by Jade West
He was so fucking beautiful. That gorgeous fucking man with his cute smile and his messy hair and hungry eyes.
I lubed up my cock, and he eased himself down, exhaling one long breath as my cock filled him up.
And then he rode me, slowly. So fucking slowly it fried my fucking brain.
I watched him intently. Watched the rapture on his face as I worked his dick with my fingers. Watched the way his eyes glazed and his mouth dropped open.
And I felt it all, felt him.
“I love you,” I said, and his eyes snapped into focus.
“I fucking love you, Carl, so fucking much.”
We stared at each other, through each other, and there was so much unsaid.
The unspoken hung heavy, thick and deep. The need that never left, that never eased, that never relented.
“I love her,” he said. “She’s the one.” His voice was barely a whisper.
I nodded, and then I pulled him down onto me, his chest to mine, and I held his face and kissed him while my cock twitched deep inside.
“I love her, too,” I said.
Chapter Sixteen
Katie
I’m not enough of a dreamer that I could ignore the inevitable. I’d known when I took the sperm donor’s offer that my summer plans for Samson would be largely kicked to the kerb. It’s not that I didn’t care. I did care. We’d worked hard, Samson and me, months and months of training and trust to get his form up enough to compete in cross country events this season. He was in good condition, but with the reduction in hours at my disposal, my ambitions would have to drop a gear.
I was ok with that. We’d have another year. Samson wasn’t young, but he was still in his prime. We’d get our time, he and I, so I’d shoved my eventing timetable in my dressing table drawer back at home, and pushed it out of my mind.
Until Verity pinned up the Cheltenham Chase cross country leaflet on our team noticeboard that Friday.
She’d formed a little gaggle of horsey girls around the office, and there they’d stood in a thrumming little huddle before work kicked off, enthusing over who was competing and how they were going to smash it. I’d kept my distance, pretending to be busy on my phone while they gushed over their horse’s form and who was signing up and who had the edge. Verity was competing her latest acquisition, a 16.2HH warmblood competition mare called Fleetwood Fancy. Fancy was right, over fourteen grand’s worth of cold hard cash after negotiation by all accounts, but that was nothing for the Faverleys. Pocket change.
I should have let it go, I mean, who cares what stupid fancy horse Princess Verity is dicking about on for the summer? She’d be bored of the mare before the season was out, and I’d normally have let it go. Normally.
But right there, with my coffee in one hand and my phone in the other, watching those horsey bitches mouthing off about who’d be kicking whose ass around that course at the end of August, I found I cared quite a lot.
Fleetwood Fancy had form, but Verity wasn’t as dedicated as she liked to think she was. She was all about the image, not about the substance. She didn’t take the time for the foundation work, didn’t want to put in the hours of warm up and preparation. Why would she? She had people to do all that shit for her. As a result, she’d be riding a horse that was still new to her, and sure, that horse had the scope to carry her through almost anything, but she’d never hit peak, not in time.
And that gave me a shot. Not a big one, but enough to send a thrill up my spine.
I mean, we’d never win, Samson and I, not the whole event, but that didn’t matter, just so long as we beat that arrogant little cow. Just so long as we had a chance.
There was that cold scaly feeling in me again, and my heartrate picked up as I watched her. She thought she had it in the bag, that she’d hop up on Fleetwood Fancy and the mare would carry her to victory without even breaking a sweat. I doubt I’d even crossed her mind, not with my budget auction horse that she’d never have given a second glance. She had no idea how far we’d come, Samson and me, no idea that we’d hit that sweet spot where we worked as one, trusted each other, knew each other by heart.
She’d never had that. She’d never stuck with a horse for long enough.
I’d been keeping my money safe towards Jack’s rent, but I clicked onto Horseclub and checked out their cheapest horse trailers. There was one locally for just under a thousand. It would get me there. My rust bucket would tow it just fine, and sure, it wasn’t slick or special, but it would do the job. There was a niggle in me, a niggle that I should be saving and focused, not running away with some stupid quest of pride to get one up on Verity. Like kicking her ass in the office wasn’t going to be enough already.
But I never spent money, not on me, not really. And I’d never had a trailer before, not one of my own, and I’d use it, definitely, when I had the time again. It was an investment. A useful investment. A sensible investment, even.
So, I bought it.
PayPalled the cash without even viewing, and it felt good. It felt really fucking good.
And then I signed Samson and I up for the Cheltenham Chase.
It was becoming comfortable so easily with Rick and Carl. I’d fallen into a routine nothing short of heaven, travelling to the office and back with Carl every day, lunching at the bagel joint, then zipping over to Samson with Rick of an evening while Carl spent his hours on extra work shit. We’d eat and laugh, drink sometimes, then shower and fuck and suck and fuck some more until I fell asleep in my spot between two hot bodies in their kickass bed. My spot. Yeah, it was my spot. How fucking sweet.
I’d almost forgotten our arrangement — the fact that they were paying me for my time — because in truth, it didn’t feel like that. Not anymore. I would have been there anyway. I’d have told them as much, and I considered it, but I still had a dream to pay for, and with Jack up against it and the yard on the line, that three grand a month was money I needed. It didn’t sit easy, but it was the truth, and come the weekend I was conscious that this was my billable time, as per our arrangement.
It made me feel like shit when I threw on my crappy clothes to go pick up my new trailer, and I aimed to play it down, say I was nipping out for a couple of hours but would be back before they knew it. Only it wasn’t that simple.
Carl was frying bacon when I stepped into the kitchen, and Rick was pulling a face at the smell, wafting his hands around his nose and fake retching.
“Firemen don’t eat bacon,” Rick told Carl. “You know why?”
“Enlighten me,” Carl said.
“Smells like burning human flesh.”
Carl turned to face him, spatula in hand. “An advert for cannibalism if ever I heard one. Yum yum fucking yum.” He saw me in the doorway and looked me up and down. “Morning, Miss Horsey. Fuck me, I do love a woman in jodhpurs.”
“Hey, pretty lady.” Rick smiled. “Carl’s cooking pig. Want some?”
I took a seat at the island, and Rick leaned in to kiss my neck over and over. Wet sloppy kisses that made giggle, and then he blew a raspberry and I squirmed, poked my tongue out at him.
It felt so shit to say it, but I said it anyway. “I’ve got to go out. I won’t be long, I promise.”
Carl turned and stared at me, but he didn’t look pissed off. “Samson?”
I shrugged. “Kind of. I bought a trailer, need to go pick it up.” I pulled my hair into a pony and fastened it. “Enjoy your breakfast, I’ll be back before you know it.”
I made to scoot off without fanfare, but Rick grabbed my wrist. “Whoa whoa whoa,” he said. “Not so quick.”
And I thought it was time for the chat, the one where they reminded me that this was a Saturday and I was on their time, the one where they reminded me that I had a fat wadge of cash in my bank account and two fat cocks to service. But it was just my guilt. Of course it was.
“Kept that quiet,” Rick said. “Where’s this swanky new trailer of yours?”
“Hartpury,” I said. “Not far. It’s not
exactly swanky…”
Rick looked at Carl, but Carl wasn’t looking at Rick he was looking at me. “We’ll come,” he said, just like that. Just like it was the most normal thing in the world. “Just eat your bacon first.”
Carl bleeped the Range as we stepped outside but I shook my head.
“What?” he said. “I’ve got a tow bar, we can take mine.”
“But I need to be able to hitch it on mine,” I said. “I’ll need to do it for shows. I can do it.”
He looked at my shitty car, and back at me. “If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.”
He shrugged. “Alright then.”
And so Rick and Carl piled into the cruddy Katiemobile. It was funny to see them in there, amongst the grooming kits and the saddle soap and the bits of old tack.
“The height of luxury,” I laughed, and cranked the old brute into gear. I looked at Carl at my side, and he was dressed too nicely for this, as usual. His shirt was expensive and far too clean, his jeans had never seen mud in their life. And his shoes. His poor posh shoes.
“Don’t think I can’t see you checking me out,” he said.
Rick leaned between the seats, and my skin did that lovely little shiver it does when he’s close. “You’re so not dressed for this shit, Carl.” he said. “You’re never dressed for this shit.”
“Says Mr fucking Outdoors. A bit of time at the stable and you think you’re Farmer bastard Richard.”
“I’ve ridden,” Rick said, and I saw his grin in the rearview mirror. “It’s getting serious.”
Carl raised his eyebrows. “You’ve been on a horse?”
“Samson,” he said. “Katie gave me a lesson.”
It wasn’t a lesson, but I didn’t butt in. It was hardly more than a donkey ride, a bit of a walk up and down the yard but I didn’t want to piss on his parade.
“You didn’t say,” Carl said, and I swear I caught a whiff of jealousy. It made Rick laugh.
“You got your cock out when we walked back through the door. It slipped my mind.”
“You can have a go, too,” I said. “If you want.”
But Carl pulled a face. “Horse hates me,” he said. “He’d buck me off, then trample me.”
“He loves me,” Rick gloated. “He came when I called him yesterday, knows I give him mints.”
“He’ll do anything for a mint,” I said, but Carl didn’t say another word.
The trailer was pretty shit, and I knew it. But it was mine. I couldn’t stop smiling.
Carl gave it a bit of a kick, scoped it out with critical eyes. “This is safe, is it?”
I nodded. “Yeah, looks sound.”
Rick opened up the back. “Samson will love this, his own personal chauffeur service.”
Carl jumped on the floor inside until it clanked and echoed. “You’re sure this is safe?”
I rolled my eyes. “Yes, it’s safe. It’s rough round the edges not a total bag of shit.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” he said.
Rick jabbed him in the side, then grabbed him in a headlock to ruffle his perfect hair. “Don’t knock it, grumpy face. It’s fucking awesome.”
Carl pushed him off and aimed a foot at his ass, gave him a healthy kick. “I’m not knocking anything, I’m just safety conscious. Better safe than fucking sorry, Rick.”
It made me laugh. They always made me laugh. “I’m good,” I said. “I’m happy. I’ve wanted one of these forever.”
“Fine,” Carl said, and held up his hands. “Then I’m very happy for you.”
I checked the fixtures then fetched my car, reversing it back with bated breath in case I made a tit of myself, but I didn’t. I lined it up just right.
I waved them aside as I fastened it up, determined to do this shit myself, and I was grinning like a lunatic as we rumbled away with a trailer in tow.
“You’re a kickass chick, Katie,” Rick said. “She’s kickass, isn’t she, Carl?”
“I’m impressed,” he said. “Kickass, indeed.”
It made me feel on top of the world.
We rocked that trailer up onto the yard, and I wanted to show it off to Jack, but he was nowhere to be seen. I hadn’t seen him for days in fact, the van was rarely there. I tried calling him but it rang through to voicemail.
“It’s Katie,” I said. “Just checking in. Got a trailer, parked it up by the barn. Hope you’re alright. Catch you soon.”
“Check this out,” Rick said to Carl, and he was off, jogging on past the stable block to the field.
My heart fluttered as Carl stared back at me, and there was a look in his eyes. A heaviness. A need. “You don’t have to,” I said. “We can head back.”
But he shook his head. “Let’s go see the furry boy.”
Rick was up on the gate, waving his arms and yelling Samson’s name. He was funny, Rick. Everything about him was so funny. I climbed up beside him and joined in the call, and the thump of hooves came thundering. Samson pulled to a halt later than usual, and I swear it was just to make Carl nervous. Samson gave him the eyeball and a bit of a snort, and it made me cringe, and maybe smile a little.
“I told you,” Carl groaned. “He fucking hates me. He’d trample me, I’m telling you. That beast wants my blood.”
“He wouldn’t!” I giggled. “He’d be fine.”
But he tossed his head away when Carl tried to pat him, nipping around Rick to root in his pockets instead. Rick had mints, an unfair advantage.
“You can ride if you want,” Rick said. “We have plenty of time.”
I was tempted. I looked at Carl and he didn’t seem impatient. “If you want,” he said. “You’re driving anyway, I believe that puts us at your whim, unless we plan on hiking back to Cheltenham.”
I looked at my furry boy and the urge to leap onto his back and go galloping across the common was strong, but there were other urges, too.
My tummy was tickling. It felt scratchy and strange and panged a little. Panged with something hard to place, a throb of something that wasn’t entirely sexual. I stared at the two guys in front of me and admired them, their easy manner, their kind eyes. Their patience, both of them. The time they had for me, and Samson, too. Their care.
Rick had mints in his pocket especially for Samson, and Carl cared enough to check my trailer.
They cared enough to slum it in my rusty old banger, and trudge through mud to see my baby.
They cared.
And so did I.
The tickly pang warmed and spread right through me, all the way to my toes.
“Let’s go home,” I said.
“Home?” Carl said, and looked at Rick, and Rick smiled. They both smiled.
And I smiled, too.
“Home,” I said.
I smelled of horse and hay and I knew it. I nipped for a quick shower while the guys listened to tunes downstairs, and my belly was fluttery and my pussy was hot.
I chose one of my best dresses and I wore it without a bra. It was flared and floaty and a little bit short. A pale blue halterneck that my nipples poked through without underwear. But that didn’t matter.
I shaved everywhere and fought the urge to bring myself off. The real deal was waiting just a floor below, hot and horny and so much better.
I spritzed myself with perfume and brushed my hair and decided against knickers, just because.
Just because I want them to know I wanted this. Just because I’m so horny I can’t think of anything else.
Rick had made a light lunch. A big bowl of salad with some fancy dressing. The guys were already plated up at the island and ready to eat, waiting for me.
Carl stared at my chest, and I knew my nipples were standing proud.
“Nice dress,” he said.
I took a seat on the end between them, and Rick leaned over to wrap his arm around my waist. He ran his tongue up my shoulder, and my pussy clenched at the thought of his piercing against my clit. “I could eat you up.” He smirked, and took my hand
, placed it between his legs where his jeans were swollen. “I’m starving,” he said. And then he grinned, forked out some salad, crunched on a tomato.
Carl poured me a wine, and I glugged some back.
He raised an eyebrow. “Planning on getting a little tipsy?”
I nodded. “It’s been a long week, maybe just a little.” He topped me back up, then poured Rick a glass and held up his own.
“To a long, successful week and Katie’s new trailer,” he said. “Cheers.”
“Amen to that,” Rick said and knocked his back.
“Amen.” I smiled.
The tension was so fucking hot it was palpable. It smouldered between the guys, lingering glances as they ate, and I got the feeling they were in mind meld, talking without words and I was the topic. It made me jittery, with nerves and want and the heady thrum of anticipation. I ate a little, and then I drank. The wine was crisp and fruity and it warmed me. The warmth bloomed in my belly, spread between my thighs, and I was clenching them on my stool, shifting in my seat at the thought of what was brewing.
My heart did a little stutter as Carl put down his cutlery. He patted his mouth with a napkin and it was sexy as fuck. It always was.
“That was delicious,” he said to Rick.
“Not as delicious as dessert is gonna be,” Rick said.
And they stared at me, they both stared at me.
“Chocolate.” Rick licked his lips. “I’ve been craving chocolate for a while now.”
Oh. Oh fuck.
“What do you think, Katie?” Carl asked. “Do you think Rick has been good enough for chocolate?”
My nerves were in my throat, but my clit was sparking and buzzing and desperate. I nodded.
Carl took my plate and stacked it on his, and Rick’s eyes were glinting and dirty.
This side of Rick always took my breath. It would appear unbidden, rise up like a cobra, fast and hypnotic.
Rick was a dirty boy. Rick was rough, and filthy and absolutely insatiable.