Ask No Questions Page 5

  She laughed. "I wish I'd seen that. I can't imagine though. You seem so, I dunno, capable."

  "Trial and error," he said. "Mind you, if I hadn't really wanted this, I'd have given up in the first couple of weeks. It's still touch and go now, really. It's a seriously tough business, and you feel like you’re winning if you break even. Nobody makes a lot of money in this game."

  "Don't they?"

  "No. Government subsidies have kept most of these hill farms going. That's why everybody's looking for ways to diversify. I'm looking into turning that field over there into a camping and caravan site. And I want to make cheese."

  "Ooh, cheese. I love cheese. I'll help you."

  "Made it before, have you?"

  "No. But how hard can it be? I'll do the marketing. Make you an advert. Sing the jingle. We need a brand name. Rhys almost rhymes with cheese…hmmm…there must be something we can do with that…"

  "Perhaps we should make the bloody stuff first," he suggested, smiling.

  He joined Skip in funnelling the sheep through the gate to the lower field then shut them in.

  "Right, that's done," he said, leaning on the bars and looking over the flock. "Dipping tomorrow, then I need to shear them."

  "That'll solve my clothing problem," said Kim. "You can make me a woolly jumper."

  He caught himself wondering again what the girl was hiding from him, but stubbornly refused to think about it. Not until he'd had her again, at least. A few times.

  "Fancy a ride on a tractor?" he suggested.

  She climbed on to the lowest bar of the gate and tried to balance, raising her arms in the air.

  "You bet I do," she proclaimed to the listening sheep. "Just try and stop me."

  "Good." He clasped his hands around her middle and lifted her down. "Just let me fix the mower attachment on. We're going to make us some silage."

  She leant against the corrugated iron shed wall and watched as he prepared the tractor for mowing. When all was ready, he climbed up into the cab and called out to her, handing her up beside him.

  "It's so high up," she commented, looking down in front.

  He started up the engine, smiling at her reaction to the jolting force of it.

  "Christ, it's loud," she yelled over the top.

  He nodded, shifted the gearstick and drove it out of the shed.

  The empty field intended for the campsite was his destination today. The grass had grown thick and lush, perfect for silage-making. He always derived satisfaction from seeing it fall away into piled lines in his wake, smelling the delicious aroma all around him.

  "Mmm," sighed Kim, clearly agreeing with him. "New mown grass is the business, isn't it? You should bottle the scent and sell it. There's your new business idea."

  "If only," he said, turning the vehicle to mow another straight line.

  He caught her watching his hands on the steering wheel, his wrists flexing on the gearstick.

  "What?"

  "What? Nothing. Just watching you drive, that's all. You need a bit of muscle for this thing."

  "It's a bit of a beast," he said. "But you get used to handling it."

  "Mmm, sounds like something I know." She flashed a glint of teeth.

  "You've got a very dirty mind, young lady." He shifted on the seat, his fingers tighter on the gearstick.

  "Who, me? You're the one assuming I'm talking about your cock."

  He breathed out and turned off the engine, halting the tractor mid-mow.

  "All right, that's it," he said.

  She bit her lip, suppressing a grin. "Oh dear," she said. "Am I in trouble?"

  "Yes," he said. "A lot of trouble. Get over here."

  He got hold of her hips and guided her into position until she straddled his lap, her long jumper riding up to the tops of her thighs.

  "Look at all this mud," he scolded, tracing the dried splashes on her bare skin with a finger. "Dirty girl." He slid his hands under the jumper, held her by her bottom cheeks and pulled her into a tangle of tongues.

  Once she was good and melted, sighing and running her fingers through his hair, he lifted her jumper to her waist and gave her bum a crisp smack.

  "Oh!" she squealed, surprised.

  "I don't tolerate misbehaviour in my tractor," he whispered. "Especially from girls with no knickers on."

  "I didn't do anything!" she protested, but her eyes were bright with mischief and she wiggled her hips, inviting more of the same treatment.

  "Didn't do anything?" He laid on another, enjoying her ooh of half-pleasure, half-pain. "Talking dirty in my cab. That's dangerous, that is. I could have gone off course, ended up mowing the fence down. You can't distract a man when he's driving his tractor, you know."

  His palm made a satisfying third crack of impact on her quivering bum.

  "Ow," she said, but it was a purr, low down in her throat.

  "Are you learning your lesson?"

  She ground herself on his thighs, pushing her bottom out for more, which he was happy to give.

  "I think you are."

  "What about when the tractor's stationary?" she asked. "Is it allowed then?"

  "Oh yes." He pushed his jeans-covered erection between her damp lips. "I think everything's allowed…when the tractor isn't moving…oh fuck. I want you."

  "Have you got…?"

  He fished a condom out of his jeans pocket.

  "Came prepared this time," he said. "Think I'll keep one handy whenever you're around. I can't seem to be near you for five minutes without…"

  "Oh God, same here."

  They kissed again, hard and desperately, while Rhys struggled, first with his jeans fastening, then with the condom.

  Kim stroked her pubis up and down his cock while he worked the rubber over it.

  He wanted to devour her, to clasp her tight and squeeze her hard, to take big handfuls of her. Most of all, he wanted to get inside her.

  "Get on," he growled into her ear.

  She shuffled obediently into position and rocked over the tip of his cock, but he wasn't in the mood for a slow build-up and he jerked his hips upwards.

  "You want it, don't you?"

  "Yeah." Her breath was so warm against his neck, and so sweet.

  "You're going to get it."

  She eased herself down over him and he laid his head back on the worn leather seat and let her clasp him tightly in that dark wet heat of hers.

  "All the way," he muttered.

  "You're so big," she said, and he lifted his head again, grabbed her by the scruff of her neck and took over her mouth again. She knew exactly what to say, the minx. Mind you, he felt big right now; he felt enormous, in fact, pushing his way up that little stretching passage until he could push no more. She'd be feeling that.

  Her enthusiastic tongue probing told him as much. She was where she wanted to be, full of his cock, joined at the lips, ready to ride.

  She tried to take it easy at first, to rise and fall without hurry, but the way he clutched at her bottom and spread the cheeks open communicated urgency to her and she began to moan and speed up. He timed his own thrusts with her bobs up and down, reaching up inside the jumper to feel her breasts. He should have got that thing off. He wanted to see them bounce.

  "Put your hands up," he gasped.

  She removed them from around his neck and raised them.

  "Why, is this a stick-up?" she giggled as he lifted the jumper over her head.

  "That's one way of putting it," he said, then he forgot all about banter, electing instead to grab one of her breasts and suck on it instead.

  If only silage-making could always be like this, he thought. Sitting in his tractor shagging a beautiful naked woman certainly beat mowing the grass for a Tuesday afternoon. He released her nipple with a final luscious suck, held on to her hips and began to thrust in earnest. She rubbed her bare breasts all over his shirt and buried her mouth in his neck. God, the feeling of her sucking on it drove him beyond wild.

  "Fucking take it,"
he rasped savagely.

  He felt her tense and go at it harder. She was going to come. She had found her perfect angle on his cock and she was ready.

  Her lusty shout was muffled by his neck but he gloried in it all the same, screwing her right through it until it died away into piteous little whimpers.

  "Good girl," he whispered. "Nice and hard, eh? Keep doing what you're doing." She was going to make a mark on his neck but he was well past caring now. He could feel his climax building up, all his senses aligned, ready to be torn apart.

  When it happened, his eyes flew wide open and he pushed her bum cheeks into him, needing to find maximum depth of penetration, wanting to give it all to her.

  "Oh God," he spluttered, holding on to her until post-orgasmic dizziness stopped swooping through his head. "You perfect dirty little marvel."

  She snuggled close to him, yawning into his ear.

  "I could just stay here, joined on to you, forever," she said.

  "Sounds like a plan."

  They rested for a while, her damp skin pressed to his stout farmer's garments, his hands clasped loosely around her waist, his eyes shut. He could drift away like that, nod off in the cab, dream of everything being like this always.

  "We've steamed up the windows," he said eventually, wiping away a patch.

  "Tractor of lurve," said Kim. She drew a heart in the mist and wrote 'R 4 K'. "When you offered me a ride in a tractor, you really meant it, didn't you?"

  "I think you should work on the theory that everything I say is an invitation to sex, however veiled. That's going to be my default."

  He kissed her, blinking the sweat out of his eyelashes.

  "I like that theory," she murmured, still collapsed against him as if all her muscles had decided to stop working at once. "God, I love the countryside. Why didn't someone tell me about this sooner? Fresh air, nature all around, fucking gorgeous hot shaggable farmers everywhere."

  "Ahem. Not everywhere. Don't go expecting market day to be like some kind of feast of male flesh. Anyway, you're only going to be shagging one farmer and he's right here."

  "You'll do, I suppose." She sat up, wriggling off his softened cock, and grinned impishly. "You might be bloody amazing in bed but you're not very good at mowing meadows, are you?"

  "You've got a point there," he said. "Go on, get off me then."

  She reached for the jumper but he tapped her wrist and frowned.

  "Who said you could get dressed again? You're staying bare-arse naked for the rest of the day, my girl."

  He smiled and looked sidelong at her as she hugged her knees to her chest and laughed.

  "You're just so bad," she exclaimed in delight. "I love it."

  He looked up to the skies through his blurred windshield and uttered silent thanks to whomever might have set this up. Then he put the vehicle into gear and went back to mow his meadow.

  Chapter Six

  She was still naked when they ate dinner, a more elaborate affair this time, consisting of a chicken casserole and another bottle of red wine. She had chopped vegetables under his supervision, wearing nothing but an apron. It had taken an incredibly long time to get all the vegetables into the pot, because he couldn't stop himself coming up behind her and holding her tight and kissing her face and neck and lips until the water boiled over or the dog burst into the room.

  Although the meal was relaxed, Rhys was aware of an intentional skirting round of issues. The conversation was fenced in by 'do not enter' signs. He couldn't ask her about her background, her family, her job, her friends and lovers. Living in the present was one thing, but this was starting to feel ridiculous and not a little uncomfortable.

  "So you’ve never done it in a tractor before?" he asked, clearing the plates.

  "I've never done anything in a tractor before."

  "City girl. Come on – you wash, I'll dry."

  "You were a city boy once, you told me."

  They carried the dirty dishes to the sink and Kim turned on the taps.

  "Yeah, I was, and I tried to feel like one, but I never really did."

  "Fish out of water?"

  "Absolutely. You can take the boy out of Wales…"

  Kim smiled, squirting washing-up liquid into the sink.

  "Yeah, I get that. This is where your roots are."

  He nodded. "I felt like I'd been torn out of the earth, when I was in London. I gave it my best shot, but…"

  He shrugged.

  "What made you come back, in the end? A redundancy package?"

  "No, no." He reached across her and turned off the taps. "You're filling it too full. Way too many bubbles too."

  "Are you changing the subject on me?"

  He caught a glimpse of something in her eyes, a kind of rebellious regret. She put a glass in the sink.

  "Hardly seems fair," he said, "to give you my life story when you won't even tell me your full name."

  She plunged the glass in the water and wiped around the rim, watching the bubbles burst and the suds glide on the stem.

  "Is the holiday over already?" she said softly.

  "It's more than a holiday, isn't it?" he said. "It's a holiday from being you."

  "Actually, no, it's not." She handed him the glass to dry. "It's a holiday from being who people think I am."

  "OK," he said. "I'm sorry. We all need one of those from time to time."

  And I don't want to scare you away.

  He reached for something on the windowsill.

  "Here, put these on," he said. "You'll ruin your pretty little hands."

  Kim snorted with laughter and picked up the yellow rubber gloves.

  "Phwoar," she said. "You won't be able to resist me in my plastic apron and Marigolds. Is it a fetish?"

  "I can see you don't have hands that do dishes," he said, picking one up. "That water's hot. Put the gloves on."

  "I hate the smell."

  "Put them on."

  "No."

  "That's a very dangerous position, love, when you're standing naked in my kitchen."

  "Why? What are you going to do about it?" Kim grinned from ear to ear, flapping the gloves in his face.

  His reply was a flick of the tea towel to her irresistibly presented rear.

  She grabbed at her bottom and shrieked.

  "You bastard! That really hurts."

  He simply laughed and brandished the tea towel like a fencing sword.

  "Gloves, Kim."

  "Never." She dipped her hand in the washing-up bubbles and flicked them at him. Blobs of foam settled in his hair and a drop of water ran down his cheek.

  "Right, you're asking for it now."

  She shrieked again and leapt away across the kitchen as he made a lunge for her. The rubber gloves were dropped on the floor, surplus to requirements. She dodged around the dining table, laughing and squealing, but she stood little realistic chance of eluding Rhys and she obviously knew it.

  He caught her by the back door, dragged her back to the sink and lifted her on to the draining board.

  "That's wet," she objected, shifting her bum on the cold metal surface.

  "But are you?" he murmured, pushing inquisitive fingers between her spread thighs.

  "Yeah," she whispered before giving in to his ravenous kiss.

  He had his jeans undone, cock out and rubber on in the time it took to get his tongue into her throat. He devoured her with his mouth for a few seconds more, then took hold of her hips and plunged in. No finesse, no gentleness here, just a hard, primal thrusting that showed her what she was getting.

  She held on around his neck and leant back, tilting herself up for an angle of deep penetration. He felt her body quiver in shock every time he ploughed forwards but he kept going, deeper, harder, making her take it.

  His jeans and boxers fell further and further down with each thrust but he barely noticed. Nothing existed in his universe but Kim's cunt and his cock, the friction and the force. Her dark heat drew him in, bringing him to a madness of need and de
sire. He would give her what she needed. He would make her yield everything, especially those things she hid from him.

  She whimpered into his mouth and he put his hand inside the vinyl apron and teased her nipples. Her tongue pushed frantically at his. She put a hand on his arse and squeezed. He slid in deeper, as deep as he possibly could, ignoring his trembling calves and protesting thigh muscles, and worked her even harder.

  When she came, from somewhere way down low inside her, he pressed his mouth to the side of her neck and sucked at it. This drove her even wilder and she howled and dug her nails into his back, kicking out behind him.

  Her loss of control precipitated his, like orgasmic dominoes, and he hammered home his final thrusts, making her slip all over the draining board, making her know what she had unleashed in him.

  She fell forward, her head resting on his shoulder.

  "Oh God," she groaned, a precious dead weight slumped against him. "My pussy's going to need a holiday after all this."

  "No holidays here," said Rhys, kissing her ear. "Just hard, hard work."

  "Yeah. I'm getting that."

  "You certainly are. Now. Pick up the gloves and put them on."

  She wore the Marigolds.

  Days passed like this, golden sunny days interspersed with cloud. Rhys and Kim had no need to leave the farm, so they didn't.

  She helped him dip the sheep, taking charge of the pen while he did all the hazardous work with the heavy-duty chemicals, dressed from head to toe in protective overalls.

  "Kinky," said Kim when she saw them, a mischievious grin on her face, but Rhys took the sheep-dipping and its potential dangers seriously and he simply shook his head at her and motioned her to keep well back.

  She followed him wherever he went, she and Skip flanking him like faithful handmaidens. When they could get Skip to bound off in pursuit of an errant sheep, Rhys would find a suitable stile to bend Kim over, lift whichever shirt of his she was wearing that day, and shag the living daylights out of her. The open air was a strangely powerful aphrodisiac, with its lingering warmth and the smells of nature rich around them.

  They found themselves doing it everywhere – piles of cut grass, the hayloft, the combine harvester. Anywhere reasonably clean and safe would do. Just having her, laughing and careless beside him with her sleek tan legs striding out below one of his old rugby shirts, was enough to get him hard. He lost count of how many times and in how many positions they did it over the course of those days. It was as if there were a fever in the air, turning him into some kind of satyr.