idea, Carl.”
“Arrogance isn’t becoming, Rick. Nobody likes a smart arse.”
I pulled out of Katie and she moaned, giggled.
“You’d better be ready for round two,” I said. “We’re on our way home.”
“Just hurry the fuck up,” Rick said.
I used to think dreams were constant and unchanging, that they’d last a lifetime. Maybe some dreams do. Maybe others ebb and flow, dull and fade to be replaced by others. Maybe some dreams return from the ashes.
The dream of a father who loves you, for instance.
I took a breath, cherishing the moment, head collar in hand as I made my way across wood-chippings to fetch my furry boy. Our big day. The day we’d been training for. The day I’d been waiting for.
I tried not to let Jack’s words dampen my spirit, ignoring the sadness in my belly. I now knew with certainty my dream of this place was really over. I’d seen the letter, in black and white, the bank’s intention to repossess in twenty-eight days should a buyer not be found. The little girl in me cried out that I should take Carl’s generous offer and have this place as my own, but I’d never do that. I’d never swap my dream for one of his I may never be able to fulfil.
I called my boy, and he came running. I slipped on his collar and led him to the yard, and there were butterflies in my tummy to cancel out my hurt.
“Just us, Samson,” I said. “Our special time on our special day.”
I’d wanted to do this alone, determined to do it all under my own steam. My trailer was ready, all hitched up to the battered old brute, and his tack was soaped up and gleaming to perfection. I shampooed and brushed him down and braided his tail, fastened up his travel boots and loaded him up ready to go. He chomped on his hay, his ears pricked, and I bolted up the doors, taking just a moment to plant a kiss on his furry nose.
“I love you,” I said. I stroked his blaze and he butted me. It made me smile. “This is it, boy. Our big moment. It’ll be fun, I promise.”
He butted me again like he understood.
I took the drive slowly, but we still arrived with plenty of time to spare. I pulled up amongst all the other trailers, and there were riders everywhere in their fancy gear. I spotted Verity’s right at the end of the row, a huge gleaming lorry with the Faverley crest on the side. I caught a glimpse of Fleetwood Fancy — Verity’s prize mare — through the other horses warming up. Her mane was all braided, and she was in high spirits, restless as one of Verity’s minions walked her around. The prospect of beating her time seemed much more untenable here, a ridiculous pipe dream, but fuck it, we’d be going for it anyway.
I was unloading Samson when the guys arrived, and my mum was with them. She looked great — in a rich peach lipstick and a dark green summer dress, her hair bouncy and light. And so did, Carl and Rick.
In fact, they looked really fucking great.
“It’s not the races.” I laughed as I looked Carl up and down. His suit was impeccable, his hair too styled for a cross country course.
“Thought I’d make the effort. No law against looking smart, is there?”
I shook my head. “No, no law.”
“Only social conventions.” Rick elbowed him. “But we’ve never really taken much notice of those.”
“Thanks for coming,” I said, and kissed them both. I gave my mum a hug and she was quiet but smiling. “You’ve met, then?” I asked, and she nodded.
“Carl and Rick kindly picked me up this morning, so I can have a glass of bubbly when you come in first.”
I laughed, gestured across the field to Verity’s camp. “I doubt we’re up to that, but we’ll give it our best.”
“You can do anything,” Carl said. “Just give it your all.”
“Go Sammy!” Rick said, and gave Samson a hearty pat. But he was more interested in mints than encouragement. He dug his nose straight into Rick’s trouser pocket, and left a smear of horsey drool. “Cheers for that, boy.”
He wiped it down, tried to hide it wi
th his shirt, but it made me laugh. “Teach me for dressing up,” he said.
“Teach you for bribing the horse with treats,” Carl said. He took a step forward and Samson didn’t flinch. “The beast likes me for me, Richard, not for cheap mints. We have a mutual respect.”
I rolled my eyes at my mum. “Horse rivalry.”
She didn’t say a word, but her eyes were happy. Maybe she liked them.
Maybe she even approved.
I could hope.
Verity was up in the listings early. I kept my distance as she took her position at the start of the course, nervous as I saw the Faverley posse out in force to see her off. My dad looked smart, almost as smart as Carl, and Olivia had a stupid purple hat on. Seb and Dommie were in slacks and jumpers, their hair all posh-boy ruffled. I made sure they couldn’t see me, ducking out of view as Verity’s name was announced over the tannoy.
Miss Verity Faverley riding Fleetwood Fancy.
Her brothers gave a cheer as she prepared to ride. The horse was already warmed up, she was raring to go, dancing on the spot, her head up high in Verity’s face.
They didn’t know each other, not really. Verity looked slightly awkward, her shoulders way more tense than they should have been.
A sliver of hope warmed me. Maybe, just maybe.
They took off like a rocket, the mare charging at a gallop right from the start. I held my breath as she took her first jump, a simple brush fence, and they cleared it easily. The horse had a beautiful pace, and a beautiful jump. She landed with ease and motored along and my heart dropped a little. I pushed it aside.
Rick wrapped an arm around my shoulder. “How you feeling, pretty lady?”
I squeezed his waist. “Excited. Nervous.”
Carl appeared at my side, kissed my hair. “You’ll be great.”
I stood happily between them, pulled them both close, and Mum looked curiously, but didn’t comment.
“There’s David,” Carl said, and he held up a hand before I could stop him.
My father approached, with his proper family in tow, and my stomach tightened. Olivia and my mum faced off, and you could have cut the air with a knife.
“All set?” my dad asked regardless, and I nodded.
“I hope so.”
Olivia looked twitchy, she took his arm. “We should get going, darling. We can catch Verity at the water jumps if we’re not tardy.”
Urgh.
Seb and Dommie looked at me, and looked at Carl and Rick. They didn’t say a word.
“You could go ahead,” my father said to his wife. “I could catch you up.”
She looked like he’d slapped her, and the shock hit me, right in the belly.
“But we should go together…” she said.
“I’ll stay with Katie awhile. I’d like to meet Samson.”
“But David,” she hissed. “Verity is riding.”
I smiled at my father. “Go,” I said. “See Verity. I’ll introduce you to Samson later, after we’ve ridden.”
“I can stay…” he said, but I shook my head.
“It’s cool, I’ll see you in a bit.”
“If you’re sure.”
“Very,” I took hold of Rick and Carl’s hands. “I have chaperones.”
He grunted, but smiled. “So I see.” He patted Rick’s arm. “Good to see you, Rick.” He shot Carl a grin. “As for you, I see too much of you already.” He slapped Carl on the back as he left, and Carl was smiling.
“I think that went well,” he whispered.
“Hope so,” I said.
And maybe it did. Even Mum didn’t look too bothered. She was more interested in the riders coming onto the final straight than she was in my father.
Maybe, just maybe, things would work themselves out after all.
I was nervous as our time slot arrived. I fastened myself into my body protector and tied my numbered bib, put on my helmet and mounted up for the warm up. I worked Samson through his paces, walk then trot, loosening him up in a slow canter, and slowing him back down again. Carl, Rick and Mum looked on, and I tried to appear more confident than I really was. We’d done a few courses before, Samson and I, but nothing quite like this. Not competing.
Verity’s time came in. It was good, but not great, not really.
Just shy of twelve minutes.
My spirits soared.
I waved to the guys and Mum as I took up position at the start, and the officials counted down from ten and we were off. Samson opened out into a gallop, ears pricked forward as we charged towards the first fence. We cleared it easily and the spectators let up a cheer which made my heart sing. I gave him a pat and tried to relax, keeping his pace fast but steady as we headed for the first of the water jumps.
He didn’t falter, jumping right through and galloping up and over the bank the other side. He took a solid looking triple and his pace was perfect, and he gave his all on the straight as we made our way to a coffin jump. He cleared it big, but it didn’t matter, straight into another gallop and I was loving it. We were both loving it.
I felt the thrum of my body, my concentration on my posture, on the hands that guided Samson, and we were as one. I moved with him, felt the thump of his hooves on the ground, and this was everything, everything I wanted.
Halfway through the course and I realised we were in with a shot, maybe not of coming top, but certainly of beating Verity’s time. I’d heard she’d had an awkward jump, a ditch right at the end of the course, and she’d gone in wrong, almost sending her mare tumbling, only to recover with just a lagging pace to stumble over the finish line.
We could take her.
As long as we kept it up.
I encouraged Samson on, through water and over a wide table jump, over a fallen tree fence and over another bank, and he was doing so well, so fucking well. The spectators were cheering and the commentators were saying good things, and I was smiling. Really smiling.
My heart started thumping as we came to the final third, and my adrenaline picked up. I knew our time was good, I just knew it. A quick glance at my watch told me we were in the game to beat Verity’s time, but it would be close. Her mare was faster than we were, more skilled, but we were doing it, a solid effort, giving it our all.
I urged Samson on, and he did me proud, even though I felt he was tiring. I pushed him over the final straits, and he put his heart into it, tearing along to the final hurdles. The biggest fence of the course and he jumped it with ease, landing a little hard but he recovered well, back into another solid gallop. His ears were still forward and his heart was still all in it, and so was mine.
I dared to dream, dared to hope, my heart bursting with pride as we curved on round to the final section.
I knew Rick and Carl would be waiting there at the final jump, Mum, and my dad, and probably even Verity, too.
It would be our moment. Our moment of victory.
Please let us win, just let us win.
Samson saw the jump coming and I saw Rick and Carl, Mum and my dad, too. I tried not to look at them, zoning out of the gathered crowd and focusing back on the fence. The drop was quite big, and Samson wouldn’t see it, I angled him into position, but our time would be close, so I gave him a squeeze encouraged him onwards, and I was so happy, knowing how solid we looked, how in sync we were.
This would be our victory, our sweetest moment.
I tried to be smart, aiming for the far edge to give us a couple of paces advantage on the final stretch. I tried to look our best, tried to show off, tried to prove how great we were, how perfect we were, how great my Samson was.
And I took it wrong.
I made a mistake.
I gave Samson mixed signals, and he turned awkwardly, taking the fence mid-way. He was off balance when he took off, and I was, too. I couldn’t adjust my position quickly enough to compensate, couldn’t guide him for the drop, and in my hesitation he’d lost some height.
A moment of horror as I realised the inevitable, my breath leaving m
e as I felt Samson’s rear hooves clip the top rail. I didn’t loose the reins quickly enough, and I was too far forward in my saddle. He hit the ground heavily on his front legs, and I couldn’t sit back to rebalance him.
We toppled, and I felt it in slow motion. Felt him lurching forward and taking me with him.
His front legs went from under him, his unbalanced rear end crashing forwards to send us both tumbling, and the bank was unyielding, unforgiving.
I heard a gasp from the crowd, and my own heart in my ears.
The whistle of the wind.
A weird stillness.
And then a thump as we landed, a terrible sound as we skidded. And pain. In my leg. Pain as his weight rolled onto me, and pinned me.
My head bashed into the ground, and the world felt far away, my vision blurred.
And everything hurt.
People and screams, and Samson’s breath.
And then it all faded away.
That horrible moment when time stands still. When you see the inevitable, the horror unfolding right in front of you, but you are powerless to do shit about it.
I couldn’t tell you the moment my breath caught in my throat, when that instinctual sense of dread enveloped me and chilled me to the bone. Their jump just didn’t look right, didn’t feel right, and had me pushing through to the barrier before they’d even fallen, helpless and petrified as our beautiful girl went tumbling.
Samson’s legs went from under him, and he went forward, and Jesus, they landed so hard, both of them, and there was a scream, a horrible scream as she took his weight, a horrible thump as they landed and slid.
And then she was still. Our beautiful girl was still.
Samson writhed on the floor, and there was blood. His eyes were wild and frantic, his instincts raging as the officials rushed over.
And so did we. Rick and Debbie, and David, too. All four of us piling over the rope.
Katie’s eyes fluttered as she regained consciousness, her gaze flicking around before the horror came rushing back. Her face contorted with pain, her leg still stuck under Samson’s shoulder, and she was ashen, so ashen.
“My leg!” she screamed. “It hurts! It hurts so bad!”