Come Play With Me: An Erotica Collection. Madelynne Ellis

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      Sugar Lumps

      Rose de Fer

      He’s good with horses. I can see that straightaway. The way he stands before them with natural authority, the way he strokes them with a combination of affection and firmness, the way he soothes them with his low voice when they shift skittishly and stamp their feet. Like every girl who’s ever been born, I’ve always loved horses. But I could never get them to trust me like that. Possibly because I’m too skittish myself.

      ‘Here,’ he says, passing me a lump of sugar. ‘Sapphire wants you to feed her.’

      I hesitate before approaching the mare. She’s a magnificent creature. All sleek lines and rippling muscle, with a chestnut coat that gleams like polished mahogany. Her huge liquid eyes watch intently as John guides my hand towards her mouth. He straightens my fingers so the sugar rests on my palm like an offering. With a snort of hot breath the horse dips her head and I feel her velvety lips close over the sugar. My instinct is to pull away but he holds my hand still while she snuffles up the treat and licks my palm. Then she tosses her head and paws the ground in a flirtatious display that clearly means she wants more.

      ‘No, that’s enough for you,’ John laughs. ‘It’s Cheyenne’s turn now.’

      He hands me another sugar cube and indicates the palomino who is nudging Sapphire out of the way. I reach up to stroke her tawny cheek and she gives a flick of her long blonde tail. Feeling a little more sure of myself, I draw my hand down along her sinewy neck and back up to her head. The effect is so calming I swear I can almost feel my blood pressure dropping with every second I spend touching her. I inhale her rich horsy scent and feel calmer than I have in months. She closes her eyes as I scratch her forehead and smooth her forelock out of her eyes. At last I hold up the treat and she snaps it up in a flash, no doubt to keep Sapphire from beating her to it.

      Now both horses watch John expectantly, blinking their long-lashed eyes. He displays his empty hands. ‘That’s it, girls,’ he says. ‘No more.’

      They nod their heads as though they understand his words before stepping lightly away from the fence. While not as fickle as cats, their affections clearly come at a price.

      The horses trot back to the centre of the paddock, where they caper in a private game, kicking up their heels and running in circles. They stop to nuzzle each other before casting a look back our way. I suspect the show is just for us, a reminder of how very good they are, of how much they deserve more sugar.

      ‘They’re so beautiful,’ I breathe, watching them.

      ‘Ah, but not as beautiful as you.’

      His words make me blush. I’m still not accustomed to his compliments and I don’t know what to say. I scuff the ground with my boot, mimicking Sapphire’s coy gesture and he laughs.

      We’d met in the museum of all places. It was my first time there and he saw me gazing wistfully at a landscape of rolling green fields, punctuated by galloping horses. I must have looked as frazzled as I felt because he asked if I were trying to escape into the painting.

      ‘Is it that obvious?’ I asked with a rueful laugh.

      Like a true gentleman he didn’t answer that. He just gave me the smile I would come to know so well and cherish as he took me by the arm and led me to the café for a cup of tea. He encouraged me with friendly small talk and it wasn’t long before I was unburdening myself to him as though I were in therapy.

      Mine was the usual ‘boss from hell’ story. My shrill and ineffectual supervisor was the queen of mixed signals. She didn’t know what she wanted or how to express it; all she knew how to express was rage and derision when I couldn’t read her mind. Nothing was ever good enough for her and after months of frustration and sleepless nights I was really starting to lose it.

      My companion listened attentively and nodded with sympathetic understanding. ‘People are like horses,’ he said, surprising me with his analogy. ‘They need clear directions from a confident authority figure and they’re happiest when they know exactly what’s expected of them. And they should never be shouted at.’

      I had never thought of it that way before but his words certainly struck a chord.

      ‘That’s how my horses are happiest anyway,’ he added and my eyes widened.

      ‘You have horses?’ I exclaimed.

      He’d probably seen the same girlish reaction before, but he still seemed charmed.

      ‘Would you like to see them?’ he asked. ‘You do seem like you could do with a weekend in the country.’

      I surprised myself by jumping at the offer. He’d picked up on more than just my need for a holiday. I had been on my own for far too long and I was in need of male attention as much as a break from the city. Vaguely I recalled a scene from a film where a lonely woman flirted with a stranger in a museum before going back to his place for an afternoon of sex. The affair ended badly and bloodily for her in the hotel lift. But I heard no warning bells in my mind at the thought of following this man home. My hesitation lasted only a moment. John had already earned my trust and I imagined that any man who kept horses must have a kind and gentle nature.

      The house he took me to was an hour’s drive from the city, set back from the main road and surrounded by trees and fields. Elegant without being ostentatious, it looked like the sort of place you’d find on picture postcards advertising the tranquil English СКАЧАТЬ