Page 37 of Beneath the Quiet

And rule number one will always be, Don’t take a bite out of your own patch.

And yet…fuck, I’d take more than a bite if I could. I’d eat her whole if she’d let me.

I groan softly. This type of wishful thinking isn’t going to do me any good. It’s only going to turn my grumpy mood even worse, and that’s not going to benefit anyone. I lean my back on the bonnet of the car and cross my arms. I’ve always been a thinker, someone who weighs the pros and cons before I act, but wanting Maeve is proving to be difficult for my peace of mind. It doesn’t seem to matter how many times I wank off to fantasies of her before I fall asleep at night. The desire is still there the next day, egging me on.

I try to approach the problem in a rational way, but thinking only makes my cock grow harder, and if I’m not careful, I won’t be able to hide it. I can’t risk any of my employees seeing their boss daydreaming, hard as a fucking rod. I can much too easily picture the wagging tongues if one of the villagers saw me right now. I push off from my car and walk towards the barn. No one should be here at this time of day. They’re all off seeing to jobs, just as I should be. Instead, though, I end up in one of the stalls farthest from the entrance and close the door behind me. I fall back into the shadows and unzip my jeans, my balls already drawn up so tight I fear I might burst. I push down my jeans, bringing my boxers halfway with me, and my cock springs free. The adrenaline courses through my veins, and I bite down hard on my lip and spread my legs.

Fuck, I need to come, and I need to come now.

I lean an arm on the wall and rest my forehead on it as I look down. My cock juts out, head bobbing, and I wrap my fist around the base. The urge to fuck is fierce, and as the fantasy of Maeve lying beneath me fills my mind, pre-cum leaks from the tip. I can’t recall the last time I’d been so wrapped up by the thought of being inside a certain woman’s slick heat, but there’s nothing about Maeve that’s ordinary. Nothing is going to happen between us, because I won’t allow it, but if I did? Oh, I’d have no qualms about making her do my bidding.

I open my mouth, panting with the raging fire that burns through me. I imagine her wet mouth kissing the head, licking my cum, humming in her throat. Tingles shoot down my spine, alerting me to my imminent release, and I stroke my aching cock faster. I tighten my hold around it, the slippery sound spurring me on. The fierce grip is painful, but I don’t care. I care only about quenching my need. Perhaps this time, it’ll finally be the last. Maybe I’ll finally be able to let go of the fantasy of her, and I can be what I told her I’d be.

Her friend.

But right now, friendship is the furthest thing from my mind.

I need this. I need her…but I can’t have her. The Maeve in my fantasy sits, naked, legs spread out, her hands busy chasing her own pleasure. I imagine her running one of her hands up to play with her breasts, while the other moves down her creamy white skin before she finds her pussy. She rubs her clit while I fuck her mouth.

I want to see her get herself off, to see her dripping from wanting me, to hear her moans, but I only hear my own. I chase my release, and the moment finally comes. My cum shoots out, making me clench my arse as I hump the empty air in the stall. Groaning, but keeping them low, I shake my head, clearing the lusty haze from my eyes and tuck myself back in.

As I come down from my high, I toss some hay over the mess I just made with my booted foot and leave the anonymity of the stable. I squint at the blaring sun and pull out my sunglasses from my coat pocket, my mind already half on work instead.

For now, the fire has been tamped out.

I hope it’s for good this time.

That I can get back to my life in my quiet village, where my main focus will always be my daughter and my farm. All women deserve the kind of man who isn’t afraid to hand over their hearts, and I want the same for Maeve.

I can’t be that man for her.

Seamus Lynch instilled the love of the land in me, whereas my mother, Rosie, taught me that love wasn’t enough. I’d have to listen to and nurture it if the land was ever going to give me the bounty I hoped for.

I shudder to think where I’d be if it hadn’t been for my mum and dad. The days and weeks after Tierney died remain hazy in my memory. I don’t remember much, except knowing that I had a baby that needed me, and now, twelve years later, they’re still here, keeping close to Katie and me.

Aside from having Katie over for a sleepover at least once a month, they also come over on Wednesdays for a family dinner. Tonight, we’re having lasagna, and Katie helps me, like always.

“I wish we could have Granny and Grandad over every day.”

I chuckle wistfully. “Wouldn’t that be a bit too much?”

“No.” She grabs another carrot and examines the ends closely. “I like being with them.” Seemingly pleased with her choice, she puts it back on the chopping board and starts cutting it into very thin slices.

“So do I, love, but I also like spending time only with you.”

She shrugs. “Don’t you want to go out more?”

“Why would I want that?”

“I don’t know. To maybe meet some new people.”

I see where this is going.

“Katie,” I warn.

“Dad.”

I tap her nose. “That’s my own business, not yours. I don’t need to meet new people. I’m happy right where I am.”