I shove my ass back into his crotch to his groan. “You sure you don’t just think women are pretty little playthings?”
“Darce,” he warns, grinding into my ass. “My hands are all dirty or they’d be all over you.”
“Hmm,” I sniff, opening the door and walking into the tack room. “That’s no way to talk to your boss.”
I glance back at him over my shoulder as the door swings shut behind me. He growls as he holds it open and enters the room. “You’re going to be eating those words once I get this grease off my hands.”
I puff out my bottom lip, taking slow, careful steps toward where we keep the horses’ halters. “Am I?”
He’s at the utility sink furiously scrubbing his hands with Dawn soap, muttering curses, and glaring over at me. He grabs a fistful of paper towels to dry his hands, throwing them over his shoulder as he crosses the room in three paces.
My hand is on Freckle’s halter, my back to Jake. He nuzzles my neck. “Are you saying you don’t want my hands all over you?”
I shiver as he ghosts a kiss over that tender spot under my ear.
“Couldn’t hear you, boss,” he murmurs against my skin, pressing another kiss where my neck meets my shoulder. I sigh, my head cocking back slightly. “What if I just touch this dress?”
He bunches the skirt in his fingers, creeping it up inch by inch until it gathers around my hips. The humid July air hugs my bare ass. “I didn’t say you could touch me,” I say, entirely unconvincingly.
My stomach is in knots, my heart racing. I’m already getting wet, resisting the urge to rub my thighs together.
“I’m not touching you, darlin’. This is between me and this little dress.” He traces his finger along the lacy band of my thong. “And these tiny panties. Were you just going to leave everything to chance on a Fourth of July breeze? Show your ass to your whole family?”
“No,” I scoff.
“Who’d you wear these panties for, Darcy? Some guy you’re pretending you’re mad at?”
“You wish.”
He chuckles. “I don’t wish. I know.”
With both hands, his fingers follow the waistband from above my ass to just above my pussy, still not touching my skin. My breasts heave with my breath, shuddering with the need to touch him. “When are you going to stop pretending, boss?”
I curl my hips so his fingers will dig into my flesh through my panties. I moan, letting my head fall against his shoulder. His opposite hand presses against my stomach through my dress, slowly skimming up to cup my breast. “Fuck,” I gasp.
“You want to fuck? You want me to do you dirty in this tack room? Give it to you hard and fast like the sweet little slut you are?”
His fingers glide farther south, forcing the fabric of my underwear into my pussy. My jaw drops and some animalistic sound comes from my chest, the rough lace adding an unfathomable sensation inside me.
“So wet, Darcy,” he whispers in my ear. “That because you want me to bend you over that table and have my way with you, or because you want me to spread you out on it so I can suck on this pussy the way it needs?”
“Dammit, Jake,” I whine. “Give me something.”
“All you had to do was ask.” His hands leave me, and I feel cold for the split second it takes me to face him.
I survey his shirt and tear at the hem. “Your shirt’s dirty.”
He smirks as I lift his shirt over his head and put his hat back on, still backwards. “We’re the only two around?”
I nod as I lunge for him, one hand wrapping around his shoulder and the other against his neck. This isn’t the same Jake who gave me a sweet little goodnight kiss last night. This kiss is tender, but it’s far from gentle. Lip bites with swipes of the tongue to soothe it. Long sucks, hands clutching my back, groping down to my ass. I’m wrapped up in him, surrounded by his scent mingled with motor oil and Dawn soap.
His skin is warm, the salt of his dried sweat feeling exquisite under my fingers. I scrape my teeth over his tattoo to his hiss, and he sinks his hands into my ass.
Jake hoists under my thighs, carrying me to the table in the middle of the room. I stay perched on the edge, my legs spread wide to keep him close. He presses the thick ridge of his cock against my center, and that friction alone is enough to make me want to scream. He groans as I pull at his belt, popping it open and rubbing my palm against his length. The intensity in his eyes burns as he lets out a shuddering breath. My brows pinch as I continue rocking against his tip, looking down to watch his stiffness graze me.
I can’t watch for long because Jake’s lips suck down the column of my throat, working his way down my chest. He slips my dress’s strap to the side and engulfs my breast in his mouth, tongue swirling around my nipple. One hand braces on the table, giving me leverage to push against him while my other hand grips his back. Jake thrusts his hips, a flashback to what we did in his truck. His mouth travels over my neck again, my head falling back into his waiting hand.
I’m shameless: skirt up, breast bared, bowing into him. Hell, I’d climb into his skin if it meant that much more pleasure.
