Fuck. It’s Bill.
Beneath me, Rue’s eyes blow wide in the dark, the haze of pleasure instantly evaporating into sheer, unadulterated terror. She inhales sharply, a gasp that could easily turn into a cry.
I don’t hesitate. I drop my weight, pinning her flush against the scratchy hay, and clamp my good hand firmly over her mouth.
Shh,I mouth, staring down into her terrified green eyes.
She gives a tiny, frantic nod against my palm.
But I can’t move. I am still completely buried inside her. If I try to withdraw now, the rustle of the dry hay beneath us or the shift of my jeans will echo in the cavernous silence of the barn.
Below us, the heavy metal door shrieks on its tracks, sliding open with a deafening metallic groan. The heavy thud of work boots hits the dirt floor, accompanied by the clicking nails of the massive farm dog.
I hold my breath. My left arm, supporting half my weight, screams in white-hot agony as the fresh stitches stretch dangerously taut. I grit my teeth so hard my jaw pops, forcing myself to remain as still as a corpse.
Beside my feet, Bullet lifts his head from where he’s nestled.
Rue stiffens at the movement.
No. Please God, no.I shoot a glare at the beagle. If the old dog barks at Buster, we are dead. I have no weapon. I have one good arm. I’m literally caught with my pants down.
Bullet lets out a faint, airy huff through his nose, but miraculously, he rests his chin back on his paws, unimpressed by the commotion.
“Yeah, I’m looking at it right now,” Bill’s voice booms through the barn, echoing up to the rafters. He’s on his phone because there’s no second voice. “I don’t know why the battery would be dead. I put it on the trickle charger before we left for the lake.”
The heavy footsteps move closer, stopping right in front of the massive John Deere tractor parked directly beneath our hayloft.
“Well, Jimmy said they didn’t find anybody at the truck stop,” Bill continues, his voice conversational but carrying perfectly in the quiet shed. “Found the SUV dumped by the pumps. Said it was stolen out of somewhere at the state line. Some guy carjacked a fella in the bathroom or something.”
Beneath me, Rue’s pulse thrums frantically against my palm. Her body is trembling beneath me, our cum oozing out of her body and onto my balls. Being perfectly still while buried deep inside the wet heat of her core is its own form of psychological torture. Every involuntary flutter of her muscles sends a spike of arousal straight to my brain, fighting a brutal war with my survival instincts.
I press my forehead against hers in the dark, closing my eyes, willing my body to stay perfectly rigid.
“I’m gonna grab the jumper cables from the wall, and then I’ll just go ahead and head that way, so we can set up camp early,” Bill says into the phone.
A metallic clatter rings out below as Bill rummages through a toolbox or a shelf.
Buster lets out a low, curious whine, his nails clicking on the dirt as he paces. The dog is sniffing the air.
My stomach plummets. He smells us. Or he smells Bullet.
“Come on, Buster. Leave the mice alone,” Bill calls out. “Let’s go.”
The dog hesitates, letting out one sharpwooftoward the back of the barn.
I squeeze my eyes shut, my heart hammering so loud I’m certain the farmer can hear it.Walk away. Just walk the fuck away.
“Buster! Heel!” Bill commands, his tone brooking no argument. “I ain’t got time for this! We gotta get over to the campsite and get set up.”
The clicking nails retreat toward the front of the barn. The heavy metal door groans again, slamming shut with a resoundingboomthat shakes the dust from the rafters.
The silence that follows is thick and heavy, punctuated only by the distant roar of Bill’s diesel truck starting up in the driveway.
He’s leaving. Holy shit. He’s leaving.
Still, I don’t move for a full sixty seconds. I wait until the sound of the truck’s engine fades away, ensuring he isn’t pulling it into the barn right now.
When I’m finally sure we are alone, I slowly pull my hand away from Rue’s mouth.
