Because the sight of her up there on Twister’s back might be the most beautiful—and arousing—thing he’d ever seen. He could see her talking to Twister as she rode, a happy expression on her face.
“This is so much fun,” she called to Jake as she and Twister passed the entrance to the arena, heading out for another loop.
He watched, transfixed, as she spent the next ten minutes walking Twister around the arena before guiding him back over to Jake.
“Thanks for the ride, dude.” She reached down to pat Twister’s neck. “I really enjoyed it.”
“Ready to get off him?” he asked.
She nodded, looking down at the ground, her smile dimming. “Um, how…”
“Take both feet out of the stirrups, then lean forward and swing your right leg over his back. I’ll help you from there.”
She did as he’d said, lowering herself toward the ground as he put his hands on her hips, guiding her down. He tried very hard not to notice the dip of her waist beneath his fingers, but he didn’t succeed. His cock was rock hard inside his jeans. As soon as her feet were on the ground, he stepped back.
Megan turned to face him, cheeks flushed. “Thank you. That was amazing.”
“You’re welcome. Just let me know if you’d like to ride him again sometime.”
“I’ll do that.”
He shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, attempting to disguise his condition. “I’d better get him back to the barn.”
“Okay.” She leaned in to press a quick kiss against his cheek. “Thanks again.” And then she walked off in the direction of the castle.
Jake took Twister into the barn and got him settled, ignoring the lust still burning inside him. It was no use, though. As soon as he’d finished his evening chores, he strode toward the farmhouse, desperate for relief.
He stepped into the half bath just inside the front door and freed himself from his jeans. As he gripped himself, he had to hold in a grunt of pleasure, surprised by the sensation. The lack of pleasure was the reason he so often resisted the urge to jerk off. At some point over the years, it had started to feel weird to fantasize about Alana. He was a grown man now, and she hadn’t touched him since she was eighteen. It had felt equally inappropriate to fantasize about other women while he was still married.
But now, images of Megan filled his brain, sending shockwaves of sensation through him. He pumped himself hard and fast, imagining her hands on his body, her fingers on his cock. He felt the beginnings of an orgasm, bigger and stronger than anything he’d experienced in years, building inside him, tingling at the base of his spine and in his balls. His breath caught, and he shut his eyes, losing himself in the fantasy. Sweat beaded on his brow, and every muscle in his body clenched.
He stilled his hand, opened his eyes, and grabbed a wad of toilet paper to catch his release. He gripped himself again, feeling an urgency he hadn’t felt in years. A groan tore from his throat, and he couldn’t hold back another moment. His hand moved at a frenzied pace, carrying him swiftly toward release.
“Jake?”
At first, he thought he’d imagined it. Her voice was part of the fantasy, and he stroked harder, faster.
“Jake, are you there?”
Through the haze of arousal, he became aware of knocking too. His hand stilled. His balls burned, but that was really Megan, standing at his front door, and here he was, just feet away in the half bath, pants open and seconds from coming.
His whole body clenched, surprise and need and embarrassment tangling themselves up inside him. Hands shaking, he removed the still-dry wad of toilet paper from the head of his cock. He tossed it in the trash and cautiously zipped his jeans, too uncomfortable to move another muscle.
“Jake?” she called again.
“Just a minute.” He leaned against the sink, breathing heavily.
“It’s Bug. I think something’s wrong.”
