My Pretty Little Object

ELLA

When my parents first told me we were moving to Southern Louisiana a few months before I turned 18, I had been furious. I loved our home in Michigan, and I had no desire to move to what I felt would surely be the ass crack of America. I couldn’t imagine ever getting used to the heat and humidity. I mean, they don’t even get snow for Christmas! The whole idea of it had me feeling really depressed, but we had to move for my dad’s job, so we left and made the long journey to our new home right in the heart of Cajun Country.

I managed to graduate high school, although I did it feeling like a weird Yankee outsider the whole time, and I’d just turned 18 a couple of weeks ago. The only that made this place bearable was our next-door neighbor. He’d introduced himself shortly after we’d arrived, Southern hospitality and all that, and I’d fallen head over heels in love with him the second I’d laid eyes on him.

He wasn’t at all what I had been expecting. Beau Thibodeaux was in his early 40s, a little under six feet tall, gorgeous dark brown eyes, jet black hair, all made to look even more amazing against his deep tanned skin. I’d tried to tell myself that no one could be that gorgeous, that he was probably bald beneath his red Ragin’ Cajuns baseball cap, but he’d removed it shortly after meeting all of us, and I’d almost moaned as he ran his hand through this thick dark hair before replacing the cap with a grin that could only be described as smoldering.

I’d immediately gone and masturbated as soon as he’d said goodbye, and I’d been doing it every day since, at least once a day.

But all that changes today.

Today, I’m on my way to his house, hoping he’ll give me a job. And once I get to see him every day, well, who knows what could happen next? There’s a path that runs in between our houses, a little trail through the woods that’s been kept mostly in check from the weeds that constantly try to encroach on it, and as I leave the shelter of the woods, I see his beautiful home. It’s a one-story, Acadian style farmhouse with a big wraparound porch. I’ve only been inside it once, but as soon as I’d walked in it had felt like home.

As I walk by the porch, I can’t help but think about how perfect it would be to sit out there in the rocking chairs every evening with Beau.

Get a grip, Ella!

I admit I’m completely obsessed with him. I know I need to play it cool, though. I don’t think he’s the type of guy who’s going to want me to fawn over him like a lovestruck teenager.

As beautiful as the house is, it’s the horse barns out back that are the real breathtaking part. They’re massive, and as soon as I’m close enough, I breathe in a deep lungful of the comforting scent of horse. My love of horses has been a truly shocking realization. I’d never been around them before, but as soon as Beau had brought my parents and I back here to see them, I’d fallen in love.

Walking into the first barn, I look around for Beau, but when I don’t see him, I walk over to Pierre’s stall. He’s a gorgeous black-and-white Paint, and he immediately sticks his head out when he sees me, curious to see what I’ve brought. His fuzzy lips run over my hand, and I can’t help but laugh as he starts crunching loudly on the carrot I’m holding out for him.

“You’re gonna spoil him rotten.”

I jump at the sound of Beau’s deep Southern drawl, and when I turn to look at him, I have to remind myself to breathe. He’s in nothing but that same baseball cap, a pair of jeans, and black work boots, and the sweat glistening on all that tanned, toned muscle has my panties sopping wet in no time. God, his body is amazing. It’s the kind of lean, chiseled body a man gets from working outside every day and not from going to the gym on his way home from the office. I desperately want to strip down and rub my naked body all over him. The very idea of it almost has me purring.

“Sorry,” I finally manage to say, giving Pierre’s nose one last pat.

Beau walks over to stand next to me, and the masculine scent coming off him is fucking intoxicating. It’s not stinky B.O. It’s more like just raw, rugged manliness, and I wish I could bottle it up so I could smell it later when I fuck myself.

He runs a hand under Pierre’s black mane, patting his neck.

“I’m just teasin’, Ella,” he says with a grin. “Pierre likes you. I don’t mind if you feed him a snack when you come here.”

“Thanks,” I say with a big grin because I can’t help but smile at him. I remind myself that I’m not supposed to be acting like a lovesick schoolgirl, but, damn, it’s hard not to.

He’s not rude enough to just flat out ask me why I’m here, so instead he says, “What can I do for you today?”

“Well,” I begin, suddenly feeling very nervous and stupid, “you know I graduated high school, right? I’m 18 now,” I throw in just so he knows I’m legal, “and I was kind of hoping maybe you could give me a job.”

Before he can even say anything, I hold up my hands and add, “I don’t expect much pay or anything. I just don’t want to go to college just yet,” if ever, I add silently, “and I’d really like to learn more about taking care of horses. I’d be willing to do any job.”

Especially blowjobs, I desperately want to add, but I don’t, showing remarkable restraint on my part, I think.