Free Molding Clay by Ciana Stone Page B

said and extended her hand.
    Clay got to his feet as Rusty slid on her boots and gathered up her clothes. “You
    might want your boots,” she commented as she started picking up his clothes from the
    ground.
    “Uh, you plan on stomping around in the woods in just your boots, honey?”
    Rusty gave him a sassy smile. “You got a problem with that, Mr. Russell?”
    Clay rolled his eyes. “Darlin’, I’d rather look at you naked than just about anything
    I can think of, but don’t you think it’s a little risky running around naked in the
    woods?”
    “Oh I get it, you’re chicken,” she teased. “Well okay, fine. Get dressed then.”
    Clay cursed and grabbed a boot. In seconds he was standing with his boots on and
    his fists on his hips, looking so darn delicious that she almost changed her mind.
    “Okay, where to?” he asked.
    “Follow me, cowboy,” she said and started hiking up the hill.

    Clay had logged plenty of miles hiking the countryside in Arizona but never in his
    life had he hiked naked. He wouldn’t be likely to admit it to anyone but it was kind of
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    exciting. The wind was cool but the sun warm on his skin. And watching Rusty’s
    enticing little ass sway in front of him was an added treat. So much of a treat that he
    paid little attention to the direction they walked. He was far too caught up in watching
    that tight ass, and the sway and bounce of Rusty’s breasts when she turned occasionally
    to look at him.
    His dick was at full attention, pointing ahead like a compass, aimed directly at
    Rusty’s backside. He sure hoped they didn’t encounter anyone. He didn’t like the idea
    of trying to explain running around in the woods buck-naked, sporting a champion
    hard-on.
    Rusty beckoned him as she pushed back thick branches of cedar. “This way.”
    Clay followed her through the thick stand of cedar. They emerged into a clearing
    and he stopped dead in his tracks. A rolling pasture sloped downhill from where they
    stood, the sun lighting the tall grass into golden fronds. Tall oaks and ancient cedars
    grew in random stands and the land stretched in all directions as far as he could see,
    guarded over by a sky so blue it seemed painted on.
    At the foot of the hill they stood upon was a small lake, glistening in the sunlight.
    As he watched he saw a fish breach the surface of the water and fall with a splash back
    beneath the surface.
    “Are we trespassing?” he asked, feeling sure that the land had to belong to
    someone.
    “Nope,” she grinned. “Welcome to Blackhawk Ranch, Mr. Russell.”
    Clay grinned at the teasing tone in her voice and the emphasis she put on his name.
    He’d not had time to ride the whole of the ranch and had no idea the spread was so
    beautiful. “It’s beautiful, Rusty.”
    The teasing quality left her voice. “It’s home.”
    Clay’s grin faded. What he heard in Rusty’s voice spoke of roots that ran deep, of
    belonging to and being one with a place. It was something he understood to a degree.
    He had a connection to the land of the Circle R. But understanding came from knowing
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    his brother Chase. When Chase looked out over the land of his own spread, his home,
    his face wore the same look as Rusty’s wore now. It was an expression that said “this is
    where I belong”.
    Rusty broke the somber moment. “Race ya!” she shouted and took off running
    toward the lake.
    Clay’s long legs ate up the distance her head start afforded her in short measure. He
    scooped her up with one arm and without breaking stride, tossed her over his shoulder,
    clutching his clothes in his free hand. She laughed and screamed all the way to the foot
    of the hill.
    When Clay neared the edge of the water he tossed his clothes onto the soft grass
    and without slowing plunged into the water, boots and all.
    Rusty had time to drop her clothes and shriek before they both went under. The
    water was cool and dark. Rusty kicked away from Clay and swam