Claimed 6

Vanessa Roland stood in front of the kitchen window, the dishes still only half done in the sink, and decided that a good cry was in order. The tears were spilling down her cheeks before she could stop them, anyway. They wouldn't have cared whether or not she thought they were in order.

Outside the window, she could see mountains in the distance, and half a dozen big black cows chewing on alfalfa much closer. In her own backyard. How had she gotten here? It wasn't fair.

She missed the city. She missed her friends. She missed movies and shopping and good restaurants. She missed clean nails and hair that wasn't pulled up in a utilitarian ponytail.

She didn't want to be a farmer's wife. Especially when the farmer wasn't really a farmer. Carl had a business to run. The ranch was his childhood dream, and he was content to come home to it on weekends and spend his weeks in the city. Vanessa hadn't decided how to confront the fact that she knew that the apartment he rented was for more than sleeping and showering.

She allowed herself a gulping, hiccupping sob as she remembered the voice that had answered his phone earlier in the week. The very young feminine voice.

And now she was stuck here, in this god awful place, far from everything and everyone that she loved. And she didn't even have a faithful husband. It just wasn't fair.

"Mrs. Roland? Are you here?"

Vanessa was torn from her self-indulgent cry. She turned off the water, wiped her hands on the floral apron she'd found in the back of one of the kitchen drawers when they moved in, and walked to the door. Her face was red and blotchy. She knew that without looking in a mirror, but there wasn't anything she could do about it.

The man standing on her front porch looked like he'd walked out of someone's cowboy fantasy. Tall, leanly muscular, wearing jeans and a plaid shirt, boots and a cowboy hat. The brim threw his face into shadow. "Can I help you?"

He took his hat off with one hand and held it near his hip. "I'm Jackson Anderson. Your husband asked me to come by and check on you, make sure you didn't need anything while he was gone."

"He did?" Had Carl seen this man? His face was amazing. Strong bones, startlingly light eyes, skin that had been weathered by the sun. His hair was dark, and matching stubble colored his cheeks. She wanted to run her hands over his face. She fisted them in her apron instead.

"My farm is down the road. Your husband hired me to take care of his cattle during the week."

Vanessa raised her eyebrows, anger bubbling up again. "Cattle? Including his wife, huh?"

"Excuse me?"

"That's what I am to him. A fucking cow that he owns and keeps tucked away during the week, to play with on his days off."

"Mrs. Roland, I—"

"My name is Vanessa."

"Vanessa. You need to take a breath, honey. You look like you're about to pass out."

She felt it. She leaned against the door jam and tried to do as he said. He took her by the arm and ushered her into her living room. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. I've met your husband."

A slow blush spread over Vanessa's face. "He's not that bad...he just—"

"He's not that good."

What had Carl said the last time she caught him cheating on her? "It doesn't mean anything. He just needs things that I can't give him."

"Can't?"

"It doesn't usually bother me so much. When we lived in the city, I had things to distract me. Now all I have is the damn cows." She laughed, but it sounded more like a sob.

Jackson led her to the couch, and she sat, looking up at him. He had a really good mouth. Amazing mouth. A complete foil for the hardness of the rest of his face. "I can't imagine what he's getting somewhere else that he couldn't have right here."

Vanessa didn't know how to explain it. Or why she would even consider trying to explain the sexual component of her marriage to a stranger. "He loves me."

Jackson sat next to her. Close to her, so that she could feel the summer sun that had stored its energy in him while he stood outside. She thought he was going to argue with her. Instead he reached one big hand out and smoothed it over her hair. His fingers caught in the clasp holding it back into a ponytail, and he tugged at it.

Her hair fell over her shoulders and halfway down her back in a mess of neglected honey blonde curls. Jackson dug his fingers into it, his hands cupping the back of her head, and lowered his face until his perfect mouth covered hers.

His kiss was hot, demanding. He held her head, and tilted her face up to him. Her lips parted for his tongue. He moved one hand down to her waist and tugged her into his lap.

"Wait a minute." She leaned back, but settled her legs around him instead of getting off his lap. "I can't do this."

He reached for her again, this time his thick fingers moved with surprising grace over her dress buttons. She tried to breathe as he undid them to her waist. His fingertips brushed against her bare skin and took her breath away.

Work-roughened hands slip over her shoulders, under her dress, and eased the soft, light cotton down until from the waist up all she wore was a white cotton bra. He bent his head and kissed her neck, sending a rush of heat to her core.

She felt good for the first time in so long that it was impossible to try very hard to stop Jackson. He slipped his thumbs under her bra straps and tugged on them until they hung loose over her shoulders. His kiss moved from her neck down one shoulder as his fingers flicked open the clasp between her breasts.

Her full breasts spilled out of their confinement, and a low, deep growl rumbled through Jackson. She had the most perfect breasts he'd ever seen. Carl Roland was the biggest fool he'd ever heard of. If this woman were his, he would never let another man near her, much less hire one to make sure she was happy while he worked in the city and screwed little girls who were less than half the woman his wife was.

Her body was like a luscious gift. Her waist was narrow under his hands as he bent forward and sucked one of her berry-sized nipples into his mouth. Her hips were full and round in his lap, and they tilted forward as she reacted to his pull on her nipple.

"Please—" Vanessa wasn't sure what she was asking for. More, or for him to stop. His fingers plucked the nipple he wasn't sucking, and she slid her hips forward until she felt his cock through his jeans against her pussy. The bulge was startlingly large and hard. "Please."

He pulled harder on her nipple, his teeth biting into the tender flesh, and the spark of pain was like a livewire to her clit. She felt her panties dampening as her body responded violently to him. She put her hands to the back of his head, letting her fingers tangle in his black hair.

His moved his hands behind her waist and pulled the tie on her apron, then lifted the hem of her dress and she raised her arms over her head so he could take it off of her. She started to work on his shirt buttons, wanting to see the heavily muscled chest she could feel under it. He helped her, shrugging out of his shirt once the buttons were undone. She grabbed the hem of his white t-shirt and tugged impatiently at it. He laughed, a slow rumbling that moved his cock against her, and took his shirt off.

His chest was broad and strong, a patch of dark hair swirled over it, narrowing to a peak that disappeared into his jeans. She wanted to see all of him, her fingers slipped down between them and caressed the huge shape of his cock through far too much clothing. He was large, more than large. He stood her up off of his lap and stood himself.

When he was naked in front of her, his cock was more amazing that she'd thought it would be. It stood between them as hard as iron, too thick for her fingers to reach around. Kneeling down was a reflex that she could no more stop than she could stop her heart beating.

He put his hands back in her hair and led her forward until the smooth, fat head of his cock was against her lips. She swirled her tongue around it, tasting the salt of his precum. He pressed against the back of her head and the tip of his cock pushed into her mouth, stretching her lips and sliding along her tongue until it hit the back of her throat and she gagged slightly. She had barely half of his cock in her mouth.

She tried to move her head back, to fuck his cock with her mouth, but he held her still. Instead of moving back, he pushed forward. Her green eyes looked up at him with alarm, but he was relentless. He had to feel those lips around the base of his cock. He knew she could take it, and was determined to show her how far she could go.

She gagged a little and he stopped, waited for her to start breathing through her nose, and for her fingers to tighten on his hips, for her to push a little forward on her own before he pressed deeper.

Her tongue danced against the underside of his cock, sending sparks to his head. Her eyes never left his as he pushed her down on his cock, taking her mouth until he owned it. A rush of primal need pounded against him when he finally felt her mouth around the very base of his cock, her nose pressed into his groin. She was his. His.

He finally dragged her back, his fingers tangled in her hair. When only the head of his cock was in her mouth, he started pushing her down again. Using her mouth like a cunt, enjoying the wet heat of it. She tried to push her mouth faster down, and he felt a thrill at her small show of greed.

He pushed his cock several more times into her throat, felt her nose pressed to his flesh, and then finally let his cock head pop from her lips. He pulled her from her knees and held her against him. She was shaking as she buried her face against his shoulder and wrapped her arms around his waist.

"You're such a good girl, Vanessa. So good." He petted the back of her head, his other hand slid down the small of her back to her perfect ass. "You're my good girl."

His words made her insides feel tight and hot. Like she'd been waiting her whole life to be this man's good girl. Her throat was raw and sore, but nothing could take away the pride she felt. She'd taken his cock, all of it. Carl was half his size and she'd never been able to take his cock the way she just took Jackson's.

Oh god. She was a whore. A common slut. She felt like she was being torn apart from the inside out.

He held her away from him, looked down into her face. "What is it?"

She didn't mean to tell him, but somehow was compelled to anyway. "Only a whore would do what I just did."

"I won't have you talking about yourself that way, Vanessa."

She shook her head, her body shaking against him. "It's true."

She was slipping away from him, and he had to do something to snap her out of it. Instinctively, he knew that a physical release of her anxiety would help. That pain would refocus her attention and break the cycle of destructive thoughts.

He turned her so that her back was to him and walked her to the wall next to the front door. His hands slid down her arms and took her hands, lifted them and pressed them against the wall, held them there for a minute while he bent to kiss the back of her neck.

"You are not a whore, Vanessa. You're a beautiful, sensual woman who deserves to have her needs met." She shook her head slowly. "I'm not."

He brought his hand down with a shocking smack against her ass. She yelped, but didn't move. She couldn't have if she wanted to, he had her wrists in one hand and one of his feet hook around hers, keeping her legs spread wide. His big hand stung her sensitive skin, pushing the breath out of her. "You area good girl. I won't have you thinking otherwise." His hand came up and down again quickly, sending a sharp pain through her. Her pussy reacted so strongly that for a minute Vanessa thought she might faint. She arched her back, lifting her ass higher.

Jackson watched her react. Saw the sensual woman push past the fear and self-recrimination. She was the most basically, naturally sexual woman he had ever known. Her ass was perfect, round and firm, and now had a pretty pink tint.

He brought his hand down on it again, and heard her moan. He lifted an eyebrow and did it again, and then reached his fingers between her legs, sliding them along her slit and finding the edge of her hole. She was so wet. Drenched, dripping, her hole was so tight, and needy.

She pushed her hips forward, trying to make him push his finger into her. He obliged her, sliding one finger deep. She pushed her forehead against the wall and cried out.

He moved behind her, no longer able to deny himself the feel of that tiny, tight hole around his cock. She opened her legs obediently when he pushed against them, and whimpered when he slid a second finger into her cunt. Finally he pulled them out and put both hands on her hips, his cock found her slick, hot hole like a lost horse finds home.

She cried out, arching and pushing back as he entered her. She stretched around him like a virgin, and he knew that she'd be neglected in more ways than one. He pushed his hips forward, taking her slowly and relentlessly.

Vanessa felt herself fragmenting, dissolving into a million pieces as Jackson took her. How had she lived so long without this? He held her around the waist and pulled her on to him, manipulating her for his pleasure. His long, thick shaft reached parts of her that had never been touched.

She was cumming before she was ready, going off like the fourth of July when she hadn't nearly had enough. His cock was thick enough to rub against her clit with every deep, slow thrust, and she couldn't stop the result.

Her cunt closed around him, tightening almost painfully, and he held her while she came. Her head rested back against his shoulder and he moved one hand up to brush her hair back from her cheeks. He pulled out slowly, even though his cock complained bitterly at the idea of leaving its tight spot.

He wanted her in a bed, on her back, her legs over his shoulders. She took his hand, as if reading his mind, and led him down a hallway. Her bedroom was simple. A large bed and a dresser, nothing else. The bed had a white comforter on it and several feather pillows, and a white curtain billowed in from the open window.

She lay on back on the bed, and Jackson felt a gut-deep reaction to taking this woman in her bastard husband's bed. He kneeled over her and took her face in his hands. "I want you to remember this, Vanessa. Every time he takes you here, I want you to think about me."

She opened her thighs for him. Lifted her hips in invitation. He pushed her legs up, over his shoulders, so that she was completely open and exposed to him. Her pussy was beautiful. Its perfect smoothness was a testament to the sexual woman that had been smoldering beneath her surface. He could imagine her sitting on the edge of her tub, her fingers teasing and exploring while she slathered her husband's shaving cream over her beautiful cunt and drew his razor across it.

He put his hands under her hips and lifted, needing to taste her sweet honey. She would taste sweet, he knew even before his tongue wrapped around her swollen clit. He moved one hand, his finger circling the rim of her asshole as he fucked her with his tongue.

She tightened her hips when he pushed the tip of his finger into her ass, a groan that was half pleasure and half alarm filled the room. He lifted his head and shushed her, his finger not stopping its exploration. When she relaxed, he went back to her cunt.

Vanessa felt suspended in some kind of other world. All she felt was his hands on her, his mouth on her, and his finger doing something that she'd never let her husband do. It dipped more deeply into her asshole and she moaned loudly. He wrapped his mouth around her clit and sucked lightly until she felt her whole body giving over to him.

Finally he pulled away and his body was between her legs, the movement brought her legs up high and he moved his hands up to her ankles, spreading her wide. He looked down at her cunt, watched himself sliding into her. He was so big, so thick, she could hardly breathe as he pushed into her.

He was going to fuck her hard. She knew it like she knew her own name. She reached behind her and grasped the bars of her headboard, lifting her hips in invitation of the inevitable.

Jackson rested her legs against his shoulders and took her wrists in one hand, forcing her to keep her hold on the headboard. The other went to her throat, not hurting her, but holding her so that she was forced to look at him, to watch his face while he fucked her.

"You are mine, Vanessa. Every time he fucks you, I want you to remember that you are mine."

She nodded silently, her eyes wide and brilliantly green.

He pushed deep, his cock bottoming out and bringing a cry from her lips. He pulled out and pushed in deep again, needing to hear that little cry over and over.

"Say my name. I want to hear you say my name while I fuck you."

"Jackson." The word came out like a prayer. "Jackson."

His cock slipped in and out, his hips pushing against her, her legs wrapped around his shoulders. His. Every thrust claimed her. His.

He tightened his grip around her neck slightly when she tried to turn her head, to look away. "No. Look at me, Vanessa. Look at how good you make me feel."

He pulled his cock out of her cunt, and her desperate, desolate moan washed over him. He moved his hand from her throat, sliding it between her ass and the mattress and tilting her hips up so that he had access to her tightest hole. All of her would be his.

She knew what he wanted, and was both terrified and exquisitely excited. She wanted him to know that she could please him, could give him everything he wanted. She wasn't the tight little prude her husband thought she was. She was a fully sexual being, and if he wanted her ass, she could take it.

But he was so big, so hard. She had to work to relax when she felt his fingers rubbing her juices into her puckered little hole. They eased inside, loosening her, and then she felt the thick, smooth head of his cock at the entrance. His fingers went into her cunt, curled against her g-spot as he pushed against her puckered hole hard, then harder.

She screamed when his head opened her, he felt a shudder up his spine when he was finally in her ass. He took her slowly, slowly, savoring every second. Her cunt was dripping wet, her clit a swollen little treasure. He circled it with his thumb, his fingers rubbing against her sponge-y g-spot. He wanted her to squirt for him, coating him with her juices as he fucked her tiny little ass.

He wanted to make sure that she could not separate pleasure from him. That every time she touched herself, or her husband touched her, his face, his hands, his cock were in her mind.

She lifted her hips slightly, her knees were nearly to her shoulders, her hair spread around her in reddish-gold curls. She was like an angel, a beautiful perfect angel. His beautiful perfect angel.

"I want you to say my name when you come. Scream it." She turned her face so that her cheek was against the mattress and he pushed into her harder, getting her attention. "Look at me, Vanessa."

She turned back to him. His cock was buried deep in her. His balls were tight against her, and they throbbed, full and heavy. He flicked his fingers over her g-spot, felt it swelling, and rubbed it faster, a little harder. She bucked, her eyes wide but not turning from him.

His name tore from her lips as juices squirted out of her and her hips bucked up. Her body tightened around him, his cock squeezed by her anal muscles.

He didn't cum. Not yet. But it was a close thing. His balls ached, he could feel his seed hot in his shaft. He pulled out slowly, torturing himself, until he popped out of her asshole with an audible sound. She lay on the bed, limp and used, exhausted. But he still needed her. He needed her to find a reserve of strength, just for him. He needed to take more than she'd ever given before.