Chapter 3
three
. . .
Wayne
It's been three days since Judy showed up at my ranch, and I'm already losing my fucking mind.
Every morning, I wake up hard as stone, aching to cross the hall and climb into her bed.
Every night, I jerk off in the shower, imagining her on her knees, looking up at me with those wide hazel eyes while I feed her my cock.
It's pathetic. I'm a grown-ass man acting like a horny teenager.
But Christ, the way she moves around my house—shy smiles and those goddamn curves—I'm about ready to snap.
The barn is my sanctuary today. Simple work.
Organizing tack, mucking stalls, checking feed—mindless tasks to keep my hands busy and my thoughts away from her.
The horses snort and shift as I move between the stalls, the familiar sounds and smells grounding me.
This is my world. Has been for years. I know exactly who I am here.
Until she walks in.
"Wayne?"
Her voice is soft, hesitant. I turn and there she is, silhouetted in the barn doorway, sunlight streaming in behind her, turning that chestnut hair into a halo.
She's wearing cutoff jean shorts that show miles of tanned leg and one of my old flannel shirts, knotted at her tiny waist. My shirt. On her body. Jesus Christ.
My cock stiffens immediately, pressing painfully against my zipper. I set down the saddle I've been oiling and wipe my hands on a rag, buying time while I get myself under control.
"Need something?" My voice comes out gruffer than I intend.
She steps into the barn, eyes adjusting to the dimmer light. "I thought maybe…I could help? You said I should earn my keep, and I've finished cleaning the kitchen."
She's right. I did say that. Partly because I'm not running a charity, and partly because I needed a reason to justify letting her stay that didn't involve how badly I want to bend her over every surface of my house.
"You ever worked with horses before?" I ask, knowing the answer.
She shakes her head, those big eyes earnest. "No, but I want to learn."
Of course she does. Eager to please. The thought sends heat straight to my groin.
"Alright," I say, motioning her over to where I'm working. "Might as well start with the basics."
She approaches, and the smell of her hits me—something floral, mixed with the clean scent of my laundry soap from the shirt she's wearing. My shirt. Fuck.
I hand her a curry comb. "We'll start with grooming. Nothing too complicated."
She takes it, fingers brushing mine. The touch is electric, sending a jolt up my arm. Her cheeks flush pink, and I wonder if she felt it too.
I lead her to Stormy's stall, my most docile mare. "Gentle circles," I explain, demonstrating on the horse's flank. "Like this."
Judy tries to mimic my movements, but her stance is all wrong, her arm at an awkward angle. Without thinking, I move behind her.
"Like this," I murmur, placing my hands on her hips to adjust her position. My body is a wall at her back, dwarfing her. She's so small, the top of her head barely reaching my shoulder.
Under my palms, her hips are soft, warm even through the denim shorts. I can feel her tense, then relax into my touch. My thumbs move in small circles, adjusting her stance but also just feeling her, unable to stop myself.
"You need to ground yourself," I say, voice dropping lower. I kick her feet gently wider with my boot. "Stable base."
Her breath catches. A small gasp that goes straight to my dick.
I'm close enough now that her ass is millimeters from the front of my jeans. One small movement from either of us and she'd feel exactly what she's doing to me. The knowledge keeps me still, frozen in place, hands still on her hips, breathing in the scent of her hair.
"Like this?" she asks, voice barely above a whisper. She shifts her weight, and for a split second, her perfect ass brushes against the ridge in my jeans.
I nearly groan out loud, jaw clenching so hard I'm surprised my teeth don't crack. I force myself to step back before I do something I can't take back. Like spin her around and lift her against the stable wall, wrapping those slim legs around my waist and driving into her until she screams my name.
"That's it," I manage, voice strained. "Good girl."
The words slip out again, unbidden. A praise I can't seem to keep inside when I'm around her. Her eyes widen slightly, cheeks flushing a deep crimson. She likes it. The knowledge is a punch to the gut.
I take another step back, putting blessed distance between us before I lose what little control I have left. My cock is throbbing now, demanding attention I can't give it.
"Practice on Stormy," I say, moving to the other side of the stall to adjust the water trough, giving myself something—anything—to focus on besides the curve of her ass in those tiny shorts. "I'll be right back."
I need air. Need to get away from her scent, her warmth, the sound of her breathing. One more second and I'd have her bent over the hay bale, shorts around her ankles, my hand clamped over her mouth while I drive into her from behind.
The thought is so vivid, so fucking real, that I have to grip the edge of the water trough to steady myself. This is bad. Worse than I thought. She's been here less than a week, and I'm already coming undone.
"Am I doing it right?" she calls, glancing over her shoulder at me, all innocent eyes and eager-to-please smile.
I look at her—really look—and something twists in my chest. It's not just lust, though there's plenty of that. It's something more. Something possessive and protective and terrifying.
"You're doing fine, angel," I say, the endearment slipping out naturally now. "Just fine."
She smiles, pleased with the praise, and turns back to the mare. I watch her work, the sunlight filtering through the barn slats painting stripes across her body. Mine, something primitive in me insists. Mine to protect. Mine to teach.
Mine to ruin.
And God help me, I'm going to ruin her. It's just a matter of time.