Page 59 of Auctioned to Dr. Daddy

“You can be a bug having lunch before we go play with the horses,” I say, leading the way inside. I’ve already gotten the meal ready, something that I hope is child friendly. It’s the kind of meal I would have liked at Tabitha’s age, at least.

Mac and cheese with hot dogs, and a side of canned peaches. We make our plates and eat on the back porch, so Tabitha doesn’t have to worry about being so careful with her mess. Soon, she gets up and starts walking around, eyes narrowed as if she’s looking for something.

Nathan keeps reaching over and touching me, fingers brushing over my wrist, running over my knuckles. Everywhere that he can reach.

“You know,” he says, “I thought that we could talk about a few things.”

“Like what?” I ask.

“The farm.”

My smile turns sad. “I just wanted you to come out here one last time. You know, a big last hurrah.”

“What if it doesn’t have to be a last hurrah?” Nathan asks.

I turn to look at him, but before I can ask what he’s talking about, Tabitha comes running over with her hands cupped in front of her.

“What do you have?” he asks.

“Bug,” announces Tabitha, uncupping her hands and revealing the grasshopper that she’s caught. It promptly jumps into Nathan’s lap, sending him bolting to his feet.

“Careful!” I scoop up the wayward insect and carry it over to some bushes, calling Tabitha along with me, so that she can watch it be released. After that, her father takes her in to get washed up and have a nap on the couch, with promises of seeing the horses afterward.

He comes back out onto the porch, nodding a chin toward the big white block barn. “Take a walk with me?”

I curl my hand around his own. “Why do I get the feeling that you just want to get me alone, away from your daughter?” I tease, leading the way up toward the barn.

Nathan adopts a totally fake innocent look. “Why miss, I would never ask for such a thing. Your modesty is at the top of my concerns.”

I laugh, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “My modesty. Please!” I snort. “I’ve never been modest.”

“The blush on your cheek right now says otherwise,” teases Nathan, letting go of my hand so that I can push open the big, double barn doors. I only slide one open, and only far enough that we can slip into. If I’m right—

I am.

The moment that we’re inside, he presses me up against the cool stone walls and kisses me filthy. It has me groaning, moaning, and wrapping my arms around him.

The familiar smell of coastal hay and sweet feed wraps around me, and I relax into the touch. The front buttons of my shirt are undone, and then his hands are shoving up under the front of my cami, groping my tit through the thin fabric of my baby blue bra.

Any thought of work or checking on the horses is brushed aside in the wake of this. His hands shoving down my pants, then going for the buckle of his own.

“Wait, wait,” I manage to get out.

Nathan does, brows raised. “What?”

“Here.” I reach behind myself, unhooking the door to one of the empty stalls and stumbling into it, pulling my pants off as I go. Maybe it’s silly because there’s no one else around, but I feel like it offers a bit more privacy.

The stall is a solid white block outside of the tops, which are heavy iron bars. Forget about privacy, the moment that Nathan realizes the setup, he’s spinning me around and guiding my hands up to grab the bars.

He shoves down his own pants and his boxers, using his hands and one foot to knock my legs further apart. “Fuck, you look amazing. Anyone ever tell you that?”

I let out a laugh. “Maybe a few times.”

“Let me tell you that again. You look amazing.” Nathan presses a hand between my legs, making short work of fingering me open and even shorter work of pressing up and inside. The way that he fills me has me groaning out loud, head hanging forward between my shoulders.

My grip tightens against the bars until my knuckles turn white. One of his hands strokes over my back and then settles on my waist.

“Be a good girl for me,” says Nathan, his voice low and husky. His hand comes down, just once on my hip. A sharp swat that has me jerking, my head snapping up. “And don’t let go of those.”

---