Page 85 of Please, Sir

“You’re a kinky romantic,” I tease him, leaning in to press a kiss to the pulse in his throat.

“What are you doing to me, baby? I’m trying to drive us back to the market. I can’t get out the truck like this,” he saysas I trace his erection through his jeans using just the tip of my fingers.

I find his zipper and tug it down, then reach in to find my favorite thing. Protruding through his open pants, I tug Jake’s cock toward me, wrapping my lips around the head. The truck jumps a little as Jake navigates down a back country road, and the scent of lavender and fresh pine moves through the cab. The temperature outside is perfect, the slow rumble of the truck beneath my body as I lean over my man’s lap and suck him feels good. He tangles his fingers in the top of my head, raspy praises falling from his lips, lifted by the wind.

“Fuck, your mouth is so sweet, baby.”

One hand on the wheel, he reaches down my pants and grabs the top part of my ass just as his cum splashes against the back of my throat. I can’t take his entire cock down my throat the way I want to, and just the idea of it—being able to handle him, to give him that pleasure–-it gets me hot. But he’s hung and for now, my hands work on the length I can’t suck. I keep pumping as he throbs on my tongue, giving me everything he couldn’t give me this morning, or last night.

I swallow him down, because I always swallow when he comes in my mouth. I slide back to my spot in the truck, and he zips up.

“Are you good to go back now?” I tease, dragging the tip of my tongue over my top lip, trying to seduce him even more.

He takes his hat off, shoving it on the dash, fishing a hand through his wavy hair. The same hair I held last week when he snuck into my room and ate me out before sunrise. “Well damn, baby, that was something else .”

I reach for his hand again, just as he turns down the long road leading to Hudson’s. “Therapy was okay. I’m glad Iwent. But I don’t know if it’s going to lead to reconciliation, and I don’t feel like chasing that right now.”

Jake kisses my hand. “I appreciate your sharing.”

We ride the last few minutes in peaceful silence, and spend another hour at the market with Jo Jo. While we’re cleaning up the table, Jake asks her if she’d be okay with me officially moving into his room, and her response?

“It’s about time.”

CHAPTER

THIRTY-FOUR

The first timeJake took me to Turner Saddlery months ago, I fell in love. Seeing all the beautiful things he created, and all the people filtering in and out who love him and his work was absolutely incredible. The detail he puts into everything–I don’t understand how he does it. He’s a perfectionist, sure, but the eye he has for detail is absolutely insane.

Every time I have visited since then, I alwaysclimb onto the saddle rack and pretend I’m riding, just to give him and Jo Jo a laugh.

This morning, however, I learned that Jake brought a saddle rack home from the shop, when I awoke to him standing naked and hard next to the rack, a saddle with a dildo in the center fitted to the top, crop in hand. “C’mon, cowgirl,” he said, holding out his hat to me.

And atop this saddle is where I’ve been for the last hour, being his plaything, willingly and gladly.

With his hat on my head, I squeeze my knees around the saddle, gripping the horn as Jake runs the edge of his crop along the underside of my throat. “Open that throat for me, cowgirl,” he chides, his voice a sexy growl when he’s this turned on. He doesn’t even have to guide his cock into my mouth–he’s so hard and so ready, I lean over, open my mouth and with a thrust of his hips, he’s on my tongue.

“Ride, Riley. Ride that saddle and make yourself come like the desperate little slut you are,” Jake rasps, as he pulls back before each strike, caning my ass, one cheek after the next.

I gasp on his cock, my hands sweaty around the horn. He pushes his cock a little deeper, and I gag, and Jake runs the end of his crop through the mess on my chin. “Look at you, dripping for my dick,” he groans, caning me again and again, along my back and thighs.

The sting is intense, but it fades in a few seconds, leaving behind an all-consuming burn, and eruption of heightened senses underneath my skin. My body trembles on the saddle, the one Jake tells me that he made just for me and my pussy.

“That saddle is getting your greedy little cunt warmed up for me,” he says, finally hollowing my mouth. Reaching out, he wraps his hand around my throat, right beneath my chin, and guides me back to a sitting position. “Open your mouth,” he commands, voice dark, promising sin and indulgence.

I open my mouth in time to catch his thick, warm spit, and before I can swallow, the sting of the crop radiates through my left nipple, then right, as he punishes me for not begging the moment my mouth was free.

“I wanna hear you, my perfect little slut. I wanna hear you beg for my crop while you’re riding the cock I gave you, in the saddle I made.” His chest expands, his nipples hard, sweat carving a tiny trail between his swollen pecs. Everything about Jake Turner, from the touches of gray in his chest hair, to the thick veins on the tops of his hands–he is my personal God, and there is nothing I wouldn’t give to him.

“Please, sir,” I beg, an ethereal fog drifting through my brain. “Take me off this saddle and fuck me, please, I need you sir, you and only you.” Rolling my hips, I ride and ride and ride as Jake walks slow circles around the rack, making use of his crop on the bare bottoms of my feet, along my hips, on my nipples, and once against my clit. By the time he stops in front of me, his cock a steel beam of temptation jutting out from his powerful thighs, I’m going to absolutely combust.

“Please, please, please, sir, I need to come. Let me come. Can I come, sir?” I moan, gripping the horn with one hand, raising up the other to adjust his hat on my head. Sweat slides down my spine, and I feel slippery in the ornate saddle, my perspiration and arousal staining the leather. I can’t take my eyes off of him, and the longer I look at the pinkened head of his cock and the thread of precome stringing from him to the floor, the more I realize I’m going to come whether or not he gives me permission.

“Sir, I’m gonna come, I can’t stop, I can’t,” I shake my head, words getting harder and hard to grab onto. My mouth is dry and my stomach is clenched, exhaustion and desire electrifying my body. The coil of desire that Jake has been tightening inside me every moment since we met unspools,and I toss my head back as my pussy clenches all around the rubber cock.

“Fuck, fuck, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, sir,” I moan, writhing and bucking on the saddle as I come in intense, shameless waves. He comes to the side of the saddle, reaches down, and rubs my clit with his thumb as he sinks his teeth into my bare shoulder.

The pain of his bite and the intense pleasure of his hand make a heady cocktail that leaves me a moaning, whimpering mess.

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