It took her a disconcertingly short amount of time to cave and do exactly what he’d asked, shouting at him, “Please make me cum!” She hated the neediness in her tone, but then, she felt needier now than she ever had in her life!
Her embarrassing plea didn’t even slow the painful tattoo he was beating out on her behind in the slightest, and all she could do was moan and cry and occasionally try to wiggle away, with no visible signs of success.
By the time he stopped crisply swatting her rear to flip over onto her back again she knew what it was like – for the first time in her life - to have her backside set on fire. The sheets her highly sensitized rear came in contact with were far from the seven hundred count Egyptian cotton ones she kept on her own bed, and it was like dragging that raw skin over sandpaper, so much so that she jumped a bit, arching away from the bed and towards him, before finally settling down, albeit gingerly.
Trieve knew he had accomplished two things by spanking her like that – one, she knew that he meant to be obeyed even when the order was given casually, and two, he knew that cumming was now the last thing on her mind.
For now.
At least until he rededicated himself to getting her to that point again, in answer to the plea he’d had to drag out of her. He’d been surprised at just how reluctant she’d been to say something like that – but then she was just beginning to bring home to him the fact that that his skewed viewpoint on women always made him think badly of them, and that, although the good ones may be few and far between, he shouldn’t paint them all with the same brush.
Jayne was amazed at just how quickly her tears dried and he had her panting again – for a much different reason.
This time, as he made his descent, he didn’t neglect her nipples, giving each of those swollen buds the same lavish attention he gave other parts of her body as she writhed beneath his ministrations. Then he continued his path down her body, leaving a wet trail to the very top of her neatly groomed cleft.
As he once again conquered and surrounded her, he let his fingers trail down from where his lips had settled to carefully explore that which he intended to claim next, immediately feeling a huge sense of self-satisfaction at finding his fingers slickened naturally by the feminine juices that seemed to be pouring out of her.
Two thick fingers reached up inside her, delighted to discover just how tight she was, almost virginal, in fact, prompting him go slower than he might and stretching out the anticipation for both of them as his body occupied and controlled her most sensitive spots.
Jayne had lost all sense of embarrassment and time and logic. Her entire existence was concentrating on him and what he was doing to her. She couldn’t even feel the pain of her reddened bottom, except to know that its incessant tingling – and even the considerable sting - ratcheted up her desire several notches, whether she wanted it to or not.
Stretching up a bit to flick and suckle at the very top of what seemed to be his favorite area, Trieve ordered hoarsely, “Cum, Baby. I want to feel you explode against my mouth.”
And, without so much as a second’s hesitation, as soon as those eager lips touched her again, she did exactly that, absolutely unable to control the almost violent screams that told of just how far into the atmosphere he’d brought her before letting her fall back to Earth. And he didn’t stop there. He didn’t do what a lot of men in her experience did – leave to reposition themselves as soon as she began climaxing, which left her only half-fulfilled the majority of the time. No, he was a very thorough lover, and she found herself subject to five more orgasms that were each just as hard and raw as the first with which he’d gifted her.
Only when he could tell by her body’s greatly reduced responses to him did he leave off and lever himself over her, sinking his rampant, demanding cock fully within her in one stroke that had her arching against him, tensed and hard, as if he’d hurt her badly.
“Are you all right?” he asked, beginning to withdraw despite how his body protested at the mere thought of doing so.
“YES!” she yelled again, reaching up to grab onto his hips and draw him back inside her.
And that was all Trieve could stand. He couldn’t be civilized enough to inquire further. She was meeting his every thrust, as if trying to match him, and – amazingly – doing just that with the aid of her own feminine strength, growling low in her throat the whole time.
Gone were his gentlemanly tendencies – the ones that had him holding back, especially the first time he made love to a woman, making sure he wasn’t going to inadvertently crush or hurt her, that had him only half thrusting a lot of the time, taking it slow and making sure she was with him.
He let go for the first time since he was an adolescent who couldn’t control himself if he’d wanted to, fucking her hard, his mind nowhere but on that ephemeral goal, the ecstasy that reared up on him and threw him into the fire as he pistoned mindlessly through it all, taking every bit of pleasure he could before he collapsed atop her.
And what little bit of awareness that had lurked in the background of his consciousness during this mind blowing experience had retained the fact that she had not cringed away from him once, hadn’t tapped him on the shoulder and politely asked him to be careful, and wasn’t now, trying desperately to get him to move off her. Instead he knew that she had urged him on, whispering “Harder!” under her breath and wrapping her arms around him as best she could, encouraging him to find what he had given her, and simply holding him and stroking his back in the aftermath.
She actually whimpered a bit – although he didn’t think she knew it – when he did finally move, even though it was only a few inches to her right. She followed him, cuddling up against his chest and holding him, even trying to rock him a bit, he thought, and, although he was still pretty well brainless and far from recovering, he leaned down and kissed the top of her head, folding her in his big arms against him, content for the first time since he could remember.
But, once reality began to set in again, the longer they lay there in what should have been the afterglow, Jayne could feel him beginning to withdraw from her again. His arms fell away – although he didn’t actually push her from him – and his body stiffened in a manner it hadn’t been minutes before, making her feel about as welcome in his bed as the plague.
With that stark, unwelcome feeling slapping her in the face, she got up, realizing sadly that it felt very necessary to doing her best to shield her nakedness from him – not that he was any kind of help. In fact, he just stared at her quite blatantly, not saying a word as she scrambled around trying to find at least her nightgown, which would cover a multitude of sins. Surprised to feel the compulsion to do so after they had just made love, she turned her back to him as she pulled the long gown over her head, grabbed her panties and housecoat in one hand and left him there to silently ascend the stairs, feeling colder inside than she did out by a long shot, and doing her level best not to let him hear her crying.
Trieve cursed himself as he watched her walk away, knowing he should go after her but unable to make himself do so. He hadn’t meant his mind to go where it went – and his body followed, to hold himself away from her like that when they should have been cuddling. He’d adored it when she had followed him onto her side, pressing her cheek to his chest. He’d been almost overwhelmed by a feeling of having come home, of frighteningly complete satisfaction he’d never experienced before and indeed, had never really thought was possible.
And – as big as he was – those feelings absolutely terrified him, so he let her go, knowing intellectually that he was doing the absolutely wrong thing as he watched her cover her nakedness as if she was ashamed that she’d let him see her that way in the first place and climb the stairs, alone and hurt.
Disgusted with himself in a way he’d never been before, Trieve rolled over. It was three fifteen. Hell, he’d have to get up in an hour and a half or so, and he knew he was much too wound up – despite the tremendous, hair raising release he had found with Jayne – to get back to sleep, so he hauled himself out of bed to begin his day.
He stayed away for breakfast, coward that he was, preferring to go hungry rather than face her recriminations. Hell, she could have called a cab and left by now, he thought as he swung down from his big gelding and began to trudge to the back door, head down, expecting the worst, since that’s always what seemed to happen.
But he could smell something wonderful before he’d even made it to the door – and hear something, too.
Someone one was playing a stereo – although he didn’t own one. He’d pawned his nice system years ago. He knew she’d packed some heavy stuff into those two suitcases, but he hadn’t thought it would be an entire sound system. Trieve walked past something bubbling on the stove that smelled amazing, but he was too intent on finding her – and the source of the music – to linger for long. He found her in the living room – not the den, but the formal living room his mother had insisted they maintain, although there was nothing at all formal about how they lived and they almost never had any visitors out here – with the vacuum and its cord wrapped around her, singing loudly to something that sounded very discordant to him, but then he hadn’t listened to popular music in a very long while. And he had yet to discover what she was using to play it.
When he tapped her on the shoulder, she jumped three feet, and he absolutely could not suppress a grin, no matter how hard he tried.
“Sorry,” he chuckled, knowing it was a lie as he said it. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
She glared at him, turned off the machine with her foot and went to the now immaculate brass and glass end table to pick up her phone, which seemed to be stuck into . . .was that a toilet paper roll?
He stared at it and her, agog.
“I forgot to bring my portable speaker – I figured you’d have something here, really,” she said, not caring much about whether that insinuation hurt him. “So I improvised.”
She stepped over the vacuum, past him, and into the kitchen. Paper plates and bowls had been set up at the snack bar. He filled the plate with three fresh, hot homemade rolls as soon as she put a basket of them down in front of him, then filled his bowl with garlic smashed potatoes, over which she poured what looked like a thick chicken stew.
He dug in without saying a word as she took her own seat in front of a very small portion after filling both of their glasses with milk.
When he felt able to slow down a bit from shoveling food into his maw, he ventured, “You’re not eating much.”
She didn’t even look up from her bowl. “Not hungry.” She finished before he did – before he’d even gotten a chance to tell her how great the food was – threw her plate and bowl in the garbage and set her glass in the sink to fill with water. Before she left, heading back to finish up the living room, she said, “I need supplies if I’m going to cook for you for a month. There’s a partial list on the fridge, but the more I work the more I have to add to it. I’m running out of things to make for dinner because I don’t have much in the way of ingredients.” Jayne figured that mentioning running out of food might resonate with him, since he seemed to devour whatever she set in front of him.
She’d done a thorough inspection of just exactly what it was he had on hand, and created the list out of what she thought she’d need. The pantry was good sized but it looked like Mother Hubbard’s cupboard – all she found there was literally seventeen jars of off brand peanut butter, for which there were thirty corresponding loaves of cheap white bread in the freezer, and, surprisingly, about twenty five plastic containers of sugar cookies – the frosted ones she’d seen in the bakery section of her local grocery store.
One container was half eaten, and when she saw him come watch her clean out of the corner of her eye, she could see that he was munching on a handful of them for dessert. She ignored him in favor of getting the living room done today, and he finally left, if somewhat reluctantly.
Dinner that night was a quiet affair, neither of them willing to discuss what had happened between them – not even the good parts. Trieve didn’t want to talk about how she had left him so abruptly, even though he knew it was his fault that she had, and Jayne didn’t want to let him know just how hurt she’d been by what she perceived as a rejection of her.
She wanted to know what the hell had been done to this man in the past that had affected him so now – made him so brittle and wary and ashamed about his lack of money - and she knew that if she ever got the chance to get her hands on the person – who she’d bet was a woman, somehow – she was going to throttle her.
The next two days went by in much the same awkward silence, and Trieve had yet to even acknowledge the reality of the fact that she was practically down to serving him peanut butter sandwiches herself.
Not willing to confront him – and figuring he’d just clam up even more when she wanted to discuss his finances – or lack thereof – she decided one morning, just after he’d left from breakfast, that she wasn’t going to expect him to do anything about the situation any longer. She’d fix it herself.
So she called information and had a cab come out – there was one whole cab for the entire burg of Heartbreak, who seemed to know where she was immediately – and he came out and brought her back to town.
Sometimes living near a small town had its advantages.
The driver was a very nice fellow who offered to wait for her to get her groceries so she could store them in his trunk, then pick her up when she was all done shopping and take her back out to the ranch. She agreed thankfully and gave him a healthy tip.
She’d brought her list – to which she added liberally as she shopped at the one and only grocery store in town, despite her reservations, because she knew that tiny, regional grocery stores were barely above convenience stores in price and selection, but she was able to get almost everything she wanted there, and what she couldn’t get there, she got at the local hardware store.
As her purchases were run up – and not scanned, she noticed – the plump cashier came right out and asked, “Are you Trieve Jensen’s new girl?”
Jayne wasn’t at all sure how to answer that, so she merely gave the woman a small smile that neither confirmed nor denied her suspicions.
“I hope the two of you will be very happy.”
Thanking her generally without acknowledging her wish for them that definitely wasn’t going to come true, Jayne gathered her items, thinking how things were between them – and of his attitude towards females in general – and muttering to herself something to the effect of “not fucking likely”.
She could see the cab was parked outside a diner, and realized she was pretty hungry herself, so she stowed her things back there and took a booth at the back, realizing as she entered that all eyes would be on her for the entire time she was here.
“What can I get you, honey?” the waitress at her elbow snapped her gum incessantly, and even blew a few bubbles for added measure.
Not having been offered a menu, Jayne replied without thinking, “A bacon cheeseburger, fries and a Diet Coke, please.”
“Say, are you Trieve Jensen’s girl?” she asked before leaving, as if she was inquiring whether Jayne wanted ketchup with that.
Jayne sighed. She’d grown up in a small town. She knew how fruitless it was to try to buck the grapevine. “I guess so, but not really.”
“Mmm-mmm-mmm,” the other woman rhapsodized, getting a faraway look in her eye. “That man’ll wear you out if you’re not careful.” She nudged Jayne knowingly. “In a good way, of course. It’s too bad about his Mama. He and his father deserved better than how she done them.”
Before she could turn away, Jayne touched the girl’s arm. “What about his mother?”
That was all the invitation Peggy needed to take a seat across from Jayne and spill every single bean she knew.
Although her lunch was much later than she’d intended, Jayne had to admit as she stepped out of the restaurant that it had been an eye opening hour and a half or so – and it wasn’t because of the stellar cuisine.
Peggy was Trieve’s contemporary and had lived in Heartbreak all her life. She knew all the dirt, and now, so did Jayne. It appeared – if hearsay was to be believed – that Trieve’s Mama, who everyone but his father had thought was a terrible choice for a wife, had up and abandoned them when he was near his early teens in favor of a wild, much younger ranch hand. And for a long while, no one saw or heard from her, until one day, Trieve’s father, Carlton, received a summons to county court.
The horrible woman wasn’t just content with leaving utter devastation in her wake after leaving them, she had the gall to sue his father for half of the ranch that had been in his family for five generations.
And she won. She was granted fully half of what had been an enormous ranch, and the loss devastated Trieve and his father, who they say was never the same. They’d had to struggle – really struggle – after that to retain ownership of what remained, and his life now was merely a continuation of that battle.
“He mourned the loss of her for the rest of his life, God rest his soul,” Peggy had murmured, practically tearing up.
She dialed up Amos, the cab driver to let him know she was ready, and headed for the cab, mulling over what she’d learned about Trieve. As reasons for hating women go, his was a doozey, she had to admit.
But he had to come to grips with the fact that not every woman was like his mother at some point in his life, or he’d end up donating what was left of his ranch when he died to the state, and somehow, even she found that idea quite untenable.
As Amos drove her home, she replayed one of the last things Peggy had said to her in her mind. She had leaned over and patted Jayne’s hand in an almost maternal fashion, saying, “I can tell you’ll be good for him. Why, you’re already miles ahead of the last woman he had out there. That witch barely lasted twelve hours.”
She couldn’t help it. Her curiosity was piqued. “How many others has he brought to the ranch?” she asked, careful not to tip his hand that he was actively looking for a wife when she wasn’t sure just how much the town – and thus Peggy – knew.
“Just the one in decades, really. Decades. It’s so sad.” She teared up again, then cleared he throat. “We could tell that she wasn’t going to be a good fit for him just from a glimpse of her as he drove her through town to pick up some stuff at the feed and seed on the way to the ranch. She was all haughty and looking down her nose at us. Good riddance to her, I say. He deserves someone better. You’re the one, all right. You’ll get him to come ‘round, or my name’s not Margaret Bernice Cavendish Davis O’Reilly Sinclair Hudson.”
Jayne’s eyes had gone round at what seemed to be the never ending list of her husbands, which, to her, diminished her endorsement by quite a bit. She wondered casually how many she’d buried and how many she’d divorced, not really sure she wanted to know.
She had a lot to think about once she got home – back to the ranch – she corrected within her own mind. Amos helped her bring things in for which she again tipped him generously, although he waved her money away. “No, no, I can’t take that. I’d just like to be able to say I had a small part in helping Retrieve Jensen come to his senses. That’s more than enough payment for me.”
Jayne had to admit she was touched by the sentiment as she headed for the kitchen with her booty and got dinner started, then set about tackling the den, a long neglected study, and then began on the upstairs, armed with more and better tools than she’d had before.
He’d come home for lunch – already anticipating the wonderful scents and tastes of whatever it was that she had cooking, and there was no one there. The house was as quiet as a tomb – as it had been for years and years before she’d come into his life. She’d transformed his expectations in such a short time that he knew this was just a taste of what he was going to feel when he had to tell her it wasn’t going to work out at the end of the month. His heart lodged painfully in his throat until he’d taken the stairs by twos and threes and found that her stuff was all still there. When he got back to the kitchen, he saw that her ever present – and ever growing – list was gone, and deduced that she’d gone into town, probably with the help of one Amos Thrushkill.
Trieve had taken two bites of one of the peanut butter sandwiches he’d found in the freezer, right where she’d said she’d leave them, and threw it away. There was no way he could go back to that now. At least, not until he was truly starving again and had no choice in the matter.
So when he was done out on the range, he headed home with a somewhat heavy heart, trying not to hope too much that she’d be there when he got there, but then he saw the light on in the kitchen, and his step livened considerably. He did a terrible job grooming Kellan, his horse, giving him a couple extra rations of precious grain to make up for it as he practically ran into the house.
Jayne barely looked up at him as he came in, but then she was taking a pan of something that smelled absolutely luscious out of the oven. “Dinner in fifteen,” she said, her voice as no nonsense as he once claimed he was. “Go wash up.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” he said, almost automatically, but not without a small smile.
As he wandered through the house, he saw a new mop and pail in the corner of the hall, found his bed made with flowery sheets he’d never have bought himself, and sat down in his chair at the head of the table to a meal of pork chops he knew hadn’t existed in this house for more years than he cared to remember.
“You’ve been shopping,” he said, not letting the accusatory tone stop him from digging into an enormous, thick cut chop that was covered with onions, and, to his surprise, applesauce. The meat fell off the bone and melted in his mouth, full of the flavors she’d added to the dish – garlic, ginger, soy sauce . . . it was pure Heaven.
There was also stuffing as a side dish, as well as baby carrots with peas, and he devoured it all.
“Yes.”
“I’ll pay you back.”
They both knew he’d said that about her plane ticket, too, but he had yet to address it. She knew he couldn’t, and wouldn’t have accepted money from him that she knew was so dear to him and that deserved to be pumped right back into the ranch, anyway.
Jayne shrugged her shoulders and played with her food rather than eating much of it. When he was done, she removed their plates, scraping the remains of her chop – which was three quarters of it – back into the casserole dish.
What she brought back puzzled him. It looked like a blonde brownie, but it was frosted with little multi-colored jimmies in it, like the sugar cookies he was addicted to.
She plunked one down on his plate, saying, “Try it.”
It, too, was pure bliss. Moist and dense and tasting very much like a sugar cookie . . . only better. When he reached for seconds, she cautioned, “Wait,” and brought in a bowl, along with other accoutrement. She put a bar in the bottom of the bowl, covered it with Ben and Jerry’s World’s Best Vanilla, hot fudge sauce and whipped cream, then handed it back to him, vowing to keep him in homemade sugar cookies – or bars – as long as she was here, just based on the sheer ecstasy on his face.
For his part, Trieve now he knew he was going to die happy!