Less is More

I opened the door and there stood the most ruggedly handsome man I had ever laid eyes on. Tall and well built, a nice sturdy jawline with sandy brown scruff, and matching hair hiding beneath a wide-brimmed cowboy hat of dark brown leather. It was traditional and stylish with beading and braiding, turned up at the sides like wings.

A classically Western button-down shirt showed off the firm muscles beneath. This was tucked into a pair of high waisted denim, secured in place by a thick black belt. The broad silver buckle winked from above his no-zone and I blushed. He tipped his hat with a wry grin. Striking hazel eyes raked over me and I felt the heat growing between my legs.

"Please, come in."

He casually stepped inside and glanced around. The cabin was rugged and warm. Not the fanciest place, but enough to meet my last minute needs. This man was supposed to help fix a leak in the attic. He came with high ratings and as I swept my gaze over him again, wondered if they had anything at all to do with his handyman skills.

"The leak has been getting worse over the past few days. I'm hoping you can board it up well enough to last for the rest of the rainy season."

"I'll do my best," he drawled in a gruff Western accent. I'm sure he would.

He watched as I reached up to lower the ladder, more than a little aware of my breasts pushing against the fabric of my boho summer dress. I wasn't wearing a bra or panties. Less is more. The thin material fell to below my knees; a small comfort that he wouldn't be seeing any of my goods.

He moved like a panther, steady and calculated. With one boot placed upon the bottom rung and a hand gripping the rail, he suddenly turned and pierced me with a direct stare. My heart thumped.

His voice was low and even.

"If I am to fix your leak, I will need you to show me where it is."

I highly doubted that, the pinging of drops in the bucket already a distant sound, but instead of protesting, I submitted to the heated throbbing far below.

The leak was right in the middle of the attic. It was a small space and rarely used. He set about selecting tools and dragged over a heavy stool from against the wall, setting it beside the bucket. I couldn't help admiring how tight his ass was in those jeans as he mounted the stool. And those boots.. leather and brown with a swirling design. All that was missing were the chaps. It was easy to envision a coil of rope over his shoulder, and I clenched at the thought of how he might use it.

"Miss?"

He was staring at me expectantly. Whoops. His eyes flicked to the tool box, then back to me. Cheeks burning, I hurried over and grabbed what he needed and handed it to him. Our fingers brushed. Tingles zapped up the length of my arm and for a moment the world stood still. His gaze was a hazel fire, then he turned and it was gone.

"Thank you."

Not long into his work I noticed the dripping water was wetting his shirt. Did I dare say it?

Yes. I dare.

"You might want to remove that nice shirt of yours before the water stains it."

He stared at me and I felt my cheeks warm.

"That water is running through insulation, I'm sure it's a weird gross color."

Without a word, he slowly unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it over his head, dropping it to the ground. His eyes burned.

"Better?"

I chewed my lip to keep it from trembling. Nodded. If I made a sound my voice would betray me.

"Good."

He continued to patch up the hole, those sun-kissed arms flexing. His torso was thick with generous abs. Not so hard as to look like a third ribcage, but gently sculpted. It was hot up here. Soon his broad hand was wiping away sweat, then whisked off the hat. Sandy brown waves tumbled to his shoulders. He flashed me a coy expression as the hat dropped atop his discarded shirt.

Either he loved my blushes or he was outright brash. The droplets on his skin trailed little rivulets over his pecs. I watched each race the other to below the dip of his ribcage, one bold droplet in particular racing toward the treasure trail and disappearing beneath the denim. I suddenly noticed the pronounced V of his pelvis, following it to the winking buckle.

"This is worse than I thought. It's ruining my jeans. Shall I remove them also?"

His forwardness shocked me. Before my tongue could form words, his hand was on his belt. I stared, hazel flames piercing mine, as his strong fingers drew the leather through the buckle, then the buckle over the metal button. This he popped with a thumb and index finger. The metallic zzziiiiiiiip filled my ears. Instead of adding the denim to the pile, he simply hooked a thumb into them, expression intense.

I needed no further encouragement. Nudging aside the tool box, I stood before him and gazed up into his face. Gold and green desire flickered beneath his brows. One arm flexed, his broad hand reaching out to stroke my soft hair. His other hand moved at his fly and a large cock sprang free. I inhaled sharply. He smirked.

"What did you expect from a highly rated handyman?"

His chuckle was poisonous and I felt dizzy. That hand gripped the back of my neck and he wrapped his other fingers around his base, offering it to me.

From this angle he was such a god. Tanned and firm, like a fabled deity. I couldn't help it. I slid my hands up his stomach, holding those mesmerizing eyes. It tensed beneath my touch and his cock throbbed. The stretch must have revealed my stiffened nipples because he mumbled something beneath his breath and pinched one.

I yelped. He smiled and pinched the other. The short sleeves of the dress were dragged from my shoulders and I gasped.

"That- that's not fair.."

"Hush now, miss."

I stood rooted to the spot as he undressed me. Both shoulders bared. Large hand sliding beneath to grasp a breast. He fondled it and my knees liquified. Let it go to slide his palm along my arm, lacing my fingers in his, bringing my hand to his hard shaft. I studied his face.. Lustful.

His cock was hot and throbbing as I took it into my mouth. He swore an oath, tangling his fingers through my locks. I sucked him in to the hilt, clamping my lips around his base. Rolled my tongue around his girth until he swore again. With my free hand I cupped his heavy balls and massaged them. My head pulled back, sucked the tip, then plunged forward a few times before I let go with a pop. I licked my lips and stared up at his lazy expression.

Wiggling my shoulders, I said quietly,

"Less is more, right?"

He cursed and stepped off the stool, landing heavily on those sexy boots. He caught me around the waist, mashing his lips against mine, then gripped the hem of my long dress and yanked it over my breasts.

"Mmmmm."

He pulled it entirely over my head, tossing it onto his hat and shirt. Showing that right now, I was his. That he owned me. I took the loops of his jeans and yanked them down, watching his toned legs step out of them, one after the other. I knelt, pushing the jeans aside, trailing my fingers up the hard calves and thick thighs where the skin was darker than the rest of him. They paused on the inside of each leg, then brushed along his sack, making him moan, and up through the sandy bush of his pelvis.

"I'm glad you didn't shave," I found myself saying. His grip on my neck tightened.

My hands continued through his treasure trail and up that softly sculpted stomach, over the hard mounds of his chest, then pausing to encircle his strong neck. We held each other, completely naked, and he leaned in to whisper against my ear,

"You are right, miss. Less is more."