Laurel placed her hands on him gently, let them glide up his chest, curl over his shoulders, up the back of his neck and into his hair. She pressed her body against his, his erection straining against her lower abdomen. His fingertips trailed her back, sensuously over her rear, slipping just under the hem of top, bringing her closer to him.
She pushed her lips to his, her tongue seeking entrance to his mouth, gladly given with a low groan from the back of his throat. It was urgent, hot, and she couldn’t get close enough to him.
Nate dragged his teeth across her bottom lip and turned her suddenly, pressing her back to his chest, his arm wound around her. His lips roamed her neck, one hand firmly holding her in place on her hip, the other splaying across her ribs, grazing the underside of her breast. Her back arched against him, trying to tell him that she wanted his hand, his fingers, anything, on her tender nipples. She wove one arm around the back of his neck and tilted her head to allow him better access.
Nate dragged his fingers, agonisingly slowly, across the bud of her breast, and her breath caught in her throat as he pinched it, just the right side of pain.
‘Nate.’ She cried.
‘Mmm,’ he murmured, rolling her nipple resolutely between his fingers. The other hand slid to her rear, stroking and squeezing, pulling her hard against him.
‘How do you want me first?’ he asked roughly, teeth nipping at her ear lobe, and her core clenched. Hard. ‘Fingers, tongue, cock?’
Laurel couldn’t help the whimpering.
‘Everything,’ she rasped out. She would explode as soon as he touched her. She was so wet and ready for him. Her legs trembled in anticipation.
‘Good girl,’ he whispered, pinching her nipple harder, making her jerk against him.
Good girl?God yes.
What was he doing to her? She was melting, hot and desperate, her hips rolling against his abdomen, his cock straining against her. Jagged breaths escaped his throat and she was desperate, greedy for his touch. She would beg if she had to. She needed him to touch her.
He was sliding the strap of her cami off her shoulder when he froze at the knock at the door.
‘What the fuck,’ Nate mumbled.
‘Laurel? Nate? Are you awake?’ came a muffled Jess.
This had got to be a joke. They were so close, not quite, but nearly in the middle of sex.
‘No, fuck off, we’re busy,’ Nate called harshly, hands unmoving on her.
‘I’m really sorry, but it’s important,’ Jess said through the door.
He sighed heavily and kissed her neck one more time.
‘I’m sorry, baby,’ he whispered against her skin and stalked over to the door, yanking it open abruptly. ‘What?’
‘Oh god, I’m sorry, I—’ Jess started, not knowing where to look, because quite frankly, it was patently obvious what they had been doing. Nate’s thin pyjamas did not leave much to the imagination.
‘Shit,’ he said under his breath and hid his lower half behind the door.
Laurel grabbed Nate’s zip up hoodie that was thrown over a chair and slid her arms through it, trying to calm her racing heart and bite down on her disappointment.
‘What’s the matter?’ Laurel asked, opening the door wider and giving Jess a tight smile. There was nothing she could do about her swollen, just-kissed lips and not-quite-sated glaze to her eyes.
Jess was wringing her hands together.
‘It’s Bessie the Cow, she’s got a baby cow’s leg sticking out of her and Alex and Owen are talking about pulling it out,’ she said desperately, as Laurel rushed past her. ‘Alex said not to get you, that he’d watched a YouTube video,’ she called, but Laurel was already down the stairs, through the house and out of the back door.
What the fuck did these city boys think they knew about birthing heifers? They could seriously damage her, maybe even kill her and the calf. A fucking YouTube video?
The grass was dewy and cold against her bare feet and Nate was calling her name behind her, but she couldn’t slow down, couldn’t stop, not until she skidded to a halt outside the door of the stables.
Alex was giggling drunkenly, videoing the poor cow with one calf leg sticking out of her. Owen was holding the birthing chains like they were some kind of poisonous snake. Lucia was lounging against one of the stable doors, her foot propped elegantly on a little stool, looking cool, calm and fucking collected, a glass of wine in her delicate fingers.
‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing?’ Laurel snarled.
