Chapter 19
CHAPTER 19
B eatrix
“I want to drive the tractor.” There isn’t a hint of teasing in my voice, so I don’t understand why Ren starts laughing.
“What?” he asks. Okay, maybe he didn’t hear me.
“I want to drive the tractor.” I stand up from where I’ve snapped enough cherry tomatoes from their stems to fill two crates. Radish has me sitting on a cow milking stool, so I don’t need to bend over to do the work. I have yet to milk a cow, and I already told Ren we can’t leave until we try it.
I mean, I’m at a farm. I’m going to milk a cow.
“You’re serious.” He cocks his head at me in that golden retriever way like he really doesn’t understand the words I’ve now said twice.
“Of course I am. Radish?” I call out to our host, who is twenty yards away, busily plucking radishes—shocker—from a raised bed full of them. A wicker basket dangles from the crook in her arm as she pops the little red bulbs from the ground with the other. I understand now why she doesn’t use machines to do the picking. The whole point of living on her farm is getting her hands dirty. It gives me ideas about a side hustle we can offer visitors in our food garden if they want to be at one with the soil. I imagine what having a small working farm at Buttercup Hill could do for our business when so many people are interested in sustainable agriculture and farm-to-table food. It’s a perfect complement to the mission of Sweet Butter, and I know guests will love it.
I haven’t told Ren about this new venture because he’ll probably throttle me for taking on yet another side hustle when I’m already so busy, but I think it would be a great addition to Buttercup Hill.
“Yes?” Radish calls, looking at me from under the wide brim of her hat. I swear, everything about the woman screams social media post, and she’s not even trying. PJ would have a field day here documenting everything and sussing out media opportunities.
“Can I drive the tractor?”
“Do you have any outstanding moving violations on your record?” she shouts, never missing a beat in plucking radishes.
“Nope.”
“Good on you.” She stands and wipes the dirt on an apron tied over her skirt and fishes in the various pockets until she finds a key attached to a blue crocheted octopus keychain and hands it off. “More than I can say. I keep rolling stop signs and getting nabbed.” She shakes her head, and her braids flip back and forth.
I pocket the keys. “Can I drive it wherever, or do you have suggestions?”
Radish spreads her arms wide. “Anywhere you want, hon. Just don’t run over the seedlings.”
At first, I think she’s referring to the preschoolers she mentioned earlier, but when I squint into the distance, I see tiny sprigs of green up and down the rows. I wave Ren over to the tractor. Painted a shiny red, it’s clearly been cleaned up for photo ops. There’s even a straw basket hanging from one handlebar, and I can imagine it filled with vegetables or flowers. It’s just one more reason why I like it here so much. Everything is functional but also aesthetic, similar to my vision for Buttercup Hill.
“I can see what draws you to this place,” Ren says. Warmth swells inside me because he understands. “You could absolutely get this vibe going at Buttercup Hill, with an upscale twist that matches your brand. It begs to be photographed.” I think I squeal louder than the piglets and jump in the air, throwing my hands high.
“Yes! Exactly. You get it. This is my vision, only with great wine and stellar food and the best inn in the county. It’s just…we’re not there yet.”
“You will be.” Ren nods, spreading his arms wide at the potential. “It’s going to be awesome.”
I kiss him on the lips and survey the tractor, which looks much bigger closeup. I have to hike my skirt around my knees and put a foot on the step, but the pregnancy has messed with my balance. That, or my center of gravity isn’t where I expect it to be.
“Hang on,” Ren says. “Let me help.” He gives me a boost, and I slide onto the seat. Flexing my biceps, I get ready to ride.
Ren takes a few steps back and gazes at me, a smile forming on his lips. “You look like you were made for this, honey.”
My head whips around. “Did you just call me ‘honey’? That’s the second time today.”
Possibly realizing his slip, he takes a step farther away, as if that can somehow erase the offense. I told him I hate that word, and clearly, he remembers. “Sorry. Slipped out.”
“No, I liked it.”
“Really?”
I nod. “Coming from you, it’s sweet. Please always call me that when you feel the urge. ”
After only a couple hours on a farm, I feel myself starting to shed some of the ropes that keep me tied in place. It feels good, and I love that Ren is a part of it.
Handing Ren my phone, I survey the farm. “Would you snap a photo or two of me, you know, so I can remember this when I need some inspiration?”
“I’ll do you one better.”
“What do you mean?”
“Start ‘er up.” He points to the tractor, and I turn the key. The beast rumbles to life, and I test out the gas and the brake. Moving slowly, I start down one of the rows of corn, and Ren promptly jogs along with me, snapping action photos of me driving the tractor and shooting some video.
After driving to the far end of the property, I slow down the tractor and pull to a stop. Ren catches up in a few paces, more refreshed than winded from running. I slide over on the seat and flutter my lashes. “Wanna come up?”
As soon as I say the words, I feel silly. I mean, Ren has been amazing to indulge my farm fantasy, but I’m acting like we’re a couple. And we’re not.
Ren confirms my fears as he surveys the rounded seat that’s most definitely fit for one and shakes his head. “Don’t think I’ll fit.”
“Right. Of course. Forget about it.”
He winks. “Unless you want to sit on my lap.” As Ren steps up and slides onto the seat, I stand so he can move underneath me. I stopped the tractor at about the farthest point from the farmhouse, long outside the range of sight of anyone looking. Accident? Nope. Ren pulls me onto his lap, and I shimmy hard against him, just in case my intentions need explaining.
I want to have some farmyard fun. “Are you comfortable with me right here?” I move again, slower this time. Ren’s cock doesn’t need to be told twice that this is an erotic bicycle built for two.
“You wanna get fucked on a farm?” he asks, his voice a low rumble. Sexy and hot. “Is this a fantasy of yours or more of a spur-of-the-moment thing?”
I laugh and flip my hair over my shoulder. Ren nuzzles my neck and lets his hands roam over my thighs, where he pushes my skirt up around my waist.
“This is why you wanted to ride the tractor?” he rasps into my ear, and my body shivers from his breath on my skin. “I could do this all day long just to hear the way your breath hitches when I run my hand up your leg.” He demonstrates, and I gasp on cue. “Scratch that. I’d do it forever. Full stop.”
“Really? I’m not saying no, even though my plan was just to be a cowgirl for a few minutes.”
He laughs. “You realize that cowgirls ride horses, not tractors, right?”
“Do you really want to mince words when I’m sitting on your hard-on?”
“Oh, honey, I want to do everything with you.”
He hikes me a little higher on his lap, but my foot can still reach the pedal. I give the tractor a little gas, and we start moving forward. “I’m taking it slow here, just making sure I can control this thing with your hands where they are.”
“Afraid of getting distracted?” he whispers low against my neck, fully distracting and thrilling me. Fortunately, this metal beast seems to top out at five miles an hour. At least, that’s how it feels as we roll slowly through a field planted with strawberries in neat lines.
“I don’t want to run over any of these berries.” My eyes stay glued to the row ahead of us, even as Ren lifts my skirt a little higher so it’s bunched on my lap. “Hmm, nice breeze,” I murmur, barely able to focus on driving.
The feel of him hard beneath me has me at a loss for words. I’m done talking, fully focused on his finger sliding beneath the elastic of my panties where it meets the top of my thigh. I lean back against Ren, but my challenge is keeping the tractor moving steadily forward. I’m getting off on the multitasking, not gonna lie. One hand stays on the steering wheel, and the other drops to Ren’s leg, where my fingers grip him hard.
“Nice quads, Hockey Star.”
“I try,” he grunts as I shift again on his lap. “Fuck, honey, you’re gonna make me come if you keep moving like that.”
I laugh and shake my hair out the way he likes. It blows against the side of Ren’s neck, and he grips me tighter. I’m overcome with the feeling of wanting him closer, wanting him permanently. The more time I spend with Dominick Renaldi, the more lost I feel to him. It’s a cascading waterfall I can’t possibly control.
Right now, feeling him hard beneath my thighs, holding one hand against my stomach where our child is growing by the day, I only want this.
“Ren…” My voice sounds brittle as Ren moves his finger past the elastic of my panties and into the hot wetness that makes him groan against my ear. One finger, then two. He moves them slowly in circles against my flesh, paying extra attention to my clit. He knows it makes me go crazy.
One press of his finger on the hot bundle of nerves has me bucking against him, but I’m still driving the tractor steadily forward, down the row of strawberries. Not a single berry is damaged by our shenanigans, and I feel myself starting to come.
“No idea how you can drive straight, hon. I can’t keep my eyes focused on anything but you.”
“I’m a multitasker, remember?” I pant, my head falling back against Ren’s chest.
He keeps moving his hands, and I keep enjoying every stroke that takes me higher, closer, until… God . I hit the brakes, and the tractor stops moving. I fall limp against Ren’s chest, my head dropping to the side. A light breeze washes over me as I ride out my climax, and Ren keeps pumping his fingers in and out. I feel him rock harder beneath me, grunting as if my release is his own .
As my breathing slows, I blink my eyes open slowly. “You really outdid yourself,” I tell Ren, feeling the already-deep blush on my cheeks intensifying.
“I feel like you just gave me a new challenge,” he says, smirking.
“Nope. You gave me one.”
I slide off Ren’s lap, leaving him on the tractor seat, hard and desperate. A cool breeze blows across the fields, sending my hair flitting around my face, so I twist it into a knot.
It’s silent out here, save for the quiet trill of a few birds. I catch sight of a bluebird house a few rows down with its tiny hole, which is large enough for the kinds of birds that are important to vines and crops but too small for the types of birds that are predators. But none of that holds my focus like Ren and his hard-on. I reach for his hips and encourage him to turn in the seat to face me.
“Zipper down, cowboy.” I nod. “I know, I know. You’re on a tractor, not a horse. Just indulge me…and I’ll indulge you.”
“Not one to argue when my beautiful woman orders me to unzip my pants.”
Ren obliges immediately. Pants and boxer briefs down around his ankles, he sits ass-naked on the tractor seat and gazes at me. Eyes greedy and wide, I take in Ren’s body. My hands follow, gripping his thighs as I stand closer to the tractor, close enough to lean forward and sweep my tongue over the head of his cock.
Perfect height. They should put that on the tractor ads.
It’s a good thing we’re far away from humanity here in this field because Ren curses and yells my name, not even trying to stifle his reaction to my hands sliding up and down his shaft. “Fuck, Trix.”
I nod and take him fully into my mouth. Ren looks down, his eyes glassy as though mesmerized at the sight of my lips around his rock-hard cock. The expression on his face is worshipful, loving. Just…gone. It’s the most satisfying thing I’ve ever felt to pl ease this man in this way. I loved him when we were younger, but each day I spend with him now makes me realize how much better we are today. The three of us.
Ren comes hard. I close my eyes and swallow every bit of what he gives me. It makes any fears I have about our future slip away for the moment, and I allow myself to stay in the present. That is, except for the tiny part of me that can’t help thinking about a future.