Rescue Me, Ranger

by Sylvia Fox

  I rose to my feet and he took the jar from my hand and held the front door open with his foot.

  “Wait a minute, I’m doing my calculations. I don’t get many people taking the tour. Let’s see… friends and family discount, pretty girl discount… and it comes to… a grand total of…”

  I rolled my eyes playfully at his cheesy lines, as he feigned being in deep thought.

  “I’ve got it,” he said, and reached around the door to set the empty jars on a side table. He stepped in front of me and, to my astonishment, took my face in his hands and kissed me. Deeply and powerfully. I started to stumble backward from the surprise, but my body overruled my mind and returned the kiss, with all the passion I could muster.

  I found myself whimpering, moaning into his mouth, my hands thrown ‘round his neck, kissing him back and using my body language to urge him to continue.

  One of the hands on my face dropped to my waist, then to the small of my back, pulling me close.

  I can neither confirm nor deny that one of my feet lifted off the ground behind me in a Hollywood-style flip.

  When the kiss ended, I was breathless. He wiped his bottom lip with the back of his hand and smiled at me.

  “I’ve wanted to do that since the moment I first saw you at Rosie’s,” he claimed.

  “At Rosie’s?” I asked. I’d spotted him there, and recalled on my first visit, but I was sure I’d just been an anonymous face in the crowd to him.

  He nodded. “I was having lunch. I watched you walk in, and you have this walk that’s just all hips, you know? I couldn’t help but notice you. And then the way you smile; I couldn’t hear you talking to Rosie, but I had a good view of you, and your smile just about killed me. I was trying to figure out what approach might work on a girl like you, but then I got a call and I had to go. Lonely Pine is the closest town to my house but the territory I cover is vast; I never know where I’ll be, or for how long. I worried you’d be gone by the time I came through town again. Less than ideal circumstances, but I’m sure glad you weren’t.”

  He took my hand in his, and we shared smiling eye contact. The wind was picking up, thunder rumbling in the distance.

  He placed his hand again on the small of my back and pulled me into him. The ease with which he moved me, as if I were a small child, startled me, and I yelped. He kissed me again, claiming my mouth with his. His passion overwhelmed me, and I could feel myself writhing against him, undulating, trying to get every part of my body into contact with every part of his. I was desperate for him.

  I was his. As insane as that sounds to you, dear reader, I was stuck to him like I’d been destined to be.

  He reached for the bottom of my t-shirt, pulling it up and over my shoulders in one swift motion. I offered no resistance. Before resuming his attack on my mouth, he took a moment to admire me in just my bra, and he subconsciously bit his bottom lip as his eyes devoured my cleavage.

  I was soaking wet. I’d have done anything he desired.

  And whether he desired it or not, whether we were on his front porch for all the world to see or not, I didn’t care. Didn’t give a single fuck. All I wanted was him. As soon as humanly possible.

  I kicked off my flats and wriggled my hips, letting my jeans fall to the wooden floor of his porch.

  Goosebumps rose all over my flesh as I bared myself to him. I was trembling, not out of fear but out of surrender and need.

  He guided me back to the wall next to his front door, taking both my hands in his and pulling them above my head. Both my wrists fit helplessly inside his left hand, and his right wandered all over my body.

  He began at my hip, fingertips, tracing my ribcage as he kissed me. Down to my bellybutton and across, along the top of my panties. I squirmed and half-heartedly struggled, but there was no escaping his grip. Not that I really wanted to. My body was on autopilot, and if I’d managed to get my hands free it would have only been to get at his jeans, to get them off and find what my body needed so badly.

  His right foot tapped at my ankles, opening my legs wider for him.

  My hips rolled and bucked lewdly. When he broke one particularly long, messy kiss, I panted until I could speak, gasping the words at him. “Please. Touch me. Fuck me. I need it so bad.”

  The voice barely sounded like me, and I was shocked at how slutty I sounded, but I’d abandoned control of my faculties as soon as he kissed me. My lust was speaking, not my brain.

  He squeezed my wrists together and stared into my eyes. His index finger slowly traced my opening through my soaked, ruined panties.

  Up and then down. Slowly, maddeningly, as he watched me. I gritted my teeth and tried to grind against him, but he merely pulled up harder on my wrists until I was on tiptoes, my legs spread wide, and I had very little ability to find the friction my body ached for.

  “I’ll do anything… please… I need it so bad.” I was pleading from the depths of my soul for release. That only he could grant me.

  “Do you mean that, Darcy?” he asked, the first time he’d spoken since before he removed my shirt.

  I nodded my head frantically.

  His grin was wicked.

  He took my hands down from above my head, and in a well-practiced bit of law enforcement technique, spun me to the wall and collected them behind my back.

  I hadn’t even realized he’d put handcuffs on me until he removed his hands from my arms and I went to move my hand to brush a strand of hair from my face.

  Holy shit.

  We’ve all heard the stereotypical “whips, chains, handcuffs,” routine, all joked about it, but I’d never experienced anything like it. My sex drive had always been high, but my partners had always tended to the more vanilla side of things, no matter how enthusiastic they may have been.

  He leaned in close, breath hot on the back of my neck. “I would never hurt you, Darcy. Remember that. But your body needs this, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes.” I could only manage a whisper. I’d never been so wet.

  He ran his fingertips inside the waistband of my panties, across the top of my ass, and then peeled them down, around, and off. His hands went to the front of my hips, fingertips like feathers, up and down my pelvic lines, across just above my opening, then his palm up across my stomach to where he took hold of the front of my bra, pulling down on it slowly until my breasts popped free.

  He was directly behind me, kissing my shoulders and the back of my neck, his erection throbbing through his jeans. He reached around my body to torment my nipples. Fingertips dragged down them one by one, from the pinky to the pointer, and when the index finger passed over, it was joined by his thumb in squeezing and pulling at them.

  I was frantic with arousal. My head rolled back and I caught myself moaning like a whore.

  “These curves of yours… your body is just pure sex, isn’t it?” he asked, as his hands wantonly explored my nearly-naked form.

  My breath caught as I nodded.

  “Walk to the edge of the porch, we’re going out back.”

  He put a hand on my shoulder to guide me. I was equal parts terrified, curious, and out of my mind horny.

  We rounded the corner of the house, and I saw the home-made shooting range he’d described to me, along with archery targets, arrows, and bows. A small outbuilding sat farther back, and we walked directly toward it, me nude but for the bra which had fallen to down around my waist, him fully clothed. We made for quite a sight.

  He opened the door and led me inside, flicking on a light. The room was sort of a catch-all, with tools scattered about, some gun parts, a tire, and various other implements.

  He released the cuff on my left wrist and turned me to face him, letting my bra fall to the floor before quickly clasping the cuffs shut again with my hands in front of me. He kissed me deeply and held my face in his hand. “Are you okay?”

  I closed my eyes and nodded.

  “You’re beautiful, Darcy. So damn beautiful.”

  He kissed me again before I co
uld thank him, or protest, or say anything at all.

  Backing away from me, he lifted my hands above my head, where the handcuffs caught on something. I looked up to see them held in place on a hook suspended from the ceiling.

  “You’re the perfect height,” he remarked, smiling. “That hook is for cleaning deer, but I never have time to hunt, so I’m glad I finally found a use for it.”

  I wiggled and twisted. I was up on the balls of my feet, giving me little leverage.

  He resumed touching me, everywhere except where I craved it.

  He could walk completely around me from where I hung, and he did, perusing my nakedness silently. My heart jackhammered in my chest and I could faintly smell my own arousal.

  Normally, I’d have been mortified. But inside I hoped he’d smell it, too. That it would inspire him to fuck me, to quench the desperation in my core.

  I saw a blue bandana flash before my eyes for just a moment before everything went dark. He’d blindfolded me from behind, without warning.

  Every sensation was instantly amplified. I squealed and tried to rub my thighs together, but due to the way I was stretched, the pain in my shoulders forced me to abandon the crude attempt at masturbation.

  He rolled and plucked at my nipples, standing again in front of me, I guessed, based on the way his hands felt.

  I was gasping and groaning, my head thrashing side to side, and then, just like that, he was gone. I felt nothing. I mewed in frustration, my nipples feeling as if they might explode from the pressure inside them.

  My sex was a sodden mess, the sticky center of my universe.

  It had only been moments since he’d touched me, but it felt like an eternity. In my mind, I pictured how I must look. I thought of other people seeing me, trussed up like some sort of sex toy - and me not knowing they were even there – and a mini-climax rippled through my body. I gasped as it took me, the muscles in my legs contracting and relaxing as my head rolled atop my shoulders.

  As it subsided, Lincoln’s voice echoed through the small room

  “Oh my... You’re so eager, Darcy. What a good girl.”

  The spasms returned. He was watching my performance. I was some sort of pornographic marionette for his amusement. I thrust my chest out, hoping to inspire him to return to teasing my throbbing nipples. He rewarded me by dragging his knuckle across my left nipple… and then capturing the right one in his mouth.

  “Oh!” I shrieked, as first his lips, then his teeth, closed around the tender flesh. His fingertips appeared between my legs, ghost-like, barely there, physically whispering all around my opening.

  I’d surely go mad without direct, immediate stimulation.

  “Lincoln, please! I’m begging for it, for your cock, please fuck me. Please. Please!”

  I felt his hands at the sides of my thighs, then around the backs, and my feet were lifted from the floor. He slid his hands up and under my ass, taking the pressure of my wrists and shoulders, suspending me in midair.

  Then, he slowly lowered my hips. And impaled me directly on what seemed like it ought to be his cock, but the girth of it was much too wide to really be what I’d been begging for.

  I was so soaking wet that it entered me easily, filling my starving body, stretching it with what felt like a telephone pole, only made of granite.

  I wanted so badly to throw my arms around his shoulders, to pull myself tight against him, but I was helpless. He was in complete control.

  He would decide if and when I got relief. And how I got fucked.

  In my mind’s eye, I tried to picture his piercing blue eyes staring into mine as he bisected my soul with his cock, but it was a struggle even to recall my first name; to remember how to breathe.

  All that mattered was what was happening between my legs. Nothing else existed.

  He lifted me, and my pussy clung to him, then he pulled me forward, changing the angle ever-so-slightly, and he let me sink back down, all the way this time. I threw my head back to scream, and his mouth closed around mine, kissing me hard. I felt him throb inside me and all doubt vanished; he really was that thick. That massive.

  As he began to fuck me in earnest, lifting me and then letting me crash back down, the entire weight of my body centered on a secret place deep inside me that was being battered by Lincoln Sinclair’s pulsing, muscular, impossible cock.

  His beautiful mouth captured my every breath, swallowing my moans and whimpers.

  Hands on the backs of my knees, he guided my legs to wrap around his waist. I hooked my ankles behind his ass and ground myself against him. He let go of me, and I rolled my hips, rutting on him, trying to get more of him inside me.

  “Come for me, Darcy. Let me feel it,” he commanded, as his hands materialized once again on my body. “Your nipples are amazing. Every time I pinch and tug on them, I can feel it around my cock. How good will it will feel when I do it even harder?”

  As he spoke, he’d started pulling on them, one at a time, stretching and then releasing them. Each time he let go, and blood rushed back in, caused a searing jolt of pain and was accompanied by a delicious spasm in my pussy.

  The harder he did it, the more intense the clutch in my core. I was delirious.

  Every muscle in my legs strained and trembled, locked around him. His attack on my breasts was relentless.

  “Tell me when it’s going to happen. I can feel you shaking. I know it’s close.”

  I was frantic, grinding and dripping with sweat, my climax percolating inside me, just out of reach. If he’d only grab my hips and fuck me, it would happen. Didn’t he know that?

  “These fat little nipples of yours are going to be ruined, Darcy. They’re basically flat right now. You must not want me to stop hurting them, or you’d come.”

  I was sweating. So wet I was positive I was making a puddle on the floor. My shoulders and wrists ached. My nipples… words can’t describe what he was doing to them.

  Yet, somehow, I couldn’t find that last piece to complete the puzzle. I was on the brink, clinging to sanity by my fingernails. I couldn’t let go.

  I felt his hand close around my throat, not squeezing, just acting as a collar, and his other hand moved to the small of my back.

  “My balls are so full, Darcy. Can you feel how hard I’m throbbing?”

  As he spoke, he withdrew halfway and then the hand he’d placed on my ass pulled me hard and slammed me down onto him again.

  “When you come, it’s going to make me come. Do you want to feel me come inside you?”

  Floodgates. Flood. Fucking. Gates.

  I tried to comply with his command, to announce my orgasm, but as it ripped through me, the hand collaring my throat tightened, silencing my scream.

  I thrashed wildly as the muscles throughout my body clenched and I trembled everywhere at once. I was only vaguely aware that he had replaced his cock inside me with a firehose, turned all the way up.

  He groaned and erupted, his orgasm triggering new waves of ecstasy to burn through my body from the soles of my feet to the split end of the longest hairs atop my head.

  I thought I’d never stop coming; I never wanted to. Since his choking hand was keeping any blood from reaching my brain, it felt like it had all decided to rush to my pussy. Everything between my legs felt swollen and hot.

  Hot. Yes, that was it, I was in heat. In season was what the farmers back home would call it when it was time for their livestock to be bred. I was his. I was Lincoln Sinclair’s. I had no need for anything but his cock and his come. No food or water or air, or any of those trivial, insignificant things. The type of bliss that only his cock had ever delivered to me was now essential to my very survival.

  Those were the final, irrational thoughts that spun through my head before I… mercifully… blacked… out.

  11

  You know how sometimes you wake up in such a cozy, comfortable position that if you never, ever moved again, you’d be perfectly content? Like every ache and pain is gone, every tendon, mus
cle, and bone in your body is exactly where it’s supposed to be? You feel both weightless and like you weigh a thousand pounds, all at once.

  That’s how I woke up. No idea where I was or how I got there, but it was as if I’d been poured into place.

  I yawned softly and my eyes opened to near-complete darkness. A faint ray of light came from off in the distance somewhere, but for a billion-dollar reward, in that moment I couldn’t have said where I was.

  I let my senses slowly take inventory of surroundings. I couldn’t see much besides that vertical sliver of light. My mouth tasted like I’d been asleep a good, long while. An entire night probably. No particular smell was discernable. Sweat, maybe?

  A motor whirred somewhere nearby. Possibly a fan.

  My sense of touch made my location clear. My right leg was bent, draped over something. My right arm was stretched away from my body, laying across… him.

  I spread my fingers and found my hand on the flat, hard, rippling musculature of Lincoln Sinclair’s abdomen.

  I closed my eyes tight and opened them slowly, this time allowing my vision to adjust. I was in Lincoln’s bed, and he was sleeping soundly, flat on his back, his right arm up above him. His bicep was my pillow.

  My legs were wrapped around his, our naked bodies pressed tightly together.

  Heaven.

  But, in this version of heaven, wicked temptation existed. I let my hand slide down Lincoln’s abs until I wrapped my fingers around his slumbering manhood. It was thick and heavy, even at rest, but it twitched when I applied the slightest pressure.

  When I felt the twitch in my hand, my pussy contracted sympathetically, and I bit my bottom lip to keep from whimpering.

  I held him in my hand, softly squeezing, feeling him swell and lengthen wondrously. I listened to his breathing change from slow and deep to increasingly raspy and ragged as he reached his full, impressive length.

  The twitching had become full-blown throbbing, and the tips of my fingers were no longer able to touch when I held his shaft. I caught myself rubbing against his hip and thigh obscenely, my naked body responding to the proximity of his erection.