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“To spread that blanket out on the floor and get naked with you,” I tell him honestly.
“I am not fucking you on a hard wooden floor, Sutton.”
Hearing him say ‘fucking you’ makes heat twist through my stomach and lick along my limbs. “Oh,” I say, my voice breathless.
“But,” he adds, leaning in so his breath brushes over my lips. “I am going to fuck you on a not-quite-as-hard hay bale in this barn that I hope makes you realize that a whole bunch of people think you are amazing and special and will always show up for you.”
“Oh.” I thought he’d spread the blanket out on the hay to help it dry out a little. I didn’t realize…
He kisses me, soft and sweet. “You ready for me, Sutton?”
“Yes. God, yes.”
He starts to back up, pulling me with him, toward the hay bale.
“But will that work?” I ask.
There’s no way it’s big enough for us to lie on. Maybe on my back, but my legs will be hanging off.
An image of him holding my legs up in a very provocative position flashes through my mind, and the heat coursing through my body ratchets up several degrees.
He’s studying me closely. “What are you thinking about?”
I decide I might as well be honest. We are about to do the most intimate thing two people can do.
“Sexual positions that would work on a hay bale. Specifically, where I would have to put my legs so I could fit on it on my back.”
I don’t know if the same exact image goes through his mind, but clearly something provocative does because heat flares in his eyes.
“What I have in mind is not too crazy,” he says, stroking his thumbs over my cheeks. “But I think I might need to borrow some of these books you read.”
I giggle. “None with hay bales come to mind. But I’m sure there are some.”
He grins. “So what did you bring to our little party?”
Oh, right. The cooler I brought in. It’s sitting just off to the side of where we stripped off our wet outer layers. I grab it, take off the lid, and pull out the plastic container with the four little pies. I show him with a smile.
“Anytime we can make something pumpkin flavored, we should,” I say.
“My second favorite flavor,” he says.
“Second?” I ask. Oh, no. “I’ve been making all of this for you because I thought it was your favorite. What do you like better?”
“I thought it was my favorite, too.” He leans in, his nose nearly brushing mine. “Until I got a taste of you. Your pussy is now my favorite flavor of all time.”
I tingle from head to toe. I reach up and cup the back of his head, pulling his mouth to mine. I need him. I want him. I want so many things I don’t even know how to ask for.
Except with Lawson, I don’t need to get it exactly right. I can even mess it up entirely. And that is such a wonderful, freeing feeling that I simply know I want to be as close to him, in every way, as I can get.
“Orgasm. Please,” I say against his mouth.
That makes him freeze for a moment, but then he groans, slides one hand into my hair and the other to my ass, pulling me up fully against him. The kiss gets deeper and hotter, and he sits down onto the hay bale, pulling me into his lap. I set the container of pies on the bale next to him so I can wrap my arms around his neck.
My legs straddle his thighs, and with the thin leggings I’m wearing, I can feel the ridge of his cock behind the fly of his jeans, already hard and thick.
He groans as I grind against him, needing that pressure and friction.
“Sutton,” he says gruffly, his fingers curling into my hips.
