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My heart kind of sinks at how relationship-y that statement feels when I feel in my gut that we’re not building one, but walking towards its destruction. I can’t help the word that emerges anyway.
“Sure.”
The garden is encased within the walls of a tall hedge, but in the right-hand corner at the back is a little gap in the hedge.
“This way.” Grey leads me to the back of the garden and through the gap in the hedge, closing us off from his house. To the left is a small thicket of trees, but to the right, behind a five-foot tall fence, I see open land if I stand on my tiptoes.
“This fence is discrimination against the vertically challenged,” I moan before he helps me to stand on one of the slats so I can see what can only be described as a meadow beyond, flanked on all sides by pine trees of some sort.
The land is unkempt compared to the perfection of the lawn and filled with wildflowers, weeds and tall grass. With the light of the luminescent early-fall sun, the vibrant colors dance softly with each other.
And as I look out, I can’t help but imagine a group of wild horses running across the terrain, their manes drifting as they gallop, the thunder of their hooves shaking the earth.
I think of my friends, Carol and Jim, who rescue wild horses the federal government has basically forced into captivity, using low-flying helicopters to make them stampede so they can round them up and remove them from public lands only to stuff them into tiny pens one on top of another until they can barely move. I can’t help but imagine a few running free here.
Control yourself, Indie, I mutter internally, knowing I have a tendency to try to problem-solve for the causes that matter to me by shoving them down people’s throats.
I’m not gonna do that this time.
Boundaries, woman.
“Like it?” he asks, pressing himself against my back, gently easing his erection into my ass as his mouth explores the side of my face.
“It’s so beautiful.”
“Do you have ideas on how to best use it?”
“A million,” I reply.
“Good. I have no doubt you’ll tell me all about them.”
He reaches under the sweater of his I’m wearing for the waistband of my leggings beneath, sliding his hands into them. He groans as he fondles my naked ass cheeks as I hold onto the top of his fence with my hands.
“I have to fuck you in every part of my land,” he growls.
“Stop,” I whisper as he squeezes my ass cheeks. “Stanley could be nearby.”
“We won’t be doing it now. You’re still too sore to be fucked properly. I just want you to prepare yourself mentally. Now, tell me where you’d like me to fuck you first—the woods or in that field?”
“You’re a deviant, you know that?”
“Tell me where, Indigo, or I’ll drag you into the garden and fuck you there.” He spreads my ass cheeks wide, pressing the hard ridge of his erection into the gap between his hands. “Tell me.”
“The woods,” I eke out.
“Good choice,” he whispers. “And the best place to find props for your training.”
“You can’t be serious with that word.”
Ignoring my protest, he picks me up with a growl of irritation, carrying me a hundred or so feet into the woods to the left, the tree canopies closing off the sky as the woods wrap around us, the air cooler, the light dimmer.
“What are you doing? What if he sees?”
Ignoring me, he sets me down onto the ground, looking around and picking up two thin branches languishing on the ground which he snaps every single twig off, running his hands across the bumps left behind as if checking that there are no sharp pieces left.
“Pick one,” he orders, holding them out.
“Pick one? What for?”
