Day 4, Wednesday

"My! What big feet you have!"

Oh, ha! Yeah, they were my first words to him. His first words to me?

"Leave off playing with my boots, woman."

I'd chanced upon Egan when I was out walking late that afternoon. Needing some 'alone' time in the midst of the carnival of a group excursion to visit some of the men we women rarely took the time to see. So we were all together on the grounds of this huge place but most of the time, we spent in the converted country inn that the group had taken over as a sort of headquarters and dormitory for the unattached. I might like being around people, but I have this competing need for ample time in which to be totally alone. Hadn't really gotten much of that in these first days. Felt rather a strong obligation to the unattached boys to be 'on' all the time and to be a good playmate. I was having a great time but that afternoon, I realized I was on edge from having to be around all these people all the time.

In my walk, I'd followed the path that East had told me led the long way to the stables. Perhaps that's why I'd not been at all surprised to find Egan here. He'd not been that much a participant in the goings-on during this week of the group visit and I knew he'd been spending a lot of time taking over East's normal chores in the stable so East could fulfill all his appointments with the women visiting.

But find Egan, I had. And, wow! I'd chanced upon him as he was wading out into this rock-strewn creek that ran cool and smoothly in a small ravine on the property. For a while, I leaned against a sun-warmed boulder and watched him splash in the water near the bank and grunt in satisfaction at getting the dust and grime rinsed off his bronzed skin.

I announced my presence by clearing my throat and when he whirled around, I smiled sweetly at him. Of all the men, he seemed the most reticent with women. Yet, I'd always had this feeling that it wasn't that he didn't like us, just that he wasn't entirely sure how to deal with us.

He watched me warily as I first took a seat on a boulder right by the creek ... right by where he'd shed his clothing and left it neatly to await him when he would finally climb out of the water.

But when he realized I was going to stay there and that I insisted on being acknowledged, he rather brusquely showed me how little he cared for the intrusion and how little interest he wanted to have in my presence. He returned to his devoted cause of washing off in the clear stream. It was somehow unexpectantly peaceful to have him act like this. It was the antithesis to how eager the other unattached guys were to show us women a good time. I liked his independence. I liked his separateness. I liked how I could just relax around him because he didn't expect anything from me.

So I'd laid back on the rock for a while and sunned myself. Then sat up to watch him again and noted he was then swimming out into the deeper area of the water while giving me these occasional examining glances. I wondered ... was he as curious about me as I was about him?

It's when I noticed his boots. God, but I had loved the look of The Man in these boots from the first still picture I ever saw of him. On him, they reached to his knees. On him, they anchored a body that was pure male attractiveness. On him, they were black leather encasing calves made strong from his life devoted to horse riding. On him, they were the finishing detail to a look so pure and masculine.

And looking at them, then looking up to see his eyes on me ... he was as beautiful as he was handsome.

And, Christ, but did he ever talk?

It was the moment I remembered a joking challenge I'd made to Uma a few weeks before our trip here. I'd said we should have a contest to see who could make The Man talk. She'd responded that we should vie for who could make him scream the loudest. I'd upped the ante by saying he had to scream the name of the woman he was with for it to count in the contest. We'd both been very amused by the idea. And knowing Uma, she was probably already figuring out how she'd win the bet. I'd been a bit too wrapped up in other things to even think about Egan. But in this moment, I was doing some awful naughty thinking about him.

So I'd looked back down at the ground and had unbidden thoughts in my mind about how much I liked his boots.

You should have seen his face when I simply stepped into them. They were like boats! So big that my little feet barely took up maybe half the space. And so tall they came over my knees. It felt deliciously fun - standing there in those boots and thinking about how they encased the feet and calves of Egan. The Man. Egan ... that man of so few words.

And his first ones to me were to leave his boots alone. Yeah, right. That worked, eh? I smirked at him and saw this dark look come over his face.

"You gonna make me, Egan? You'd have to come over here to do it and something tells me a shy guy like you ain't about to come over here and ..."

My words caught in my throat as he did just that. He made for the edge of the stream and I could see right when his feet made contact with the shallows because he was suddenly moving purposefully and quickly toward me. And up he rose from the water. My God! Wet, glaring, determined. And with a body that made me salivate.

I didn't move. Too stunned, I guess. And just the slightest bit intimidated at his intensity. And then he was right in front of me, hands on his hips, head tilted to the side, eyes fastened to my feet.

"Get out of 'em," he said. 

And for some reason, I was instantly going to obey him. Except my natural grace is not given to such rapid movement in such trying physical circumstances. I tried to hop out of them but ... um ... well, you know me. Instead, I floundered and to keep from falling I grabbed him. Just his arms - get your mind out of the gutter.

He flicked my hands off him as soon as I was steady on my feet. Then stepped closer to me and put his toes right on the tips of the boots. Probably thought he'd be helping me maintain my balance and enable me to climb out of his big old black boats. But it just made it worse. He made me nervous - coming so close, not saying anything, just this big disapproving presence, making me feel silly and stupid, communicating wordlessly to me that it was silly ass women like me that made him prefer a more solitary life. And, so ... so maybe it was understandable that everything I tried just made it worse. I wasn't able to pull either leg out. Then it was like in my sudden nerves and my intrinsic ability to be so clumsy, I was paralyzed.

And then ... he surprised me.

"Got you good, hey?" he said in this soft yet dark voice.

I looked up into his eyes and noted the way they were now focused on my lips and not my feet.

"Maybe you could just help me out a little?" I asked him, trying to sound like he wasn't having an effect on me but knowing if he was at all capable of reading women then he knew he was making me hot. "Give me a hand?"

"This one?" he asked even as his right hand reached behind my neck and held my head steady as he touched his lips to mine. Pulling away from me just enough to whisper in a deep voice, "Or this one?"

And I felt his other hand firm against my lower back. Oh! The kiss he dove into ... it was like a hot toddy after braving the coldness of the Arctic. It was like drinking a fine wine after giving up alcohol for Lent. I shook at the majesty of it and felt helpless to do anything but respond.

"Oh my," I sighed as he broke off the kiss.

"You wanted that," he announced. "And you want more."

"Well, I ..."

"No games. I'm not into them." 

"I can see that." It came out of me on a breath. Hell, I like a man who knows what he wants. I just hadn't quite expected this encounter to be so ... um ... escalating like the speed of light.

He stepped right up against me. I felt trapped. I couldn't move my feet as they were still encased in his boots and all I could do was trust that he would be good to me. But it was still intimidating. Any power I thought I might have held over him ... this was the moment when I realized that in this week, we women had felt a certain amount of power over the men. The "A Team" was tormented by our proximity and our aloofness; the unattached men were playing the game to perfection and allowing us to feel coveted, needed and in charge of the encounters.

This one unattached man was not. The Man. He was going to do it on his terms. 

I felt myself gush below at this instant thought. His terms.

"Touch me," he ordered. Man of few words; ideal in making each of them have impact.

My fingers stroked his back then up his arms. I latched on to his shoulders and pulled myself up enough to smell his neck and then lick him there. Mmm. The taste. Definite. Man. Virile.

Meanwhile, his hands were doing a bit of exploring of my body. He already had my t-shirt shoved up over my breasts and his hands were kneading me there. When he tweaked my nipples, I gave this little cry of excitement. Almost without a conscious thought, I dropped one hand down to examine his package. Oh yeah. Already growing hard and feeling divine in my grip.

He gave me this satisfied grunt. Right up against my ear. "More."

"Yes, Egan," I whispered and started stroking him with real purpose.

Moaned a bit when I felt his hands unsnap my shorts and work the zipper down. Had my mouth clamped to his neck when I felt him shove one hand down the back of my shorts and reach under and around to explore my wetness. But when he lifted me up a bit and used his new leverage to reach further with that hand and stick a finger up me, I protested at the roughness. It was involuntary, I assure you, but I bit hard into his neck.

"Christ," he grumbled and moved his work-roughened hand hard, rubbing me with no particular rhythm and some inborn skill of a man who wants a woman hot for him and knows that sometimes he just has to come at her strong if he wants a strong response. "I want to ..."

"Do it. Do what you want." As always, swept up into a man with such velocity and fervor that it made so little sense and yet it didn't feel wrong.

Felt his hands on my shirt and he was yanking it over my head. His mouth sucked greedily at one nipple and then the other. I whispered encouragement. He kissed me hard and I wondered if he wanted me as non-verbal as he was. Then he sunk to his knees and I felt his mouth kiss and nip along my skin on a route that headed ever south. He gave me this little growl when he reached the opened-zipper area. I heard him sniff in against me there and it excited me. Took in this hard, deep swallow as his hands gripped the zippered edges of my shorts and tried shoving them further apart so he could get at me a bit more.

And I wondered ... he could get them only so low, maybe almost to my knees, before the boots interfered ... at what point would he release me from the prison his boots had become for me? When would he need me to be able to widen my legs enough for him to come between them? In what particular way would he bring me from the boots in order to get my shorts and panties off my body?

But I stopped thinking about that when I felt his fingers explore me. All I could think was ... oh, hell, who am I kidding? I wasn't thinking then. I was only feeling and cataloging how he was touching me. One hand firm on my hip, giving me stability and letting me balance against him so I could remain upright. The other stroking, invading me, rubbing ... gentle but insistent.

 When he stopped, I realized I was barely breathing and I sucked in a huge gulping breath. "More," I told him, echoing his order to me.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied and then with this little grunt he licked into my slit. 

I tried to open my legs wider but I just couldn't really do much more than nudge the boots a bit apart. His mouth explored me ... his tongue was this tool that went from a hard, questing spear inside me to a tender, exploring blanket of sensations. But he wanted to dive in deeper and I heard a real growl of frustration as his hands could not get the shorts down or open me further to his probing fingers and mouth.

"These have to go," he muttered. 

I felt his hands take firm grips of the opposing zippered areas. And the next thing I knew, I was listening to him rip my shorts down the seam lines and I could feel the fabric being yanked away from my body.

"No!" I yelped out, already knowing he'd destroyed them. What was it with the men ripping my good clothes this week? "These are my favorite shorts ... Don't ..."

"Too late," he said harshly, his eyes coming up to meet mine in a clear challenge. Very deliberately, his eyes never leaving mine, his hands did a similarly rude removal of my panties. I was overwhelmed by the physical strength I saw as his shoulders worked in concert with his arms and hands.

All I could do was continue watching as he shoved a hand between my thighs and moved two fingers into me. Then his mouth went over my clit and I closed my eyes at the feeling he caused there with his sucking, at first almost too mild and then this divine pressure that could not be denied for its perfection.

He caught me before I fell after he made me come in rolling waves. Holding me in his arms and kissing my neck and shoulder. Then his hands moved down my back and he caressed my bottom for long minutes as he lightly ground his hardness against the part of me that was still reeling from what his mouth and fingers had done.

"Please love me," I whispered to him. "I want you so badly, Egan."

"Want you, too, Ann. Knew we'd be this way together."

"I should have let you chase me. Made you work for it. Think you must like the thrill of the chase and capture. Like the brumby."

His hands touched my face and I looked into deep eyes that held the most riveting mysteries for me. "That was a horse. You're a woman. Woman either wants you or she doesn't. No sense playing with a girl who only wants to lead you on a bloody chase just because she knows she can. Not what I want. I like your honesty."

"Damn. That was a hell of a lot of talking for you, Egan."

He gave me this soft chuckle. "Just because I'm quiet doesn't mean I don't have something worth saying sometimes."

"I do like the way you talk," I smiled at him and let my hands grip hard into his ass and pull his groin tight to mine. "Especially how sweet your body talks to mine."

His smile fled and his hands on my rear lifted me. I snugged my arms in around his neck as I felt him pull my legs completely from the boots. I held on tight to him as he lowered me to the broad, flat surface of the boulder behind me. The warmth of the rock face was nothing to the heat of the flesh pressing down on me.

I arched and sighed in pleasure at his mouth's attentive work to explore my neck and throat. His hands made me mumble in appreciation for the way they made my body respond and I moved under him, searching for the next high he'd give me.

When he asked, all I could do was mumble and try to nod my head. But at least he asked.

His hardness pressed into me. And then I felt him take a deep breath before pushing fully into me. Setting this steady pace after letting my body relax around him. Whispering to me, telling me how he wanted me to move, fervent in his appreciation of how it made him feel to be with me like this. Then moving so he was on the bottom and somehow I knew it was because he worried that the rock's hard surface might have been a bit too rough on my skin.

I loved watching him as he approached the point of no return. This crooked smile on that handsome face. The way his eyes would slide shut and then open wide to find me. The way his body would tense and his hands would get restless in their need to be involved with every part of my body he could reach. But when he got this firm set to his jaw and began pumping up hard into me, his hands gripping my hips to shove me down and around ... I couldn't watch anymore. My eyes closed and I felt myself simply give myself over to the act.

Leaned in over him ... my hands on the rock's unforgiving surface ... begging him to come ... opening my eyes to find his unfocused and I knew he was so close. Becoming focused on his satisfaction and I was grinding hard against him; hearing evidence of how this was exactly what he wanted. So important to me that he lose himself in this coming even if it was for an infinitesimal fraction of a moment in time. I sucked hard on his neck and knew my teeth were making a real mark. It was what finally made him scream. Coming into me ... me telling him to let it out ... begging him to yell my name ... squeezing him below as he came, taunting one of his nipples roughly and biting his neck until he was overwhelmed with the intensity of the sensations.

And scream my name, he did. The forest around us rang with it. And then we were both just mindless at the exaltation of the release. "Come for me, Ann," he ordered even as his rough fingers massaged insistently over my clit. Those magical nerves ... they had no choice in the matter ... they reacted as they were designed.

But reality happened to me in that coming. I was staring into his eyes when something within me seemed to wake up and everything seemed to go out of kilter. I gasped out so loud and looked away from him even as my body responded exultingly to all he was.

Oh, when had I reached this point with this Game? When would I have really thought I'd be okay with simply taking from a man just because he was unattached and that my sense of morality no longer included any sense that I should have not gotten involved in a week in which I was supposed to be having sex with men I'd just met?

I had this momentary flash on Jack ... like I could feel him nearby ... and it's when I realized he was at the property next door, the house where other "A Team" members had gathered to keep tabs on what was happening over here on this property. My eyes slid back down to this man with me and I think he saw I was struggling with conflicting emotions. The joy of him. The worry over Jack. The illusionary elements of me.

He pulled me down atop his body and murmured to me in soothing tones. His hands stroked down my back; the feel of them was rough and yet comforting. I didn't say anything until I was sure my voice would be strong.

"Thank you, Egan," I whispered against his neck. "Will you just hold me for a while? I need some quiet."

Felt this slight chuckle roll through his chest. We laid together like that for so long that the sun began to set on the far horizon. He felt me shiver and prodded me to full wakefulness. Without a word, he slid me off his lap and retrieved my shirt for me, helping me slip into it. But ... well, now ... we looked at each other as reality hit. I had no other clothes I could wear back to the main building.

He had the grace to blush even as he regarded me without remorse. "Don't worry."

Watched him dress. He was unhurried and his hands moved over his clothes with such ease. It's always intriguing to me to watch a man dress in his everyday clothes. They are so casual about it and it fascinates me to watch the rote manner in which they deal with their body ... how they tuck themselves in, how they adjust the lie of the fabric, how they zip or button.

He led me to the stable. Inside the little office there, he rummaged through a locker and tossed me a pair of shorts he retrieved. They came close to fitting, if a bit baggy. He slipped a piece of rope through the belt loops and cinched it around my waist. I looked down and watched him tie a functional knot to hold the rope belt in place. "Now they won't fall off."

And with no discussion and no artifice, he simply took my hand and walked me back to my room at the main building. All along the way back, I kept getting this unwelcome rolling sense of Jack hovering nearby. I was feeling edgy and sad when we got to my room. I really didn't want to be alone just then. I invited Egan in but he shuffled as he looked up and down the hallway.

Then his eyes came up to read mine. "What happened was just between us, Ann. Don't care if others know about it, but the time we were together was just for me and you. Don't ever think I didn't know that."

I reached for him and he let me cling on to him for long moments. Then he gently pushed me from him, gave me this soft kiss before turning around and leaving me there.

Oh, God, this Egan? Man of few words ... person of substance. He knew I needed that final message: that he hadn't felt used by me.

What was it about this Game? The longer I was in it, the more I felt unable to understand the intent and the less sure I was that I would ever fit in.