WHEN THE FARMER MET THE CITY GIRL

JESSA KANE

CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Epilogue

1

Bianca

This is how a slasher film starts.

A girl driving her old, junky car down a back country road under a pitch-black sky…with no cell phone reception. I guess this is how I die. Any second now, my engine is going to make a puttering sound and I’m going to be stranded on the side of this dirt road. There is a scarecrow out in the middle of the cornfield to my right, arms pointing at odd angles. If I squint, I can make out his silhouette. Can’t wait for him to come to life and gut me.

This is not good.

I should have waited until morning to drive from my mother’s house back to the city, where I belong, but I couldn’t take another moment of the constant lecturing. Honestly, if that scarecrow kills me tonight, I think it might be preferable to listening to my mom complain about my lack of job and my unrealistic acting aspirations.

Reluctantly, I pull my car over, because I can no longer see the road in front of me. This shortcut was supposed to save me an hour of driving, which meant saving gas money. Did I take a wrong turn somewhere? There are no streetlights out this way. No gas stations or golden arches. It’s just endless fields of corn and the occasional farm, though I haven’t seen one in over twenty minutes. Did I drive straight off the map? Have I discovered a new land?

With an embarrassing whine, I roll down my window and stick my phone out through the opening. “Come on, reception gods, please give me a bar. One bar.” The corner of my screen remains stubbornly blank, the fuel gauge on my dashboard taunting me with a red arrow pointing way too far to the left. “I am really not dressed for a trek to the gas station,” I mutter, looking down at my black bustier and neon yellow leather skirt. Oh, and ankle boots with stiletto heels.

I don’t dress like this all the time.

Mostly, I wore this to piss off my mother.

But I do love a daring fashion choice. In a city full of aspiring actresses, a girl needs to find a way to stand out to the casting directors. I’ve always loved fashion and I have a penchant for putting together last-minute outfits among the thrift shop’s bargain bins. When it comes to those secondhand stores, there are two choices. Dress like a grandma or dress like you’re going to the club. I’m only twenty and I have a lot of life to live, so I choose club kid.

Although, tonight, a pair of jeans and some Adidas would have been greatly appreciated.

I drop my head back against the seat, closing my eyes against the hot pressure swelling behind my lids. No. I will not cry. I will not cry. I’m tougher than this. I’ve survived on my own, broke as a joke in the city for two years. I can sleep in my car for a night and start driving again in the morning. And hopefully, avoid being murdered by that scarecrow.

Is it moving?

“No.” I shake my head. “Stop. You’re being ridiculous.”

With hasty motions, I roll my window back up and turn off the car. As soon as the heat cuts out, I realize how cold it is. Within seconds, the air in the car becomes icy and I start to shiver. My overnight bag is in the trunk, but all I have in there is a thin cardigan.

“Better than nothing,” I murmur. “But this means you must leave the safety of the car. This is the dilemma that will ultimately get you killed.”

Not going to lie, I love the drama of this. Just a little. I’m an actress, after all. My ultimate dream is to be the hot, screaming damsel in distress in a movie. This is not a movie, however. This is real life and I need to be quick here. Grab the cardigan and race straight back to the driver’s side of—

A tingle pops up on the left side of my neck.

Like I’m being watched.

What the…heck?

I cup my hands around my eyes and press them to the cold glass of the window, peering out into the darkness. But the moon has passed behind some clouds and of course, I can’t see a single thing. Just black.

“Forget the cardigan,” I whisper. “I’ll gladly freeze.”

I’m not the screaming damsel of this slasher film.

I’m the smart best friend who lives to the credits.

Trying desperately to ignore the goosebumps that continue to prickle the left side of my neck, I recline my chair and curl into myself, calling on all my meditation skills to block out the chill in the air. Only a few hours until daylight and then I can find my way back to civilization.

My chattering teeth and shivering body question my conviction.

I can actually see my breath—

There’s a knock on the driver’s side window.

Two quick raps.

I scream so loud, it’s a wonder the windows don’t shatter. Immediately, I scramble to the passenger seat, opening the glove compartment to find a weapon, but there’s nothing but a manual and an unpaid parking ticket. Terror wracks my entire body. I’m too terrified to look out the window to find out who knocked. What if it’s the freaking scarecrow? Who could live a normal life after seeing something like that?

“Ma’am,” booms a deep voice outside of the car. “I’m sorry for scaring you, ma’am. I just…I saw your headlights from my house. Is everything all right?”

“Please don’t kill me!” I shriek.

“Kill you?” His country accent is heavy with surprise. “I mean you no harm. And if you don’t mind me saying so, ma’am, you’re a lot more likely to freeze to death.”

My eyes are squeezed shut.

Don’t look.

You do not want to see a talking scarecrow.

“Are you the scarecrow?” I call in a shaky voice.

A pause ensues. “Are you on drugs, darlin’?”

“What? No!”

“It’s a real problem out here in the country.”

“I’m not from the country. I live in the city.” I’m almost ready to open my eyes and chance a look at my potential killer. “I just got lost and there’s no reception. The road is too dark to see where I’m going.”

“That sounds like the start of a horror film,” he remarks, jolting me on the seat. “I really hate to break this to you, ma’am, but when you finally get enough courage to look at me, my appearance isn’t going to be very comforting.”

“Why?”

“I’m pretty big, is all.”

“Oh?”

“I didn’t bother throwing on clothes, except for these overalls and I’m still muddy from the day’s work. I’m also holding a pitchfork, because every once in a while, we get wolves down from the mountains and I needed something to fend them off. I’m guessing I’ll be quite a sight.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t sound promising.”

He makes a sound of agreement.

“My name is Dusty. What’s yours?”

“Bianca.”

“Bianca, I’d really hate you to freeze to death on my property.”

“No, I wouldn’t like that very much, either.”

“What can I do to convince you to come inside and sleep somewhere warm?”

Fact: if I stay in this car, I’m going to die from hypothermia. I don’t have enough gas to keep the heat pumping all night and I have nothing to warm my body. I could attempt to keep driving, but I will probably wreck my car and I’ll never be able to afford repairs. A warm bed in a farmhouse sounds incredible right about now but accepting his invitation could mean years of suffering in a basement full of bloody torture implements.

“I mean…” Here I go, justifying my bad decision. “This doesn’t feel like the kind of conversation a victim has with her murderer in a slasher film. It’s usually more…lecherous and creepy. Like, ‘what’s a pretty girl like you doing in these backroads?’ You don’t sound creepy.”

“Much obliged, ma’am.”

Wow. I just had the weird urge to laugh. Is this farmer kind of funny? “Do you live with anyone? A wife, maybe? That would help.”

“No wife.” Did he sound a little embarrassed revealing that? “It’s just me. And my chicken, Mildred. She doesn’t like sleeping in the coop. Spoiled as can be, that one.”

Am I being naïve or is accompanying this man to his farmhouse beginning to feel way less scary? “Could you go stand in front of the car? I’m going to turn on my headlights, so I can have a look at you first.”

“Brace yourself.”

“I’m braced.”

When I hear heavy footsteps scuffing on the dirt road away from the driver’s side, I reach over and twist the key in the ignition, my lights coming on automatically and—

“Oh my God.”

Pretty big? Is that what he called himself?

This man is easily six-foot-six and built like an honest to God ancient gladiator.

One strap of his overalls is unhooked, the other one sagging down, leaving his rippling, hairy chest on display. I have belts at home that wouldn’t fit around his arms. His thighs are on the verge of ripping open those denim pant legs. But his face…

His face is kind. His eyes are patient.

He’s not handsome in a classic sense. His features are hard and weathered, yet he doesn’t appear to be that old. Maybe thirty?

Those eyes, though. Some deep-down intuition tells me he’s a pure soul.

“Well?” he shouts. “What do you think, Bianca?”

I turn off the engine and sit in the dark silence for a few seconds, my limbs shivering from the cold, my molars sealed together, skin like ice. Hoping like heck that I’m making the right decision, I pick up my phone and collect my car keys, then I open the passenger door and climb out, my spiky heels immediately sinking into the grassy earth.

“Okay, Dusty. Please don’t turn me into a missing poster.”

“I won’t. You have my word,” he chuckles, his steps coming closer in the darkness.

Dusty has almost reached me when the clouds part, allowing the moon to emerge once more. Light spills down from above and I watch as he sees me, really sees me clearly for the first time, his heavy gait faltering, a hoarse sound falling from his mouth.

“Bianca,” he breathes, that mighty chest beginning to heave. “I had no idea.”

“No idea about what?”

“You’re beautiful,” he blurts. “Dear Jesus, I’ve never seen anything like you.”

“I should get back in the car.”

“No.” He plows ten fingers through his dark, close-cropped hair. “No, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I apologize. I just wasn’t expecting to witness a miracle tonight.” A lump moves up and down in his throat. “That’s what you are, Bianca. One of God’s miracles.”

Why am I having a hard time drawing breath? Men hit on me all the time and I don’t get this weird…flutter in my belly. Why is this farmer making me feel all gooey? “Okay, if I’m going to come stay the night in your house, you can’t say things like that.” I cross my arms. “And let’s get one thing straight? I’m not sleeping in your bed. This isn’t a slasher film or a porno.”

“Ah Jesus, of course not. I’m not stupid. I know I don’t have a chance with you.”

My chest feels funny. “Well…good. I’m glad that’s cleared up.”

“I’ve got eyes, Bianca. It was never unclear.”

My arms uncross and drop to my sides. “You’re being a little hard on yourself now, don’t you think? There are plenty of women who would love a big, strong farmer. I’m just not in the market for one right now, that’s all. I’ve got plans to execute before I start worrying about men…and all that stuff. You know?”

He grunts. Roughly.

I study my fingernails, pretending I don’t feel his gaze on my thighs. Maybe I should admonish him for checking me out so blatantly, but this skirt is skintight and short as all get out. Who can blame really the man? He lives with a chicken in the middle of nowhere, for goodness sakes. He probably doesn’t encounter too many women in these remote parts.

When I shiver, he makes a sound of denial and comes closer. One step, two. “You won’t be able to walk through the field in those shoes.”

I nod, because he’s right. I can barely stand on the road in them. “Should I go barefoot?”

“No, if you stepped on something sharp and hurt yourself on my land, I’d be…very upset.” He raises the pitchfork and buries the metal teeth in the ground. “I’ll carry you home.”

2

Dusty

Holy Christ. Mother Mary and all the saints.

I’m carrying the most beautiful female on the planet back to my farm.

Maybe I have food poisoning and I’ve started hallucinating. I don’t know, but this doesn’t seem real. At all. I couldn’t believe it when the moonlight spilled across her angelic face. Her white-blonde hair. She is innocence with attitude. Pouty and skeptical looking, but underneath, she’s a good girl. A sweet girl. And dear lord, her body.

Don’t look down.

If my cock gets any heavier with need, it’s going to topple us over.

In reality, though, I don’t need to look down to remember every inch of her flesh. Her little leather skirt is wrapped around her hips like it was painted on. That fancy shirt with the strings and lace holds her tits up like the hands of a lover.

I wonder if she ever holds her own tits like that.

Wonder if she ever plays with them. Naked.

A moan almost wrenches its way clear of my throat and I order myself to stop thinking about this angel fondling her own breasts. I am in a bad, bad way. My ball sack is throbbing, weighed down with seed. I haven't masturbated in a while, been too busy working in the field, but as soon as I get her tucked into a warm bed, I’m going out to the barn and jacking off until the sun comes up. My God. My God, she is so beautiful and smooth and…

A hundred miles out of my league.

I’m filthy dirty and she smells like flowers.

I consider myself lucky that I get this chance to hold her, carry her, host her in my home. Anything else would be outlandish, especially her hot, little body beneath me in my bed.

Here I go again.

It’s twenty-three degrees out right now and I’m sweating.

“You’ve gotten really quiet, Dusty,” Bianca says.

“I’m sorry, darlin’. I’m trying to get used to how you look.”

She makes a choked sound. “Are you always so honest?”

“Yes, of course. A man is measured by his integrity. That includes being honest.” Good. Keep talking. Distract yourself from the way she fits in your arms like a missing piece. “My grandfather always used to say that. He’s the one that left me this farm.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. He’s gone now?”

“Yes, ma’am. He was getting on in years and the place had fallen into terrible disrepair.” I emerge from the cornstalks and my house comes into view up ahead, the barn and livestock pens lying in the distance. “I was discharged from the Army five years ago and I’ve been restoring it ever since.”

I can feel her looking up at me and wish like hell I’d cleaned up before leaving the house to investigate the vehicle parked on the road. “All by yourself?”

“Yes. All by myself.”

“That has to be a ton of work, Dusty.”

Every single one of my muscles flexes when she says my name. I get hot everywhere. “It is a lot of work, Bianca. But someday I’ll have sons to help me tend the land.”

“Hasn’t anyone had the birds and the bees talk with you?” She pats me sympathetically on the shoulder. “You need a woman first.”

The image of this girl pregnant with my son causes me to breathe harder. “I haven’t had time to go find one yet. There has been too much work to be done. I couldn’t bring a woman home to a broken-down farm.”

A beat of silence passes. “And now that it is back up and running? Will you go find one?”

“Well.” We stop outside the side door of my house. I can hear Mildred pecking at the floor inside. This conversation is getting very personal…and now we’re veering into embarrassing territory. What does it matter, though, if I tell this girl my secrets? It isn’t as though I have a hope in hell of making her mine. She is fit for a king, and I am merely a farmer. “I don’t have the kind of skills a man might need to court a woman.”

I kick open my door, sending Mildred squawking to the other side of my kitchen.

I carry Bianca over the threshold, firmly ignoring the sense of triumph. The sense of possessiveness. But she has only come for one night, so she won’t freeze to death. I am not bringing home a bride. There is not enough good fortune in the world to grant me such a treasure.

Reluctantly, I set her down in her weird shoes, a groan building in my chest when I see her in the lamp light of my kitchen. God almighty, she glows. And her eyes are a light, foggy green, her flesh so appetizing, my hands curl into fists. I need to get out to the barn. Soon.

“What does that mean?” She quirks a blonde brow. “You don’t have the skills to court a woman? You mean…flirting?”

“No. I mean…I’ve never lain with one before. I own a farm, so I know the mechanics of sex. Mating. But I…” My face is red hot. I can’t believe I’m saying any of this out loud, especially to this incredible girl. “Well, after I fixed up the farm, my plan was to drive into town and find a woman to practice with. So when it came time to bed my wife, I’d do it right.”

Why are her titties rising and falling so fast in that leather contraption?

A man could die happy sucking on them, but I can’t possibly be that man.

Was she sent here to drive me stark raving mad?

“I…I see,” she whispers. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I…I h-haven’t…either.”

My dick releases a spurt of moisture down the legs of my overalls. Son of a gun, the dam is about to burst. This pretty, little angel is a virgin. “Sorry, ma’am,” I choke out. “I’m needed out in the barn.”

“Wait!”

She looks around my kitchen, wringing her hands. “Where…where should I sleep?”

“Take my bed,” I say, trying to sound normal and failing. “Down the hallway to the right. I’ll bunk down in the barn.”

“It’s cold out there.”

“I’m a hearty man, Bianca.”

“But…you’re just going to split? Leave me in this unfamiliar house with the chicken?”

“Bianca, please. You are wreaking havoc on my body. I have to relieve myself.”

She snaps her mouth shut. “You’re going out to the barn to…to…”

“Let out the pain. Yes. I can’t wait much longer.” It’s not a gentlemanly thing to do, but I can’t go another second without gripping my cock through the denim of my overalls, rubbing my hard flesh roughly, hissing through my teeth. “You have stirred me up but good, darlin’. I don’t want to offend you with what I’m about to do. It wouldn’t be right.”

Pink spots stain her cheeks as she watches the crude actions of my hand. The furious, frustrated stroking of a big, ugly man who has encountered a ripe, young women with barely any clothes to speak of. “This is your house, Dusty,” she whispers. “You shouldn’t have to leave.”

“Please, I don’t have much time,” I pant.

“It’s me doing that to you?”

“Oh, darlin’.” My laugh is pained, deep. “You do this to every man. Maybe you just don’t witness the consequences.”

“The thing is…you are twice my size. And it hasn’t occurred to you that…”

“What?”

“You could have me.” She backs up a pace, her fingers curling around the edge of my kitchen table. “I wouldn’t be able to stop you.”

I suck in a breath so horrified that it razes my throat. “I would never touch an unwilling woman. You told me you aren’t warming my bed tonight, Bianca, and I will never, ever cross your boundaries.” I pound a fist to my chest. “That is written in stone.”

“Oh,” she whispers, seemingly shaken. “Oh my.”

“Pardon?”

She shakes her head. “Nothing. It’s just that you’re…a good man. I don’t think there are very many of you left, Dusty.”

Her praise causes my flesh to swell painfully, more moisture escaping. “I really need to get out to the barn, Bianca. I’m making a mess.”

“It’s just that…” She glances at the ridge of my cock, blushes and looks away. “Well, like I mentioned, I don’t have any experience. And since we’ve established that I’m safe with you, I was thinking I could watch.”

I’m growing dizzier by the second. My mouth is somehow salivating and dehydrated all at once. I already believed her to be a creature crafted personally by the hands of God, but these words she is saying make me wonder if…

No.

This miracle named Bianca isn’t meant for me. It’s impossible.

But what if I was allowed just a little peek into heaven on this night? What if she is my reward for toiling every day for five years to restore this farm to its former glory? My service to the country before that. The presence of an angel for one night. Because her presence is all I can hope for. I won’t ask for more. I won’t expect more.

“You want to watch me?” I rasp.

Wetting her lips, she nods. “Where do you normally…do it?”

The back of my neck turns piping hot. “I feel immoral talking about these kinds of habits with you.”

“I won’t tell anyone.” She bats those big green eyes at me. “It’s just us here, Dusty.”

The chicken squawks.

“And Mildred,” she tacks on, giggling.

Somehow, I find myself laughing, too. A rusted chug of sound that makes me realize I haven’t laughed in years. Further proof that she’s a miracle. “We’ll have more privacy in the bedroom,” I say, stroking myself openly through the denim now. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

“Me either,” she whispers.

And we have a moment. Just a moment where we look at each other across my kitchen. In the space of a few seconds, I imagine her in there forever. Drinking coffee at the table, sitting on my knee while I massage her neck, bouncing a baby on her hip, hosting a party. I can’t stop the visions no matter how hard I try. They make me burn. Ache.

Stop being greedy.

But maybe I am just a little greedy, because when Bianca turns and saunters toward the bedroom, crooking her finger at me over her shoulder, I follow hungrily, desperate to accept this gift I’ve been given. A chance to explore my lust with a woman who inspires it to a point I can barely control. She’s going to watch me masturbate.

I won’t ask for anything more.

I will continue to be the good man she believes I am.

But I will enjoy this chance to be a little bad tonight.

3

Bianca

Oh my God.

What am I doing?

I’m flushed and agitated and making bad choices.

The bad choices part is nothing new for me. Lately, I’ve taken to shoplifting just so I can eat. Nothing big. A loaf of bread. A jar of peanut butter. Ramen. I know it’s wrong, but I’m two months behind on rent and every penny is going toward keeping a roof over my head.

Usually, none of my bad choices are man related.

There’s a first time for everything, I guess.

It’s hard to explain why I’m walking into this giant man’s bedroom, except to say…

I like him. A lot.

The honesty and integrity surround him like an aura. His skin is filthy from a day’s work on the farm and his body reacts involuntarily to me. He has needs. This is a man. He’s not soft and standoffish and wishy-washy like the dudes in the city. In fact, the comparison makes me laugh under my breath. This is a man who works with his fingers in the earth, sweat on his brow…and he is aroused for me. I stir him.

I’m not sure why that gratifies me so much. Maybe because I know it’s real. I don’t have to question Dusty or his motives, the way I must be skeptical of everything in my life. Not to mention everyone. Casting directors, other actresses, my weird neighbors.

What I see with Dusty is what I get.

And what he’s showing me is doing funny things to my own body.

With any other man, I would be alarmed or offended by his erection. By the way he’s touching it, scrubbing at the thickness of it through his overalls. But I’m not offended by Dusty’s actions. I’m…hot.

As I stop on the threshold of his bedroom, I feel weightless and itchy and excited.

What is going to happen in here?

What am I going to see?

I don’t know, but I feel totally safe to explore. To watch. How rare is that? This opportunity to learn about sex might never arise again and I want to take advantage. Furthermore, I want to watch this sweet, noble farmer find pleasure. I want to watch his strong body succumb to lust right in front of my very eyes. I’ve never been turned on by the idea of a man touching himself. Doing it alone. But with Dusty, I can barely leash my anticipation.

“Do you usually sit on the bed?” I whisper back at him.

His attention is fastened to my butt, his breath beginning to come in quick bursts. “I…uh. Yes. Sometimes.”

With a nod, I enter the bedroom and flip on the small bedside lamp, chewing my lip, watching him lumber over to the bed. Before he sits down, he unhooks the remaining strap of his overalls, both buckles sagging between his thighs. “You don’t mind if I take these off?”

“No, I don’t mind,” I say, trying not to sound too eager.

Dusty grunts, kicks off his muddy boots and, with one final, measuring look in my direction, pushes the overalls down to his knees.

For the first time in my life, I can feel my pulse behind my eyes.

Between my legs.

Everywhere.

At the sight of this large man with his overalls around his knees—and not a stitch more—my entire body launches back a step, rattling the lamp on the bedside table. My nipples twist into tight, little beads and the breath in my throat skyrockets in temperature. No, my temperature rises throughout my whole body, scorching my skin.

He’s gigantic.

His butt and hips and thighs are thick. Muscled and hairy and male. He’s built like a bull. Broad. So broad and teeming with strength. That part of him sticking straight up from the middle of his lap…I can barely form a thought when I see it. The balls are the size of two balled up fists held side by side, mottled and heavy. The shaft curves upward, the big, shiny tip pointing at his stomach, a vein pulsing on the underside. All of him is surrounded by a pelt of black hair. No manscaping here. He’s an all-natural animal and his untouched nature, his coarse masculinity calls to something ageless inside of me. Something raw.

Potent.

“Do you want to start?” I whisper, breathlessly, surprised by the urge to squeeze my breasts. To pluck at my own nipples. I’ve never been compelled to touch them before. Not in a way that wasn’t purely functional. On the rare occasions that I touch myself to find pleasure, I just get to the point. No frills, no wasting time. Even when I reach my peak, it’s rarely satisfying.

Something tells me watching Dusty climax will be better than reaching my own.

“Yes, ma’am,” he grunts, that thick backside planting on the edge of the bed. With an almost shy look in my direction, he wraps a fist around that huge stalk of flesh and begins to pump. “I don’t reckon this is going to take very long,” he chokes.

Denial surges inside of me. I don’t want it to be over fast.

This big, beautiful farmer giving himself pleasure is the single most arresting sight I’ve ever been privileged to witness. I want this experience to go on for a while.

“Slow down,” I say softly, crossing the room.

What am I doing? I don’t know. But it feels right. I’m just letting myself feel.

To embrace what this man inspires in me.

“Slow down?” he echoes through his teeth. “I…can’t.”

“You?” I can’t seem to stop my hands from reaching out, stroking over the hard packed muscles of his shoulders, feeling the ripple beneath my fingertips. “I think you could do anything.”

“I’d do anything for you, darlin’.”

“Would you?” There’s something new and exciting unfurling inside of me. I’m an actress, so of course I love being the center of attention. But no attention has ever been as intoxicating as Dusty’s. I want to seduce, entice…tease. I want to be an active part of the pleasure he’s giving himself. “Would you let me borrow a shirt for bed?”

“Yes. Yes,” he answers hoarsely. “Anything you want.”

“Thank you,” I murmur, crossing the room to his antique dresser, sliding open the middle drawer, correctly guessing where he keeps his shirts. I select one from the top, laying it out on the surface of the piece of furniture.

And then I start to unzip the side of my bustier. Slowly.

Watching him through my lashes while I expose an inch of flesh at a time, before letting the top drop heavily to the ground, leaving my breasts free. Naked. Pouting.

“Sweet Jesus, what are you doing?” Dusty growls, his eyes flaring at the sight of my bare chest, that hand stopping at his balls to massage and twist them.

“Changing for bed,” I say, blinking at him innocently.

“Bianca.” He’s back to stroking now, his fist moving in furious pumps. “I…I’m mighty glad you think I’m a good man. But I ain’t this good, darlin’.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…” he trails off, shaking his head. “Nothing.”

“Tell me.”

“The devil is trying to take hold of me.” His knees jerk wider, his abdomen flexing intensely with every up and down choke of that dirty fist. “He’s telling me to rip your little skirt off and see what’s underneath.”

Shouldn’t I be nervous now?

Shouldn’t I be alarmed?

Yes. But I’m not. That confession only makes me hotter.

More determined to stay. To…play.

I want to give this man what he deserves. But I like the way he respects my boundaries, too. Actually…that might be my favorite part. Setting limits and having them honored.

“I’ll let you rip my skirt off,” I murmur, sauntering toward him slowly, not stopping until I’m just within reach. “But once it’s off, you’re only allowed to kiss me once. Then we have to stop.”

His face is feverish, sweaty, the wide breadth of his chest plummeting up and down. “Kiss you where, Bianca?”

“Anywhere you want. But you only get one kiss.”

He groans up at the ceiling, liquid bubbling up from the slit of his sex. “Anywhere?”

“Yes.”

“Even your mouth?”

“Yes.”

His jaw slackens, like he can’t believe his luck. “Even your…” His exhale is long and rocky. “Even your cunt?”

I moan brokenly over his use of that word. It’s so out of character. This man is forthright and righteous, and he just referred to my flesh in the crudest manner possible. Somehow, though, it only serves to make that part of me damp. I’m so damp, I realize.

When did that happen?

“Even there,” I manage, swaying on my feet. “Anywhere you want.”

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to choose.” He leans forward, his eyes trained on my breasts. “I hope you don’t mind me saying so, but you have the kind of tits a man wants to slap.”

I suck in a breath, my thighs flexing together. Pressing.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, that hand going for broke. Pumping, pumping. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to offend. I’ve just never seen anything as beautiful as you, Bianca. I’m sitting here trying my damnedest not to come from the sight of you alone. Ripping off your skirt and kissing that virgin pussy…oh lord. I don’t know if I’ll survive the rest of my life getting that close and not having the rest.”

“You want to stop?”

“God, no. I don’t want that, either.”

I’m giggling again. Free and uninhibited. No artifice. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed with anyone the way I laugh with this farmer. “Well then…” I purr, easing closer until I’m standing in between his outstretched thighs, my palms resting on his shoulders. “This skirt isn’t going to rip itself off.”

Teeth bared, he tucks his calloused fingers beneath the waistband of my skirt and rips it down the middle, roaring loud enough to make my eardrums throb. Then I’m standing in front of this giant, naked, highly aroused farmer in nothing but a see-through thong and spiked boots. Something incoherent falls from his lips and then he’s panting, his breath racing in and out, sweat pouring down the sides of his face, making tracks in the field dust.

He grasps my hips, lifts me clean off the floor, his powerful body twisting and throwing me down onto the bed. Hard. He drags his sweaty face all over me. Between my breasts, into the curve of my neck, down my ribcage and across my tummy. He inhales me. He grunts and moans, his big hips slamming furiously into the edge of the bed.

“One kiss,” I remind him, my voice shaking, my loins starting to coil from his reaction alone. “R-remember?”

Dusty releases a bellow into my stomach, his hands wrenching my knees open.

He looks down at my sex, his face a mask of intensity.

Possessiveness.

He licks his lips and snarls at it.

“Little holes, little holes. Made for satisfying me. Made for bearing my children.” To my utter disbelief, he spits on me. There. “I’d let the devil in if these holes lived beneath my roof. I’d put you on your back and be the devil to my angel morning, noon and night. No work would get done. These walls would witness me slowly losing my mind over these pretty little fuck holes, darlin’, wouldn’t they? Forget the fields. It’s a tight blonde wife I’d be plowing.”

On the heels of those shocking words, he leans down and plants a long, wet kiss between my thighs, his mouth twisting, hard lips bearing down and parting my flesh, disturbing my clit, rubbing it, rubbing until lightning flashes behind my eyes.

I scream.

I scream from the deepest territory of my soul, the orgasm pummeling me like a prizefighter. My intimate muscles convulse and squeeze, my legs instinctively wrapping around Dusty’s head while he continues to French kiss my sex, his mouth eager and honest and magical, his moans vibrating me all the way to the crown of my head.

“Dusty!”

“Mmmmm.” He licks me, long and rough, through the flimsy material. “Give me more.”

My body obeys him blindly, tightening up again in places that are already sore and spasming, my thighs locking up and shaking. Shaking. When the waves smooth out into a single layer, the convulsions slowing down, Dusty rises to his knees, shaft in hand…

And white ropes spew from his plump tip onto my body, landing everywhere. On my tummy, my breasts, my thighs and the juncture in between. He roars in pain while the endless sprays of seed carry from his body, leaving glistening pathways all over and I writhe under his praise, even spreading my thighs in the hope that some of his release will land there. Where he gave me that magical kiss. He’s a glorious beast in the throes of an orgasm, shuddering and jerking his thickness, root to head, giving me an up close and personal view of male pleasure.

And when I realize I only ever want to witness a moment like this from Dusty…

I know I’m in deep trouble.

4

Dusty

Saints be praised, she’s letting me hold her.

We’re in my bed together. Spooning.

Her tush is tucked up nice and tight in my lap, my blissful smile is buried in her moonlight-colored hair, her cheek is resting on my bicep…and I could go on lying like this until kingdom come. I’m not sure what I did in my life to deserve this night, but I will rejoice in the memory forever. The night I held an honest to goodness angel.

Even after I nearly turned to the devil.

Truth be told, I expected her to be angry with me after the harsh way I spoke to her. The words that came out of my mouth were straight from Lucifer himself. Talking about her body like that? I should be ashamed. But she only…

Well, hell. She opened her legs for my seed.

Wiggled around for it and smiled at me while I laid it on her siren’s body.

But I can’t think about that right now or my dick is going to get hard again—and I might ruin this perfect moment. I can’t help it, though, so I close my eyes and pretend she is my wife. I’ve just come home after a long day of toiling in the fields and she has greeted me in those thong panties and high-heeled shoes. She’s been pacing the floor all day waiting for me to come home and make love to her. She wants me to give her a baby. Our first.

It’s such a perfect version of my life, I can barely imagine it.

And I need to be realistic. This glamorous bombshell of a city girl wouldn’t be happy on a farm. No way, no how. She’d be alone all day, isolated. Without her usual comforts. She’d get sick and tired of the work it takes to run a farm. She’d pack it up and move on.

If she promised herself to me, then left, I wouldn’t survive it.

“You’re thinking awfully hard back there,” she yawns, turning in my arms to face me. Naked. Mostly. She’s still in those tiny panties that a stiff wind would rip clean off. My God, she is painfully beautiful, her young skin glowing in the lamplight, her body supple where it presses to mine. She wraps her arms around my neck and those rosy nipples bury in my chest hair, highlighting our differences. She’s smooth and petite and feminine. I’m coarse, calloused and beefy. I’m a lot bigger and a lot stronger.

Yet she trusts me not to take advantage of her.

That makes my heart turn upside down.

She’s got me upside down.

I want to know everything about Bianca. Want to soak her up, so I can remember her for the rest of my life. “Tell me about your life in the city,” I manage, feeling as though something is stuck in my throat. “Is it safe, darlin’?”

She wrinkles her nose, thinking. “I’m very careful.”

My arms lock around her. “That’s not the same thing.”

“I don’t go out alone at night. I have four locks on my door.”

“You shouldn’t need those things,” I growl, distressed.

“What do you suggest instead?”

Stay here. Be protected by your man.

“I don’t know the city,” I say, instead. “It might as well be another galaxy.”

“Sometimes it feels like that to me—and I live there.” She snuggles closer, nuzzling my throat with her nose and my eyes roll back in my head, it feels so wonderful. “I’m an actress, but I’ve only managed to book a few jobs as an extra, so I work at a clothing boutique called Le Chic to make ends meet.”

I absorb that with a nod. Of course, she’s an actress. Her face belongs on screen.

Not on a farm.

My swallow gets stuck halfway. “What are you doing all the way out here in the country?”

“My mother lives an hour north. I come to visit once a month, but I usually take the highway home. I’m trying to save money on gas, so I took a shortcut.”

“I’m glad you took a shortcut.”

“Me too,” she whispers into my neck, her fingers playing in my chest hair.

Her hips are beginning to shift around a little too much.

My cock is taking serious notice, hoisting like a crane.

Does she want me to kiss her pussy again?

Lord, I hope so. She tastes like sugar and moonlight. Heaven.

“My mother doesn’t approve of my dream of being an actress. She thinks I’m delusional.” A little furrow forms between her brows and it’s so adorable, I have to swallow a sound. “It’s the same lecture every time I come for a visit. ‘When are you going to get a real job, Bianca?’ But this is the first time I’m starting to wonder if she’s right.”

“No.” I lift her chin. “You can do anything, darlin’.”

She blinks back a sheen of moisture. “Thank you, Dusty.” That furrow returns. “But I haven’t really been enjoying as much it lately. The thrill is gone. That excitement that stays with me after an open call, hoping my phone will ring. It has…faded a little. I’m starting to wonder if there is something different for me out there.” She studies me for several seconds, before ducking her head. “Anyway, I have a meeting with a casting director next week. I’ve been called back after two rounds of auditions. This might be it. My big break. And I have to try. I owe it to my dreams to try.”

I’m nodding, because of course I want her dreams to come true.

I want this girl to be happy every day of her life.

Even if I wish her dream was me, instead, I keep that to myself.

To do otherwise would be selfish.

“If that director doesn’t hire you, he’s not worth your time, anyway. I’ve never seen you act, but I know I could watch you on a screen for hours. Saying lines or saying nothing at all.” The next part makes my throat hurt. “I’m sure you’re going to get the part.”

Her smile is grateful. But there’s more. Is that…need? “Dusty…”

My pulse pounds with hope. “Yes?”

She trails her finger down the middle of my chest, her cheeks pinkening. “I was thinking…” Green eyes search mine. “Maybe you could have one more kiss?”

A groan flees my mouth, my hand smoothing over her hip, massaging that round curve and gripping tight. My cock probably resembles a butternut squash at this point, hard and throbbing between my legs, my balls fattening a little more every time she bats her eyelashes at me. “You want me to kiss and lick your pussy again, darlin’?”

“Um…”

Aw hell, she’s breathing as hard as I am.

Is it possible that Bianca can get as horny as I can?

My lower abdomen strains at the very thought.

“Um…I was wondering if you could…well…”

“I’ll do anything you want, Bianca.”

Her eyelids flutter closed for a beat. Then, “What you said before…well, I don’t want you to go to town and find a woman to practice making love with before you find your wife. I don’t like thinking about it. It makes me feel jealous and angry.”

“Jealous?” My mind reels, struggling to make sense of her words. “Bianca. My plans became obsolete the moment I saw you. I can’t even remember what they were.”

She pouts a little and my heart stutters. Her thigh lifts and rests on my outer hip, opening herself up to me and I don’t dare breathe. What is happening here?

“What if we lose our virginity to each other, Dusty?” She rubs her tits side to side through my chest hair and I can’t help it, can’t do anything about my greedy hands clutching her tight ass and yanking her up, up, flush to my rigid cock. “We would be special to each other forever, even if we never see each other again.”

This is a crossroads.

A very difficult one.

Do I want to take this beauty’s virginity and give her mine in return? More than I want to see tomorrow’s sunrise.

It will destroy me, however.

Sharing something so important with this girl, then watching her leave?

She might as well stab me in the heart.

I don’t know how to say no, though. Not to the girl of my dreams.

I can only roll her over onto her back, my mouth coming down on hers, wet and ravenous. She mewls into my mouth, offers me a shy tongue and I see sparks. Sparks that turn into fireworks when she opens her thighs to allow my hips to press down, right on top of her immaculate cunt, that mewl turning into a whimper of my name.

“You mean it, Bianca?” I stroke our tongues together, my hips settling into a good, rough hump, the friction causing her panties to rip. “You want to give me your innocence?”

“Yes,” she gasps, her nails scoring my back, digging into the meat of my ass. “I can’t imagine giving it to anyone else.”

Joy crests in my throat, my chest. Is this really happening?

Is this perfect angel giving herself to me?

Yes. Yes, she is. And I’m taking. I have no choice but to devour her offering.

I grind my dick against her sweet spot, possessiveness roaring inside of me like a shackled beast wanting to be set free. “Hold on tight, darlin’. Here comes the devil.”

A horse whinny comes from outside. A loud one.

Not an unusual sound on a farm, but the horses are kept in stalls in the barn. They don’t simply roam loose around the property. Something must be wrong—and Bianca senses it. She breaks our passionate kiss and looks at me through dazed eyes.

“Should you go find out what happened?” she asks, her inner thighs grazing my ribcage.

My frustrated groan shakes the windowpanes. “I don’t want to stop touching you.”

“I don’t want that, either,” she whispers, kissing my chin. “But we have all night.”

As if one night is ever going to be enough with her.

The horse lets out another whinny, this one louder than the last.

I lift my hips and wince, removing myself from the Bianca’s heat. Rolling off her naked body is painful. My cock is straight as a rod, throbbing, a little shiny from the wetness of her pussy. “I’m going to bring the horse back to the barn, see what’s up. Then I’m coming right back here, darlin’.” I cup her tits in my much larger hands, teasing her nipples with my thumbs until she makes a whiny sound. “I want my night with you.”

She nods, biting her lip.

A blonde seductress in my bed, wet and willing.

I haul my overalls back up, attaching one of the straps and stomp out of the house, the cold air practically sizzling against my hot skin. I only register the gray stallion vaguely, because I’m seeing visions of Bianca, horny and rosy in my room. Waiting for me.

“How in tarnation did you get out?” I ask the horse, stomping in his direction.

Before I can reach him, he takes off in a gallop toward the barn.

Biting back a curse, I go after him, my erection still so stiff it makes my eyes water.

Fine. I’ll get him settled back in his stall and—

As soon as I enter the barn and hear a second whinny, this one from a mare, I know I won’t be getting back to bed any time soon.

5

Bianca

When Dusty doesn’t come back to bed after ten minutes, I begin to get worried.

What if he went out in the darkness, tripped over something and got hurt.

What if one of those wolves came down from the mountain and got him?

I can’t fathom any creature, great or small, getting the drop on my giant, but I continue to pace the floor in front of the bed. Eventually, I get cold and sneak into his closet to find a flannel shirt, putting it on and buttoning it up, snorting when the hem goes all the way to my knees. Maybe I’ll just pop outside and check on him. In case he needs help.

That way I can distract myself from the fact that I am aching with worry over a man that I’m supposed to leave tomorrow morning. No, I am leaving tomorrow morning. I can’t just stay here on this farm. That would be preposterous. The city is beckoning me home and furthermore, I have the meeting of a lifetime this week. I have to rehearse my lines.

But first, it seems I’m giving this big, lovable man my V-card.

I did not see this coming, but I can’t deny that it feels right. Inevitable.

Somehow, I know I will never, ever regret him being my first.

Crossing the bedroom to the window, I peer out into the darkness and see the light on in the barn. A shadow moving around. Unless the scarecrow actually came to life, that shadow has to belong to Dusty. I’ll just cross the pitch-black property and go see what’s keeping him.

Easy.

A moment later, I stand in the frame of the open front door, gulping. I can’t see anything in between the house and the barn. Monsters hide in this kind of darkness. But I’m finding myself…a little anxious without Dusty around. I miss him. It’s so weird, considering I only met him tonight, but his presence makes me feel safe and happy. Warm and wanted.

I want my farmer back.

With a deep breath for bravery, I step out into the cold darkness, my feet carrying me across what feels like a combination of dirt and grass toward the barn. As I grow more confident, I move faster, the frigid air feeling kind of nice on my flushed skin. At least, momentarily. Wow. The air smells so clean out here. The quiet is vast and soothing to my ears, nothing but crickets and wind. The opposite of the city. I would have assumed that total silence would unnerve me, but it doesn’t. I kind of love it.

Finally, I reach the light of the barn, stepping inside onto the soft straw floor. I stride in the direction of the shadow and find Dusty in a stall with a horse who seems to be restless, dancing around somewhat on its hind legs.

“Dusty?”

“Bianca.” His head whips in my direction, concern immediately etching itself into his brow. “You should be inside where it’s warm, darlin’.”

I lean my cheek against the frame of the stall entrance. “It’s warmer with you.”

His chest rises and falls. “I want nothing more than to be back in that bed with you, but my mare is in labor.” He looks me over and grunts. “Damn. Look at you in my shirt.”

“It’s huge,” I giggle.

“I’m huge.”

I bite my lip. “I noticed.”

His swallow is loud enough to hear across the stall. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you are hell on my concentration.”

“Sorry.” With a sly smile, I push away from the wooden post, venturing further into the stall, regarding the mare with wonder. I’ve never seen a horse up close like this. Only in movies. Or when the occasional police officer rides one in the St. Patrick’s Day parade. She is nothing short of majestic. “So, wow. She’s having a baby horse?”

His chest rumbles with mirth. “Yes. A baby horse.”

“Am I in the way or…can I do anything to help?”

“I want you warm in bed, Bianca.”

“Really, I can help.” For some reason, I want to be a part of this. Bringing an animal into the world. Helping this mare through this stressful time. More than anything, though, I want to be a part of this with Dusty. “Tell me what to do.”

He observes me for a moment, then leans down and kisses my forehead. “All right, city girl. There is a storage locker at the rear of the barn. Get me some clean bedding to put down on top of the straw. I think she’s looking for a place to lie down for a spell.”

“Yes, sir,” I say, jogging out of the stall to retrieve the bedding.

A couple of minutes later, I return with an armful of blankets, handing them off to my farmer. “Now, you stand back, darlin’. She might back up or roll over suddenly and I don’t want you getting crushed. I’m having heart palpitations just thinking about it.” He hands me one of the blankets I brought. “Wrap yourself in this. I don’t want you cold.”

I am quite happy to do what this man says. Unusual, to say the least. Normally, I don’t love being bossed around, but Dusty doesn’t boss me around because he’s on a power trip. He genuinely has my best interest at heart. Wrapped in the blanket, I move to the far corner of the stall and watch Dusty ease the mare down onto the bedding where she rolls around a little. As she does this, Dusty leaves the stall briefly and returns with a large, white cloth, wrapping it around the mare’s tail. And then she’s back on her feet, her sides heaving, nostrils flaring with great bursts of air.

When something moves out of the corner of my eye, I realize there’s a gray horse watching the proceedings from outside of the stall. “Is that the horse that came to the house?”

“Yes,” Dusty said, stroking the mare’s neck. “That’s Buggy, my stallion. He came to let me know that Lady was in labor.”

A crank turns in my chest. “Is that…normal?”

He shoots me a grin. “It’s normal on this farm.”

Another horse sticks his head into the stall directly above me, watching the mare with what appears to be quiet worry. “Is this a magical farm?”

“Some days I wonder if it might be.”

“If one of them starts talking, I’m out.”

Dusty lets out a hearty laugh. “That is yet to happen, but some days I wouldn’t mind a decent conversation. I talk to some of my Army buddies on the phone once in a while. But besides the vet and the man at the hardware store, I don’t have the chance for much human interaction. It’s pretty isolated out here.”

“Yeah.” I try to keep the next question buried, but it claws its way out. “Do you think you could ever be happy in the city?”

He rubs at the back of his neck. “I don’t think I’d fit, darlin’. Plus, my grandfather left me this land, this farm. I could never abandon it.”

“No, of course not,” I say quickly. “It’s magical, after all.”

“Yeah.”

He looks at me for long moments, starting to say something else, when suddenly the mare is back on her feet, a sense of urgency filling the stall. For the next ten minutes, I watch in wonder as the mare gives birth to her foal. I don’t think I blink once the whole time. I’m witnessing a miracle and somehow, I’m not grossed out by the blood and muck that comes along with it. When it’s over and the mare is cleaning off her baby, I blink and heavy tears roll down my cheeks. My heart is beating so fast.

Dusty cleans up the stall while I move instinctively—who knew I had an instinct for farm work?—bringing the other horses back to their stalls and closing them in, confident they will remain inside now that Lady has finished giving birth. I smooth my palm down the sides of their powerful necks, laughing when the stallion nuzzles my shoulder.

“You trying to steal my girl, Buggy?” Dusty asks from the stall doorway.

A bubble of exhilaration bursts inside of me and I run across the stall, jumping into Dusty’s arms and wrapping my legs around his hips. “That was incredible.”

Our mouths meet in a slow, winding kiss.

“I need a shower before I put these hands on your pretty skin,” he rasps against my lips, carrying me quickly out of the barn and across the dark expanse of property toward the house. “Believe me, I am going to set the record for the fastest shower ever taken.”

“Mmmm. And then?”

“And then we pick up where we left off.”

“Where was that?” I murmur, feigning confusion.

“Don’t play with me, darlin’. I was just about to have the best night of my life.” My back is pressed to the front door of the house, his hips bucking upward into the juncture of my thighs, making me whimper. “Between the legs of an angel.”

“Ohhh, yes, I remember now,” I tease breathily.

With a playful growl, Dusty carries me into the house, his heavy footsteps loud on the floorboards on our way to the bedroom. He lays me down in the center of the bed and begins stripping off his overalls, already walking backward again in the direction of the bathroom. Until I see his naked body, I don’t realize how badly he does need a shower. He’s covered in all kinds of things, but he’s still incredibly hot. Even more so, because his body bears the fruits of his labor. And lest we forget, he is extremely aroused, his shaft protruding thickly from a pair of beautifully engorged testicles. He’s large enough to make me wonder if it’s physically possible for us to make love, but I trust him to find a way.

He stumbles a little on his way to the bathroom and I prop myself up on one elbow, giggling, watching him disappear through the door. The water goes on and I hear him muttering while he cleans himself, my own fingers plucking the buttons free of the borrowed flannel until I’m naked in the middle of Dusty’s huge bed.

My lips curve into a smile when the soap drops. Twice. Followed by curses.

Then finally the shower is off.

My giant bursts through the doorway of the bedroom, wet from his shower, not even bothering to dry off before he presses down on top of me, his mouth taking mine in a thought-blurring kiss. Water transfers from his skin to mine, warm and slippery, leaving us both wet as the kiss carries on and turns…turbulent. Lustful.

We’re not playful anymore.

Dusty’s thickness spears up between my thighs, parting my dampening flesh, a hoarse shout of my name leaving his lips, his hands fumbling to grasp my knees and yank them up, up, around his hips and he humps me roughly, our kissing turning almost violent. And it’s coming from both sides. I’m desperate for this man. I want him to provide me some relief and I want to give him the same. Maybe even more. I want to be his temptation and his salvation.

Now, now, now.

“Don’t know much about sex, but I know I’ve got to go down and eat it, darlin’. I can tell from here you’re snug as all get out. I need it to be wet.”

A gasp leaves me involuntarily. “I had no idea your mouth was so filthy.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, scooting down to lick my nipples, pinch them with his calloused fingers, before sucking them into his mouth and drawing on them noisily. Wetly. “I apologize for being rude. It’s painful to be this horny.”

I’m almost incoherent from the pleasure he’s inflicting on my breasts. They’re so sensitive. I never knew. “W-well we have to do something about that,” I stammer.

He slaps my breasts. Gently. A smack, right to left.

Something hot and needy cracks open in my midsection, my moan renting the air.

“Again,” I pant. “Harder.”

A combination of agony and excitement tightens his features. “You like that, don’t you?”

“Yes!”

“You like me slapping these little brat tits.”

“Oh my God. Yes.”

“You’re the only cure for this pain in my cock,” he rasps, razing my nipples with his teeth, his mouth traveling lower, lower, his open mouth coasting over my belly button, my mound, to the slit beneath. “This is where all my frustration is going to go. Right here. In this itty-bitty fuck hole. Soon as I’m done lickin’, you’re going to open your legs and let me put it there.”

“Yes!”

I’m screaming. I can’t lie still.

I didn’t even know if was possible to want sex this bad. I’m trembling, my skin growing dewy with the need for…for…I don’t know. I just want to be used like a naughty toy. Rutted and grunted over. I want this gigantic man to be brought to his knees by the sensations afforded to him by my body. Only my body.

I’m barely cognizant of my movements as I lift my hips and whine for his mouth, which he gives me enthusiastically. My arousal has already left my flesh parted slightly, but his tongue presses the petals of my sex open wider, the flat of it rubbing my clit hungrily. As if my release is the only thing that will quench his thirst. My vision wavers. I’m dizzy. My thighs begin to shudder and shake. Thirty seconds of his mouth between my legs and I’m already on the verge of an orgasm. An intense one. It hasn’t even crested, and it has stolen my breath.

“Dusty. Dusty!”

We lock eyes up the length of my body and he uses the very tip of his tongue to worry my clit. Then, very precisely, he reaches up and slaps my breast. Snap.

My hips jump off the bed, but he wrangles them back down and…and…oh God, he drills his tongue up inside of me, fucking me with loud groans, his thumb strumming my clit as he goes. Sensations bombard me, my loins quickening swiftly, painfully, and I go over the edge, a warm river of need traveling low in my tummy and releasing on his tongue, his jaw, all while he continues to plunge his tongue in and out, in and out, wet sounds filling the bedroom.

I have barely recovered from that life-altering orgasm when my giant farmer looms over me, taking up every inch of my world, moisture dripping from his chin onto my throat, my breasts. He braces his left arm beside my head and fists his shaft in the other, bringing it between my legs while breathing laboriously.

“Ain’t got a single condom to my name, darlin’.” He enters me with a single inch, his pupils expanding like an explosion of black, his voice dropping an octave. “But I reckon you don’t want to get pregnant tonight.”

“No,” I say, automatically, curious about the lack of conviction in my voice. “I can’t.”

A shadow quickly passes across his face, before it’s gone. “You trust me to pull out?”

“I trust you to do anything,” I whisper, nothing short of starry-eyed, skimming my palms along the muscular bunches of his shoulders, over his short hair, before taking his face in my hands. “Make love to me, Dusty.”

Some unnamed emotion multiplies in his expression and he rides his hips forward, impaling me slowly, his chest heaving faster with every inch he gains inside of my body. “Lord Jesus have mercy,” he barks, stopping halfway. “You don’t take a cunt like this on a shortcut down a deserted road, you hear? This here cunt keeps to the highway.”

“Yes, sir,” I breathe.

“I don’t know how long I’ll last in this pretty wet thing.” His face is a mask of pain. “Barely halfway in and my balls already want to burst.”

I shift my hips side to side. “But I want to feel all of you.”

“Don’t baby talk me, darlin’. I’m trying to get a hold of myself.”

“No.” I pout, playing with my nipples and watching his eyes darken further as a result. “I want you to let go with me. I want to be manhandled.”

“You’re a virgin, Bianca.”

“Maybe we’re not all the same,” I whisper. “Maybe I’m virgin who wants it rough.”

“Dear God above,” he says through his clenched teeth—and then he slams into me, filling me up with every inch of his erection and driving me up the bed. “Oh, sweet fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Tight little thing. I’ve got this tight little thing now, don’t I?”

I’m reeling from so many sensations.

Elation.

Discomfort.

Eagerness.

Need.

“Ride me dirty, Daddy,” I sob, flexing my secret muscles around the immense girth of him. “Please.”

As soon as those five unexpected words leave my mouth, he bellows my name and begins to pound me like a demon. This is what I wanted. Exactly this. He shoves my face into his throat and fucks me with unparalleled aggression. His sex enters me thick, wet and sloppy, his testicles slapping the curve of my buttocks, faster, faster. Did I call him Daddy?

Yes.

I did.

Nothing has ever felt more fitting, especially now, when he is the center of my universe, the keeper of my breath, my pleasure, my pain. He’s destroying me and giving me new life. I cry out when his sex begins to thicken inside of me, his grunts becoming louder in my ear. Does that mean he’s going to have an orgasm? Is it happening?

The very knowledge that he might be on the verge makes my own flesh pulse, grow taut, giving me the warning that another tumultuous climax is right around the corner and all I can do is keep my legs open, my arms wrapped tight around his neck, while the mattress creaks beneath us, the sound of our panting breaths filling the air.

“Jesus Christ, I’m taking you too hard. I’m no better than a beast. This is what could have happened to you out on the road,” he says, sinking his teeth into the side of my neck, driving into me in a fury. “The only difference is I licked it first.”

“I love what you’re doing to me, Daddy. Don’t stop.”

“Call me Daddy again and I’m warning you, darlin’, I won’t be able to pull out. And listen to me good, if I come inside of you, don’t you dare try and leave this farm. I will bring my pregnant woman home and weld a ring onto her finger.” His jaw bunches up, muscles flexing in his cheek. “My God, listen to that little squeak every time I put these inches in it. I’d sell my soul to fuck you silly for the rest of my life.”

I don’t know what comes over me.

I don’t know what possesses me, but I’m not thinking clearly right now.

I’m overcome by the rising tide inside of me. By this man.

This big, incredible man who has two sides. Decent and dirty.

And I hunger for them both, so I disregard his warning. Purposely? I don’t know.

“Make me squeak louder, Daddy.”

His roar erupts in the bedroom and his hips move faster, harder, pinning me to the bed with merciless drives. The veins in his throat and chest turn stark, his muscles straining, and he throws his head back, coming inside of me with so much force, I scream, my core cinching up like a vise around him, milking, milking his driving shaft as I orgasm, my moisture flooding the place where our bodies join, where he thrusts into me in a frenzy, overflowing me.

Owning my body.

Taking my heart prisoner.

And when he drops on top of me, panting, praising my body, I recognize the possible consequences of what I’ve done. I’ve set something new into motion. An irrevocable change.

…if I come inside of you, don’t you dare try and leave this farm. I will bring my pregnant woman home and weld a ring onto her finger.

I don’t doubt Dusty for a second.

Part of me even feels alive just thinking about. Being this honorable man’s wife.

Living here on this magical farm.

But don’t I owe it to myself to keep following my dream? Everyone doubts me, even my own mother. I don’t want to quit and hear I told you so. I’ve scraped by for too long to give up simply because I’ve met a man. I don’t want to be taken care of. I want to work. Succeed. And this role that I’m gunning for is so cool. A female detective named Finlay, out to deliver some vigilante justice. Anyone would kill for that part!

Even as I snuggle into this big bear of a man, I know what I have to do.

I have to sneak out.

I have to run before he wakes up.

6

Dusty

My heart speeds up the moment I open my eyes.

I’m overwhelmed with the privilege of being in bed beside Bianca.

So much so that I have to breathe in and out for several seconds before turning over.

Have I been going through the motions of life? I thought I was happy, but no. This is happiness. Waking up in the morning and knowing the most incredible woman alive is asleep beside you. I’m going to kiss her everywhere. I’m going to make her a giant breakfast, then spend the day on top of her.

My dick slithers in the sheets, thickening and standing on end.

The muscles of my stomach tie in knots remembering how she called me Daddy, even after I warned her to stop. I told her I wouldn’t pull out and she did it anyway. That was her way of telling me she wants to stay. She wants to remain on the farm and be mine forever.

She could already be pregnant.

I bite my wrist to muffle the moan that swells in my chest. I don’t know what I did to receive this reward from God, but I’m not going to question it. I’m simply going to spend my life making sure I don’t take Bianca for granted. Starting now.

I turn onto my side carefully, not wanting to crush her with my weight—

And alarm pinches the back of my neck.

She’s not there.

I remain very still for a moment, listening, trying to determine if she’s in the house. When I don’t hear anything, I’m out of bed like a shot, stomping naked into the kitchen and wrenching open the front door of the house.

Her car is gone.

Denial and panic slam into my solar plexus, a cold sweat breaking out along my brow.

No. No, no, no.

She left? She left after I might have impregnated her?

A bellow of denial echoes across my property and I almost rip the door of the hinges, just for something to do with my hands, other than tear my hair out. A terrible pain spears me in the center of the chest. The kitchen spins around me.

What did I do wrong?

Was I too rough?

Oh God, what if I hurt her pretty body?

She got me going so damn good, I was more beast than man by the end of our lovemaking. Considering our size difference, I should have been gentler. She deserved tenderness her first time, not the frenzied pounding I gave her.

That being said…

I did tell her that if she left, I would go find her.

And I am not a man who makes a vow without meaning it.

Oh, I was deadly serious, all right.

Bianca took my seed into her body. Even now, it could be taking hold. She made her choice and her choice was me. I’ll be retrieving her from the city at my earliest opportunity.

Meaning now. Today.

I’m starved for her body and my heart is in a million pieces.

If I don’t give myself a purpose, I think I might collapse from the soul-deep ache.

With a head full of steam, I stomp into the bedroom and start ripping clothes out of my drawers, throwing them into the center of the bed. That’s when I see it—the little stain of virgin blood left by my darlin’. A scrape of sound leaves me and I fall to my knees, kissing the red mark, trailing my fingers over it reverently.

I only allow myself to bask in the memory of her hymen ripping around my cock for a few minutes and then I’m back to packing, dropping toiletries onto my stack of clothes. I don’t have an overnight bag, on account of never going anywhere, so I wrap everything in the bloody sheet and throw it over my shoulder, tearing out of the house like a man on a mission.

That’s exactly what I am.

On my way into the town about twenty miles yonder, I call the veterinarian and ask him to send out a farm hand to tend my fields and animals until I return. Then I stop at a place I’ve never been before. The flower shop. I’ve never had a woman of my own, but every man knows that flowers solve problems. If she left, there’s a problem, so I sure as hell better bring some roses with me to the city.

When I walk into the flower shop, there is a little old lady behind the counter. Her eyes widen at my entrance and she slowly sets down the pen she’s been using to do a crossword puzzle. “Why, hello young man. What can I do for you?”

“I need…”

I trail off, looking around the store. Holy hell, there are at least fifty different kinds of flowers. Who the hell knew? What if roses are the wrong kind?

“I need to get my woman back.”

“Oh, honey.” Much to my relief, the woman collects a big piece of cellophane and begins walking around the shop, collecting various flowers from the different pots. “Why did she leave?”

“I don’t know,” I shout, unable to feel my legs.

“Well, you seem like a nice boy. I’m sure you’ll resolve the issue.”

“How can I resolve a problem if I don’t know what it is?” I rake a hand over my head. “She was happy when we fell asleep last night. I think.”

“That’s the thing about us women. Sometimes we look and sound perfectly happy, but on the inside, it’s a whole other story.”

“Oh, Jesus.”

“Yup. A woman can’t just come right out and tell you what she wants. That would be too easy. You have to figure it out, son.” She laughs merrily, as if she isn’t telling me a bunch of godawful facts. “Sometimes she doesn’t even know what she wants.”

I need to sit down.

But there’s no chair in sight, so I pace instead.

“There is some good news, however,” says the lady, her eyes sparkling. “All women love flowers. You can’t go wrong there.”

“Even a city girl?” I ask. “Maybe she’d want…coffee instead?”

Very carefully, the woman sets down the bundle of flowers and folds her hands at her waist. “Son, please don’t take this the wrong way.” She looked me over, top to bottom. “But I hope you’re not going to court a city girl dressed in dirty overalls and no shirt or shoes.”

Not once has my attire registered with me.

It does now.

The old lady is right. I can’t go to the big city looking like I just wandered out of the mountains. Since I don’t know where she lives, my plan is to find her at the boutique where she works. Le Chic is what she called it. What if I walk in there and embarrass Bianca?

I swallow hard. “What do you suggest?”

“I was hoping you would ask.” Grinning, she slides a phone out of her pocket, taps the screen a few times and hold it to her ear. “Harold, come on down to the shop. Bring that old suit of yours and my sewing kit.”

7

Bianca

I don’t feel so good.

I’m not sick. At least, I don’t think so.

But there has been a horrible restlessness in my stomach all day long. My spine feels brittle and my skin is uncomfortably clammy. After sneaking off the farm at first light, I arrived back to the city in the afternoon. I had just enough time to shower and change for my shift at Le Chic, before dashing out of my building again, so I really haven’t had a lot of time to think. But standing behind the counter now, watching women pluck dresses and blouses off the racks, the lack of motion gives me nothing but time to think.

Of him.

I can’t stop thinking of him.

How he must have reacted when he woke up and I was gone.

The sides of my throat turn raw and gulping water is only making it worse. A woman asks me a question on the other side of the store and I nod dumbly, no idea what she said. It feels like I’m having an out-of-body experience. My body is here, but I…

Did I leave my heart on the farm? Was I kidding myself to think I could just meet that glorious man, give myself to him and then walk away?

No, I did the right thing. I have my big meeting tomorrow.

It’s everything I’ve worked for. The pain in my chest will pass. It has to.

Right?

My shift drags on. Hours pass. Images of Dusty begin to bombard me. His touch haunts me. I can feel his hands on my thighs, his mouth on my nipples. His powerful body moving on top of mine. Somehow, I know he would love the hot pink pencil skirt I’m wearing today, the black bandana I tied across my breasts, leaving my midriff bare. My panties start to soak themselves imagining how eager he’d be to lick me. Drive his tongue up inside of me.

“Bianca, do you need to take a break?” asks my co-worker. “You look flushed.”

“I’m fine,” I say, my tone like gravel. “I just…I had a crazy night.”

She nods in sympathy. “Working hungover is the worst.”

I force a laugh and go back to the inventory sheet in front of me. “No arguments here.”

A collective murmur kicks up around the store. Something changes in the air, like a change in the energy. A prickle starts at the nape of my neck and travels all the way to the crown of my head. Is it my imagination or is the ground trembling beneath my feet a little?

A shadow darkens the counter and slowly, I look up, my pulse bouncing up, down and sideways at the sight that greets me.

Dusty is here.

He’s inside the boutique.

In an old suit that barely fits his huge body, a bouquet of peonies and daisies in his fist.

My heart spins like a dreidel. The urge to launch myself over the counter into his arms is fierce, but I’m so shocked that all I can do is stare up at him as he lays the flowers down in front of me, his heart shining in his eyes. “Beg pardon, Bianca, but I’ll be bringing you back to the farm now.”

That snaps me wide awake. “Excuse me?”

“Hell, darlin’.” He makes a rough adjustment to his white, starched collar, his gaze traveling over my breasts, tummy and hips. “Do you ever look anything but perfect?”

“I…thanks…?”

“Lord, I’m sweating just looking at you.”

“What about you? You’re wearing a suit,” I say, dazedly. What is going on here? I’m so happy to see him I could burst, but I have the distinct fear that I’m seconds from being kidnapped. Also…wow. He’s so hot.

He was sexy in ratty overalls, but in a suit, he’s a straight up Daddy.

Mine.

My panties were already wet from daydreaming about him, but they’re practically stuck to me now. This farmer drove to the city to find me, remembered the name of the place I work—and he brought flowers. “D-did you put the suit on just to come see me?”

“Just to come see you? Bianca, you’re an event.”

A soft expulsion of air puffs out of me, my heart thunking like a flat tire.

“My truck is outside. I’m fitting to put you in it now.”

“What?” Once again, I’m propelled from my stupor. “No, Dusty. You can’t just come here and abduct me. I live here.”

“You were given a warning, Bianca. You ignored it.” I squeak and spin in a circle when he begins to skirt the counter, coming around to the back where I’m standing. There’s no escape, nowhere to run. And when he hauls me onto my toes, breathing hard against my mouth, I don’t want to escape. A dangerous feeling, to be sure. “Where is your apartment, darlin’. I’m going to bring you there and remind you what’s between us. A few hours of whining and scratching at me and you’ll come with me. As docile as a lamb.”

I gasp, shoving at his strapping shoulder with the heel of my hand. “What has gotten into you?”

“A broken heart,” he rasps.

“Dusty.” Hot, gloppy tears spring to my eyes. “Please try and understand. I live here. I don’t want to leave.”

Do I?

That clean country air tasted so sweet…

“The lady in the flower shop says women don’t know what the hell they want.” Before I can track his movements, I’m being picked up and thrown over Dusty’s shoulder. His big palm cracks down on my backside, then again, giving me two rough spanks. “Well, listen to me good, darlin’. Daddy will keep chasing you and bringing you home until you figure it out.”

* * *

For several blocks, I’m too stunned to speak.

Toxic masculinity is not supposed to turn me on.

I liked Dusty because he was sweet and humble.

But this Dusty? This side of him? I can’t pretend he isn’t putting my hormones in overdrive. I’m being kidnapped against my will and I can barely focus on anything but the way his ass flexes in those tight suit pants. I can only marvel over the loose-hipped country confidence he embodies as he carries me in a fireman hold down the avenue, stopping pedestrians in their tracks. Not one man tries to intervene or help me, which is a perfect indication of what I’m working with in the city, dating pool wise.

There is no one like Dusty here.

He’s like Bigfoot showing up at a company picnic full of dudes in polo shirts and light beer, simply putting them all to shame. This is a man. And this man has decided to keep me.

Despite what I’m telling him I want.

I should want to kick him in the balls, but instead I’m just…relieved?

Oh no. Maybe women don’t know what they want?

No. Screw that. I’m not going anywhere docile as a lamb. I’m not going down without a fight. This is my home. He can’t just come here and abduct me back to his magical farm that somehow felt more like home than my own apartment.

I sniff indignantly and punch him in the butt. “Put me down, Dusty.”

“As soon as we’re in your apartment,” he drawls calmly. “I’m happy to walk in circles until you give me the address.”

“I’m not telling you!”

“I’m going to rip that little bandana off your tits as soon as we’re in the door and suck them until you scream.”

“Seventy East Nineteenth Street. Apartment 3A.”

His dark chuckle makes me frown. I punch him again in his firm, perfect butt.

I’m shaking with the erotic imagery he has put in my head. I know I should fight with him and demand he leave me alone. I know I should probably call the police or something, but as soon as we’re in my building, climbing the stairs, Dusty’s hand smooths over the curve of my bottom and squeezes, a growl emanating from his chest.

And I know I’m useless to battle this attraction.

He sets me down in front of the entrance to my apartment, flattening me against the door while he fishes my key out of my pocket, ignoring my struggles, which are half-hearted at best. I slap at his shoulders and “try” to wiggle free, but I’m also tilting my face up, hoping he kisses me—and when he does finally get the door open and plants one on me, I scale my giant like a tree, moaning into the explosive kiss, the touch of him like a breath of air after a day of inhaling soot, my heart pounding a hundred miles an hour.

Oh yeah. I’d say I’m in pretty big trouble.

8

Dusty

I don’t know what has come over me.

My plan was to arrive at the boutique, profess my love, hand her the flowers and woo her into coming home, no matter how long it took. But when I walked into the shop and saw Bianca standing there, blonde hair in waves around her tan shoulders, nothing but a scarf holding up her titties, I was inundated by a storm of possessiveness so thick, I couldn’t see clear of it. This girl is mine and that’s the end of it.

She gave me her virginity for a reason.

I took it for a reason.

Now I’m going to love her until the end of time, whether she likes it or not.

One thing, at least, is giving me hope—and that’s the fact that she’s kissing me. This attraction between us isn’t a figment of my imagination. It’s raw, piping hot and real. First on my agenda is letting the girl know—again—that I keep my word. So as soon as the apartment door clicks shut behind us, I rip that bandana away from her supple tits and lift her clean off the floor so I can suckle her juicy little nipples.

It's not long until she’s tearing at my hair and screaming, trying her damnedest to get her legs wrapped around my hips. But she can’t. The pink skirt she’s wearing is tight as second skin and the hem goes all the way to her knees.

“Bedroom,” I growl, hankering to get her buck naked.

“No. Here.” She plants kisses all over my face. “Just do it here.”

“No. I aim to put my come on your sheets.” I carry her through a miniscule living area and into a tiny room with a full-sized, wrought-iron bed, the sight of where Bianca sleeps making me extra horny. “I’m getting my smell all over this place. And all over you, hear me?”

“You know, I really don’t enjoy your alpha nonsense.”

I spin her around to face the bed and yank up her cocktease skirt, exposing that luscious butt. “Yes, you do. Now grip the end rail.”

“No.”

But she does it.

“You’re going to be spanked now. Tell me why.”

Her rib cage begins to heave. “Because I ran away.”

“That’s right.” I’ve never struck a woman in my life and I never planned to, but delivering sharp slaps Bianca’s ass and watching her hips tilt, presenting her tush for more, is like being reborn. Her positive reaction, the moisture glistening on her inner thighs, tells me a little punishment is something she didn’t even know she needs. That’s my job now, as her man. Figuring out what she wants and making it happen before she even recognizes that it’s a desire. I’m eager for the challenge. I’m going to learn and cherish and master her.

I’m going to love her like she deserves.

My palm connects with her right cheek, making it jiggle deliciously. “You like that?”

“Yes,” she gasps.

“You want me to pull your panties down and do it some more.”

“Was that a question?”

“No.” I yank down her flimsy little thong, groaning over the soaked crotch. “Your cunt is telling me what I need to know.”

Tremors course through her. “Daddy.”

Emotion crowds my throat, remembering the last time she called me by that title. “That word is what got you into trouble in the first place.” I spank her again and unzip my pants. “You want some more of it?”

“Yes, please.”

I’m not sure how it happens. We just know what’s coming next. She’s already going down on her knees when I turn her around, her hands fumbling with the waistband of my pants to tug them down, my ready-to-fuck cock bounding free and her mouth locking around it, drawing on the bulbous head, her hands coming up to stroke me. Explosions take place in my ears, my balls digging up into my undercarriage. Holy mother of God. I’ve never even fantasized about having my cock sucked, because it seemed completely outside the realm of possibility. But not only is it being sucked, it’s being tended enthusiastically by Bianca.

My perfect angel and future wife, Bianca. The girl I love.

Her mouth is a masterpiece, slip sliding up and down my length, her hands functioning as extensions of her lips, pumping me thicker, thicker with every tight stroke.

“Ohhhh. Baby. I like that. Daddy likes that.”

She moans, letting me in deeper.

My heartbeat sounds like its coming from a stereo speaker turned up to full volume. So much of my blood has traveled south, I’m growing dizzy, my fingers tunneling through her white-blonde hair for balance, my feet sliding further apart to brace me. I shouldn’t be fucking her sweet, tiny mouth but I swear on everything holy, she’s desperate for it. Whining and licking and suctioning me with all of her might, the strokes never stopping. She is trying to swallow me whole. Every time I look down, she’s managed to get a little more down her throat, so I have to stop looking or I’m going to spray everywhere.

Matter of fact, the spray is coming whether I’m watching or not.

Have to stop. Must stop.

With a growl of pain, I drag my pulsing johnson out of her mouth, taking a moment to memorize the way she licks her lips for it, clearly wanting more, then I pull her back up to her feet, crashing our mouths together, thanking her without words for what she gave me. Something is annoying me, though, and I realize it’s this shirt and tie. I can’t feel my girl against me. I want her skin. I want the heat of it. The taste and soft texture.

I break the kiss long enough to unknot the tie and toss it aside, our fingers colliding at my top button, making quick work of the shirt and pushing it off my shoulders to the floor.

“Wow,” she whispers, looking at me. My chest, abdomen and the straining dick jutting out from my lap. “I mean, you’re just…wow. Everyone should be jealous of me right now.”

I’m so horny, it takes me long seconds to process her meaning. “You…like my body.”

“Did you not see me down on my knees?” She scrubs her palms up and down my torso, my muscles flexing involuntarily wherever she touches. “I’ve never done that. I just…needed to do it for you.” I can barely believe my eyes when she leans in and swipes her tongue against my nipple. She does it on the other side, too, and my loins are practically vibrating at this point. “I guess since we’re both new at this, we have to follow our instincts with each other,” she whispers, laving my right nipple again, closing her teeth around it and biting, making me moan brokenly. “What are your instincts telling you to do with me, Dusty?”

My tongue is so thick, I can barely speak. “Mount you.” I spin her around to face the bed again, guiding her hands to the wrought-iron end rail. “Mate you.”

She tucks her sweet backside into my lap and works it around, those high heels making her the perfect height for teasing. “Like this?”

“Yes,” I groan, reaching around to the front of her pussy to check for wetness—and so much more than that greets me. She’s warm and creamy and small and so smooth, I silently thank the Lord. And then I’m bringing my shaft to that blessed hole and bucking myself clean to the back of her. My thrust is so firm, it lifts her off the ground and when she comes down, she balances on her toes, the front of her hips braced against the wrought iron. “This is how a bull does it on the farm,” I rasp in her ear, driving up between her shaking legs. “How do you like it?”

“I like it. A lot,” she whimpers, tilting her hips, pushing those taut round cheeks up against my stomach, buns jiggling a little every time I pump. “More.”

I close my hands around her tits, palming and stroking them, the pace of my drives beginning to increase out of pure necessity. I’m not going to last much longer. She’s too tight, too perfect. “That’s right. You love Daddy’s bull cock, don’t you, darlin’?”

“Yes!”

God, I love the freedom of being to say whatever comes to my mind while I’m inside of Bianca. She’s not offended by the crudeness. In fact, it only serves to make her wetter, that little hole clamping down around me when I say the D-word. “Run as many times as you want, I’ll keep tracking you down to bull fuck it.” My hands slide up around her throat, fingers tightening until I can feel her swallow, my cock slapping in and out of her snug sex, grinding hard every time I get balls deep. “When you see me coming, you get your panties off, hear?”

“I will,” she cries out. “I will.”

Using my grip on her throat, I pull her back until my mouth meets her ear. “Or you could come home right now, like a good girl, and save us this whole song and dance.” Operating on instinct, I hold her throat tight for a few seconds, before allowing her to gasp for air, my fingers falling to her pussy, strumming that little bud and making her constrict. Making her moan. “You belong with me. You come home now and let me love you. Let me take care of you. Let me keep your hot little cunt satisfied. Ain’t nobody in this city got a bull cock like mine.”

Bianca gasps. “Dusty!”

“What? You’re the one that gave me this confidence, darlin’.” I slam deep and hold, worrying her tiny nub with my middle finger, staying pressed up tight inside of her and tickling that bud until she screams. “Look at my woman. Look at my treasure. A man is bound to get an ego when the princess herself calls him Daddy.”

She’s dancing on her toes now, begging for every thrust, fingers white around the wrought iron. Her thighs are shaking. She’s close.

But suddenly, I really need to see her eyes. So badly that my throat burns.

It’s easy to maneuver Bianca. She just wants to be on my cock, she doesn’t care how it happens. So I pull out long enough to turn her around to face me, boosting her legs up around my waist and sliding into the tightness, watching her titties shake while I fuck her, smacking her up and down on my meat, her flesh still as wet as can be.

“Look at me, darlin’. Let me see your beautiful eyes.” She does what I ask, though her gaze is unfocused, glazed over with lust. “Thought my fields were the best shade of green until I met you. Saw those eyes. Now I know better.”

She makes a catching sound, her legs tightening around me. She buries her face in my shoulder, her little hips rotating, wiggling, rubbing her clit against the trunk of my cock. “Dusty,” she whimpers, licking my tongue. “Dusty.”

I slap her beautiful bare ass, three sharp smacks in quick succession. “Tell me where you’re going to put that cream.”

“On your bull cock,” she whispers shakily. “All over it.”

She hiccups and stiffens, followed by a closed mouth scream and I hold her body tight to my chest as she jerks, muscles spasming in her pussy, setting off shock waves in my brain, my stomach, everywhere. I keep her crushed close in my arms while she erupts, her hips grinding down on me to get every ounce of pleasure that she can, her whines music to my ears.

Damn right I satisfy my girl.

Possessiveness storms through me and I move, stomping around to the side of the bed and pinning her down on the mattress, my lower body pumping like a son of a bitch. Once again, just like last time, I’m being a rough bastard, but she couldn’t possibly open her thighs any wider in welcome. Perfect angel. Sent just for me.

“Call me husband,” I demand, baring my teeth against her mouth. “Say it. Let’s pretend it’s true. I’ll burst like a dam, darlin’.”

Caution flashes in her eyes. Panic.

But I bear down harder, I frame her jaw in my hand and don’t allow her to break eye contact. “All that come I put in you, Bianca? You’re damn well already pregnant, darlin’.” Does she realize how intensely her core flexes when I say those words? “You’re going to give me a baby with green eyes, just like their mother.”

“Dusty.”

“Husband. Say it. Let me dream.”

I change angles and pleasure sparks in her eyes, her hands flying to my shoulders and squeezing tight. Right there. I’ve got her now. “Husband,” she whispers.

Propping myself up on an elbow, I smack her perky tits, watching her nipples plump in the wake of the sting. “Louder.”

“Husband! You’re my husband.”

“Oh, darlin’. Sweet Jesus Christ!”

We climax at the same time. She clenches up, trembling, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip, and I flatten her, my hips in a permanent flex, my bellow of relief echoing around her small bedroom. My balls are being milked by an invisible fist, my stomach straining painfully while it releases the immense pressure Bianca put inside of me. Every emotion possible for a man is flooding inside of me, love the most prevalent one of all.

There is no other woman in this world who could correspond to me this perfectly. No other woman who could bring my blood to a boiling point and make my heart race out of control. There is only her and there will only ever be her.

I love Bianca.

I cannot live without her.

But when the sweat begins to cool on our bodies, I can feel her preparing for a fight.

So be it.

I’ll fight to keep her until the day I die.

“If you’ve got something to say, let’s hear it,” I say from above, planting a kiss on her pouty mouth, anchoring her wrists on either side of her head. “Say your piece, so I can get back to stroking your insides with this footlong.”

She lets out a trembling breath. “I’ve created a monster.”

I grin down at her.

Before she can catch herself, she smiles back, so angelic she makes me ache.

That emotion in her eyes? It’s pure love. Maybe not as obsessive and powerful as my love for her, but I’ll get her there. I’ll kill myself making her love me like this.

When Bianca realizes she’s smiling, she shakes herself and goes back to pouting, but she’s already given herself away.

Bring on the fight.

She’s coming home with me, come hell or high water.

Eventually she’ll realize it, too.

9

Bianca

Red alert.

This is a state of emergency.

I cannot believe how drastically this man makes my convictions leak out of my ears.

It’s dangerous. He’s dangerous.

He’s also a big, beautiful stud who gains a little more confidence every time we touch. The shy farmer is still in there, but now he knows he can pleasure me into following his orders. I just called him husband. That is the opposite of the plan!

Okay. Okay, I just need to regroup.

“Let me up, so I can get dressed.” I shove at his shoulders. His strapping body is half on top of mine, his arms wrapped around me in a bear hug. It’s very nice. It’s too nice. “We need to have a proper conversation.”

“We can talk just like this, darlin’,” he drawls, stroking my hair with his fingertips.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

“You’re…you’re using my body against me.”

His gaze sharpens, turns troubled. “Now don’t go saying it like that.”

“It’s the truth. You know that I’m extremely attracted to you. You’re weaponizing sex!”

He studies me hard for several seconds, before a cocky grin spreads across his face. “Extremely attracted, huh?”

I attempt to struggle out of his arms, but he keeps me pinned with little to no effort. It’s embarrassing, really. “Bring back the farmer who vowed never to cross my boundaries.”

“Now, Bianca.” His tone is serious. “Don’t pretend you didn’t want me to bring you back here and give that pussy hell.”

The body part in question throbs accusingly. “Stop talking like that,” I breathe.

He arches an eyebrow. “You like it too much?”

“Yes,” I sniff, turning my face away from him.

“Aw, darlin’.” He brushes kisses along my cheek. “Don’t be cross with me.”

“You’re making it very hard to be angry,” I admit. “But then I remember that you came here to kidnap me back to your magical farm. Even though I have the biggest meeting of my life tomorrow. Don’t you care about that?”

“Of course, I do,” he says fervently, tugging me closer to his chest.

“But not enough to let me stay in the city?”

For the first time since we started this conversation, he’s beginning to look conflicted. “Bianca, I warned you loud and clear.” He reaches down and flattens his palm on my belly. “My son or daughter might already be growing in here.”

“We should have waited and used a condom,” I grumble.

“But, baby…” He kisses me slowly, his lips curving into a smile, taking my lips along with them. “Do they even make them in my size?”

“You know, it’s possible to be too confident.”

“All I know is my dick is the right size for giving orgasms to my beautiful Bianca.” His tongue twines with mine, his fingertips stroking up to lightly pinch my nipple. “And hell, darlin’, I’d say you’re the right size for me, too, but you’re at least three sizes too small.”

He’s starting to breathe hard.

So am I.

This is a disaster.

“Stop distracting me,” I murmur, my traitorous leg locking around his hip. “My audition tomorrow is important to me, Dusty.”

He nods, serious. “I know.”

“What if I get the role?” A line jumps in his cheek, but he doesn’t respond. “No one I grew up with believed in me. My own mother thinks trying to be an actress is a waste of time. She never even came to any of my high school plays.” Shaking my head, I implore him with my eyes to understand. “It’s hard to be the only one who believes in me. I owe it to myself to try.”

Dusty stares at me for long moments, conflict warring in his features. There he is—my wonderful, considerate farmer. He really is the best of both worlds. Cocky and confident when the moment calls for it, but there’s a heart of gold on the inside. “I believe in you, Bianca,” he says, finally, his voice rusted over. “I…want you to do the audition. I want you to succeed, because it’s your dream.” He presses his forehead down on mine, holding eye contact. “I love you. That means your dreams are mine.”

“I love you, too,” I blurt, tears springing to my eyes. “Even more so now.”

His next breath catches and he can’t speak for several beats. “You…love me back?”

I give up the fight and nod enthusiastically. “Yes.”

He crushes me in his embrace and I hug him around the neck as hard as possible, never wanting to let go. Scared for what the future holds, but harboring no doubts that this man will be a part of it. Somehow. Some way. “If the audition goes well, you’ll be working in New York?” he asks into my neck, kissing the sensitive region beneath my ear.

“Los Angeles,” I croak.

His mouth pauses in its ministrations. “Bianca,” he growls, warningly. “That ain’t—”

Catching him off guard, I push my giant over onto his back and straddle his hips, cutting him off mid-sentence. “Can’t we worry about it tomorrow, Daddy?” I purr, cupping my breasts and massaging them gently, as he watches through rapidly darkening eyes. “I don’t want to argue tonight.”

His massive chest has started heaving. “What do you want to do?”

I lean down and kiss him, playing with his tongue while my sex rubs against his thickening length, our flesh still slippery from lovemaking. “I want to play.”

“Bianca, I…” He moans, his hands flying to my hips to press me down, down, his hips lifting up, up, bouncing me roughly. I arch my back to accentuate my breasts and he hisses at the sight. “Mother Mary.” He guides his erection to my entrance and thrusts it up inside of me, throwing his head back with a grunted curse. “So tight. You wonder why I want to lock it down?” He clutches my bottom and urges me to ride, his eyes rolling back in his head when his shaft slides in and out of me from below. “Bianca, we will speak about Los Angeles tomorrow.”

“Fine. Okay,” I pout, my mouth meandering over his. “But tonight, I only want to talk about one thing.”

“What is it?” he asks from behind clenched teeth.

Blushing, I lean down and whisper in his ear. “How many ways I can satisfy my man’s bull cock.”

I’m on my back in a flash, my bed frame slamming into the wall with the force of his drives. It’s going to be a very long night—and I can’t wait for every single second.

A big part of me wouldn’t mind if tomorrow never came at all.

* * *

It’s the afternoon of the audition.

I can’t believe it’s really here. My potential big break.

But now that I’m riding the elevator to the casting director’s office, the weirdest thing is happening. All I can do is wonder how Lady is doing with her new foal. Has the baby bonded with Buggy, too? What are the other magical farm animals doing?

And this morning, when I woke up sprawled across Dusty’s chest, I started thinking about how his bed at the farm is bigger and more comfortable. The sirens and foot traffic on the street outside of my window wasn’t as easy to ignore today. It scratched against my eardrums and I longed for the quiet. That hum of nature and wind and nothing else.

What is wrong with me?

I really need to focus on this audition. Who knows how many people I’m competing with for the role of Finlay, amateur sleuth? That number could be in the hundreds.

Before I reach the correct floor, I give myself a quick onceover in the reflective wall of the elevator. I wore a red sleeveless turtleneck tucked into a short, loose, flowy skirt. My hair is loose around my shoulders in a riot of waves. I square those shoulders now and step through the doors as they roll open.

I stop, surprised to see the hallway empty, instead of other girls who received callbacks like me. It’s not possible that I’m the only one here for a meeting, right? If that’s the case, I should be overjoyed, right? I want this part.

Or do I?

My pulse is racing, but not in an excited way, it’s more nervous.

Nervous that I’ll get the part and be sent to Los Angeles?

Away from Dusty. My Dusty, who is waiting back at the apartment, probably pacing the floor. We made love so many times last night, my throat is scratchy from screaming. I have chafe marks all over my body from his scruffy jaw and I wear them like a badge of honor, my mouth swollen from kisses, nipples sensitive from being sucked so often. In fact, I wouldn’t mind being back in bed right now, instead of walking down this unfamiliar hallway. He told me stories about the farm last night in the dark of my bedroom and I want more of them.

I want to know everything.

Suddenly, a door opens up ahead and a man pokes his head out.

It’s the casting director—a man in his fifties, salt and pepper hair. He might have been handsome at one time, but he has the look of a man who possibly drinks too much, his complexion red, his eyes bloodshot in the corners. “Ah, there she is. Hello Bianca.”

“Hello,” I say, forcing myself to give a dazzling smile.

“I’m Peter Cannon,” he says, shaking my hand. “You remember me from the casting calls, I’m sure.”

“Yes, of course. It’s lovely to see you again.”

He looks pointedly at my breasts and my hips, but I hold on to my smile. Unfortunately, it’s not unusual for casting directors to look over girls like a piece of meat. And thankfully, he gestures for me to enter the office. When I walk inside, I have to stop myself from gasping. It’s incredible up here, the city laid out in the sunshine, light glinting off thousands of windows, a giant, green park running through the middle of it all.

Not as majestic as the farm looked the morning I snuck out, all shrouded in silent mist, but nice enough.

Peter comes up behind me and lays a hand on the small of my back, causing my entire body to stiffen, but he only guides me to the chair facing his desk. Once I’m seated, he takes his spot behind the glass piece of furniture and folds his hands on the surface.

“You must feel very lucky, considering over four hundred girls auditioned for the part of Finlay. Whoever lands the part is going to be on billboards, interviewed by Kimmel—not to mention quite an expansion to her bank account.”

I’m disappointed that he isn’t talking about the character herself. What a great artistic opportunity she would be to play. But I smile and nod. “Yes, I realize being cast as Finlay would launch whoever you chose. Whoever could play her best, of course.”

“Sure, that’s part of it,” he laughs. “We want to find a good actress.” After studying me for a moment, he leans back in his chair. “I guess you could say I have an unconventional method of discovering acting talent.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” He smiles in a way that makes my stomach sink, my skin clammy. “If a beautiful girl like you can fake it with a man like me, you can certainly excel on screen.”

I’m going to be sick. Does he mean what I think he means?

Is he asking me to sleep with him for the part?

“Um…” I stand up on shaky legs. “I-I…I don’t think—”

Peter stands, too. “I’m talking about running some lines together, Bianca. You’ll have a love interest on the show, if you’re cast. If you can pretend I’m a twenty-year-old hunk while we’re reading through the script, you could have this in the bag.”

“Oh.” I sit back down, but I’m still shaky. “I see.”

This doesn’t feel right.

Suddenly, the couch in the corner of the room is way too close.

“Before we go through some lines, Bianca, I have some questions for you. Just a few personal items to check off the list.”

Doing my best to get ahold of myself, I nod. “Sure, please ask away.”

He smiles, looking down at the planner in front of him. “Do you have any problem relocating to Los Angeles?”

Yes.

I almost scream the word, but if I do, I might as well end this audition here and now.

I can always change my mind later, right?

“No, I don’t have any problem with that,” I say quietly.

“Fabulous. That’s where I spend most of my time, too. I could introduce you to so many people. Directors, fellow casting agents, producers. Parties in the Hollywood Hills. Premiers.”

“That sounds…amazing.”

“You have no idea.” He goes back to looking at his list. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

My fingers jolt in my lap. “Why is that relevant?”

He looks at me like I’m nuts. “Obviously, it’s relevant. Actresses with boyfriends? Especially when they are starting out in the business? It’s always messy. He gets jealous of her sudden rise to fame. Or he doesn’t like all the time she’s spending on set. Or making connections. When it comes to an actress’s career, boyfriends are a distraction.”

All right.

This guy is full of bologna.

It’s time to admit to myself that this is a casting couch situation.

I’ve been duped.

He might very well still give me the part if I sleep with him, but he wants to exact payment first. And there isn’t a chance on God’s green earth that I’m letting this slimeball touch me. No way. I won’t let this man abuse his power over me. I don’t want to get the role this way.

While I’m being honest with myself…I don’t think I want the role at all anymore.

I want to go home to Dusty.

To the farm.

“I’m a great actress, Mr. Cannon.” I glance at the couch. “But I’m not that good.” I stand up and give him one last million-dollar smile. “Take your role and shove it up your ass.”

* * *

Dusty

Five minutes earlier

I tried to let Bianca go to the audition alone. I really did.

But when she left the building, I was watching her through the window and when I say every single man on the street turned to watch her pass, I’m not exaggerating. I had my pants, shoes and jacket on in a flash, following her to the underground train where I’m forced to climb over the turnstile, since I don’t have one of those cards to swipe. It wasn’t easy to remain inconspicuous, especially because I didn’t have time to put a shirt on beneath the suit jacket and probably look deranged, but so be it.

I need to make sure she gets to her audition safely.

I need to make sure she gets everywhere safely for the rest of her life.

If this means I need to relocate to Los Angeles, that’s what I’ll do. I can’t be waking up every morning wondering if she’s going to get hit by a car, if she’s cold or if some man is going to take liberties with her. Uh-uh. No sir.

Someone left a newspaper on the seat of the train, so I used it to cover my face, all while watching her through the dirty glass into the next car. I got off at the same stop and followed her three blocks to a large building. Bigger than any that I’ve ever seen. When I go inside, I see Bianca vanish into one of the elevators and now is when I should stop trailing her. She’s gotten here safely, right? My mission is complete.

What about the trip home, though?

I’ll wait.

Except, I don’t wait. Some sixth sense has me following her to the elevators.

A guard behind a desk calls out to me. “Uh, excuse me, sir?”

“What?”

He stands up, visibly unnerved by our size difference. “Holy hell.”

“I get that a lot.”

“Right.” He swallows hard again. “Well, you need to be on the appointment list to get upstairs. It’s protocol.”

I point at the ceiling. “My girlfriend is up there.”

He raises an eyebrow. “The hot blonde that just came in?”

I plant my hands on the desk and let him see his own death take place in my eyes.

“In hindsight, I can see describing her that way was a mistake.”

“Tell me which floor she is on and I might let you live.”

“Twenty-seven.”

I don’t waste a second striding to the elevators and punching the button. It opens right away and I step in. There’s a weird tightness at the back of my neck, like an intuition telling me Bianca needs me. Or maybe I just need her? God, yes. I feel sick without her in my arms. I should have told her I’ll come to California. I should have given her that assurance before her big audition that means so much to her.

The elevator doors open to reveal an empty hallway. At first, I think the security guard must have given me the wrong floor, but then I hear a male voice. I follow, stopping outside of the door and I listen.

“Do you have any problem relocating to Los Angeles?”

“No, I don’t have any problem with that,” Bianca responds, making my chest sting.

“Fabulous. That’s where I spend most of my time, too. I could introduce you to so many people. Directors, fellow casting agents, producers. Parties in the Hollywood Hills. Premiers.”

“That sounds…amazing.”

It does. It sounds like everything she’s been dreaming about.

How can my farm possibly compete with fancy parties in Hollywood?

It can’t.

“You have no idea.” The man pauses. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

“Why is that relevant?”

Good question, darlin’.

“Obviously, it’s relevant,” scoffs the man. “Actresses with boyfriends? Especially when they are starting out in the business? It’s always messy. He gets jealous of her sudden rise to fame. Or he doesn’t like all the time she’s spending on set. Or making connections. When it comes to an actress’s career, boyfriends are a distraction.”

I stumble back from the door.

Is that true?

Would I be a hindrance to Bianca if I came to Los Angeles with her?

Would I just be in the way? Am I in the way right now?

Rubbing at the back of my neck, I weave on my feet back toward the elevator, the man’s words ringing in my head. Bianca has this big dream and I could ruin it for her. I never intended to do that. I want her to be happy, don’t I? Of course—

The door of the office crashes open and I turn around in time to see Bianca stride out.

She stops in her tracks. “Dusty?”

I open my mouth, but I can’t find the words to say, so I simply shake my head.

“What are you doing here?”

“Well.” I clear the shame from my throat. “I wanted to make sure you got here safely and then I just had this feeling…you needed me. But I must have been wrong. Maybe I’m the last thing you need, darlin’.”

She blinks. “What are you talking about?”

“I heard what he said. About having a boyfriend holding you back.” I slap a hand over my heart. “You have to believe me, I never meant to do that.”

Bianca breathes a laugh, shakes her head. “Dusty, that was all nonsense.” She comes toward me, smoothing her hands up my bare torso. “He’s just another slimy casting director. He wanted…”

My blood is starting to heat. “He wanted what?”

“Me. And he didn’t want a boyfriend in the way.”

On a furious roar, I start to storm past Bianca, but she grabs my arm. “No!” I drag her several feet before I worry that she’ll trip and I stop. My head is pounding with rage, my fists ready to deliver damage, but she’s my first priority. “Dusty, he’s not worth it. He’s not. I told him to take his part and shove it.” She hurries in front of me, kissing my chin, my neck, my chest, trying to distract me from murdering this man. “Forget about him and take me home.”

Helplessness claws at me. “I’m sorry about your audition.”

“I’m not.” A laugh bubbles out of her. “I’m not even sorry.”

“But I can’t let him live, Bianca.”

“Yes, you can.”

The man, some old chump in a suit, steps out into the hallway. “What the hell is going on out here?” He rears back a little at the sight of me. Good. “Who is this?”

“My boyfriend,” Bianca says, looking at him while she rubs her palms up and down my chest, hardening my cock even though I’m seeing red. “I don’t have to fake anything with him.”

Hell. I like her praising me in front of this scumbag…a lot.

But I need to focus. I need to avenge her.

I’m just about to ask him to come outside and fight me like a man…

But Bianca’s nails scrape over my nipples, firing my balls into my damn throat.

“Darlin’…”

To my surprise, she takes hold of my shoulders and climbs me, slowly, wrapping her thighs around my hips, putting her pretty, pouty mouth on level with mine. “Maybe we should show him what a real man looks like.”

My lust for this woman is very powerful thing and it takes over now, distracting me. We wind our tongues together, me basking in her praise. A real man. It’s strange to be kissing her like this in front of an audience, but on the other hand, I’m shocked to find…I like it. Like him knowing she can’t keep her hands off me—and no one else.

No one can have her but me.

“I want you,” she whispers tremulously when we break for air.

“Here?” I’m already backing her into a wall, anchoring her there with my hips. “Now?”

She bites her lip. “I just want you to erase the thought of him.” Her shiver makes me want to burn the world down. “The thought of what he wanted to do to me.”

“I’m going to call security,” blusters the man.

I pin him with a look while jerking down my zipper. “No. You’re going to stand there and watch this.” I lick my fingers and wet the tip of my cock, once, twice, until it’s well lubricated. Then I use my finger to hook her panties to one side and I drive my thickened meat up inside of her, the sound of her gratified cry filling the hallway. “Who am I, darlin’?”

“Daddy.” She writhes desperately between me and the wall. “More!”

“Hear that?” I jackhammer her for a good ten seconds, her dangling legs shaking on either side of me. “I’m her Daddy—and there’s only room for one.” I surge deep and groan over the way she clenches. “Matter of fact, there’s barely room for one. And that’s something you’ll never find out for yourself, because this little angel is mine. Contact her or come near her again and I’ll throw you from the roof of the building—and we’ll laugh on your way down.”

I haul her off the wall and walk to the elevator, smacking the button while she rides up and down on my dick, her face tucked into the curve of my shoulder. Her fingernails are buried in my shoulders and she’s fucking me with such desperation that one of her high heels falls off and we don’t even bother retrieving it, stepping into the elevator when it arrives. Man, she knows how to get off, exactly how to rub her clit on me to climax—and in the process, she swells my cock to the point of agony. Bring on the torture. I live for it now.

I live for her.

As soon as the doors close, I press the emergency stop button.

Then I flatten her to the wall and mate my girl roughly, my mouth crashing down on hers to devour while we go at it, her tight butt squeaking up and down the metal wall.

“I don’t mind giving him a preview, but no one watches you have orgasms but me.” I bury my fingers in her hair, pull her head to the left and attack her sweet neck with suction. “I plan to watch you have them every day until I die.”

“Likewise,” she gasps, shoving my jacket off, moaning when I flex my muscles for her. “I love you so much, Dusty.”

I bare my teeth against her ear and reach down to play with her clit, making her gasp, and I pound her harder, knowing we’re both so sensitive from last night, we don’t have long before the release hits. “I love you past the point of obsession, Bianca.”

Her eyes go bright, so bright—and then cloudy, her orgasm causing her pussy muscles to tense up around me. I let my own flood erupt, slamming her one final time up against the wall, growling and grunting while my moisture flows into her, overflowing almost immediately and splashing down onto the floor, leaving a puddle behind. And I hope that vile motherfucker gets into the elevator later and knows exactly what he’s looking at.

“Tell me what to do to make you happy, darlin’,” I pant, kissing her forehead.

“Take me back to the farm, Dusty,” she whispers. “Make me your wife.”

My heart rips up into my throat, heat pressing behind my eyes. God, I love this woman. Thank you for sending her to me. “Darlin’, I thought you’d never ask.”

EPILOGUE

Bianca

Five Years Later

I lean a hip on the doorframe of our bedroom, coffee cup cradled in my hands.

“Happy birthday, gorgeous,” I murmur to my incredible husband, who is sprawled out face down in bed, nary a sheet to keep him modest. “Those buns only get better with age.” Without opening his eyes, he flexes them and I almost spit out my sip of coffee on a laugh. “Wow. I could charge admission for this.”

“Why isn’t my stunning wife in bed beneath me on my birthday?”

Feigning confusion, I tap my chin. “I don’t know, but I think it has something to do with the two children we live with.”

“Oh yeah.”

“Uh-huh.”

A grin pulls wide on his face. “Anyway, I got my present last night.”

“Twice.”

“I don’t suppose I could convince you to lock the door and come give me a third.” He groans low in his throat while looking me over head to toe. “And a fourth. Maybe a fifth?”

Having mercy on him, I close the door and saunter toward the bed.

He brightens immediately, rolling over and letting me see exactly how eager he is to greet me good morning. My sex grows moist and ready in response, the sight of my farmer in the nude never failing to make me short of breath. My heart is a victim here, too, however, turning over and over like a thorny tumbleweed in my chest.

I never know how and when the love I have for Dusty is going to hit me hard. Sometimes, when I least expect it, I get overwhelmed by how taking the highway that night five years ago could have cost me the love of my life. My husband. My best friend.

Dusty brought me back to the farm the same day as the casting director disaster. We packed my things and got the heck out of the city. I never looked back. I don’t miss it. For so long, I thought acting was the only future for me, but it wasn’t. It was the dream of a child that I never let go of…but it’s the dream of the woman to be a farmer.

That’s what I am now.

We run this place together.

And I was right, it’s magical. Every second, every minute, every day with my husband and our children is woven from fairy dust.

Now, Dusty tries to drag me beneath his big, capable body, but I stop him right before he can rip off the night shirt I’m wearing. “My mother is on her way.”

A man has never gone from excited to crestfallen so quickly. “What?”

“To take the kids for a sleepover,” I whisper against his mouth, my fingers walking up the middle of his huge chest. “You get me all to yourself until tomorrow.”

“This is what true happiness feels like,” he breathes.

A giggle passes my lips and my husband loves that sound, as he’s told me a million times, so he tickles me, trying to prolong the laughter, growling kisses to my neck as he goes. Our sons must hear the fuss from their spots at the kitchen table because the bedroom door bursts open and they come running with grubby smiles on their faces, launching themselves into the bed onto Dusty’s back. He makes a frustrated sound against my mouth, before quickly covering himself with a sheet—and then right before my eyes, he transforms into super dad.

With a sheet wrapped around his hips, he takes turns holding our boys above his head and making airplane sounds, making them laugh uncontrollably. It’s amazing that one of them is a blond with green eyes like me and the other is the spitting image of his dad, size included. But they have one thing in common: they’re both loved. Fiercely.

An hour later, I’ve managed to pack bags for the kids. My mother arrives on time, visibly thrilled to be hosting her grandbabies for the night. That’s nice. That’s what matters most to me now—my family. Our relationship is still strained on occasion, but I find it hard to be upset about anything these days, so most of the time I let her passive aggression roll off my shoulders.

I kiss our sons goodbye and watch them pull onto the same dirt road where I met Dusty all those years ago, a smile playing around the edges of my mouth. He went out to hurry through his chores, so we could spend the day together. But I have a few chores to take care of myself first, too. When Dusty brought me back to the farm, he suggested I find something I love to do. Something that could become my job. That’s when I started experimenting with growing vegetables. Now? An entire portion of the farm is dedicated to my thriving vegetable growing business. I’ve added an income to the household and found something I’m passionate about.

I was born to be a farmer.

Who knew?

Instead of heading to the garden today in jeans and a tank top, as usual, I decide to have a little fun. It is my husband’s birthday after all. A little while later, I’m on my hands and knees in the garden, when I hear his footsteps approaching from behind me. I smile mischievously when I hear his quick hiss of breath. The groaning curse that follows.

“Are my eyes deceiving me, darlin’,” asks my husband in a gravelly tone. “Or are you gardening in a bikini?”

“You remember this one, right?” I wiggle my butt at him. “From our trip to Florida?”

“You think I could forget that teeny tiny thing?” I hear him jump over the wooden rail. “I couldn’t keep my hands off you—and we were at a family resort.”

“Oh, that’s why they asked us to never come back.”

“There are plenty of resorts in Florida.” He plants his knees behind me in the dirt. “But there’s only one of you, Bianca.” He plants gentle bites on each side of my bottom, then tugs my thong to one side, his tongue riding roughly over my rear entrance. Again and again and again. “Mmmm,” he says, breathing hard, his zipper lowering with a metal zing. “Speaking of an ass that gets better with age, this one gets tastier every time I lick it.” His hands slides between my thighs from behind, cupping and massaging my sex through my bikini bottoms. “To say nothing of this tight work of art. God almighty, my wife is hot. Have I mentioned that lately?”

Smiling, I bite my lip. “Every single day.”

“Hell if it isn’t true.” He gives me butt a firm slap, immediately rubbing away the sting. “Tilt those hips. Let me see your pussy in the country sunlight.” I do as I’m told, because…well…I don’t mind being obedient in bed to a man who respects me, reveres me and lives to make me happy—and succeeds. “You look damn good like this, darlin’. Ready to be fucked with your knees in the soil of our farm. This place we build together every day, nothing but blue skies stretched out in front of you. Lord in heaven, I am a lucky man.”

He thrusts home, deep, deep inside of me and my fingers sink into the earth, my broken cry carrying over our property. “I’m so lucky, too, Dusty,” I gasp. “I can’t imagine my life without you. Without us.”

“Good thing you don’t have to, wife. You’ll never have to,” he rasps in my ear, his hands sliding up beneath the triangles of my bikini top, caressing my breasts, using his thumbs to pebble my nipples. “This love isn’t going anywhere, Bianca. It’s staying right here with us.”

Tears spring to my eyes. “I love you. I love you.”

“My God, I love you, too.” He draws my hips up and starts to buck faster, releasing a guttural grunt into my neck. “Now. Show me how much you’ve been aching for Daddy.”

THE END

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