23. ashton
twenty-three
ashton
. . .
Light Up The Night - Jess Moskaluke
Monday means horse checks, and since I’m home, the task has fallen to me.
If Brooks is the ranch’s engine guy, then I’m the ranch’s horse girl.
I have the Notes app open on my phone with a list of all of our horses, separated by their stable block, and all of the things we need to monitor.
Gumbo’s eyes are looking a little gunky, so I’ll have Mom mention it to the veterinarian, but his feet look fine.
Juice will need new shoes when Ross visits on Thursday.
I started with the work horses nice and early this morning, so by the time I got to the private block closest to the main house, I knew I’d be pretty much done and could spend some extra time there.
“Look at your little feet, Mayo,” I coo.
“We’re gonna have to call Ross and see about some new shoes.
What do you think, sneakers? Maybe some cutie little boots?
” I kick up one of my own feet, showing off my favorite, well-worn boots.
Mayo grunts, pushing his nose into my chest lightly.
He’s feeling playful. I unlock the door to his stall and lead him out into the paddock, kicking an old, slightly worse-for-wear soccer ball as I go.
Once we’re out in the open, I kick it a little harder and Mayo trots after it.
He nudges it with his nose and pushes it back toward me.
After a few minutes of rolling the ball back and forth, Mayo finds a pile of hay more interesting and I return to the stable. Mayo follows me a moment later and takes himself back to his own stall.
“You’re a good boy, Mayo,” I murmur. I reach for a hay ball—something one of the early morning ranch hands usually prepares once they’ve mucked out—and toss it into Mayo’s stall.
He immediately begins to sniff at it. I start to make notes on my phone—Mayo, Della, and Perry all need shoes, but Grover looks fine.
The sugar cube box on the wall needs to be replenished.
I’m just finishing my notes when a pair of arms wrap around me, along with the heady scent of leather, spice, and dirt.
“Brooks,” I say, a little breathless. Everything about this man makes me weak, but the way his enormous hands cradle me like something precious might top the list. One of those hands rests low on my belly, over the waistband of my shorts, while the other arm crosses my chest, fingers splayed over my bare shoulder.
I tilt my head toward it as his mouth traces a line down the other side of my neck. “Not in front of the children.”
A deep, throaty laugh tumbles from his lips. I feel it reverberate through his chest against my back and his breath warms my skin.
“The children?”
“You know. Mayo. Perry, Della, Grover.” I tilt my head further as he presses more kisses against my jaw.
“You know they’re horses, right, Ash?”
I hum, dizzy with want, and somehow no longer capable of coherent thought.
“And you know they can’t actually say anything? Della ain’t gonna tattletale on us. Grover’s snoring. Mayo’s too busy with that hay ball you gave him.”
Brooks is right. And he’s driving me wild with the way his fingers are dipping lower, thumb hooking into my waistband.
I arch against him, pushing against the growing, hardening bulge in his jeans as he flicks the button of my shorts open and dips his hand inside.
Deftly, he pushes my underwear aside and presses three fingers against me.
“Fuck,” he mumbles, lips still attached to the skin beside my ear. “You’re soaked already.”
One finger moves a little, just enough to make delicate circles over the barbell. I twist in his arms. With one hand on the back of his head, I pull his mouth to mine. The sensual, delicious slide of his lips against mine is sending me skyward. I feel drunk. I’m drunk on desire, on life, on Brooks.
Perfectly synchronised, I jump as he lifts me, sweeping me off my feet until my legs wrap around his hips and he grabs at my ass with both hands, squeezing as he moans against my mouth.
He has me pressed against the wall of the building, to support my weight as his hands begin to roam, our heavy breathing mingling with the rough snores of snoozing horses.
I push the thought of our audience out of my mind as I rock my hips recklessly, grinding down over his erection and he grunts.
“Fuck, Ashton.” His kisses trace another sinfully hot line down my throat to my collarbone and back up again. “Gonna make me come in my fuckin’ pants if you keep doing that.”
“You’re gonna make me come in mine,” I say breathlessly. “Fair’s fair, demon.”
“All’s fair in love and war, huh?” he asks, lips moving against my jaw as he speaks.
“All’s fair in war and orgasms.” I fling my head back against the wall with a soft thump. You couldn’t pay me to drop the blissed-out smile curling my lips right now. God, this man is intoxicating.
With one hand still on my ass and a dark chuckle on his lips, Brooks lifts his right arm to snake beneath my tank top.
He pulls down the cup of my bra and thumbs my nipple as he nips lightly at the sensitive spot below my ear.
The fingers of his left hand sneak closer to my center, pushing inside the waistband of my shorts and pushing my underwear aside again.
He has me so wound up, his fingers slip inside easily.
“Such a good girl for me, honey, taking my fingers like this.”
His words elicit a tiny whimper from my lips, one that sounds suspiciously like the word more.
“More, honey?”
I nod, taking a ragged breath. He thrusts his fingers harder, deeper, curling and pressing them against a spot inside that tears a moan from my chest. I buck my hips against him, grinding down over his hips, trapping his hand between us as I press myself wantonly against his cock.
“Finger fucking me getting you hard, baby?”
“Oh, honey, you have no idea,” he chuckles.
“If you’re a good boy, maybe I’ll take care of that for you later. Are you gonna be a good boy for me?”
He nods with a grunt, dropping his head to my shoulder and pulling in a harsh breath through parted lips. He curls his fingers once more.
“Then do what good boys do, baby. Make me come.”
And he does. His fingers work me expertly as his lips dance along my collarbone.
I’m grateful to be pressed against the wall, because I feel boneless.
I’m having an out-of-body experience, floating above myself as Brooks takes me to new heights.
He curses against my skin; sharp, jagged sounds accompanied by the rutting of his hips against my core and his hand.
“Kiss me,” I beg breathlessly. “I need you to kiss me.”
Brooks tears his lips from my throat. Ghosts them along my jaw until he captures my lips with his.
Our tongues meet in a frenzy; all I can hear is the blood rushing between my ears as this beautiful man sets every inch of my soul alight.
I push my hips down onto his hand, pulling his fingers deeper, pressing harder against his straining erection.
Using his fingers to fuck myself to completion, riding him just the way he begged me to the first time we found ourselves like this.
“Fuck, Ash,” he whispers against my lips.
“Goddamnit, fuck.” Three rough, ragged exhales precede a grunt and one final thrust of his hips against mine.
He curls his fingers and I rock my hips, seeking the friction from his thumb over my clit until I see stars.
I bite down on my lip to keep from crying out as Brooks buries his head between my neck and shoulder, panting heavily.
Right now, I don’t even care that we can’t or we shouldn’t. Right now, all I want is to want, want, want with Brooks, and even though I know he’s not the kind of guy who settles down with one woman, I can’t help but want to do it for the rest of my life.
Brooks drives me home in his truck after our secret tryst in the stables. Neither of us had planned to go home in the middle of the day, but after our activities, we both needed to change, and I took the opportunity to take a quick shower and freshen up before heading into town.
I reach out and grab the door of Ellison’s bakery just as someone pushes through it.
“Ashton!” Talia exclaims, catching the door with her hip and easing it closed as she reaches out to hug me.
I return her affection easily. She smells like coconuts and sunscreen, and a little of Ellison’s famous blueberry scones—which I’m assuming is what she’s cradling carefully in a brown paper bag.
“I got a new tank top in this morning and you have to see it. It’s so you. ”
“I’ll stop by,” I tell her. “Ellison and I are having lunch, but I’ll come say hello properly before I head back to the ranch.”
Talia grins and leaves me with a wave. She moves so fluidly and gracefully, that if not for the clicking of her boots on concrete, I might think she’s floating rather than walking. When I push my way through the door into the bakery, Ellison isn’t behind the counter.
“Hey, El,” I call out. “It’s only me.”
“Hey darlin’,” Ellison shouts. “Would you flip the sign?”
I do as she asks, flipping the come on in sign on the door to display closed for lunch, then make my way behind the counter and into the back room. It’s a kitchen with a desk and three chairs in the corner, and Ellison is at one of the industrial silver countertops, plating up two sandwiches.
“Here,” she says, carrying the plates over to the desk and setting one in front of me. “Tell me what you think.”
“Looks like a grilled cheese to me,” I say with a wry smile. “Smells like a grilled cheese. If it walks like a duck and—”
“Yeah, yeah,” Ellison says with a laugh. “I tried a new sourdough recipe. Eat. Give me your full report.”