Brock stepped flush against me, pinning my hips to the wooden post. I gasped. He was hard, pressing heavy against my stomach through his denim.
"I liked it. Believe me, I liked it." His voice dropped. "The second you stepped out of that car, I saw exactly how gorgeous you were."
"You did not. You looked at me like I was an alien, then judged my shoes."
"I was trying to push you away." He reached down. His rough fingers traced the bare skin of my thigh, and a shiver ran down my spine. "I was trying to run you off."
"You were being such an asshole."
"I was." His palm shoved the skirt up. Calluses scraped my skin. "But I'm not now."
A shaky breath rattled my chest. His fingers traced the lace edge of my underwear.
"Brock, we're going to get caught."
"Not out here."
His mouth crashed over mine, hot and demanding. I melted against him. My hands fisted in his shirt while his tongue swept my mouth.
He backed me harder into the support post. His hand shoved the dress to my waist and slipped under the lace. Two thick fingers dragged over my wetness before pushing inside me in one smooth stroke.
My body clenched tight around him. I bit my lip, but a moan escaped anyway.
"Soaking wet." His fingers slid deeper. "You sat through dinner dripping for me, didn't you?"
"Shut up."
My breath hitched as my hips rolled into his fingers. He curled them deep, his thumb working slow circles that dragged soft moans from my throat. The wet sound of his hand echoed in the heavy silence of the barn.
He nudged his hat back with two fingers, clearing a path to my ear.
"Quiet." His hot breath ghosted across my skin. "You gotta stay quiet, Starlin’."
eighteen
. . .
SIENNA
I nodded fast, biting down on my bottom lip. My heart was hammering. The kitchen window was wide open. If anyone walked outside…
Brock didn't care. He kept working his fingers inside me, hitting that spot that made my hips buck every time. The wet sounds grew louder, a filthy noise in the quiet. I couldn't stop myself from pushing back against his hand.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” he muttered against my neck, stubble scraping my skin. “Been thinking about this since I saw you in that dress.”
I grabbed his shoulders, nails digging in, trying so hard not to moan. “We’re gonna get caught.”
“Not if you stay quiet like I told you.”
He curled his fingers again, pressing right where I needed it, and my knees went weak. I had to lean back against the post, breathing hard. The rough wood dug into my spine.
He kept me right on the edge, thighs shaking, until I was panting and desperate. Then he pulled his fingers out.
I whimpered at how empty I suddenly felt.
Before I could say anything, he grabbed my hand and pulled me deeper into the barn. The hay smell got stronger. He took meto the last empty stall and bent me over the top rail, guiding my hands to the wood.
“Hold on,” he said, voice low behind me. His hat dropped into the hay.
