It started small. A lingering touch on my forearm. A look across the dinner table that promised sin and a slow death. Her knee pressing just a little too high against my thigh on the couch. But today?
Today she chose violence.
We were in the barn, the afternoon heat suffocating under the tin roof, turning the air thick with dust and dry hay. I'd stripped my shirt off an hour ago. Sweat ran down my spine, my jeans stuck to my hips, and every muscle I had was screaming in that good, earned way as I hauled bales down from the loft.
I dropped one with a heavy thud, grabbing my water bottle and tipping my head back, chugging like a man dying in the desert.
That’s when I felt it.
Hands slid around my waist from behind—small, firm, warm as sin. I froze, bottle pausing mid-tilt.
Then those hands moved lower. Over my hips. Down to my ass.
She grabbed a full, greedy handful of my ass and squeezed like she’d paid for it.
I choked, water going down the wrong pipe. I coughed, sputtering, nearly dropping the bottle as I spun around. "Winnie—what the hell—"
“Just appreciating the view,” she said, voice low and smug. She didn’t let go. Her fingers dug into my glutes, thumb sliding along the seam of my jeans in a way that made my cock jerk in interest. She stepped in, pressing her whole body against my bare chest, tank top damp from sweat and work. “You’ve been holding out on me, cowboy. That’s quality ranch-grown ass right there.”
Her tits were right there against me—soft, heavy, brushing my skin with every breath she took. I could feel the shape of her nipples through the thin cotton, friction sparking straight to my dick. My shorts hadn’t been this tight since middle school.
“You… you can’t just…” I gestured weakly with the water bottle like that proved a point. My voice came out rough, already wrecked. “I’m trying to work. I’m trying to focus.”
“You are working,” she said, sliding around to my front, dragging her hand across my stomach as she went. “Very hard, actually.”
Her palm skimmed my abs, lingering a little too long at the trail of hair disappearing under my waistband. Then she fisted my belt loop and tugged me closer until my back hit the barn post.
I looked down at her. Big mistake.
Her eyes were dark and blown, pupils swallowing the brown. She looked at me like I was dinner and she was starving.
“Winnie,” I groaned. My hands went to her hips with every intention of pushing her away, but instead I dragged her closer like a fucking idiot. “You’re playing with fire. You have no idea how hard I’ve been for the last three days. I am in actual physical pain.”
“Show me,” she whispered.
Something in me just… snapped.
The water bottle hit the ground and rolled away, forgotten. My hands dropped from her hips to her ass, grabbing two perfect handfuls and squeezing. She made a shocked, breathy sound, and I hauled her against me hard, spreading my feet so she slotted right where I wanted her.
My cock, already thick and heavy, ground directly against the curve of her pelvis. There was no hiding it. I was fuckinghugeandobviousand beyond caring.
“Fuck,” I hissed, head tipping forward as the friction hit just right. “You feel what you’re doing to me?”
She let out a whimper—quiet but so desperate it shot straight through me. Her fingers curled in the waistband of my jeans, pulling me impossibly closer, like she was trying to fuse us together.
“Is that explicit enough for you?” I growled, dropping my mouth to her neck. I scraped my teeth along the tendon there, nipping hard enough to make her gasp. “Because I’m about two seconds away from pulling my dick out and showing you exactly what three days of not touching you looks like.”
“Beau…” She arched against me, one of her thighs sliding between mine. She rocked up, grinding against my thigh in these tiny, helpless movements that made my vision blur. “Do it. Touch me.”
I kissed her like I’d been dying for it. Because I had.
It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t careful. It was hungry, messy, all teeth and tongue and frustration. I devoured her, tasting heat and mint and something that was just Winnie—sharp and sweet and addictive.
My hand slid up under the back of her tank top, fingers finally meeting bare skin. Her back was hot and slick with sweat, muscles shifting under my touch. I found the clasp of her bra and my entire brain honed in on one goal: get this off.
I scraped my free hand up her ribs to her chest, cupping her through the thin cotton. Her breast fit perfectly in my palm, soft and full, nipple already a hard little peak pressing into my hand. I groaned into her mouth and squeezed, not gentle, and she moaned so loud I felt it in my spine.
"You like that?" I murmured against her lips, rolling my thumb over her nipple through the fabric. Her knees buckled a little, her hands flying to my shoulders to steady herself.
