Chapter 10 Angus
ANGUS
I drive one mile down the road and then pull onto a dirt patch in front of a rusty gate.
“Wait here.”
I hop out of the Land Rover, leaving the engine running and my door ajar, and open the gate.
It whines on its hinges, making me glad we’re a long way from the farmhouse.
I return to the Land Rover, drive through the gate, and then get out to close it.
There aren’t any cows in this field, but shutting gates is ingrained in me.
Elle bumps and rattles over the uneven ground until we reach a barn, standing like a solitary sentinel in the gathering darkness.
After I’ve grabbed a couple of condoms, the bottle of lube, and the packet of baby wipes, I turn the engine off, but don’t bother locking the doors as we get out and, using the torch on my phone, make our way to the door of the barn.
It protests even more than the gate did when I opened it.
I leave Richard standing in the doorway while I find the battery-operated lights that are hanging around the barn and switch them on.
They’re not super bright, which gives the barn a sultry feel. In my opinion, anyway.
“What do you think?” I put the condoms, lube, and baby wipes onto the ledge formed by one of the horizontal braces around the inside wall of the barn.
“It’s a barn.” He’s closed the door, shutting us into the cavernous space.
I laugh. “Yup. On private land. My family’s land, to be precise. We’re not using this field at the moment, so no one has any reason to come here.” I put my phone away and then rest my hands on Richard’s hips. “Which means we’re all alone. I’m glad you called.”
“So am I.” He grasps my face in his hands and turns me around while kissing me fiercely.
My back collides with the door, knocking the wind out of my lungs. I don’t care. I find it sexy when he takes charge, especially considering that he's smaller than me and I’m stronger than him. But yielding to a physically weaker man and letting him call the shots is part of the fun.
“Why are there lights in here?” he asks breathlessly.
“Oh. For when we do use it. We rotate the cows around the fields to give the grass a chance to recover.” I rake my hand through my hair. “Wow. That was a boring explanation. I’m sorry.”
He chuckles. “I know nothing about farming, so it wasn’t boring.”
“If you say so.” I gesture to the space. “Sorry, it’s not more luxurious. Believe it or not, I’m not in the habit of luring guys here for sex.”
He raises one eyebrow. “You’re not?”
“No. If I were, I’d have at least put a blow-up bed in here.”
Instead, there are a few bales of straw that got left here.
Straw is scattered all over the floor. A ladder, attached to the wall, leads to the hayloft.
I glance up, but can’t tell if there are any hay bales up there.
The breeze sneaks in through chinks in the wooden slats that form the walls.
It’s not romantic or sexy, but there’s no danger of us getting caught in a compromising position.
“Oh! Wait here.”
I pull away from Richard, open the door enough to slip out, and grab a couple of blankets from Elle.
“These might help,” I say, brandishing the blankets.
Richard takes them from me and tosses them onto the nearest straw bale. “We don’t need them. Yet.”
“Oh? What do you have in mind, Professor?”
He shivers and his lashes flutter. “You, with your pants around your ankles, bracing yourself against the wall, while I fuck you hard.”
It’s my turn to shiver. Goosebumps erupt over my arms, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. “Fuck, that’s sexy.”
He undoes my jeans and tugs them and my pants down to my ankles in a swift, slightly rough movement. “Turn around.”
I don’t need to be told twice. I turn, press my palms against the wooden slats, lock my elbows, and spread my legs as far as I can.
I bend my knees a little to compensate for the height difference between us.
His feet crunch over the loose straw and the packed earth floor, away from me, and then closer again.
I hold my breath in anticipation, even though I’m pretty sure I know what’s going to happen next.
Not that I’ve ever been able to prepare myself for the shock of the cold lube dribbling down my crack.
This time, he doesn’t tease me, just sticks his finger right inside me.
I bow my head and hunch my shoulders as I get used to the feel of it, my arse muscles clenching and unclenching crazily. “Oh, fuck.”
“You like that?”
“Yes, Professor.”
His finger feels fantastic, and being half-undressed, in a fucking barn, adds to the excitement.
It makes the whole encounter feel scandalous.
He rubs and kisses my back through my T-shirt as he fingerfucks me, first with one digit, then with two, and eventually with three. I gasp, groan, and grind my hips.
“You’re a slut, aren’t you?” Richard asks.
“Yes, Professor.”
“You love having fingers up your arse, don’t you?”
I glance over my shoulder. “Not as much as I like having a cock up there.” I thrust back onto his fingers to prove my point. “Anyway, you like having your fingers inside me, don’t you?”
He grunts an affirmative.
“Bet you like your cock inside me, too. What did you say last time? My arse is tighter than—” I bite my tongue, not wanting to cross a line from sexy into inappropriate.
He drags his fingers free and grabs a condom from the ledge beside me.
I hear the tear of the wrapper, closely followed by the wet thwack of his hand as he lubes himself up.
He grabs my hips and tugs me back, onto his cock.
He enters me achingly slowly, gasping as he does so.
He groans through the initial burn. Eventually, he’s pressed so tightly against me, I can feel the weight of his heavy balls.
“Your arse is tighter than my wife’s pussy.” He moves his hands from my hips to grasp my pecs and tweak my nipples. “And your chest is more of a handful than her breasts.” His voice is low, husky, and fucking sexy.
I tremble. “Keep talking filthy like that, and I’ll come.”
I’m surprised he said any of it, but I can’t deny being compared to his wife—soon-to-be ex-wife?
—turned me on more than it should have. Surely he wouldn’t be here, with me, if he’d changed his mind?
Nor would he be staying in a hotel. He is still staying in a hotel, isn’t he?
Or has he gone home to his wife? I tense.
“Something wrong?” Richard asks.
This is the wrong time for this conversation, but I need to know. Hell, I should have made sure before I sucked him off.
“Are you still getting divorced?”
“Yes.”
I quiver.
“I’ve only been home to collect my things. I filed for divorce a week ago.” He sighs and rests his cheek against my back. “But it takes time. Want me to stop?”
I whimper. “No. I want you to fuck me, Professor. I want you to fuck me so hard you forget your wife exists.”
He releases a lusty chuckle, grasps my hips again, and does exactly as I ask.
He fucks me hard enough to make my brain rattle in my skull.
He pulls out until his head almost pops free of me and then slams back in, pleasuring my prostate.
In. Out. Hard. Fast. I’m delirious with ecstasy.
This gorgeous man knows what he’s doing.
Knows exactly how to make my knees shake.
How to maximise my pleasure. I adore how his hot breath puffs over my neck.
Love the way his fingertips dig into my flesh.
Most of all, I love the feel of his cock driving into me.
The friction, the girth of him. All of it.
It’s fucking amazing. I fling my head back and scream through my orgasm.
My knees buckle, but somehow, he manages to hold me upright while he thrusts several more times until he comes inside me, his rigid cock pulsing, making me swoon.
We crash to our knees, him holding me, still inside me.
I brace myself on my arms. He presses against my back.
We gasp for air. I can’t tell who’s trembling more, me or him.
My arms are shaking. I’m not sure they can support me much longer.
My knees and shins are sore from the impact of the fall, but I don’t care.
I’m giddy with lust for this gorgeous man.
“Thank you, Professor Jones.”
He groans. “You’ve got to stop calling me that.”
“Really?”
“No.” He reaches around me and strokes my limp cock. “It turns me on.”
“Really? I hadn’t noticed.”
He nips my earlobe. “Yes, you had.”
“Yeah, you’re right.”
“And you are very naughty for calling me that.”
“I think you like me being naughty.”
A moan rumbles deep in his chest. “I shouldn’t, but I do.
Wait there.” He eases out of me, stands, pulls his pants and trousers up, and grabs the baby wipes.
He removes the condom, ties it off, cleans us up, and then leaves the bundle of waste by the door.
He shoves some straw bales to create a sort of bed, and lays one of the blankets over it.
He motions for me to join him. I pull my pants and jeans up, but don’t bother doing up the zipper and button. Then I join him on the straw bales.
We lay, my head on his chest, him stroking my hair, with the second blanket draped over us.
My T-shirt is soaked with sweat and clinging to my skin, but I don’t care.
My eyelids become heavy almost instantly.
I fight to keep them open, even though I warned him this might happen.
I shouldn’t fall asleep in his arms. I should drive him back to his car, and then head home, so I can get some sleep before I have to get up and help Dad milk the cows.
I don’t want to move. My body is heavy with exhaustion, and Richard is so comfortable, despite the strands of straw sticking into me.
“I’m sleepy. Sorry.”
He kisses my temple and strokes my damp hair. “Sleep.”
“I’ve got to be up by four.”
He widens his eyes and raises his eyebrows. “Four?!”
I can’t help but laugh. “To milk the cows.”
“Four a.m. shouldn’t exist.”
“I can assure you it does.”
He sighs and shakes his head, as though trying to deny my statement. “Rest for a while. I’ll wake you in an hour or so.”
“Promise?”
“Yes.”
Smiling, I snuggle against him. I’ve had a lot of hook-ups, and this isn’t how they’re meant to go.
I’m not supposed to feel so comfortable, or want to stay in his arms all night, let alone be so overwhelmed with positive emotion.
I reach up and stroke his jaw, loving the prickle of his beard against my fingertips.
“You’re so sexy. My sexy professor.” Why did I say that?
His chest tightens beneath me. I’m pretty sure he’s forgetting to breathe. Then he relaxes, sighs, and kisses my temple again. “Get some sleep, Angus.”
“Yes, Professor.” I let my eyes close and give in to the pull of sleep.