by Green, A. S.
I take a deep breath and shift my weight as she gets closer still. She’s wearing black yoga shorts and her new CIT T-shirt, which pulls so tight across her breasts it actually makes my mouth water. Her eyes aren’t so bright now that the sun is going down. Hopefully that will make it easier to deny the hold she has on me. Still, why couldn’t she have been assigned to swimming? Archery? Fuckin’ badminton?
“Hey,” she says as she gets close enough to be heard. Her voice is just as I imagined it would be. Soft. Innocent. But wickedly curious.
“Hey.”
She smiles, and her face flushes. So beautiful.
“I should tell you.” She looks off toward the woods, then back to me. “I’ve never ridden a horse before. Well...” She stifles a laugh, tucks a lock of hair behind her ear then looks down at her feet.
Am I making her nervous?
She continues. “Except for a pony once at the county fair, but he was hitched to a spoke in this wheel-thing and we just rode in a circle. You know, round and round. I didn’t have to do much but wave at my mom’s camera when I’d go by. It was your basic live-action merry-go-round, so I—” She cuts herself off when she realizes she’s rambling.
“What’s your name again?” Mrs. Marsden told me, but I was having trouble concentrating on what she was saying.
The girl looks up at me, and her long hair falls behind her shoulders. “Tess.”
“How old are you, Tess?” Because that is the number one question, isn’t it?
“I’ll be twenty-one this fall.”
A few beats of silence pass between us while I fight back a smile of both relief and amusement. “Which means,” I say, emphasizing the next three words, “that you’re twenty.”
She steels her jaw. I understand, given her height and size, why she’d want to assume as much age as she can.
She confirms my assumptions when her eyes spark and she says, “Do not underestimate me, Cowboy. I may be small, but I can do more than you’d think.”
I flinch—in a good way—then push open the paddock gate. I tilt my head to suggest she should follow me toward the stable.
“The job’s not hard. It’s just trail rides and cleaning up afterward. You don’t need to know much to get started, and you’ll learn the rest over the summer. All the camp horses have done these trails so often they can do them in their sleep. Some of them probably do.”
She follows close on my heels, and I swear the air heats in the small space between us. I simultaneously lament that her cabin is the farthest from my trailer while celebrating that it’s the closest to the stables.
Right before we reach the stable, I turn and walk backwards a few steps, searching over her shoulder to see who might be around and watching us. There’s no one on the field.
I don’t know what I’m nervous about. We’re not doing anything wrong. If anyone saw us, they’d only see us doing exactly what we’re supposed to be doing. It’s just my lusty thoughts that make me feel so guilty.
I open the stable door and give a mock bow. “After you.”
She dips into a curtsy, and I close the door behind us. With no direct sunlight coming in the windows, it’s darker inside the stable now than it is during the afternoon. A few hanging bulbs cast the space in a dim golden haze.
“This is Juliet,” I say when we reach the first stall, and I introduce Tess to the black mare with the white blaze down her nose. “She’s my favorite.”
“She’s beautiful.” Tess steps in front of me and reaches up to stroke Juliet’s nose. The sight makes a new kind of warmth pool deep in my gut. I don’t know what it means, but I like it.
Juliet sniffs and huffs at Tess’s hand then snorts and tosses her head.
Tess jumps backward in surprise and bumps up against my chest. She spins around, and we’re so close I have to dip my chin to look down at her face. She licks her lips.
I take a reluctant step back. “Tomorrow we’ll do some organizing in the morning, then we’ll go out to check the trails after lunch. The campers come in groups for their short horse orientations later in the afternoon.”
She nods as she takes it all in.
“In the days after that, we’ll be guiding cabin groups on trail rides. We’ll need to take out as many horses as there are campers, plus two for you and me. I’ll be the lead, and you’ll pull up the rear to make sure we don’t leave anyone behind.”
“But I—”
“We’ll put you on Sodbuster. All you’ll need to do is stay on top. He’s happy to follow whatever horse is in front of him.”
I take a bridle off a hook then open Juliet’s stall door. Tess enters with me, but hesitantly.
“We put their bridles on while they’re in the stall. We usually saddle them outside.” I show her how to hold the bit at Juliet’s mouth and ease it in, then how to pull the crownpiece gently over and behind her ears.
“Fasten the throatlatch here,” I tell her, and she follows my instructions perfectly, buckling it in place. I wonder how well she’d take other instructions.
“I’ll take care of the saddles at first, but you’ll learn that, too. When we get back from trail, we brush all the horses down and towel them off.” I show her the tack box where I keep the grooming tools.
She seems attentive, but the deeper we get into the stable the more jittery she becomes. “Is something wrong?” I ask, hoping she’s not going to get too caught up in her inexperience and ask for a different assignment.
“I guess I’m just nervous around you.”
Her honesty makes me stop. I study her face, to see if it will explain why. This is dangerous territory. I should change the subject, but of course being the idiot that I am... “Why should I make you nervous? You didn’t seem nervous when you got off the bus and were staring me down.”
She sucks in a breath, and her already large eyes widen further at my insinuation. There’s a moment where I see her surprise replaced by resolute decision. “I was only responding to you, Cowboy.”
She was responding to me? How much is she willing to respond to me? “Fair enough. We were both staring equally.”
She straightens her spine as if she’s gathering courage. She arches one graceful eyebrow. “It was kind of intense.”
When I don’t respond right away, her eyes slide to the side then down, her boldness waning. I hate to see that, so I quickly agree. “It was.”
She exhales at my acknowledgment and lifts her chin. “Is that why you had to cover yourself up with your hat?”
I study her for another moment, wondering where she means to take this while my cock threatens to bust up and out of the top of my jeans. “Yeah. That’s why.”
“I made you hard before, just looking at you?”
For fuck’s sake. What is going on here? Sweat prickles at the back of my neck while I force out a response. “Yeah.”
“And now?”
I blow out at her bluntness. Never in a million years would I think to move this fast with her, but if she’s up to it, I am ready to play this game.
I step in closer so my hips are against her stomach, just below her breasts. God, she’s tiny. “Want to check?”
She sucks in a breath. “I don’t think I have to.”
Her face is so open, expectant, but I don’t know what for. A kiss? A little groping? More? The idea that she might be up for more is my undoing.
“Christ, Tess. I’ve been fantasizing about you for so long.”
She pulls back and slowly blinks those big green eyes at me. I probably should have kept my mouth shut. “You’ve been fantasizing about me? How?”
I swallow hard and hope I haven’t fucked this up. “Well, not you exactly. It’s just that you look a lot like this magazine girl I sometimes fantasize about. Just an hour before you showed up, I was in the shower, imagining that you were sucking me dry. That’s why
I was staring.”
She squirms, and I know it’s not because she’s repulsed or freaked or thinking she’s in over her head because she says, “What other kinds of things do you fantasize about?”
Heat prickles up the back of my neck again. My already swollen cock strains to break free. “You really want to know?”
She gets a very determined look on her face. “I want you to show me. I want you to show me everything.”
Holy fucking shit. “Where in the hell did you come from?”
“Highland College,” she says, like it was a serious question.
A smile pulls across my lips. “Got a lot of kink at Highland College, Tess?”
Now there’s a flicker of nervousness in her eyes, but she clenches her jaw like she’s getting up the nerve to take on the high dive. “Far as I can tell, it’s only me.”
“That’s a shame.” I slip my hands behind her back.
“Quit talking, Cowboy.”
“So we’re doing this?” I ask, giving her the opportunity to say no while silently praying that I’ve read this right and she’s not just jerking me around.
“Hell, yeah,” she says. “We’re doing this.”
And now all bets are off. I grab her under the ass and lift. At the same time, she wraps her legs around my waist. She weighs next to nothing. It feels almost wrong. And then she bites my neck and it feels so right.
“Don’t be gentle,” she whispers against my ear. “I’m fucking sick of gentle.”
Chapter Five
Luke
With Tess’s sweet body wrapped around mine, our mouths stay connected, kissing, and biting, sucking at each other. It’s intense. Frantic. Our teeth clash, and we’re gasping against each other’s mouths like if we don’t do this now, the world is going to implode.
I walk us back into the tack room so we’re not out in the open. In the center of the small room is a heavy-duty saddle stand slung with a western saddle, which gives me an idea. “You want to try something different?”
“I’m only familiar with guy on top, so whatever you’ve got beyond that is going to be different.”
“I wasn’t actually thinking about sex.”
God help me, she looks disappointed, and maybe even a little confused.
“Trust me,” I tell her. “You want into my head? See what I’ve been fantasizing about?”
“Yeah,” she says, and it comes out all sweet and breathy.
I set her on her feet and hook my thumbs into the waistband of her yoga shorts. I lock eyes with her, silently asking for permission. She pinches her lips together then takes over, shimmying her shorts and panties down together. Goddamn, she’s not shy.
I lift her again, setting her onto the saddle. She straddles it sitting backwards and facing me. Then I pull up two old, wooden barrels to either side of her so she can put up her feet.
She lets me manipulate her body, staring at me the whole time as if fascinated. When I’m done, her knees are splayed wide, and she is completely exposed and on display for me.
It’s enough to make me come right then and there, and I send up a silent prayer that we don’t get caught.
“Now what?” she asks, and she licks her bottom lip.
“Sit there,” I tell her as I take a step back and unbutton my fly. My engorged cock springs free like an escaped animal.
“You want me to just sit here?” she asks, her eyes dropping to my hand, which I’ve wrapped around my shaft. She squirms a little in the saddle.
“Touch yourself, Tess. Like I’m doing.” I stroke myself down to the hilt then back up over the tip. “Do whatever you want. Whatever feels good. One rule though. Look up. You don’t take your eyes from mine.”
She bites down on her bottom lip, but she does just what I asked. While her hand goes to her pink folds, her eyes capture mine and do not let go. I struggle to follow my own rule because I want to look down at what she’s doing. Instead, I have to guess by the way her face tenses, and her chest heaves.
Her lips part, and I sense her speed and pressure change by the movement of her shoulder and the way she lifts her chin. I work my hand over my cock, palming the tip before driving it down again.
We both groan simultaneously, and it’s a struggle to keep looking into each other’s eyes. So intense, though. Amazing.
“You’re doing good,” I tell her, as my cock jerks in my hand. She’s so close to me. I could be inside her in a second, but this is so goddamn hot. The way her chest is moving up and down. She’s panting now. We both are. Faster, as if we’re in a race.
Her nipples harden and pop through her T-shirt, and I can smell her musky scent filling the tiny room. Ah, fuck. That’s the last straw. I grunt with exertion. My thighs shake and my ass tightens.
That’s when her neck strains, and her eyes get a little panicky. “Oh, shit! Oh, shit! I’m going to come.”
“That’s the plan,” I say, my voice throaty. “Not yet though.”
“I want to.” Her heavy lids close for a second.
“Tess!”
Her eyes snap open and lock with mine again as she remembers the rule.
“Good. Now hold it back. Don’t let go yet.” The tension is building in me, too. I can see my own pain spelled out on her face as she continues to circle her clit.
“I can’t,” she says. “I can’t. Oh, fuck.”
“On my count,” I tell her, squeezing my cock while my balls draw up.
Her lips pull back, and she hisses air through her teeth as she continues to work.
I’m jacking my shit hard now. “Yeah, baby. Hold on. One.”
“Luke!” Her whole body is shaking. Her thighs spasm.
“Two.”
She moans in exasperation.
“Three!”
With that, Tess cries out in ecstasy, falling limply back against the saddle horn. I thrust my hips forward with an agonized groan and shoot long, hot jets of cream all over the insides of her trembling thighs.
Chapter Six
Tess
Well, that was interesting.
After our getting-to-know-you meeting, Luke slaps me on the ass, kisses me once more for good measure, then dispatches me to the showers to clean up for tonight’s opening campfire.
As soon as the sun goes down, my cabinmates and I get changed into warmer clothes and search our duffels for flashlights. Kelly and Beth, whose bunks are on the opposite side of the cabin, are going on and on about the cute guy-CITs. Another girl whose name I don’t remember is bragging about her assignment with the super-hot lifeguard—a lifeguard I never even noticed.
I’m not paying much attention to any of their conversations. All I can think about is what tonight will bring with Luke because—confession time—I broke his rule before.
More than once, when his eyes fluttered shut, I stole a peek at what he packs into those Levi’s. And, fuck, it’s amazing. Long. Thick. With a purple mushroom tip and a crooked vein running down the underside...
“Hey, Tess?”
“Hmmm?” I pull the hoodie over my head and turn to find Lifeguard Girl leaning against her closet. “You haven’t said anything about your assignment. How are the stables?”
I consider all the things I could say and settle on something vague but honest. “Dirty.”
She snorts. “Well, what can you expect? It’s a barn.” Then she goes back to talking about the lifeguard.
What could I expect? Not Luke. Not how quickly things moved. Not how hot his imagination is, or how much I trusted him, let alone how fast I got off.
A few minutes later, the whole camp treks up the narrow path that leads from behind the girls’ cabins to a clearing deep in the woods. At the center of the clearing is a fire pit ringed with rows of benches made out of logs. By the time I get there, the fire is already blazing.
I don’t see Luke right away. Instead, I’m surrounded by counselors shouting instructions, my fellow CITs, excited campers, and the Marsdens, who are passing out roasting sticks and marshmallows.
By the time I grab a seat on one of the benches, I look up to find Luke sitting directly across the campfire from me.
There’s a guitar slung across his lap, and his face is illuminated by the flames and flickering against a black backdrop of forest and night sky. His eyes are on me. I can even feel them. Heck, I’d swear I could hear the way he looks at me, except the buzzing sound inside my brain isn’t really him. It’s just the surge of adrenaline he brings out in me. I try to ignore it. We are, after all, not alone. Not by a long shot.
It only takes a second for me to be surrounded by the littlest campers. This is normal for me. Back home, every time I step outside, the neighbor kids swarm. My parents laugh and call me the Pied Piper. I figure it has more to do with my size than anything else. I’m older and, therefore, clearly their alpha, but small enough to be something they recognize as one of their own.
Right now, I have two little boys fighting to get into my lap and, as I said, Luke is watching.
His fingers seem to be unconsciously plucking out something slow and sweet on the guitar as he waits for the Marsdens to call out for “Kumbaya,” or “Puff the Magic Dragon,” or “The Ballad of the Titanic.”
I get the feeling campfire songs insult his musical sensibilities, but tonight he seems to be beyond caring. His attention stays on me, and his eyes are intense.
I’m not surprised. I certainly haven’t shaken the memory of what we did just a couple hours ago. When the muscle in his jaw flexes, I know the same is true for him. How could it not?
“All right,” Mr. Marsden says once all the roasting sticks are loaded. He slaps his hands down on his thighs and slowly rises from his bench. The little boys jump off my lap and go in search of the bag of marshmallows.
“Luke, why don’t you start us out with ‘The Woodpecker Song’. Campers who have been here before, you join in so the little ones can catch on.”