time did he have left with her?
“What do you have planned for us today?” she asked.
“I’m gonna take you on a tour of MacKinnon Ranch.”
She smiled. “Ooh, I get a tour?”
“That’s right, sweetheart. The twenty-five-cent tour. And afterward, a surprise.”
MacKinnon Ranch was five thousand acres, almost eight square miles. When Caleb’s maternal grandparents had passed away, their almond orchards were added to the cattle ranch owned by his father’s family. His father had razed half of the trees and five years ago had switched to all-natural, grass-fed ranching methods to get a higher price on their beef. Their parcel of land wasn’t huge, but Dale’s decision had paid off: MacKinnon beef went to gourmet chefs in restaurants all over California. Demand for their product grew stronger each year.
As he drove her around the pastures and along the creek, Caleb answered all of Cora’s questions. How big was the herd? “Eight hundred cow-calf pairs.” What breed were they? “A cross, Angus-Longhorn.” What did they eat? “One hundred percent pasture-raised grass, no grains.” Wouldn’t the ranch run out of grass? “We rotate pastures.” What did the beef taste like? “Like the best meat you’ve ever sunk your teeth into.”
Did he like ranching? “Not really—my brothers like it though.”
So what did he like?
He smiled at her. “You know the answer to that, girl.”
Following the dirt road that bisected the ranch, he drove until they reached the old aluminum-sided pole barn. He parked behind the barn and grabbed an icy six-pack of beer from the cooler in his truck bed. Cora followed him through a side door.
“What is this place?” she asked as he flipped one of the light switches on the wall.
“We used to keep feed in here. Now we use it for tools.” He slid open two dusty windows and a hot cross breeze filled the building. He took her hand and led her past all the junk and tools, up a short flight of wooden steps to the loft.
“Are we gonna have a roll in the hay?” she asked, squeezing his hand.
“Roll, yes. Hay, no.”
Caleb’s dad stashed old office furniture in the loft, including an ancient leather sofa hidden behind a rolltop desk. Caleb’s brothers sometimes slept off benders here, away from their parents or Daniel’s wife and kids.
Caleb handed Cora the six-pack. Slung on a rolling office chair were a couple of rain slickers. He shook them out and laid them on the sofa, fleece lining facing up. Then he sat down, looked up at her and patted the space next to him.
Even in the semidarkness, the air inside the barn was dry and hot. Parched, they popped open a couple of beers and drank them down fast. Caleb took off his ball cap, leaned forward and gave her a deep, hungry kiss, plunging his tongue into her ice-cold mouth.
She reached down and peeled his damp T-shirt off his body. He lifted up the front of her tank top, bunched up the fabric in his fingers and stuck it between her teeth, creating a makeshift gag. With a snap of his fingers, he unhooked her bra and shoved the cups upward. Blood pulsing in his ears, he leaned forward and massaged her heavy breasts in his hands, rubbing her nipples with this thumbs as she reached down and stroked the quickly hardening dick in his jeans.
He suckled her hard until her tender nipples were distended and goose bumps rose on her skin. The gag stayed in place as she stared at him with a heavy-lidded gaze that drove him wild. He slid her shoes off, then unbuttoned her shorts and stripped them off her. Too horny to get completely naked, he stood up, undid his belt and lowered his jeans to his knees.
He sat back down on the sofa, slouched low so that his ass was on the edge of the seat.
“Ride me.”
Gracefully, she got to her feet, spread her legs and straddled him. When the mouth of her sex opened, he groaned deep in his chest, grabbed the base of his dick and pushed its tip forward until her pussy crowned the head.
Pressing
Deandre Dean, Calvin King Rivers