by Brooks, JB
Evelyn didn’t know what to say. Edna’s story certainly explained her loyalty to Mason.
“Thank you for telling me,” she said at last. “I guess I can understand why you want to help him.”
“Yeah, he’s a good man too. You’ll see.”
Edna left shortly after, taking the tray and all the dirty dishes and banging on the door to summon George.
“I’ll be back later with your lunch, sweetie.”
Evelyn flopped back on the bed. “Oh Edna, you were my last hope,” she murmured.
She’d have to resort to desperate measures.
Thirty-six hours ago she’d been happily involved in her studies and her job, and looking forward to her trip to Africa. Then she’d taken an ill-advised walk in the dark, and here she was.
All that mattered was escape. A feeling of terrible shame and self-recrimination had grown in her mind for hours. She had, in the end, been weak, given in to a mere physical impulse, and look where that had landed her. But she knew one thing for certain—if she could save herself, she’d regain her tattered self-respect. She might be confused about the sex, but the kidnapping was inexcusable. The desire to take back control of her own life was overwhelmingly desperate. She would do anything to make it happen.
She would make Mason believe she was in love with him. Only then could she convince him that she would never, ever, go to the police, because her hatred had changed to love, and only then would he let her go. It would not be an easy task—the man was no fool—but she thought she knew a way.
***
Mason arrived home just after three that afternoon. He wondered if Evelyn was listening for the crunch of gravel and the purring of the Range Rover’s engine. Would she be waiting to see him? Would she be angry after a day cooped up in her room?
George and Edna helped unload and stack the shopping on the kitchen counter within a few minutes, but he didn’t go directly to Evelyn’s room. It was another hot day. Nestled in the valley of the mighty Fitzroy River and surrounded by sweeping hills, Rockhampton sweltered in the relentless spring sunshine. He was sweaty and tired, and needed to clean up before engaging in the next round of verbal fencing with his unwilling guest.
He marched to the master suite, taking several shopping bags containing his personal items with him. He walked past his private study, through his theater room, into the cool shadows of his bedroom where he dropped the bags on the bed. Then he proceeded straight into the bathroom. Flipping on the shower tap, he shed his clothes into the laundry basket and stepped under the cold stream of water with a sigh of enjoyment.
He was impatient to get to Evelyn, so he made quick work of the shampooing and scrubbing down, but when he gripped his cock in his soapy fist, he paused. It was already firm and throbbing, and it occurred to him that if he jerked off now, he could save himself a lot of the discomfort that an evening with Evelyn was bound to cause.
He tightened his grip and began to pump his distended flesh, throwing his head back as the pleasure coursed through him. With his other hand, he cupped his balls, squeezing and tugging, while his fist worked his cock like a piston.
He imagined it was Evelyn’s hand on his heated length. Her hands were much smaller than his, and not nearly as strong. She wouldn’t squeeze him so hard. For a moment he loosened his hold, trying to imitate what he imagined her touch would feel like. He envisioned her slim fingers wrapped around him—not all the way, since she’d never be able to close her grip over his girth. But if she used two hands… He moaned, arching his back.
What thoughts would go through her mind when she grasped his full arousal, measured his length and width in her hands, in anticipation of him driving it into her body?
He could bear it no longer. Urgent heat built behind his cock, and with a guttural shout he came in mighty spasms that left him trembling and spent, sprawled against the cold tiles of the shower wall.
When the weakness faded from his legs, he finished his shower quickly and dressed in old frayed denim jeans and a gray t-shirt. His hair was beyond help, but he combed it away from his face as best he could. Damn, he should have gotten a haircut in Rockhampton—it was driving him crazy!
By four o’clock he was ready to go to Evelyn. She was sure to be furious with him for making her wait, but it was worth it. He felt like a new man after his shower, and was ready to deal with whatever drama she threw at him.
He knocked on her door and unlocked it when she called to him to come in. Opening the door wide, he was just in time to see her stand up from the bed and move into a long, full-body stretch. He stared, incredulous, at her. She wore the shortest pair of hot pants he’d ever had the pleasure of seeing on a woman. They were olive green and frayed around the legs, and she’d paired them with a skimpy pinkish vest. And damn him, she wasn’t wearing a bra either! The stretchy little vest was hugging and molding her big tits like a second skin. He couldn’t quite see her nipples, but nothing else was left to his imagination. And when she stretched her arms up, arching her back like a little cat, that vest lifted right away from the waistband of her shorts, and gave him an eyeful of her lean, silky stomach and belly button.
The problem that he thought he’d attended to in the shower throbbed resoundingly back to life.
“Hi, Evelyn.”
“Hello, Mason.” She sounded sleepy and a little husky. There was no way he could stay and have a conversation with her in the bedroom. With a bed. Right there.
“Would you like to walk up to the stables with me? I haven’t seen my horses since I got back.”
She looked surprised. “Okay. Let me put my shoes on.”
She bent over to tie up her trainers, this time with her back to him. He couldn’t peel his eyes off her ass. Those damn shorts rode up as she bent, and the lower curves of her ass cheeks peeped out. If she was wearing any panties, they had to be the tiniest of thongs.
“All done, let’s go.”
He led her through the house and out of the kitchen door. It was a beautiful afternoon, and soon there would be a spectacular sunset.
They walked side by side down the road. He wondered why he’d asked her to come with him to the stables, when he could have suggested a dozen other options. His time with his horses was sacred, and he treasured the moments that he spent alone in their peaceful and undemanding company.
“Do you know how to ride, Evelyn?”
“No. I’ve never even been on a horse. Well, maybe I have when I was a kid. You know, at fairs and things. But I can’t remember.”
“Would you like to learn?
“Yes, I really would!” She looked excited. “There are some adventure holidays I’ve been wanting to go on where you do the whole thing on horseback, but you have to be quite a good rider, and you have to know how to look after your own horse. It would be great to learn!”
“I’ll teach you then.”
“Thank you.”
They passed George and Edna’s place.
“Wow, I’d hardly call that a cottage! It’s definitely a house!” exclaimed Evelyn.
“Yeah. It has three bedrooms and two bathrooms,” said Mason, waving to George and Edna, who appeared on their veranda.
“Have you never been tempted to rent it out, make some money from it?”
“No. I could, but then what would become of Edna and George? Besides, I like my privacy. I wouldn’t want any strangers living so close to me.”
As they drew near to the stables, the road sloped downward, and a pastoral vista opened before them, of white-fenced paddocks spread out in neat blocks over the hills.
“Is that all yours?” asked Evelyn.
“Yes, all the way to that valley on the right.” She looked where he pointed. It was some distance away.
“How many horses do you have?”
“It varies. At the moment there are twenty-three, but five of those are foals that I have sold. They’ll be leaving for their new homes when they’re weaned.”
“Oh, look at that black one!
He’s like a horse from the movies, like warriors or warlocks ride! His feet are all furry!”
Mason smiled. The horse had seen them, and was running to greet them.
“Yes, he has feathers. And you’re thinking of Friesian horses. They’re the kind that you often see in movies.”
“Well, isn’t he one of those? He looks like one!”
“Yes and no,” said Mason, with a laugh. “Come, I’ll show you.”
He grabbed her hand and led her quickly past the stable building, down to the fence where the horse was waiting, snorting impatiently. When they got there, he let her hand go and reached up to pat the horse’s massive head, rubbing around the ears and scratching gently down the side of the heavily muscled neck.
“This is Dojo, my stallion.”
The horse showed his pleasure, nuzzling and rubbing his head against Mason’s shoulders and chest.
Evelyn hung back a little. “He’s really big.” She looked nervous.
“He’s seventeen hands, so yeah, he’s huge. But he’s got the sweetest nature… Haven’t you, boy?” He laughed as Dojo started to body search him for treats, pushing his nose against his pockets and snuffling while his prehensile upper lip probed the fabric. Mason turned him a little so that Evelyn could see the side facing away from them.
“You see that big light-colored patch on his hindquarter? That means he’s not a true Friesian. Friesians have to be completely black. No colors or markings other than maybe a small white star on the forehead. Something went wrong with poor Dojo here. The people who own the stud that he came from are friends of mine, so I know his history. His mother was a Friesian, and mated with another Friesian, both of them with perfect bloodlines, but he popped out with that big mark. It’s a mystery, but my friends think the mare might already have been pregnant. One of the neighbors’ horses might have jumped the fence and impregnated her without anyone knowing.”
“Would they do that?”
“Definitely! When a mare’s in heat, stallions will do anything to get to her. They go crazy. Anyway, they couldn’t sell Dojo, and in fact, he was really bad marketing for their stud, raising doubts about their bloodlines. So they wanted to get rid of him as quickly as possible. They were going to geld him and donate him to one of the local riding schools, but he wouldn’t have done well there. He’s not exactly a jumper, and most mothers wouldn’t want their little darlings put up on something this size anyway. So I took him.”
“And he’s lived happily ever after?”
“Yeah. I guess you could say he’s found his place in the world. He’s only eight years old, so he’s still quite a youngster.”
“Do you ride him?”
“Yeah. Not as often as I’d like to, but whenever I can. Come on, boy, let’s get you up to the stable. That’s where the carrots are.”
Dojo snorted and walked along the fence, stopping at the gate, which Mason opened. Then he stood aside as the horse walked past him and trotted briskly toward the stable. Evelyn laughed as they followed.
“Did he understand you?”
“Absolutely. He’ll do anything for carrots.”
The stable was empty except for Dojo, who walked into the last of the five stalls and stood waiting patiently.
“Why so few stables when you have so many horses?” asked Evelyn, looking around curiously.
Mason went into the tack room and came out with a handful of carrots.
“The horses live out in the paddocks. The climate here is so warm all year they don’t need stabling, and they’re much happier outside anyway. We just use the stables if a horse is sick or hurt, or if there’s some other reason that we want to keep one in. I’m leaving Dojo in here tonight, because I’m going to ride him very early tomorrow morning and it’ll be quicker to tack him up if he’s already here.”
As he spoke, he went into Dojo’s stall and started feeding him the carrots. “As you can see, this end stall is bigger than the others, so we always use it for Dojo. You can come in if you want to give him a carrot. It’s perfectly safe.”
She came in hesitantly, obviously nervous of the large animal. He passed her a carrot and moved back. Dojo swung his large head toward her, tracking the movement of the treat.
“Will he bite me?”
“Not unless you stick your fingers in his mouth. When the carrot’s long, hold it in your fist and let him bite it off. When it’s short, give it to him on your palm and keep your hand flat.”
She followed his instructions, and Dojo bit off half the carrot with a satisfying crunch. She offered him the rest on her palm.
“Ooh, he’s put spit all over my hand. But his lips are so soft.”
Mason laughed. “You can pat him. He likes you.”
She tentatively touched the big, blunt nose. Dojo’s nostrils flared as he smelled her hands.
“Here, give him the last carrot.”
She turned to take it from him, looking up at his face with shining eyes.
“He’s so cute! Can you call such a big thing cute? I think—”
But what she thought, Mason never discovered. Impatient for his treat, Dojo planted his great head between Evelyn’s shoulder blades and shoved her. With a startled shriek, she stumbled forward into Mason’s chest. He closed his arms around her, tossing the carrot to the floor, where Dojo instantly scooped it up.
Evelyn remained plastered against him, still looking up, her mouth open in surprise. As quick as a flash, he bent his head and covered her lips with his. One taste, just one quick taste, and he’d let her go. He shouldn’t, but god help him, he couldn’t deny himself this.
He plunged his tongue into her mouth and her flavor burst over his taste buds like electric sparks over a million nerve endings, almost bringing him to his knees from the force of the sensation. But instead of falling, his body jerked to attention when, after a moment of fraught hesitation, she flattened her tongue against his, pressing him to her palate, and sucked him in deeper.
His stunned brain realized that she wasn’t fighting, and his arousal roared to life along with his instinctive need for control. He eased a hand into her hair, pressing his fingers to her scalp, angling her head into a better position for his possession.
How much time would he have before she came to her senses and pushed him away? He was kissing her with uncharacteristic desperation and urgency, crushing her soft lips and ravaging the vulnerable interior of her luscious mouth. She moaned and moved her arms around his body to knead his back and grab handfuls of his t-shirt.
He fought for self-restraint and settled in to explore methodically, feeling, probing, tasting, learning her reactions to the different things he liked to do. She seemed to respond with the most pleasure when he slowly slid his tongue across hers, stroking sensuously. Her mouth softened under his, allowing him to shape their kiss, and when he pressed her, she opened wider to give him greater access. He surged in possessively, taking everything that she gave him, and demanding more.
He finally managed to catch her slick tongue and suck it into his mouth with a growl of satisfaction. He was so hungry for her! She tried to withdraw, but he tightened his hold on her scalp warningly, and she acquiesced with a breathless sigh and gave it over to him. Her warm hands crept under his t-shirt to explore his back, gentle fingers tracing his muscles then gripping convulsively as her excitement rose.
He kept his own hands firmly in check, focusing all his skill on the manipulation of her mouth. He was sure that she was enjoying the kiss, if indeed she was able to think about it at all—more likely, her attention was wholly captured by the onslaught of sensory pleasure. He didn’t consider that assumption overly arrogant, since it was based on his own reaction. Despite all his experience, and his normally ironclad self-control, he was almost undone.
Nevertheless, he slowly eased them out of the kiss, drawing back to nibble at her lips and lick the sweet corners of her mouth. It was not the time to push her for more, although his body protested painfully at the restraint that he forced
on it. There were too many unanswered questions, too many unresolved issues.
He lifted his head and watched her open heavy-lidded eyes.
“Why?” he whispered.
She moved back, out of his arms. “I… I need to go back to the house. I’d like to talk with you in the morning.”
“No, wait… Evelyn!”
But she was already gone, not running, but walking determinedly back along the road. He could chase after her and try to make her explain why she’d let him kiss her and what she wanted to talk about, but was there any point? He wanted to gain her trust and, ultimately, her forgiveness, so if she wanted to talk in the morning, he’d be there.
He looked at Dojo. The horse was dozing. One rear hoof was cocked, and his lower lip drooped, but he opened his eyes as Mason left his stall.
“I guess I should thank you, mate, but I honestly don’t know if we’ve made things better or worse.”
He followed Evelyn back home at a much slower pace, but he didn’t see her again that evening. Edna took dinner to her room on a tray and locked her in. Some time later he went to her door, but no light escaped through the cracks from the room beyond, and there were no sounds from inside. He stood in the hall for a few minutes then wandered to his own bed.
Chapter Five
The morning came too soon for Evelyn. She’d tossed and turned for hours before falling asleep, her mind racing and her body throbbing. The kiss in the stable had been an excellent start to her plan, but her reaction… God, there was no way she could have planned that. But then, he could kiss so well he should come with a warning label!
She dressed in another shorts-and-vest combination, ruefully folding away the legs of her light-brown hiking slacks, which she’d hacked off with her nail scissors to turn them into hot pants. They lay buried deep in her backpack, a tangible testament to her manipulativeness, on top of the olive-green remnants from the day before. She’d liked those shorts!