Page 20 of Long Hard Ride
Chapter Eight
June
I’m smiling as I turn the wheel and guide my truck up the bumpy driveway. I’m going to need to fill all these potholes one of these days. But right now, it’s still Chuck’s house to me.
The only thing that’s different about it is the sexy-as-fuck, tight little cherry-hole waiting inside.
Every damn day, it’s a fucking struggle to keep my dick in my pants, and my lips off her mouth, or pussy for that matter. And after we fucked the first time, it’s been damn near impossible not to climb into bed with her, or bust into the shower and fuck her in there.
Every. Fucking. Second. I have to say no to my cock. No to her slick cunt. I can’t even be close to Brooke without getting a raging boner. It’s fucking pathetic. I’ve been jacking myself off two, three, four times a day. She’s turned me into a goddamn sixteen-year-old. Course, back then I’d fuck anything that moved. Not anymore. You’d think I’d call one of my hook-ups and get a little fucking relief, but I don’t have interest in anyone other than Brooke. No other pussy even comes close to my Brooke’s tight glove. I’m fucked. Fucked because I’m not being fucked.
I put the truck in park and head into the house. I could’ve stopped somewhere for a sandwich or eaten lunch with the crew, but I knew Brooke wasn’t planning on doing anything except staying home and painting. And even if I have to keep it in my pants, she’s still irresistible.
I can’t get enough of just looking at her, or getting a whiff. I’d bet she’s dripping for me twenty-four-seven, because I can smell it. She pretty much told me that now she’s fucked for the first time, her pussy is dying for more of my cock. I fucking knew it would.
I warned Brooke I’d ruin her for anyone else.
And now, for her, it’s no holds barred. She’s flat-out trying to tempt me again. I still have to remind her to put on a robe before I lose control and fuck her against a wall. Those big nipples are always hard on top of her goddamn melons—no matter what she’s wearing, I can always see them.
She’s not at her easel, but I see her painting is shaping up. I still don’t know what that sketch in the lower right corner is, but it has more definition now. And I don’t know what the fuck is happening to me, but I’m proud of Brooke for painting it.
I continue straight through the living room and into the kitchen. I wash my hands and aimlessly stare out the window over the sink. So that’s where she is.
I chuckle to myself. What the hell is she doing out there in a bikini? Jesus H. Christ. Those fucking curves are going to be the death of me. I dry my hands and keep my eyes locked on the perfect vision of her glistening tits, stomach, and thighs. Fuck, that bathing suit is small. It barely covers her.
I’ll be damned. I haven’t been home for more than two minutes, and she’s already making my cock swell.
She’s parked on a rickety lounge chair in the middle of a pasture. Chuck used the land for grazing. Maybe, at some point, I might too. I can’t remember the last time the back area was mowed. But Brooke doesn’t seem to mind that the grass is up to her elbows. She’s just lounging, wearing her big sunglasses and reading, looking happy as a clam.
It’s an odd sight. She looks so out of place, but also like she belongs there. Like a flower that shot up through the ground in the midst of all the weeds.
I wolf down a PB&J and head out back.
As soon as I close the screen door, Brooke looks up. And the flower smiles.
“Having fun out here?” I ask, pulling my gaze away from her creamy tits. I grab a fold-up chair leaning against the house and drag it over to her.
I’ve always been a breast man, but not like this. She’s fucking luscious, gleaming with suntan lotion. My dick bumps against my zipper. The smell of coconut and papaya fills my nostrils. I’ve got my own tropical-island fantasy right here under the Montana sky.
“What are you up to, darlin’?”
“I’m studying actually.” Brooke waves her book. I notice a smudge of green paint on her elbow and wonder if it’s edible, so I can lick it off. “I’m used to painting cityscapes, so I’m having a hard time finding inspiration with all this space.” She laughs. “You’re home early. Everything go okay with the worming and shots?”
“I’m only here for lunch, but yeah. Blade helped again today. We started with the vaccinations yesterday. The cows didn’t put up a fight, so we finished this morning. They usually hold a grudge.”
She lowers her sunglasses and raises her brows. “Cows hold grudges?”
“Sometimes they do.” I chuckle. “The cows that didn’t get theirs yesterday know what’s coming and usually aren’t too excited about getting into the pens. I also hired a few hands from Flying Hearts Ranch. Between Blade’s help and theirs, it was a piece of cake for once.”
“Flying Hearts Ranch is the drug dealer’s spread Gramps was so worried about, right?”
“Yeah. The Johnsons got their filthy hands on it. I’m trying to get the word out that even if I don’t have enough work to hire everyone full time now, in a few months I’ll have another hundred acres. Anyone who wants to work on a ranch will have another option.”
Brooke nods and leans back on the lounger. “You might be able to hire them to work my acreage too. I have no idea what I’ll do with my portion of the property. I probably won’t even be around.”
The thought of her not being here stops me cold.
