by Renea Taylor
Squinting my eyes to help with the glare of the sun, I gazed apprehensively toward the oncoming vehicle.
The driver was in need of a haircut, the edges of his rich brown hair, resembling chocolate syrup in its coloring, fell around his shoulders, and was fluttering madly in the wind beneath the baseball cap he wore pulled low onto his forehead, concealing his features from my prying eyes, a cap that was nearly as beat up in its appearance as the old pickup he drove.
His arm, I saw, rested casually on the door of the truck, his fingers thrumming in beat with the song blaring out the open windows as the truck dipped and swayed its way down the long drive.
However, though anxiety flowered full bloom within me at seeing him again, the shovel I held clutched within my hand hit the ground as I hesitated for only a fraction of a second, then took off at a run toward the truck when it spewed to a stop before the barn.
Rounding the driver’s door as it was slung open, I barely allowed the boots of the man inside to hit the ground before I threw myself at him. A man who had raptly held my attention from the age of twelve, a man to whom I'd ran the gauntlet of emotions towards, from the shy hero-worshiping of an insecure pre-teen, into teenage infatuation that morphed over time into a rocky friendship, before finally changing into what now lay secretly within me…unspoken need.
With moisture filling my eyes, I snuggled tightly against Dante's chest, the top of my head barely reaching his chin as the words of apology stuttered forth, “I’m so…s…sorry….Dante...”
* * *
He was in the pits of hell, there was no other explanation Dante decided, for the intoxicating scent that was Kira surrounded him, swirled it's way through every particle of his being, eating at him from the inside out, creating an onslaught of desire that forcefully slammed its way through, and burnt a path all the way to his cock.
There, it set up camp, burning hot and hungry, making him swell to uncomfortable proportions beneath the denim of his jeans with a flame of want, in truth, an ache that seemed to have gotten out of hand over the last year, having grown into this raging inferno that was nearly consuming him.
Now, fighting for self-preservation, he quickly shoved Kira away, cursing long and expressively beneath his breath as his hand brushed across her breast, feeling the swell of the hardened, bra-less nipple against his palm.
He was angered at how fast that affected him, how fast everything about her had always, it seemed, affected him, forcing feelings and emotions that had changed as time passed.
Emotions that had become something beyond his power to control or understand. Feelings that had confused him five years ago when he'd first peered down into the saddest, yet the most defensive green eyes he'd ever seen, and feelings that maddened him now, for they'd grown into something else, something that was creating within him desires that swamped him with thoughts and wants he shouldn't…no, couldn't have towards her…ever. The want to be buried up to his balls inside her.
Over the years, Kira had changed right before his eyes. Changed from the awkward, gangling child, into what stood before him today, a hot, sultry, sexier than hell, beauty, whose features as a child had only hinted at what was to come, and fulfill that prophecy they had, for they'd become perfectly formed, emphasizing eyes so intensely green they appeared like Emeralds within the rich, honey kissed tone of her face.
A face that supported a small dainty nose above lips that curved in such a natural sexy pout they literally begged a man to plunder their sweetness, lips that were such a temptation, they tested Dante to his limit as her darkly tinted, long and lustrous hair fell in an even sweep down her back, and grazed the swell of an ass that he'd had more than one fantasy about.
Fantasies of biting its delectable round firmness, before he'd hungrily begin running his tongue up the smooth, silky arch of her lower back, as continuing to move upward, he'd stroke the sweet flavored flesh covering her spine and shoulders before, turning her to face him, he'd wrap himself within her long silky tresses as he pulled the torrid peak of a nipple within his mouth, feeling the pebbled hardness against his tongue as he licked and suckled its roundness.
With a low growl, he adjusted himself as his thoughts brought about their usual results, and though he ached for her like no other woman he'd ever known, there would be no fulfillment to his need, as the fantasies were all he would ever have, all he could ever have, for he could never take what he so desired.
However, in the wee hours of the morning, when he had no control over the internal wants of his own mind and body, he'd awaken drenched in sweat, his cock hard and throbbing, inflamed from dreams, dreams that were incredibly provocative, incredibly precise, dreams that left him aching with a need that scored him to his very soul, and more often than not, a belly coated in cum.
Weakend over the past month to a point he'd never been before where she was concerned, he'd fled temptation, only to find now upon his return, his desires had not lessened in the least, and needing to not only keep a physical distance from her, he now needed an emotional one as well, and allowing a scowl of distaste to spread across his features he barked, “Jesus Christ Kira, do you have to be so fucking clingy, you're always touching, hugging…hanging all over me…give me some room to breath dammit!”
There it was, the look he sought, the look of acute anguish that washed her face of color.
A look that confirmed his intentionally hurtful words of having done their purpose, at the same time, slamming the pain he saw reflected in her features against his own heart like a sledge hammer, nearly stealing the breath from his lungs.
Yet he needed to be certain, certain there was no wiggle room, and forced himself to snarl, “now if you’re quite done sniffling and sniveling, where the hell is Arreon?”
* * *
Dante's words lashed at my heart, and the blow to my midsection might as well have been from his fist, for the pain it caused was just as intense. Bringing about the knowledge that the apprehension of this past week had been well founded, for he was making it quite clear that he was not willing to forgive me, nor for that matter, he was silently stating, would he ever look upon me as friend, or sister again.
I felt a tearing sensation, a pain in the region of my heart.
A heart that stuttered and stopped beating before shuddering back to painfully throb within my chest at the realization that though a week had passed since we'd last seen each other, a week of anguish on my part, I was apparently the only one of us that had agonized over the separation, and I found myself growing angry, my cheeks tinting pink with the emotion as I hissed, “you want room…by God I'll give you all the goddamn room you can handle!”
Then followed the heated words with, “and to answer your question about Arreon…how the hell should I know…I’m not his fucking keeper!”
Temper now verging on blowing the top of my head off, I turned and stomped away, and with that, my day was set into a forward motion that, by the time the sun set in the western sky, it would find me filthy from my hair, to the bottom of my mud and manure encrusted boots, and feeling like the target of some evil prankster.
My first inkling of what the day would bring, after the cross words with Dante that was, should have come when I went to dump the wheelbarrow, and found the mulch pile exploding in my face.
However, as usual I was ever slow to learn, for what came after-wards was a chain of events that unfolded like the script from some insane cartoonist.
The compost pile was still smoldering and emitting tiny puffs of smoke as I gazed at it, wide eyed and filled with disbelief when I found myself whirling around with bits and pieces of straw, grass and manure flying off me like I was shedding an outer layer of flesh when I heard a low snort behind me.
Eyes narrowing, I glared at the figure of Dante as he let out a low whistle as he got his first good look at my face and the material that was making up the new facial I was supporting.
However, before I could guess his intentions he moved, scooping me into his arm
s and turning, he strode towards the water trough, as with nostrils flaring, he sneered, “holy hell you stink,” then relaxing his hold, he dropped me into the water trough.
I sputtered and gagged on the murky, bitter tasting water that filled my nose and mouth as my head went under, then my furious wail rent the air as I'd cleared the surface, and at the broad expanse of Dante’s departing back that met my water drenched eyes, I found myself slapping the water with my palms in anger.
Dante stumbled, then righted himself, as shoulders shaking with silent mirth, he disappeared around the corner of the barn. Suddenly the roar of his laughter rang about the farmyard, causing my face to grow hot with the flush of the red-hot fury that encompassed my whole frame.
Livid, I found myself counting to ten in an effort to calm the white-hot sparks of anger that shot throughout my system, and sprinkled the air around me like the discharges of a roman candle.
Slowly as I drew a breath, then another, I calmed the beast within me that wanted nothing more for the moment than to roast Dante, and at the same time, the air around me stopped sizzling.
Thirty minutes later found me scrubbed clean of the matter from the compost pile, as well nearly dry from the heat of the sun, and the smoldering fit of anger I continued to simmer within, for I was still yet unprepared to forgive Dante for his Neanderthal mentality, and standing before the tool shed, its ramshackle condition intimidating to say the least, I gazed at it in trepidation.
I’d had my doubts for a while now that it would withstand a good gust of wind, let alone bare anyone’s weight, and I now found myself to be in quiet a pickle because of my trepidation, for I'd done everything I possibly could to avoid having to enter into its interior over the last several weeks.
However, a large section of the corral fence was badly in need of repair, and the items necessary to make them, were inside the shed. Therefore, I was out of time, excuses, and options.
Shrugging, I tossed up a silent prayer and reached for the door. When it stood open, the interior loomed darkly before me, and I tried in vain to shake off the feeling of unease as I raised a foot to step in, only to find myself pausing again, an overwhelming desire to look upwards skirted its way across my mind, and finding myself unable to do anything else, I raised my eyes upward.
My attention was caught and held, and my mouth rounded in a silent O of horror, as I took a hasty step back from the small river of spiders that broke loose of the shack's eaves, flooding their way down its sides.
I stumbled backwards, tripping over my feet in my haste to get away from the deluge, and landed painfully on my rear end, hitting the ground with a thud. Then immediately found my head coming back up though with alarm, as I heard a loud snap, then a tortured creak and groan before, with a thunderous roar, the shack collapsed into a pile of rubble.
Coughing, I waved a hand in front of my face at the layer of dust that was accumulating thickly within the air, then gave a startled jerk as from behind me, I heard a voice hiss, “what the fuck did you do now!”
Wrenching around on my butt, I stared at Dante, who was angrily considering the pile of debris that littered the ground. He wore a heavy frown across his brow, and I felt my mouth sag open in flabbergasted disbelief as indignation flushed throughout my system at the fact he apparently seemed to be more concerned about the welfare of the tool shed, than that of my own.
Climbing to my feet, I balled my hand into a fist, and drawing my arm back, I let loose with a smooth yet powerful punch, burying my fist in his stomach, immediately letting out a smothered yelp, as a teeth clenching, bone aching throb shot through my fingers and up my hand.
With eyes slit from pain and ire, I blinked several times, trying to clear the shimmer of tears that had formed before glaring at Dante, who betrayed not even the slightest discomfort from my action, and instead wore a smirk across his condescending lips, while I, on the other hand, tentatively tested my fingers, wondering if I hadn't just broken the blasted things.
Hissing out a curse, and with tears still glistening, I turned and furiously marched away, superstitiously nursing my throbbing hand as I held it gently against my chest, and muttered every foul name I could think of to call Dante.
Slowly, as the tears that slipped past the natural damn of my eyes dried upon my cheeks, I made my way towards the hen house.
My wrath having been further fueled by the fact that, with everything that had gone wrong through out the morning, gathering the eggs had fallen by the wayside.
A few minutes later I’d managed to push aside my anger, and had begun clucking at the hens, as with my basket nearly full and my mood continuing to lighten, I smiled at the volley of clucking I was receiving in return.
Sliding my hand under another of the hens, I was circling my fingers around an egg when I found myself stilling, my stomach plummeting down around my toes at the overwhelming sense of dread that washed through me at the slight tingling throughout my body, a telling predecessor of trouble brewing, a type that I'd become entirely too familiar with.
I’d been through it too many times not to recognize the significance of the strong tingles, a warning sign of what was to come, and though I’d had a slight generation of my power at the water trough, I suspected this time was going to be a much more powerful exhibit.
Then, just as I'd feared, no sooner had I felt the signals, than a riot broke loose as hens began flying off their roost in a mass exodus, feathers and straw flying everywhere as they squawked in a mad litany of alarm.
Their bodies bounced off the walls and ceiling in their panic of the simmering wave that formed within the hen house, an orange, nebulous haze that shimmered just millimeters above my flesh, filling the air around me with heat and light, then just as suddenly as it appeared, it dissipated.
I found myself letting out a relieved breath, however uttered a disgusted one a few seconds later at the fact it was too late to save the egg that I'd held clutched within my palm, for it had crashed to the floor when I'd jerked my hands up to protect my face from the sharp claws of the hens, and now, hands still held up in protection, I watched in wide-eyed dismay through the cracks between my fingers as the basket, containing the dozen or more eggs I'd already collected, slid up my arm, then hit the natural curve of my inner elbow where, as if in slow motion, the basket tipped forward, the eggs within rolling towards the edge, then lay suspended for a matter of seconds, before continuing to commit mass suicide as they rolled out of the basket.
Their fragile white shells shattered upon contact with my hands, the bones of my nose, as well my cheeks, before spilling forth their liquefied contents, and placing upon the bearer of their demise, yet another facial, only this one of egg yolk and feathers.
A few seconds later, and swearing loudly, I swiped at the goo, praying that my day didn’t get any worse as I stomped towards the house, cursing the unusual ability I’d found myself shackled with for, when my emotions were heightened, the charge within me was at its most unpredictable.
I took several moments to wallow in self- pity within the house, and to clean the mess from my hair, face and clothing. Then drawing a deep breath, I returned to the barnyard.
I was apprehensive of what experience had taught me was still yet to come, only the when and where were in question, and as today was my day to empty the dozen or so sacks of cubes to the cattle, I climbed apprehensively into the ranch truck.
Cranking the old Ford over, I shoved it in gear and eased out on the clutch as I gave it a little gas, then tugging on the steering wheel, I turned the truck in the direction of the gates leading into the pastures.
I'd just executed the maneuver in a smooth flawless action, and was letting out the pent up breath I'd been holding, thinking so far so good, when to my utter horror the truck decided to come alive.
Bucking and jerking as if the engine had under gone a transformation to keep up with the likes of a race-car, it took off, seemingly possessed.
Stomping on the brakes, and practically stand
ing on the pedal with both feet, I shouted, “stop, stop dammit!”
However, my assault on the brake pedal failing, I found myself practically shoving the clutch through the floorboard as I hammered both feet against it instead, as grinding gears in the transmission, I tried in vain to shove the truck in reverse, hoping to stop its forward momentum as it raced towards the barn at an ominous speed.
When even that effort failed, I reached for the keys and jerked them into the off position, knowing that with no brakes, and no way to slow the blasted thing down, all I could do was sit in aggrieved guilt as it plowed it’s way through the garden, leaving behind a colorful trail of uprooted vegetables as it managed to raise the attention of all three of the brothers.
I almost laughed as I caught sight of the three of them as they came running from every direction, waving their arms and shouting as the truck left behind a whole kettle of destruction in its wake before it finally ended its journey with bumper resting against the side of the barn, having, unbelievably after its wild tangent, impacted the wooden slates of the barn wall with only the smallest of jars.
Instead, I climbed from the cab, slowly shutting the door behind me as I stood gazing around me at the destruction, then eyes swinging between the brothers, and voice suspiciously wobbly, as I was on the verge of tears, I quavered, “I…I’m going…in...anyone got a problem with it...go screw yourself,” then turning as the tears broke loose and flooded my cheeks, I ran towards the house, where I spent the rest of the day pouting.
Chapter 4
Two months had passed since the day the truck had lost its mind, as well had my birthday. Now, at what I thought of as the advanced age of eighteen, I believed myself to be a mature, sophisticated woman, needing no further guidance into adulthood, for I, in my own mind, had become that very thing, and with that thought circling within my head, I prepared for my evening out with my friends.