Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 26982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
Emily twirls around the center of the converted old barn I’ve been secretly working on for a year. It still has that familiar scent of a barn, but with a new sweetness from the fresh walls and finish I’ve constructed inside.
It’s wide open in the center, doors to bedrooms and other things along two walls, with a massive balcony up high where we can sit, dream, and, of course, fuck.
I honestly don’t know how I got so much done here in the past year, because I’m stuck to her like glue most of the time. But there were times when she was with her family, or she and Carrie were having a spa day or some shit, or she was with her trainer. I don’t know. I squeezed in the work to make sure that when and if our wedding happened, I had a place to bring her home to that was ours.
“Bank account says you can pick out whatever place you want, but for now, this is us. This is ours.”
“I always loved this barn. There’s something about the rough beams, you know? Took a person God knows how long to create by hand. Then they become this—” She spins, the platinum toes on her white boots catching the light coming through the windows all around the worn wooden space. “A place that gave shelter to animals and a quiet place for someone to make decisions. And now, a place for me to hop on my cowboy and ride!”
The barn is on the very back of my parents’ property. Leah always said she loved that it was broken, but still standing, and wouldn’t let Allister tear it down.
I think she knew it was a representation of both of us, and knew someday I’d make it my home. She knows me, and I’m more grateful every day for my family.
Emily gets a running start, her hand on her head, holding onto her hat as she runs my way, launching herself into my chest.
With a bold laugh, I catch my wife, spinning in a circle, before marching her to a back room that used to house tack and tools, but now is going to be for something else.
Something far more entertaining.
“What is this?” Emily chirps as I guide us through the door and latch it closed behind, setting her down on her boots as her head swivels, taking in the large bedroom space.
But it’s a bit more than that.
“No one will hear us, no matter what we do,” I announce, my dick already hard as deviant fantasies cascade around in my head. “You’re mine now to do with as I please, remember?”
“Uh huh.” She throws me a squinting look. “What’s all this? Horse tack in the bedroom?”
I whitewashed all the wood in here. Walls and ceiling. At the center is an enormous king-sized bed, with four old barn beams as posts, with eye hooks and ropes hanging from each.
The comforter is a Navajo blanket pattern in red, orange, and black, along with about a thousand of Emily’s favorite cruelty-free down pillows, because that girl likes softness when she sleeps.
But what she’s going to get from now on is something hard.
My heart feels settled for the first time in as far back as memories go. I told her I’d take care of her, and I will. No matter what it takes.
“What’s this?” she teases, grabbing a silver ringed bit from a hook on the far wall. The midday sun cuts through the dusty air and across her pink tank top, her nipples already poking out, telling me my girl is going to be as filthy as I need her to be.
“That?”
I reach up for my hat, setting it on one of the dressers along one wall, then strip off my white t-shirt and drop it to the wooden floor. I close the space between us and grab the rubber horse bit from her with one hand, then gather a set of black leather reins to go with it.
Then I take her by the back of the neck and put her at the foot of the bed, facing me.
“Strip, lil Kicker.”
When she opens her mouth to talk back, I shove the rubber shank of the bit inside and snap the black leather around the back of her head.
“Mares don’t talk. They take what they’re given. That pregnancy test is coming up with two pink lines if I have to empty my balls inside you for the next week, every hour on the hour. We’re not leaving here until you’re good and knocked up.”
She flashes me a smile from around the horse bit with a roll of her eyes, but she does as I say. Her tank is first, then bra, and God, those tits. That sight will never get old.
Within two minutes, we are both in our birthday suits, and I’ve got her right where I want her, centered on the special little bench I designed just for this.