Ranger Ben: A Steamy Standalone Instalove Romance Page 3

  Any birds or other wildlife I’m used to spotting on the road is long gone, sensing the coming storm and getting themselves to safety long before our radars even picked up on the terrible squall.

  My hands are white-knuckled on the steering wheel, and not from any hesitation on my part. But just my sheer will to find her.

  I thump and punch the wheel a dozen times, every time I think about her on her own and driving across the country.

  Never again. I won’t have it. Not without me by her side.

  The sheriff checks in by radio once more, letting me know he’s heading into his basement for the night unless they get a call for help. Where he is, a few miles further east, mini-tornadoes are touching the ground and the town’s been ordered to seek shelter.

  It feels like forever, but rounding the bend I know takes me homeward, I spot that stupid billboard with my face on it.

  It’s almost grimacing back at me, daring me to fail until I spot the sleek outline of what I imagine to be an all-electric car parked clumsily on the soft shoulder of the highway.

  The rain’s so heavy the car looks like it’s tilting, sagging towards the woods as though it’s showing me something already.

  “Stacey,” I growl, leaving my truck lights flashing and pulling up behind the car.

  I can see it’s empty.

  Fuck!

  What would Ranger Ben tell you, girl? Stay with your vehicle no matter what.

  Reaching for my weatherproof and a flashlight, I shut off my truck and use my light to examine her car and what’s left of her muddy footprints.

  Leading off into the woods.

  Why though?

  I can only think of one reason, the same as anyone.

  Nature calling.

  I can’t see any other prints, her tiny imprints are all and heavy on the front like she was in a hurry so I assume it’s not a cross-country hike she was rushing towards.

  I open my mouth to call out for her, shining my light towards the edge of the woodland, but the weather crashes over me.

  Thunder, lightning, and rain, with that damned howling wind that’s got an icy edge to it.

  No way could she hear me or I could hear her shouting back unless I was right on top of her.

  I’m no slouch when it comes to tracking someone either, especially with fresh prints. But the rain’s created such a sludge on either side of the road, I wouldn’t know which way she went after about ten yards.

  Closing my eyes, and ignoring the icy rain and wind, I feel my surroundings.

  No other way to say it, but it’s how I was taught by the best. Tracking isn’t always about looking. It’s ninety percent feeling.

  And that’s just what I want when it comes to Stacey, so my instincts have to be right.

  I move off the edge of the highway and into the thicket before the woods, brushing past drenched foliage and heavy drips from above but getting no real relief from the sideways gale that’s now blowing.

  My light wanders, but it’s clear I’m only highlighting the driving rain and nothing else.

  She couldn’t have gone too far, just to use nature’s bathroom I mean.

  My ears are keen, my head tilted for the slightest sound above the weather and it isn’t long before I hear the low, steady growl of a singular wild animal.

  A young bear, no doubt in my mind. I’ve heard the sound a hundred times.

  The sound of an animal in a similar position to us all.

  Likely frightened and liable to do anything to get to safety.

  I want to call out again, but if she’s anywhere near wildlife, I daren’t create panic for her or the animal.

  No, I’ll find her myself. I already feel pulled in a certain direction.

  I know I’ll find her.

  And find her I do. But not anywhere near how I expect. To the point, I have to bite down on my hand to fight from crying out at the sight of her loveliness.

  She’s drenched, freezing cold, and stripping near-naked with her perfect, apple shaped ass facing me in the dim light.

  Bending over as she slides out of her gray sweats, dark from the rain.

  Her white T-shirt like skin at her side as her stunning young body is bent over before me for an instant.

  Long enough for me to recognize her as well as appreciate her.

  A low moan escapes me as I feel my dick start to throb to attention. The detail of her drenched sex outlined in her panties.

  Those thick, smooth thighs and perfectly formed hips shifting in time with her body before she stands, slowly turning.

  Making me moan louder at the sight of her thick chest bustling through her lace bra that has a hole here and there.

  One with a perfect, bullet sized nipple peeking out through it as she shudders another glance around into the woods.

  My own wood, uncontainable, I cover my mouth and God help me, I free my aching cock from its cotton prison, feeling only some relief when I start to pump my hand across my stiffness.

  The heavy beads of my precome are natural lube, slapping in the night air, but drowned out by the weather until I groan loudly again.

  I’ve found her, and more than that, she’s half-naked, her chest swollen and her mound sodden, making me groan again as I feel my balls rising quickly.

  My own climax so close at the sight of her is uncontrollable.

  I feel my knees lock and my eyes roll back.

  But no. I can’t waste it like this. As much as I want to come right now, as much as my thick rod twitches under my grip… I can’t.

  Everything I have, here inside of me.

  It’s for her.

  I can’t feel whole and complete until I fill her with my hot seed, fill her with the chance of our own.

  Us.

  Our own family.

  The heated itch of my cock is maddening, and I watch with a fascination once her own hands stray across her body, making my meat pulse and twitch again.

  It’s like a hot stream, the clear yearning I have for her, flowing from me. But I can sense too that she needs more than just a man beating off to her in the bushes.

  She needs the whole man, a real man.

  A man who knows what he wants as well as understanding her own needs. She needs all of him and all he has to give her.

  I know in a split second that I’m that man.

  It’ll cost me, I know. And I’ll have to confront my dearest friend, her father. But I know with all my heart that she belongs to me now.

  I only have to go forward and claim her.

  Satisfy her and prove what we both know is right.

  She knows I’m watching her. She’s no fool.

  Eventually, she gasps, cries out for me, calling me by my name and I rush towards her, absently tucking myself back into my pants. Not even caring if she sees what she’s done to me.

  I’ll never be the same again, and the sight of her, the sound of her voice will always stir the same feelings inside me.

  Always.

  Rushing to clutch her in my arms instead, holding her like I’ll never let go.

  Because I can’t now.

  I know she’s already mine and I won’t rest until I claim her properly.

  Mine.

  Chapter Five

  Stacey

  I know I fainted, but mostly from his touch. Not from the cold or my fear.

  I know he has me now, and that part of me I’ve blocked out for so long when it comes to Ranger Ben Slater starts to bubble up inside me.

  Starts to boil over in my body long before the sensation reaches my mind.

  I mew and twist, moan and sigh against his hard body, feeling his warmth pressing closer to me.

  Almost tasting his breath as he leans over to tell me he has me, that I’m safe now.

  The strobing lights make my eyes narrow, but I can make out his face against them.

  Ben Slater, the man himself superimposed against his own billboard, a determined smile on his face as he tells me everything’s fine now.


  His thick hands cupping my soaking rear end as well as my back, holding me tight as he promises to get me a blanket soon.

  All I can do is make little sounds, feeling something inside me wanting to burst, wanting to gush over more than his warm hands.

  Wanting whatever he had out back in those woods buried deep inside me.

  That much I know for sure.

  He explains slowly that he has to set me down on the back seat of his truck, and that he’s getting a warm, dry blanket for me when I see his face twist in annoyance.

  I hear another voice.

  A man’s voice.

  “What the god damned hell you doin’ there boy?” The thin voice grouses.

  Ignoring it for now, Ben sets me down and I hear the rustle of a foil space blanket, then the home comfort of a wool blanket over my entire body.

  I wonder if I imagined the other voice, but it’s there again, and once Ben sees I’m snug he spins on his heel, blocking the side door to his ranger’s truck.

  “Ranger Ben Slater, Sir. I need you to step back,” I hear him say firmly.

  “You… You’ve got a girl, half-naked. Putting her into your truck!” The voice continues.

  Ben doesn’t flinch. He only lets out a low growl and if I didn’t know better, he mouths the word ‘mine’, just so I can see and hear it.

  Just for me.

  “You can ride up front with cuffs on if you want, Sir. I’m rescuing a stranded motorist and can charge you with obstruction if you want to try and get in my way?” Ben suggests, sounding more forceful now.

  The thin voice whines again, and Ben reminds it that he sounds familiar, like someone who used the reserved frequency to talk shit while he’s out here doing his job.

  “What’s it gonna be, pal, cuffs and night-night? Or you just get back in your truck and get to the nearest shelter like you know you should? Hurricane force winds are coming, and neither your fat ass nor your truck will stand up to either of ‘em, least of all against me if I have to get serious about it,” he adds with supreme authority.

  There’s the squelch of feet in mud and the sound of a big rig grinding through gears to get moving before Ben turns back to me, sliding a seatbelt around me, leaning over to comfort me.

  “You’re okay, Stacey. I got you,” he reminds me.

  “A little drive and we’ll get you to the ranger’s station. Get you warm and dry. Cleaned up and fed properly,” he promises me, that winning smile creeping through his chiseled jaw.

  I try to tell him thank you, but can only move my lips.

  He presses a firm hand high on one of my thighs and narrows his eyes, telling me without words we have to keep moving.

  Even though I could stay like this forever, wondering if it’s even real, I nod and let him bundle me into the back some more before I feel the truck pull away from everything that made me feel scared, cold, and lonely.

  Humming through what sounds like the storm of the century towards what I somehow know will be just Ben and me.

  At least for a night. Maybe even tomorrow.

  I must sigh in between sleep a hundred times, partly from the warmth of his truck but mostly from the knowledge that I’m his now.

  In his hands and totally safe.

  Rescued like those hikers were, but it means oh so much more to me than that.

  I want Ben more than anything, and I only hope he knows it. Fate has brought us together and even the idea of the rental car, my dad, and the whole trip home.

  It all seems so far away as I lay wrapped in the perfect cocoon of Ben’s blankets, having him bring me back to his stronghold.

  I peep up a few times between closing my lids and see his dark, intense eyes meeting mine. His mouth is hard with determination as he brings me to safety.

  Bringing me home.

  It’s a fair few miles between where I stopped and the Ranger’s station and Ben parks his truck undercover in a sheltered garage before fetching me from the back.

  “I’ve got you now,” he reminds me. “But I need to get you inside and secure the building a little better, okay?” he asks.

  As if I’d hesitate at his suggestion.

  I give a nod, putting on a brave face, grateful now for the blanket covering me, dying inside at the thought of him seeing me in my bra and panties in the light of his fully equipped ranger’s station.

  I want to thank him though, I want him to know how much all of this means to me.

  How much he means to me. But once he scoops me up and I’m staring up at him, I can only clutch at his shirt, feeling his body ripple under his clothes and watch with a near whimper as his eyes set fast on his next task: keeping me safe.

  He carries me up some stairs from the underground garage, looking up at the ceiling, then to the windows before setting me down on a big leather couch in what I figure is his lounge room slash office.

  “How are you feeling?” he asks, his thick finger tracking my pulse and his free hand brushing back my hair.

  “You’re a little hypertensive,” he observes, biting his lip.

  No kidding, doctor love. Maybe if you put that hand a little lower I might have a full-blown cardiac arrest.

  He produces a digital thermometer, asking me if I feel up to having a long and warm shower.

  “I need to secure this place, shutters, and stuff. You feel up to a warm shower, get your temperature back up?” he asks clinically.

  “Or maybe a bath… If you don’t feel up to standing?” he adds.

  I can only squeak in agreement, ready to do anything he says. Willing those hands, his scent to be closer to me again.

  Wondering what symptom I need to confess to before he can drive his sweet mouth over mine, or those huge fingers into my sodden mound.

  But for now, I find myself nodding dumbly. Struck with what I can only guess is more than a crush and unfortunately for me, less than mild hypothermia for my darling ranger Ben’s mind.

  Although, his pant bulge betrays him after a while.

  It’s like the longer he crouches by my side, pressing a hot hand over mine, the longer that thick, fat line of his own arousal makes itself known to me.

  I’ve never even kissed a boy, but I studied anatomy in college, and I know a huge fat cock when I see one, even under wraps for the first time.

  It still makes me shiver at the sight.

  The very thought of it.

  Oh my fucking god!

  I sigh again, trying to toss back the blankets, but his hand is on mine, his eyes on mine telling me no.

  My lips wanting to tell him just one thing.

  Yes. Yes, Ben Yes. Touch me. Feel me. Suck me…

  Fuck me.

  But he’s so professional, needing to secure the whole building and only after knowing I’m set right on the path to being whole again.

  If only he really knew how I felt.

  If only I knew how I really felt.

  Maybe I am sick, not just lusting after my lifelong crush.

  My dad’s best friend?

  “Shower or bath?” he asks me again, more forcefully, then thinking to himself, “Or I could just leave you to rest… But I have to secure these windows. We could both be into the basement for days before this night’s through,” he warns.

  “Shower,” I squeak. “I can shower and then help you out once I’ve warmed up?” I volunteer.

  The thought of being trapped anywhere with Ben for a day, maybe two or more at a time when he’s so prepared for anything is almost too much.

  The least I can do is clean myself up and help him out.

  “Alright,” he agrees absently. “If you’re sure you can manage,” he says, but I’m already halfway up, my chest almost spilling out of my bra before I remember I’m still half-naked under the blankets.

  His low growl of satisfaction.

  His eyes darting across my body, the stretch marks on my boobs. My belly. Everything I’d normally be so ashamed of.

  When he takes it all in and shows me he li
kes it with his eyes, a cocked brow. I feel like that wild animalistic girl in the forest all over again.

  Like I want him to see me.

  Like I want him to touch and fuck me.

  All of it. Everything I hate but everything I know he likes somehow. Because he’s a real man. A man of the world.

  Without looking past my eyes, Ben helps me up and shows me to a bathroom.

  “Plenty of hot water and fresh when we’ll need it, food too,” he assures me.

  “Robe is on the door. I’ll be out here securing the windows. Call out if you need me,” he adds with that smile again.

  Those eyes.

  “Ben?” I call, not wanting him gone for a moment.

  “Yeah?” he rasps, looking like he’s making time where he has none.

  “Uh… soap?” I volunteer, feeling suddenly helpless under his intense gaze and realizing I’ve left all my clothes in my rental car, including my underwear.

  Unable to find the right moment now to show and tell him a proper thank you like I want to.

  Feeling the ‘L’ word erupting from inside me but unable to form the word.

  “Right here,” he replies, flicking open a cabinet, and exposing row upon row of fresh, hard fragrant bars of soap.

  Chapter Six

  Ben

  There are less than a dozen windows in the whole place.

  Nowhere near enough of an excuse for me, even if I wanted to cement each and every one of them up, but something compels me to bar them.

  Not just from the storm outside.

  I want to lock us in here, forever, not just a night or even a day while the wind blasts over us and the branches bounce off the shutters.

  I want her, and I only realize how hopeless it all is once I hear myself croak something stupid about soap before she runs a shower, turning her sweet body away from me.

  Not even hiding her near nakedness anymore. The outline of her hips. Her breasts and the subtle heaving of her chest when she speaks is almost too much for me.

  The front of my pants is drenched in precome. I need her now, not just want. Need.

  But the weather, her dad, and all my responsibilities compel me to think beyond the huge, fat ache in my pants.