I grasped him tightly and rolled him under my palm before letting go.
In an instant, he was on his knees in front of me.
“Is this okay?”
I didn’t know what he was intending, but I didn’t care. I wanted it all, anything he would give me, so I nodded.
He brought his mouth near the split of my pants, his hands wrapped tightly around my legs. He put his mouth over me, layers of fabric separating us. I startled once.
He remained there for a time, wetting my pants, moving in rhythmic ways. Eventually it was too much. I sank against the wall, practically puddling to the floor.
Draw sank with me. I pulled the top half of my cami down so my breasts spilled out.
“I want to—” But what he wanted, he never said because he brought his hands to my chest and groaned in satisfaction. I felt soft and full against him. He kissed me deeply as he gently rubbed his thumbs over my stiff nipples.
Then, outside the horses shrilled. They sounded panicked. I startled and Draw stood quickly. I pulled my camisole over my chest, grabbed my shirt, and followed him to the entrance of the ruins. Peanut Butter and Draw’s horse had quieted but stood with necks fully upright, ears pinned toward one thicket of trees.
“What do you think it was?” I asked, buttoning my top.
“I’m not sure. Oh!” Draw pointed.
A rust-colored weasel darted through the spindly grass. It froze at the side of one discarded white brick, its black eyes gleaming as it surveyed our blanket. With a jolt, it sprinted forward and took our loaf of bread in its mouth.
That was too much for Draw. He dashed forward, shouting. “Ho! Get out of there, miscreant.”
“Miscreant?” I laughed. “I’ve never actually heard that word used.”
At the blanket, Draw pulled our containers and wrappers together. He glanced up at me, still shirtless. “Is that so? You’re a bit of miscreant yourself, you know.” He stood, bag in hand, and ran a hand along the side of my neck.
“Was it okay?” I asked. The spell broken, my mind raced through all the things I had done and suddenly wished I had done them differently. I wondered whether he had enjoyed them or found me lacking.
“You should know by now I don’t deal in ‘okay.’” He smiled. “It was very good, Dottie.”
Chapter Five: Too Much Information
Ibrushed Peanut Butterout well. He hadn’t wanted to leave the sheltered ruins any more than I did, but the ride to camp that night was pleasant enough. The afternoon sun filtered lazily through the trees. Peanut Butter got more than a few mouthfuls of straw he wasn’t supposed to. Every time Draw met my eye, he blushed.
