Page 105 of My Little Farm Girl

I could call and talk to her but somehow I knew that wouldn’t do it. I’d have to stop and look at what made me so sure that she was in trouble and that she needed me at another time, right now I just wanted her in my arms where I was sure she was safe.

Anyone who says that cussing at people to get them to move their ass doesn’t work hasn’t tried it. I had to ream out more assholes in a ten-minute span than I usually do all day.


It got the job done though I’m sure some of those people were calling me every name in the book. I’d make it up to them later, right now anything that stood in the way of me getting to her was going to be annihilated.

By the time I was strapped in and the plane was flying over the city, I was finally calming down. I’d called Josh and told him where I was going, since I wouldn’t be there for our daily briefing session.

He’d only bitched for a minute before telling me ‘I told you so’ and then gone back to sleep. I liked it better when he was on my shit list.


I had a car waiting for me when I landed and barely spared the people at the counter a glance. My usual courteous behavior had flown the coop.

When I got out and on the road, it was like being in another world. I actually felt myself relax back in my seat. It could be because I was going to her, because I was in the place where my baby had grown and been nurtured in her formative years, I have no idea, all I know is that the raw energy that had been coursing through me since she’d been gone was winding down.

When the GPS said two minutes to your destination my cock perked right the fuck up. I fought and won control. There were still some things that had to be dealt with.

What happened could never happen again. The problem was that I was in love with her, there was a delicate balance, I didn’t see why the fuck that had to be, but it was.

Being in love with her didn’t stop me from wanting to control the shit out of her, in fact it made me want to do it more, but maybe she wasn’t as submissive as I’d first thought.

That wasn’t it either, and I hadn’t figured it out in the days that we’d been apart so I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to in the next minute and a half.

Whatever the problem we were going to have to figure some shit out soon. A Dom in the true sense is never to make his sub think that she is irreplaceable, she must always know that he can live without her.

A husband on the other hand is a whole different story. I may not have a grasp as yet as to what her problem was, but I knew mine. I was in love with her before I ever touched her.

My two worlds collided; I still need to dominate, to control, to own. The lover and the Dom had become one, there was no distinction between the two. Is that why she’d been confused?

Shit, my brain would choose now to kick in to gear. In the last few days I’ve been going on autopilot. Between running the business and keeping up with Josh’s shenanigans where his mother was concerned I’d hardly had time to think.

He wanted to rush into things and feed her just desserts. I wanted to make sure there was no backlash on him from whatever we did.

In the end, I had the perfect solution and hoped like fuck it worked the way I wanted it to. I had planned on waiting until after that had been taken care of before brining Kitten home but this urgency I felt told me I didn’t have the luxury of time.

Somehow, I’d convinced myself that she was here having fun; that she was playing catch up with her friends and relaxing because she knew I was going to come get her eventually, now I wasn’t so sure.

I made the turn off to the farm and got my first surprise. I’d been expecting some little rundown farm- house with weather beaten barns dotting the landscape and half starved cows crying in the backyard with chickens clucking or whatever the fuck it was they did.

When I’d looked into her family’s background, I hadn’t paid too much attention to their layout here. I knew they were finally breaking even for the first time in years and that her dad seemed to have a pretty good head on his shoulder, the business farmer I’d secretly dubbed him.

Still, I’d never given much thought to what the place might actually look like. It was like every painting I’d ever seen of Midwestern America from a gone by era.

The barns instead of worn grey and toppling over were bright red with white trim. The house itself was Georgian style brick which some of it I could see had been recently added.

The land seemed to go on forever and instead of the off-putting smells I’d half expected, the sweet smell of hay filled the morning air.

I saw the wiry man with the wide brim hat pulled low over his brow approaching as soon as I came to a stop.

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