My top five, then.
1) Sex somewhere we could get caught
2) Cum play, food play, anything messy
3) Pop my anal cherry
4) Experiment with toys
5) Get myself off while you watch
Fuck, Quinn. I'm right next to your brother. You can't text me this filth when he's droning on about feed prices.
Should I keep going? I have a whole notes folder with ideas.
If you value my sanity or these jeans, you won't. I already ruined those swim trunks.
Rain falls in heavy sheets as we pull up the driveway, my wipers thumping back and forth against the windshield. I throw my car into park and grab the umbrella out of my back seat just as Wes and Tripp pull up behind us in Sawyer’s truck.
A streak of lightning flashes across the sky, illuminating the yard in an eerie glow. Thunder rolls in behind it, low and grumbling.
Sawyer glances at the sky with a grimace. “The damn storm couldn’t wait ten more minutes to hit?”
I mutter a curse under my breath in agreement. The gravel’s already turning into a flooded mess of mud. I push open my door and snap the umbrella open before stepping out into the downpour.
The passenger door of Sawyer’s truck swings open and Tripp climbs out of the back seat, rain immediately plastering his T-shirt to his chest.
“Hold your horses. I’m gonna help you out,” he says as he moves to the front passenger seat.
“I don’t need no help,” comes the gruff reply.
I stifle a sigh. Pops is already trying to prove he can do things on his own.
I pick my way through the puddle-filled driveway, the cold rain nearly drowning out the sound of their arguing.
“Pops, just wait. I’ve got an umbrella,” I call, trying not to fall on my ass in the slick mud.
“Careful,” Wes mutters to Pops. “The mud is slippery.”
“I’m not an invalid,” Pops gripes as I try to angle the umbrella over his head.
Sawyer sidles up behind me. “This is going so well already,” she mumbles, rolling her eyes.
Another flash lights up the sky, followed by a crash of thunder.
We’re halfway to the porch when a streak of gray charges toward the driveway at full speed, ears flapping and tail twitching back and forth.
“Winston!” I cry. “What are you doing out here?”
He barrels through a giant puddle, sending muddy water flying in every direction.
I squeal as it drenches my jeans, and Sawyer shoots me an amused grin.
“Quinn!” Wes hollers. “Did you forget to latch the stall?”
“No, of course not.”
“Then how the hell didhe get out?”
