Page 87 of Bucked Hard

For a moment, a vision plays out in my mind’s eye… There’s me in a cotton dress and white apron, standing outside this very house, and Ranger is moving toward me from the barn. He’s dressed in a black T-shirt, black jeans, caramel-colored suede chaps. And of course, he has that black hat on his head, set at just the right angle. My belly flips and tumbles at the fantasy. He’s coming home, and that’s not a place; it’s me. I am his home.

I startle at the sound of his voice.

“I’ll go set out a T-shirt and towel. You come on along in a minute. I’ll get the shower good and hot for you.” With that, the sound of his boots on the rough floor fills the kitchen as he disappears down the hall, leaving me liquefied.

Chapter6

Ranger

Iclose my eyes, fighting off the tightening in my balls. Just thinking of her sweet ass, naked, in my house… It has me on the verge of losing my load in my damn denims.

She’s splashing around in the shower. I can hear her movements, visualize them in my head. Her hands sweeping down over her tits, bubbled with soap. Lowering over her belly and landing where my mouth and cock need to be.

Every cell in my body tells me to grab my dick and get some relief. I’d probably rub the skin right off at this point. But this sort of need hits you once in a lifetime, and I’m not going to waste it on a jerk session.

Oh no.

From this moment on, the only thing that will make me come is her. Her touch. Her mouth. Her cunt. The sight of her. It’s all hers. I’ll never let it go anywhere but on her or in her.

Stomping down the hall and into my bedroom, I open a drawer in the antique dresser that belonged to my great-grandmother and pull out a clean pair of jeans, grab a fresh denim shirt off a hanger, and make my way outside. There’s an outdoor shower behind the shed, hooked up to the well. As quick as I can manage, I strip, throw myself into the freezing water, soap, rinse, re-dress, and get my ass back inside before I miss a second of her.

But after a long day of work and what I sure as fuck hope is going to be me getting myself as close to her as physically possible, that girl deserves me clean at the very least.

I need this girl. Not want. Need. What the fuck happened to the Ranger who woke up this morning? I’m not sure where he went, but he’s turned into this raging animal with fire in his belly and lust in his veins. And I don’t want to go back. Not ever.

I wanther.

She’s mine. I’ve decided that already. May take some convincing on her part, but there’s no way she didn’t feel the beat of chemistry charged between us. From the moment I picked her up out of the chicken coop, sweaty and angry, my fantasies of her in a white fucking dress will not stop playing on a loop in my head.

I cannot get this girl out of my fucking mind, not even for a second, but I have to have time to think. There’s so much going on right now.

Back inside, I pick up the envelope that’s been sitting here waiting for my attention and make my way into the living room and plop down in the chair.

I hear the shower water still running and take a deep breath, pulling out the pages and staring down. Paul’s letter. He’s gotten himself into trouble, no surprise there, but this time it sounds worse than usual.

He’s piled up some debt. Another failed business scheme. And looks like he’s borrowed money from some folks that won’t just put a black mark on his credit. They’re going to put some black and blue marks on his body if I’m reading between the lines of his letter right.

He’s my brother; that hasn’t changed. I want to help him. And it’s not like the things he does are ever meant to hurt anyone. He just doesn’t know when to stop and take stock of what he has and where he’s going. Doesn’t ever realize when things are so bad, he needs to stop having fun and start working to make his life worth living.

The letter never says so, but I can tell he’d like to come back here. It’s his home. And he’ll be safe here, away from anyone who wants to find him. Can I deny him that refuge? I don’t want to, but I also don’t know if Paul can ever change. And if he ever brought trouble to the farm…or to Maria…

But he’s family. And suddenly, for the first time since Mom and Dad passed, that word is becoming my focus. All the beautiful memories of childhood and the crazy shit Paul and I did together flood through me on a deep breath. I’m no saint, and I realize maybe my judgment of my brother has been too harsh. The farm is hard fucking work, and maybe part of me wishes I had help.

Wishes I had some of that lightness he brings. My world for so long has been about work, and Paul always was able to make almost any task fun.

When the water shuts off, I lean my head back on the worn leather chair in the living room with a loud groan.

My core is tight with stress, confusion, and this all-pervasive lust. I’ve never felt this way about a woman. I had a couple girlfriends, sure. One even cheated on me, and that didn’t hurt like this agony.

It’s as though, if I can’t have her, no one will. I’ve become a possessive fuck in a few hours, and it scares me what I could do to anyone else that tried to get at her.

“You were right.” I hear her voice at the same time as the latch clicks back on the bathroom door.

I’m on my feet in a heartbeat, setting aside the letter on the side table, forgetting it for now. Looking at her with damp hair, a fresh face, and my T-shirt hanging nearly to her knees, I feel gratitude flow over me.

“I usually am,” I grunt.

She squints an eye at me on a half grin, then tips her head to the side, probably trying to figure out if I’m being serious. And I am.

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