"Yes," she gasped. "God, yes."
I slid my hand down the front of her body, over the taut plane of her stomach, stopping at the button of her shorts. I pressed the heel of my palm down, right over her pussy through the denim.
Even through her shorts and her underwear, I could feel the heat there. My dick throbbed in sympathy.
“You’re soaking wet, aren’t you?” I whispered, rubbing slow circles with my thumb right where I knew her clit would be. “You got yourself this worked up grabbing my ass, Win?”
She made a strangled noise that might’ve been my name, might’ve been a prayer. Her hips rocked into my hand, chasing the pressure.
“Please,” she whimpered, head falling back against the post. “Beau, please—”
“WINNIE!”
Cassie’s voice shrieked from the driveway like a goddamn fire alarm, followed by the slam of a truck door. “Get your ass out here! We’ve got plans!”
We tore apart like we’d been hit with a cattle prod.
I staggered back, chest heaving, lungs burning. My cock was straining so hard against my zipper I was genuinely worried about structural damage. Painful didn’t even begin to cover it.
Winnie clung to the post, breathing like she’d just run barrels. Her lips were swollen and pink, hair a wild mess around her shoulders. Her tank top was wrinkled, one bra strap half-off her shoulder, and my handprint was red on the curve of her ass.
I was one second away from dragging her back in.
“Timing,” I managed, voice wrecked. “Your friend has the absolute worst fucking timing in history.”
Winnie laughed, breathless and shaky, trying to smooth her shirt down like that would hide anything. “Rain check, cowboy. And next time? We lock the damn door.”
She stepped up on her toes and pressed a quick kiss to my mouth. It was sweet where everything before had been filthy, and it somehow made it worse. Then she did the most evil thing she’d done all day—she let her hand drag over the front of my jeans, fingers passing right over my cock in a feather-light brush.
My knees almost buckled. My balls actually hurt.
“Suffering looks good on you,” she murmured, eyes dancing.
“Evil,” I groaned, dropping my head back against the post as she walked away. “You are pure, torturous evil.”
I stayed in the barn, just breathing, for a solid five minutes. Adjusting myself was pointless—there was no angle that made my dicknotobvious, and nothing short of a cold shower and a lobotomy was going to calm me down.
When I finally stepped out into the sunlight, Cassie was leaning against her truck, sunglasses on, smirk firmly in place.
“Finally,” she said. “I thought you two had fallen into a hay bale and died in there.”
Winnie was by the passenger side, hair still a little wild, lips suspiciously rosy. She shot me a look that was part apology, part promise.
“Bag packed?” Cassie asked, snagging Winnie’s arm. “We are doing this right. Junk food, karaoke, terrible rom-coms. And don’t think I didn’t hear those noises.”
Winnie flushed scarlet. “We weren’t—how did you—”
Cassie tilted her sunglasses down and pointed straight at my crotch.
I looked down. Yeah. There was no hiding it. My cock was still making its presence very, very known.
“Exhibit A,” Cassie said dryly. “Boy looks like he lost a fight with a horny bull.”
I wanted the ground to swallow me. Or for Winnie to send Cassie to Mars. Either worked.
“I’ll, uh… see you tomorrow,” I managed, voice still rough as sandpaper. I shoved my hands in my pockets like that would do anything about the ridiculous tent situation.
“Bye, Beau.” Winnie’s gaze dropped for one brief, scorching second to my dick, then back to my face. She bit her lip, trying not to smile, and failed spectacularly.
