Chapter 10: Fun fucking
The light came up grey over the paddock fence, and Jordan rode into it with his jacket unzipped and Katherine's message folded tight in his chest. Dew still hung on the rails. His breath smoked. The horse picked its way down the track toward the stables, ears flicking at the sparrows.
Sable was already in the aisle, fork in hand, mucking the last stall. Braids tied back, sleeves rolled, boots dark with old mud. She heard the hooves and straightened, leaning the fork against the wall.
"Up early," she said. "House let you out?"
"The rule's dead," Jordan said. He swung down and tied the reins. "The secrecy. Katherine ended it last night in the master bedroom. Everybody knows."
Sable set her hip against the stall door and crossed her arms. "Everybody knows what, exactly? Say it plain."
"That you're a likely mother. Your name was spoken in that bed with all of them listening. Katherine announced it herself."
Silence. A horse shifted behind the door, and straw dust drifted through the bar of light between the boards.
"You told them," Sable said slowly. "Even the part from the creek."
"Three finishes. I told them the number."
She laughed once, low in her throat, and came toward him. She caught his hand without asking and pressed his palm flat against her own belly, holding it there with both of hers. Her skin was warm through the thin cotton of her shirt. Deep under his fingers he felt a shift, faint as a minnow turning in shallow water.
"There," she said. "That's what the creek started. That's yours."
Jordan's throat worked. "You said you felt nothing yet."
"Felt it this morning. First time." She kept his hand pinned, dark fingers laced over his knuckles. "So. What the creek started, you finishing it? Or do you ride back and tell Katherine I need another dose of her magic droplets?"
"She'd kill me if I asked her for a third."
"Then stay." Her mouth found his jaw, his neck. She smelled of hay and honest sweat. "I've been mucking stalls since dawn knowing that whole house knows my business. I want it done right this time, not up against a fence with my boots on."
She walked him into the empty stall without letting go of his wrist. The fresh straw was pale and clean, laid down yesterday. She pushed him down onto it, straddled his hips, and pulled her shirt over her head in one motion. Her breasts hung heavy and dark, the nipples already beading, and when he reached up she caught his hand again and moved it back to her belly.
"Keep it there," she said. "I want you feeling it while you're inside me."
Jordan fumbled his jeans open. She didn't wait for him to work them down; she hauled his cock out, already thick and rising, and dragged her slick folds along the length of him once, twice, wetting him. Her breath shuddered.
"Look at that," she murmured. "You were half hard the second you said my name was spoken."
"It's been half hard since the creek."
She sank onto him. Her cunt opened around his cock inch by inch, hot and gripping, and Sable tipped her head back and groaned at the ceiling beams. Jordan pressed his palm harder against her soft stomach, feeling her fullness stretch around him from inside, and the faint flutter answered under his fingers like something waking.
"Fuck," she breathed. "That's it. That's deep."
She rode him slow at first, rolling her broad hips in long strokes, his cock dragging out to the head and swallowing back down. Straw scratched under his shoulders. Her milk let down with a patter, thin streams running from both nipples down the dark slope of her belly, dripping off the crease of her waist onto his shirt. Jordan sat up enough to catch one nipple in his mouth and drank, and her rhythm broke.
"Oh, shit, do that, do that while I'm coming." She ground her clit against the base of him, circling hard, thighs shaking against his hips. "I'm close, I'm so fucking close, don't you dare finish before me."
He drank, milk flooding his tongue, and thrust up into her from below with short hard drives that made the straw rustle and her breasts swing. She gasped on every stroke. Her hand slid between her own legs, fingers splaying over her clit where their bodies met, and then she seized, a full-body shudder, her cunt clamping and rippling around his cock as she moaned low and long against his hair.
"Inside," she said against his ear. "Finish inside me. What the creek started."
Jordan drove up once, twice, and let go. His cock pulsed and pumped into her, hot spurts painting her depths while she milked him with slow rolls of her hips, her hand flat over her own belly on top of his. He felt her take every drop.
They stayed like that, her weight on him, milk running cool on his chest, his softening cock still seated in her.
"You know," Sable said eventually, "Katherine spoke my name, huh."
"She did. Decreed you belong at that table like anyone else."
"Then I'm coming to dinner." She rolled off him onto the straw with a grunt, unembarrassed, naked in the light bar. "Fair warning. I eat a lot these days."
Hoofbeats outside, more than one. Sable propped on an elbow and squinted toward the yard.
"Visitors," she said, unbothered, making no move toward her shirt. "Boarders. Five girls, eighteen, cousins of that Elena woman's crowd, bringing back tack they borrowed. Loud as magpies."
Jordan pulled his jeans up. Five young women swung down in the yard, sun-tanned and chattering, halters over their shoulders, and one of them spotted him in the stall doorway and called out, "Mister Daly? Elena told us all about you."
Sable snorted from the straw. Jordan looked at her, and she grinned.
The five of them came into the aisle in a tumble of boot-steps and laughter, halters clinking, and the loudest of them leaned on the stall door beside Jordan. Sun-bleached hair, a freckled nose, an easy grin that reminded him instantly of Elena. "She told us everything," the girl said. "How the droplets work. What the house does for you. She said we'd be stupid to ride back without a welcome."
Sable sat up in the straw, breasts bare, milk drying on her belly, and made no apology for it. The girl only looked her over with open approval.
"You're the stablewoman. The one with the three finishes."
"Four now," Sable said, stretching. "Creek was three. This morning makes four."
The laughter that went around the aisle had a nervous edge under it, and Jordan saw it plainly. The second girl, small and dark-haired, hung back by the tack rack with her fingers tight on a borrowed bridle. The other three pressed close, heat coming off them in waves, the way heat came off everyone who'd taken Mara's droplets. His own pulse answered it before his head could weigh anything.
"You brought the droplets?" the loud one asked Sable.
Sable shook her head and nodded at Jordan instead. "He's the supply. Mara sent a vial out with him last week and there's a dose left in his jacket. Ask him plain."
Four pairs of eyes landed on him. The quiet one by the tack rack hadn't moved, but she was looking at him too, and her thumb was working the bridle leather in small circles.
Jordan reached into his jacket and brought out the little amber vial. "One dose," he said. "You'll have to split it, or draw lots."
"Split it," the loud one said at once. "Nobody waits a week for a horse ride home." She took the vial from his hand before he could offer it, measured the dropper against her own palm with a steadiness that made Sable chuckle, and passed it down the line. Each girl touched a drop to her tongue. The quiet one took hers last, hesitated, and then swallowed, her cheeks going pink before the drop was even off her lip.
The change came fast, the way it always did. Breathing deepened. The loud one's grin went loose. The three by the door started undoing buttons without ceremony, shirts dropping onto hay bales, and within a minute there were five young women in various states of undress filling his stall, straw in their hair already, breasts bare and young and full in the striped gold light.
"House rule," Sable said, pulling her boots back on with lazy interest. "He finishes inside every one of you. That's not me talking, that's Katherine. You want in the family, that's the door."
"Then close the door," the loud one said.
Jordan stripped his shirt off over his head and the aisle went quiet enough that he heard a horse shift in its stall. The loud one, whose name turned out to be Becka, was on him first, kneeling in the straw, tugging his jeans down his hips with impatient hands. His cock came free hard and heavy and she wrapped both hands around it, sighing like she'd been promised this ride for weeks.
"Elena wasn't lying," she murmured, and took him into her mouth.
She sucked him slow and greedy, tongue flat along the underside, and Jordan fisted a hand in her sun-bleached hair while the others watched from a half-circle on the hay bales. Sable had settled herself against the stall wall with her legs crossed, one hand idly kneading her own heavy breast, supervising like a foreman. Becka pulled off him with a wet sound and lay back in the straw, dragging her shorts down over hips that were still trembling with the droplets' first heat.
"In," she said. "Come on, in, before I lose my nerve."
He settled between her thighs and pushed in. She was tight and soaked, and her back arched off the straw with a cracked cry that scattered sparrows off the roof beams. He fucked her with long steady strokes, her legs hooking behind his knees, her breasts bouncing with every drive. The droplets had her wound tight already; inside a dozen strokes her breath was coming in ragged gasps and her nails were raking his forearms.
"Oh God, oh God, I'm going to," she got out, and then she did, clamping down around him with a shudder that ran from her thighs to her jaw, milk letting down from her young breasts in thin streams that ran into the hollows of her collarbones. Jordan watched it happen and drove deeper, and when the grip of her cunt pulled him under he let go, pumping into her in hot pulses while she moaned and held him down against her with both hands on his ass.
He pulled out of her slick and dripping. The small dark-haired girl was already lying down, shy and wide-eyed, thighs pressed together.
"You don't have to," Jordan said to her.
"I want to," she said, very fast. "I just don't know where to put my hands."
"Anywhere you like," he told her, and showed her.
She was tighter than Becka, untouched, and he went in slow, inch by inch, watching her face the whole way. Her breath hitched and broke. The girl with the freckled nose leaned over and took one of her small dark nipples into her mouth, and that was what pushed her over; she came with a high thin sound, hips jerking, and Jordan fucked her through it and finished deep inside her with a groan, her second cry rising over his.
The freckled one was next, and she was bold, pushing him onto his back and riding him like she'd grown up in a saddle. She milked his cock with rolling circles of her hips, pinching her own nipples until milk sprayed across his chest, and came twice before she let him finish, the second orgasm timed exactly to his, her cunt milking him dry with a satisfied laugh.
The fourth girl took him bent over a hay bale, gasping into the straw while he gripped her hips and drove in, her voice going higher with every stroke until she shattered around him and he flooded her with a final hard thrust that left her legs shaking.
The last one, quiet still, but her eyes were dark and heavy now with the droplets fully lit in her blood. She straddled him on the straw, sank down onto him with a long slow exhale, and moved like she was listening to something inside herself. No hurry. Her hands flat on his chest, her head tipped back to the bar of light. When she came it was silent, a full-body ripple, her inner muscles drawing his finish out of him in slow pulses she seemed to count with a small smile.
Five finishes. He lay in the wrecked straw with his chest heaving and five young women draped around him in the gold light, milk and sweat and his own spend marking every one of them.
Sable stood over the pile of them, hands on her broad hips, and shook her head slowly.
"Katherine said come to dinner," she said. "I don't think she counted on this. But knowing her, she'll want the full number by sundown." She looked down at Jordan with a grin. "Get your jeans on, likely father of five. You're not done."