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I push against his cock, allowing him to hump my cushioned body until he’s released every drop of sweet come into my spasming rectum.
“Ohhh, Daddy,” comes my drawn-out moan. “Oh.”
We’ve both collapsed, covered in his semen, my cream, and our sweat. Our hearts race, both of us panting as we lie beside each other in a wrung-out tangle, completely satisfied. But the silence is anything but awkward. If fact, this is undoubtedly the most intimate moment of my life and I don’t ever want it to end.
“You’re mine, Maisie,” the deep voice slides over my skin, making my heart beat like a drum. I twist my neck, searching for those blue eyes, and finally we meet.
But I’m not looking to challenge because the truth is all too clear.
“I know,” I assure him as my breathing slows. “And you’re mine,” I add, our eyes still locked.
He raises one eyebrow and the corner of his mouth curls into a lazy grin. We stay gazing at each other for a long moment, and then the inevitable haze of exhaustion falls over me, lids growing heavy. The last thing I see is Tyler’s lips … and then warmth overcomes my soul.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Maisie
Three months later …
It’s been three months since I first discovered Tyler in my barn, and boy, has life changed since then. I’m not sure how long he’s gonna be here, but for now, I’m not worrying about that. It’s the new me, the confident, carefree Maisie, and not the old worrywart who trembled at the smallest sign of trouble.
Because things are so much easier now. Before, I freaked out if the slightest thing was wrong. If the window didn’t close, I was sure it was going to fall off its hinges. If the door rattled, I was sure there was an intruder, ready to chop off my head.
So Tyler’s helped me let go. Not just with the loving, which happens non-stop, but mentally too. He helps me relax, by kissing me when I feel scared, by licking my cunt when I’m disturbed. It’s the best kind of stress relief for sure.
And not a day goes by where I don’t thank my lucky stars for this man. The harvest is going to be good, the animals are all healthy. Plus, I’ve had some time to read more since Tyler’s shouldering the chores. I can actually sit down and get a couple chapters in most days. Right now, it’s Anna Karenina and then after that, Lolita. Yep, I love troubled dames, guess it comes from being one not so long ago myself.
But it’s weird. I still don’t know that much about the man. Whenever I ask, the alpha’s vague, saying, “You’re too pretty to worry about this stuff,” or “My past is my past, and the past stays in the past.”
What does that mean? Why does he speak in riddles? Is he some kind of axe murderer? Or did he have a disturbed childhood? Whatever it is, Tyler never wants to talk about it, distracting me with talk about the GED, or if I’m really insistent about answers, a lick to my pussy.
So I’ve given up. Every day we work together as I care for the house and he works over the fields, and every night he works over my body with the same expert precision. He knows my sweet spots better than I know them myself now, and can’t seem to get enough.
I was cooking our lunch one day when he sauntered into the house wearing nothing but his distressed denim jeans and brown work boots. Tyler drips with sweat and I’m salivating just watching him drink a glass of ice water.
“Hi,” I flirt while sashaying across the kitchen to greet him. His eyes flicker over me, lips curling behind the glass.
Without words he places the glass on the counter and grabs the nape of my neck, pulling me close to greet me with his tongue. I love the flavor of this man, especially after a day working on the farm. Unable to resist, I move my kisses to his jawline, making my way to his neck to taste the salty tang of his glistening skin.
“Baby, I have a lot of work to do,” he grunts, but I won’t give up. Moving downwards, I kiss his naked chest, moving from one nipple to the other, teasing him in the same way he does me. His fingers are in my hair, and he clenches tight, making me squeal before pulling my face back to his.
“Why are you so disobedient? You know I have to work,” he grunts, cocking his head to the side with a gleam in those blue eyes. The man’s so dark from preparing the farm for harvest, his skin the perfect shade of golden brown.
“You never told me to stop,” I retort sweetly and he laughs softly at my sassiness. But then his face grows serious.
