6
__________
Ranger
I CLOSE MY EYES, FIGHTING off the tightening in my balls. Just thinking of her sweet ass, naked, in my house... It has me on the verge of losing my load in my damn denims.
She’s splashing around in the shower. I can hear her movements, visualize them in my head. Her hands sweeping down over her tits, bubbled with soap. Lowering over her belly and landing where my mouth and cock need to be.
Every cell in my body tells me to grab my dick and get some relief. I’d probably rub the skin right off at this point. But this sort of need hits you once in a lifetime, and I’m not going to waste it on a jerk session.
Oh no.
From this moment on, the only thing that will make me come is her. Her touch. Her mouth. Her cunt. The sight of her. It’s all hers. I’ll never let it go anywhere but on her or in her.
Stomping down the hall and into my bedroom, I open a drawer in the antique dresser that belonged to my great-grandmother and pull out a clean pair of jeans, grab a fresh denim shirt off a hanger, and make my way outside. There’s an outdoor shower behind the shed, hooked up to the well. As quick as I can manage, I strip, throw myself into the freezing water, soap, rinse, re-dress, and get my ass back inside before I miss a second of her.
But after a long day of work and what I sure as fuck hope is going to be me getting myself as close to her as physically possible, that girl deserves me clean at the very least.
I need this girl. Not want. Need. What the fuck happened to the Ranger who woke up this morning? I’m not sure where he went, but he’s turned into this raging animal with fire in his belly and lust in his veins. And I don’t want to go back. Not ever.
I want her.
She’s mine. I’ve decided that already. May take some convincing on her part, but there’s no way she didn’t feel the beat of chemistry charged between us. From the moment I picked her up out of the chicken coop, sweaty and angry, my fantasies of her in a white fucking dress will not stop playing on a loop in my head.
I cannot get this girl out of my fucking mind, not even for a second, but I have to have time to think. There’s so much going on right now.
Back inside, I pick up the envelope that’s been sitting here waiting for my attention and make my way into the living room and plop down in the chair.
I hear the shower water still running and take a deep breath, pulling out the pages and staring down. Paul’s letter. He’s gotten himself into trouble, no surprise there, but this time it sounds worse than usual.
He’s piled up some debt. Another failed business scheme. And looks like he’s borrowed money from some folks that won’t just put a black mark on his credit. They’re going to put some black and blue marks on his body if I’m reading between the lines of his letter right.
He’s my brother; that hasn’t changed. I want to help him. And it’s not like the things he does are ever meant to hurt anyone. He just doesn’t know when to stop and take stock of what he has and where he’s going. Doesn’t ever realize when things are so bad, he needs to stop having fun and start working to make his life worth living.
The letter never says so, but I can tell he’d like to come back here. It’s his home. And he’ll be safe here, away from anyone who wants to find him. Can I deny him that refuge? I don’t want to, but I also don’t know if Paul can ever change. And if he ever brought trouble to the farm...or to Maria...
But he’s family. And suddenly, for the first time since Mom and Dad passed, that word is becoming my focus. All the beautiful memories of childhood and the crazy shit Paul and I did together flood through me on a deep breath. I’m no saint, and I realize maybe my judgment of my brother has been too harsh. The farm is hard fucking work, and maybe part of me wishes I had help.
Wishes I had some of that lightness he brings. My world for so long has been about work, and Paul always was able to make almost any task fun.
When the water shuts off, I lean my head back on the worn leather chair in the living room with a loud groan.
My core is tight with stress, confusion, and this all-pervasive lust. I’ve never felt this way about a woman. I had a couple girlfriends, sure. One even cheated on me, and that didn’t hurt like this agony.
It’s as though, if I can’t have her, no one will. I’ve become a possessive fuck in a few hours, and it scares me what I could do to anyone else that tried to get at her.
“You were right.” I hear her voice at the same time as the latch clicks back on the bathroom door.
I’m on my feet in a heartbeat, setting aside the letter on the side table, forgetting it for now. Looking at her with damp hair, a fresh face, and my T-shirt hanging nearly to her knees, I feel gratitude flow over me.
“I usually am,” I grunt.
She squints an eye at me on a half grin, then tips her head to the side, probably trying to figure out if I’m being serious. And I am.
“Well, your T-shirt actually covers more of me than my dress, so the nuns would approve.”
Her hands run down the fabric over her belly, and I wonder if she put her panties back on. She pulls gently at the shirt and twists a bit, and I see the way her nipples are poking through the fabric.
It’s dark outside like it’s midnight. The next round of this massive storm is swirling up and ready to do what it will.
But I’m also ready to do as I will. I’m ready to tear that T-shirt from her tiny body and take her right here on the fucking floor where I took my first steps.
My cock jerks upward, tightness grips the back of my neck, and my hands clench into fists.
A bright flash of lightning illuminates the room for a split second, making her eyes widen with shock and fear. The thunder that follows shakes the floor beneath our feet.
Her arms wrap tight around her waist, and she steps one foot on top of the other, her legs rubbing together.
“It’s okay. Come sit.” I walk over to her and latch an arm around her waist. She doesn’t resist, and it wouldn’t much matter if she did. I’m going to take care of her. In more ways than I’ve ever done before.
She has this mixture of innocence and pure sex. Part of her is shy, but I can see in her eyes there is something else too. Her thoughts aren’t far from my own, and I’m not sure how much longer I can keep myself under control.
Another flash of lightning, another rumble of thunder, and she moves toward me, standing next to the sofa.
“Hope the electricity stays on.” She glances up at the bulb burning above her. “It’s like the middle of the night out there.”
“There’s a generator. Last few years when my mom was sick, I had it installed. She was on oxygen, and I never wanted to be without power, just in case. Runs everything in the house.”
“You must have loved her a lot.” She sits and curls her legs beneath her.
I nod. “I did. I miss her every day, just as you must miss your mom, but it gets less painful as the time goes by.”
She nods, her hands moving to tuck the loose bottom of the T-shirt under her thigh. Her skin is smooth, soft, making my fingertips twitch at the thought of tracing over every inch of her. I take a long moment just to drink her in, looking longingly at where my T-shirt pulls tight around her hip and noting no shadow of panties underneath the thin fabric. The only thing between me and what is mine, then, is that shirt.
The thought of touching her is driving me wild. I’m drowning in her and enjoying every moment.
I take a seat across from her on the edge of the coffee table, for now just needing to admire her. To hear her voice. We spend the next couple hours simply talking, finding out about each other, as the storm rolls through. The power goes out, the generator kicks on, and my heart is hers more and more with every passing moment.
She talks a lot about school. About getting her PhD. And I swell with pride like a fucking father. But then she reveals the downside of her plans, that she wants to go back to school again. Seven hours away from here.
No fucking way. But a flash of something hits me. Who am I? Just a farmer. Who am I to keep a girl like her from achieving her dreams? I’m pecking a few layers up the food chain here, and that fact is not lost on me, as much as I’d like to pretend otherwise.
“So, hopefully, I’ll be back at school in the fall,” she adds as she gathers her hair in her hands and pulls it over one shoulder.
“I hope so too. Only, not so far away.” I don’t try to hide my discomfort at the thought of her going back to Bozeman. I’ll follow her if I have to. I’ll drag her back and figure out how to get her what she wants right here, even if I have to build a fucking college myself. No way I’m letting her leave.
She smiles at that, but it’s enigmatic. I can’t tell if she believes me or not.
“You want to check in with your dad?” I hand her my phone, and she dials immediately.
I hear the hum of his deep voice on the other end of the line, and she nods, smiles, says a few words. But I can tell she feels what’s here between us as strongly as I do. As soon as she’s satisfied that he’s safe, she shuts off the call.
“He’s okay.” She hands the phone back, and I set it next to me on the coffee table. “Safely tucked away in our basement. Not comfortable, but not in any danger. He’ll call back in the morning.”
“And what about you?” I ask through gritted teeth. “Are you okay?”
My hard-on is painful. The scent of her swirling around me has me near madness. Knowing she’s naked under my T-shirt makes me feel even more entwined with her.
“Oh, I’m good.” She smiles again, lighting up her eyes as her hands rub her knees. “And what about you, Mr. Stoddard?”
The flirtation in her demeanor, the tone of her voice, the meaning behind her question... It makes me wince.
When her eyes slowly flutter up to meet mine, I know I can’t wait any longer. She bites into her bottom lip, regarding me from under those long lashes, and that is my last straw.
“I’m about to be a lot better,” I say, my breath coming long and hard. “A lot better.”
Because you’re all mine now.