Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25428 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 127(@200wpm)___ 102(@250wpm)___ 85(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25428 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 127(@200wpm)___ 102(@250wpm)___ 85(@300wpm)
“Okay, Dusty. Please don’t turn me into a missing poster.”
“I won’t. You have my word,” he chuckles, his steps coming closer in the darkness.
Dusty has almost reached me when the clouds part, allowing the moon to emerge once more. Light spills down from above and I watch as he sees me, really sees me clearly for the first time, his heavy gait faltering, a hoarse sound falling from his mouth.
“Bianca,” he breathes, that mighty chest beginning to heave. “I had no idea.”
“No idea about what?”
“You’re beautiful,” he blurts. “Dear Jesus, I’ve never seen anything like you.”
“I should get back in the car.”
“No.” He plows ten fingers through his dark, close-cropped hair. “No, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I apologize. I just wasn’t expecting to witness a miracle tonight.” A lump moves up and down in his throat. “That’s what you are, Bianca. One of God’s miracles.”
Why am I having a hard time drawing breath? Men hit on me all the time and I don’t get this weird…flutter in my belly. Why is this farmer making me feel all gooey? “Okay, if I’m going to come stay the night in your house, you can’t say things like that.” I cross my arms. “And let’s get one thing straight? I’m not sleeping in your bed. This isn’t a slasher film or a porno.”
“Ah Jesus, of course not. I’m not stupid. I know I don’t have a chance with you.”
My chest feels funny. “Well…good. I’m glad that’s cleared up.”
“I’ve got eyes, Bianca. It was never unclear.”
My arms uncross and drop to my sides. “You’re being a little hard on yourself now, don’t you think? There are plenty of women who would love a big, strong farmer. I’m just not in the market for one right now, that’s all. I’ve got plans to execute before I start worrying about men…and all that stuff. You know?”
He grunts. Roughly.
I study my fingernails, pretending I don’t feel his gaze on my thighs. Maybe I should admonish him for checking me out so blatantly, but this skirt is skintight and short as all get out. Who can blame really the man? He lives with a chicken in the middle of nowhere, for goodness sakes. He probably doesn’t encounter too many women in these remote parts.
When I shiver, he makes a sound of denial and comes closer. One step, two. “You won’t be able to walk through the field in those shoes.”
I nod, because he’s right. I can barely stand on the road in them. “Should I go barefoot?”
“No, if you stepped on something sharp and hurt yourself on my land, I’d be…very upset.” He raises the pitchfork and buries the metal teeth in the ground. “I’ll carry you home.”
2
Dusty
Holy Christ. Mother Mary and all the saints.
I’m carrying the most beautiful female on the planet back to my farm.
Maybe I have food poisoning and I’ve started hallucinating. I don’t know, but this doesn’t seem real. At all. I couldn’t believe it when the moonlight spilled across her angelic face. Her white-blonde hair. She is innocence with attitude. Pouty and skeptical looking, but underneath, she’s a good girl. A sweet girl. And dear lord, her body.
Don’t look down.
If my cock gets any heavier with need, it’s going to topple us over.
In reality, though, I don’t need to look down to remember every inch of her flesh. Her little leather skirt is wrapped around her hips like it was painted on. That fancy shirt with the strings and lace holds her tits up like the hands of a lover.
I wonder if she ever holds her own tits like that.
Wonder if she ever plays with them. Naked.
A moan almost wrenches its way clear of my throat and I order myself to stop thinking about this angel fondling her own breasts. I am in a bad, bad way. My ball sack is throbbing, weighed down with seed. I haven't masturbated in a while, been too busy working in the field, but as soon as I get her tucked into a warm bed, I’m going out to the barn and jacking off until the sun comes up. My God. My God, she is so beautiful and smooth and…
A hundred miles out of my league.
I’m filthy dirty and she smells like flowers.
I consider myself lucky that I get this chance to hold her, carry her, host her in my home. Anything else would be outlandish, especially her hot, little body beneath me in my bed.
Here I go again.
It’s twenty-three degrees out right now and I’m sweating.
“You’ve gotten really quiet, Dusty,” Bianca says.
“I’m sorry, darlin’. I’m trying to get used to how you look.”
She makes a choked sound. “Are you always so honest?”
“Yes, of course. A man is measured by his integrity. That includes being honest.” Good. Keep talking. Distract yourself from the way she fits in your arms like a missing piece. “My grandfather always used to say that. He’s the one that left me this farm.”