Just a few days ago, I feared I’d lose him. Now, he’s mucking about on the ranch as if he were never in any danger. The conflicting emotions ricochet about in my mind until I’m just a mess. Part of me wants to lash out at him, to show him just how worried he made me.
The other part wants to burrow into his arms and have him hold me and assure me he’s really all right. Neither emotion is needed nor warranted at the moment. This human is a stranger to me. I shouldn’t care about him beyond what he can do for me.
But then, that’s what makes me a good Rancher. At least that’s what it seems like when I talk to others I admire. I still feellike these moments of sentimentality do me no good, especially not when I’m supposed to be just as strong of a force to be reckoned with as any other Rancher on Icora, male or female.
Balling my hands into fists, I rise to my full height over my bull. “You are to go inside this instant. When you are back in your room, you will climb onto the bed and wait for me. Any deviation from my orders, and you will regret butting heads with me.”
My insides clench as he rises in one, easy, fluid motion. Watching him is like watching a precious bit of machinery, like the robotics on display at the capitol. How simple it would be to just gaze at him and touch him whenever I want.
But I can. He’s my bull. Mine to do what I want with when I want to do it.Unfortunately, he’s not valuable to me as just a plaything to scratch any carnal itch I might have. He has a job to do, and it’s high time he prepares to do it. If he’s well enough to damage my trees, he’s well enough to be put to work.
The only good thing I can see about this situation is that he’s not in Icorian clothes. If pressed, I can lie and say his anal cavity is filled, but anyone would be able to see and record his attire. Granted, I’m not sure what I was planning on dressing him in, but linens from the bed was not it.
The swoops and dips hug every curve, making my mouth water as I study his perfect body, only slightly less muscular from the forced rest. Sweat dampens the linen sheet, showing off the bunch and release of his muscles with each step away from me and toward the house. He’s certainly going to be a problem.
What in all of Icora am I going to do? I know nothing about commanding males. As much as I want to ask the ranch hands, I don’t want them to know my weakness.
Up until now, I felt as if I’ve put forth a concerted effort to show myself as a force to be reckoned with. Just one little question can undermine everything. Even worse is if I ask oneof the other Ranchers. They will never let me live it down. And celestials help if word of my ineptitude finds its way to the capitol.
Shaking my head, I dust off my pants and head back to the field I was tending before checking in on Ethan. He will never know the spike of panic that filled my soul when I found him missing. As much as I want to look him over, to make sure he’s truly okay, I need to get in control of myself.
Even now, my fingers still tremble as all sorts of scenarios fill my brain. What if he were injured? What if he died? What if... But no. The asshole was damaging my trees.
Thankfully, another spike of anger floods my senses, ridding me of these petty sentimentalities that have no business in my brain. This is a vocation and nothing more.Heis nothing more.
It’s a lie. Even as it flits through my synapses to form into a full thought, I know it’s a lie. If only my mind, heart, and pussy could all come together to form some agreement.
A heavy sigh slips through my lips as I kneel to touch the grass. Unlike the larger, commercial ranches, my earth is dry to the touch. Small splashes of water hit the surface, but soon dry, leaving an arid canvas. All that money on an infrapulser and so little water nurtures my crops.
Looks as if my bull will have his first job after I outfit him properly. My pussy spasms at the thought of his muscles bunching as hauls water from my spring to moisten the earth. Part of me wants to cast aside all my responsibilities and just ride my bull and milk him of his seed until we’re both sated. The other part worries about neglecting my duties.
But why should I? If the other Ranchers and ranch hands can fuck their heifers, why can’t I have my bull? Rising, I slide my hands across my thighs and brush off the dirt before heading back to the main house.
My pulse pounds in my head with each step. This is ridiculous. I’m not some untouched innocent who doesn’t know what to do. But then, with him being a human, would it be any different? When I took him in my mouth those few weeks ago, it was the same as with any Icorian male.
Arousal dampens my inner thighs as I pick up my pace, desperate to ease the ache between my legs. Besides, it’s not as if taking an hour or two out of my day will make any difference in the crops’ growth. If only it were that simple.
My thoughts are at war with each other as I decide what to do. Nothing seems right. Nothing feels right.
No. That’s not exactly true. One thing does feel right. I only feel too guilty to indulge.
I trudge up the stairs as my heartbeat thrums in my chest. Will he obey me willingly? Will he force me to hurt him or punish him? It’s the very last thing I want right now.
As I slide open the door, I instantly look at the bed. He’s on it, but nowhere near the position I instructed him to be in. Instead, he sits on the edge, his lips quirked down into the most serious frown I’ve ever seen.
It makes my insides clench as delicious heat curls through my body. He looks so fierce, so commanding, so... majestic. It’s the only word I have for it.
Still though. Rules are rules, and every time I turn around, he seems to break them without a second thought. So, he’s going to force me to bring him low then, isn’t he?
“Why are you not how I ordered you to be?”
His thighs shift a bit, making the fabric gape at his waist. My brain can’t seem to think when his thick cock beckons me like it does. This human must be some sort of magician to be able to weave such a spell around me.
Shaking my head, I pull my gaze back to his face, half-expecting some self-satisfied smirk. Surprisingly, there’s noevidence of any gloating. If I’m being honest, he looks more worried than anything else.
“What’s wrong?” he rasps out.
My words stick in my throat as it constricts a touch. “You’re disobeying me. That’s what’s wrong.”
