My Anal Cowboy (2 page)

She stared at him.

“I’m temporary, Mrs. Stranton,” he assured her.
 
“I’ll have the metalwork up in a week an’ be on my way.
 
It’s my specialty and I work hard and fast.”

Lily swallowed, her mouth dry, feeling faint at the thought this man was going to be around for the next week, all while Ted was away.
 
She tried to quiet the swarm of butterflies fluttering in her belly.

“All right, Mr. Thames,” Lily said weakly.
 
“Carlos can see you to your lodging.”
 
She let go of the railing and looked down the driveway beyond his truck, raising her hand to point.
 
“He lives down there about a half mile –”

“Oh I don’t need to see him,” Johnny interrupted.
 
“Mr. Stranton told me I’d find a bunkhouse nearer to the corral.
 
It’ll be easier for me to be closer to my work.”

He stretched his shoulders, rolling his neck, the morning light filtering through his russet hair.
 
His boots scuffed the ground as he shifted position.
 
Lily’s eyes fluttered, suddenly very aware of a tight, sweet sensation growing between her legs like an unexpected flurry of sparks.
 
She clamped her thighs together beneath her skirt, hoping he hadn’t noticed.

“But that’s, that’s – right by the house,” she said, her voice strangled, glancing over at the unused lean-to within a stone’s throw from the upstairs bedroom window.
 
Her bedroom.

Johnny followed her gaze.
 

“That’ll be perfect, ma’am,” he said pleasantly.
 
“I’m not picky when it comes to places to sleep.
 
I’ve even brought my own meal fixin’s with me.
 
You won’t have to worry about a thing.
  
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get straightaway to work.”
 

He nodded, replaced his hat and grinned at her.
 

Lily felt dizzy again.

“So nice to have met you, Mrs. Stranton.”

She stammered something in return, watching helplessly as the cowboy walked back to his truck, got in and drove a few hundred yards down to where Ted had talked about putting in the gate design for the enclosure.

She took a deep breath and then slowly exhaled, turning to go back into the house.
 
She held tightly to the railing as she took the few steps to the porch.
 
For the rest of the morning Lily could barely remember what she had planned to do.
 
She found herself frequently glancing out of the front windows watching Johnny working industriously at the fencing site.
 
He worked fast, just as he had promised.
 

*******************

Around noon, Lily glanced out the window again.
 
Johnny stood by his truck, wiping the sweat from his brow.
 
As she watched, he removed his shirt and tossed it into the open window of his cab.
 
His chest gleamed in the sun, a dazzling sheen of perspiration over his hard, rippling muscles.
 
She watched him return to his work, his muscular back flexing with his efforts.
 
Lily sighed.
 
She would never get any work done if she kept watching Johnny.
 
She resolved not to look out the windows anymore.

That night as she lay in bed alone under her ruffled white and pink comforter, she let her hands glide up under her sheer yellow nightgown, feeling her body, touching her breasts, stroking and massaging her most private areas. She rarely stimulated herself when Ted was gone but couldn’t help the sexual feelings she had tonight.
 
She imagined Ted in bed next to her, his familiar body, his comforting scent, his hands gently moving over her body and then … suddenly … they were Johnny’s hands, hard and roughened, roaming over her skin leaving traces of fire, his lips on her lips, his hard body against hers, his palms drifting lower to rub at her ass, squeeze her buttocks, slide his finger along the crack between them, probing, searching until he found her tight little opening and then ….
 

She gasped at the naughtiness of the thought and the fact she wasn’t thinking of her husband, even as her own hands rubbed furiously at her little bud.
 
She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, trying desperately to stop the momentum of the gathering wave but it was too late, she was riding the swell, gusting to the crest, until with a cry she pitched over, plunging forward into a sea of bliss, the world fading out momentarily.
 
She shuddered for a few long moments, her breasts rising and falling with exertion, breathing deeply, before a stab of panic abruptly struck her.
 
Lily realized her window was open and Johnny was sleeping just down below in the bunkhouse.
 
He couldn’t have heard her cry of release, could he?
 
And if he did, would he know what she had just done?
 
She pulled her nightgown down around her hips and buried her head in the pillows with shame, trying hard not to think about anything sexual, finally forcing herself to sleep.

*******************

The rest of the week passed in much the same way.
 
Lily snuck furtive glances from all windows of the house and brought herself to climax every night thinking of Johnny and forbidden pleasures.
 
By the end of the week, she had given up trying to be quiet and let herself moan with contentment as she experienced her little fantasies and continually threw herself over the edge.
 

Now it was Friday.
 
Ted would be home this evening.
 
And Johnny … Johnny was almost finished with the project and would thankfully be gone and tempt her no more.
 
Lily finished dusting the dressing table in her bedroom and straightened the photographs as she glanced over at the antique timepiece her grandmother had given her.
 
It was two o’clock in the afternoon.
 
She shot a quick look out the window and involuntarily sucked in her breath.
 
Johnny was working without a shirt again, flexing and bending, nearly finished hanging the sign over the gate.
 
It read TLS in fancy metal-sculpted script, which stood for Ted and Lily Stranton.
 
It really was a beautiful piece of work.

Lily edged closer until she stood next to the pane and surreptitiously slipped her hand under the waistband of her peach skirt.
 
Her breath came in short gasps as she began touching herself, working herself into more of a frenzy at the magnificent specimen of a man laboring over such a masterful project.

Johnny suddenly straightened and raised his eyes to the house.
 
It seemed to Lily he looked directly at the window where she was standing.
 
Horrified she snatched her hand out of her skirt and scrambled ungracefully behind the sheer lace curtains, her back to the wall.
 
Her pulse raced in her throat, her breath coming in short gasps.
 
Had Johnny seen her watching him?
 
Did he know what she had been doing?
 
She told herself to calm down, trying to will away the need that simmered between her thighs.

The minutes crawled slowly by on the antique clock while Lily regained her composure.
 
After at least five minutes had passed, she cautiously pulled back the gauzy fabric with one hand and peered outside.
 
Johnny was gone.
 
She scanned the pasture, the road, the driveway.
 
Nothing.
 
Confused, she moved forward and pressed her face up against the screen, looking down at the vacant bunkhouse.
 
His truck looked empty – he didn’t appear to be eating lunch or taking a break.

Abruptly a knock came from downstairs.
 
She jumped.
 
Someone was at the farmhouse door.
 
Lily desperately looked outside again.
 
The postman?
 
A neighbor?
 
Carlos?
 
No, there were no cars other than Johnny’s truck in the driveway.
 
Her palms felt sweaty and her face flushed.
 
Surely it couldn’t be ….
 
The knock sounded again, polite but insistent.
 
Trembling, she went downstairs.

*************************

Gathering her courage, Lily pressed down on the latch and opened the front door.
 
Johnny leaned against the frame holding the screen open with one hand, grinning at Lily’s dumbfounded expression.
 
He held his hat loosely in one hand but hadn’t replaced his shirt.
 
She had skittered by him during the past few days but this was the nearest she had actually been to him.
 
He seemed to tower over her.
 
She thought he must easily be over six feet tall, even without his boots.
 
His bare torso was tanned a perfect light bronze and his pectorals and eight-pack looked as if they had been chiseled by a master of art.
 
His shoulders and arms were strong, sinewy, muscled.
 
He shook his head slightly and small glistening beads of moisture flew from his brown curls, scattering across the threshold and landing on the polished hardwood.

“I’m sorry to bother you Mrs. Stranton –”

“Lily,” she said almost inaudibly.
 
“You can call me … Lily.”

He regarded her for a moment and then straightened, pushing away from the doorframe.
 
His eyes seemed to smolder into hers as if little embers of desire flickered in their depths.
 
She wondered whether she imagined it.
 

“Lily then,” he drawled.
 
That’s a beautiful name, ma’am.
 
May I come in?”

She stared up at him, almost afraid to breathe.
 

“Come in?” she squeaked.
 
“Er … yes,” she said, moving away from the entrance although she had no idea know why she was allowing a stranger inside her very house while her husband was away.
 
Especially this stranger.

He wiped his boots on the front mat and stepped through the open door, letting the screen door swing shut behind him.
 
Johnny’s gaze wandered confidently over the comfortable room before coming to rest on Lily.
 
They stood in silence for a long moment and then Lily finally found her voice.

“Can I offer you some – some water?” she stammered.
 
“Or – or lemonade, iced tea, uh ….”
 
Her voice trailed off at the intense look in his brown eyes.
 

“No thank you, Lily.”

She shuddered at the way he spoke her name in his western drawl, impulsively parting her lips and running her tongue lightly over them to wet them.

“Would you like … something else then?” she asked weakly, looking up at him.

He titled his head and gave her a half-smile, his eyes dark and seductive.

“I would.”

She swallowed, her belly fluttering nervously, a dizzying flare of heat curling up her spine.
 
“Wh – what?”

It seemed forever before he spoke again, his gaze sweeping over the v-neck of her sleeveless floral top, drifting over her navel to her coral skirt before coming to rest again on her face.
 
There was a hunger in his eyes.

“Your bedroom,” he finally said.

“My – my what?” Lily asked, feeling very faint.

“The room upstairs – the one that faces the pasture.
 
I’d like to take a look at my work from the window.
 
To see how the gate works with the paddock.
 
It’s always best to get a bird’s eye view if possible.
 
May I?”

She hesitated a long moment and then nodded mutely, backing up toward the stairs as he followed her.
 
She skimmed up the steps, her sandals hardly seeming to touch the floor.
 
Her heart beat in triple time to each deliberate click of his booted heels on the wood planks behind her.

She stopped in front of a bright white door with a brass handle.
 
It was the room from which she had watched Johnny work.
 
Her room.
 
The master bedroom.
 
He closed the distance down the hallway and stood inches away from her, his bare chest almost touching her breasts.

“In here?” he asked, gesturing to the door.

She nodded again and he opened the door and went inside.
 
Not knowing what else to do she followed him in.
 
She closed the door quietly behind her and watched him swagger to the window and gaze out.
 
Lily looked around the room she shared with Ted, the embroidered wall hangings her grandmother had made, the patchwork mat over the cool wood floor, the frilly blankets fluffed up on the bed, her marriage bed where she had slept for the past six years.

She was startled out of her reverie when she noticed Johnny had turned from the window and was watching her.
 
He placed his hat carefully on a small table and ran one hand through his hair thoughtfully.
 
She shivered at his masculinity, the magnetism he exuded, the heat in his deep brown eyes.
 
It wasn’t that she didn’t love her husband but the sexual tension between them was undeniable.
 
The air seemed charged with electricity.
 

Johnny walked slowly to the dressing table and chair.
 
Her eyes widened as he unbuckled his wide black belt, the elaborately-carved silver buckle flashing brightly in the sunlight falling through the window.
 
He drew the belt through the loops in his jeans with a quiet whoosh and laid it across the back of the chair.
 
He then pulled off his boots one by one, removed his socks, tucked them inside and slid the boots under the chair.
 
He walked back to the window, tugged the gauzy curtains closed and turned to face her, barefoot, wearing nothing but his perfectly-filled jeans.