Page 37 of Fairground (Whitewood Creek Farm #3)

Having raw, unrestrained sex with Rae in the belly of the mayor’s pumpkin float wasn’t exactly on my bucket list for year thirty-four of my life, but I can’t think of a better thing to add.

Every inch of her has felt damn good when we use a condom, but without one?

It’s like the difference between licking your bare skin and licking it through plastic wrap.

Sure, both can be nice—pressure and all—but one lets you feel everything.

The warm, wet heat of a tight, pliable pussy. The real thing.

And with the right person? It's the way it’s supposed to be.

And, holy hell, every bit of her feels incredible. She’s hot, soft, and slick, wrapping around me like the most perfect hug I never want to break. I thrust deeper, driving my hips forward as I hit a spot inside her that makes her body jolt, her walls clenching tight around me.

Did I intentionally only pack one condom tonight? No. Fuck, I hadn't even planned on having sex with her. It's a parade for shits sake. But I can't seem to keep my hands off her so I shouldn’t be surprised. And do I regret it? Not a damn bit.

To be fair, I’ve never gone without protection before. It’s always felt like too big of a risk for a one-time thing. I’ve been careful, responsible, all that good shit that’s gotten me to my thirties without becoming a father.

But Rae? Rae’s not a one-time thing. Somehow, she’s turned into a two, three, four…

hell, I’ve lost count. At least fifty now.

I’ve had her in my bed at the farm, on the floor of the egg farm, in her sister’s house, in the distillery, down by the creek, and now, here we are in the town’s mayor, prized pumpkin float.

And as far as I’m concerned, this isn’t stopping anytime soon.

Every moment spent with her stretches into something that feels less like a hookup and more like a homecoming.

Like her body was made to welcome mine. Like we’re not just doing something reckless, we’re writing a new story that only our bodies understand.

There’s nothing casual about what I’ve been feeling for her.

Not the way she looks at me, not the way her lips part when I press in deeper, not the way that she moans my name.

So, do I trust her when she says she’s on birth control?

Absolutely.

And do I trust her enough to take the risk that comes with going raw?

Abso-fucking-lutely.

I pull my cock out just enough to look down, mesmerized by how her wet, arousal clings to me, slick and shining in the dim light filtering through the pumpkin’s carved holes. It’s almost pathetic how hard it makes me seeing how wet she gets for me.

“I’ve never seen anything sexier,” I murmur, my voice low and rough, before sliding all the way back inside her. The sound is filthy—a wet, satisfying squish that makes her moan loudly.

Her head drops between her braced arms, lips parted, and for a second, time slows.

There’s nothing but her, me, and the steady pulse of need beating between us in the cramped space.

Her dress is bunched around her waist, her pussy spread around my cock, the scent of her sex thick in the air.

It’s the kind of moment I don’t want to forget.

Her back arches, head tipping forward as I lean over her, bracing one hand beside her while the other finds her clit.

My fingers brush firm, steady circles over it, and her reaction is immediate.

Her stomach hollows, her hips bucking against me as her body starts to quake beneath my touch.

I drop my head to press a kiss to her damp with sweat neck.

“More, Cash. Don’t stop. More,” she breathes, her voice ragged and needy.

Her words are fuel to the fire already burning low in my gut.

I straighten up, gripping her hips in both hands, and pick up the pace.

My thrusts are hard and fast, each one landing with a satisfying smack of my thighs against her ass.

The sound of our bodies meeting fills the air, mingling with her moans and the faint noise of the crowd outside the float.

I shouldn’t enjoy this as much as I do. We’re literally on the town’s main attraction, hidden by nothing but a hollowed-out pumpkin and some fall-themed decor.

Just outside, the people of our sleepy little town are blissfully unaware that we’re committing the dirtiest of sins right under their noses and acting completely unprofessional.

But the risk? The wrongness of the setting of it all? It makes this moment so much better because I know my girl enjoys the thrill of getting caught even if she won’t admit it.

Rae’s body starts to shake beneath me, her walls clamping down on my cock with a tightness that nearly sends me over the edge. Her moans are louder now, her hands gripping the wooden floor of the float as she rides the crest of her orgasm.

“Fuck, Rae,” I groan, my voice barely audible over the pounding of my heart. “You’re squeezing me like a clamp.”

Her laugh is shaky, caught in the throes of her pleasure, and it pushes me to my breaking point. The tightening in my balls becomes unbearable, the heat spreading through my body in an unstoppable wave.

With one final thrust, I pull out just in time, my release spilling onto the floor of the float in thick, messy streaks. I watch it drip down the wooden planks, some of it pooling in the corner, the rest going onto the asphalt of the street underneath the wheels as I try to catch my breath.

Rae looks over her shoulder, her face flushed and her breathing uneven. “You’re gonna need to clean that up, farm boy.”

I grin, pulling her close and pressing a kiss to her damp shoulder. “Not a chance. Let the mayor of this town figure that one out.”

“You’re terrible,” she says, but she’s grinning. “We are absolutely never getting invited back to ride in this float again. In fact, if the town knew what we just did, they’d probably elect the eagle as mayor over us.”

“Even better. One less public event to smile through when all I want is to be inside of you.”

And as she laughs softly, the sound blending with the faint hum of the crowd outside, I can’t help but think that, yeah, this might be the most memorable thing I’ve ever done in my life.

A story to tell the kids one day when they are much, much, older.

Okay, maybe never. But I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

When my cock finally stops jerking in my hand, I help her straighten out.

I shift her underwear back into place, the soft fabric brushing against my fingertips as she collapses onto her butt with a satisfied sigh.

Her cheeks are flushed, her wild, pretty eyes locked on the mess I’ve made—and on me, still kneeling there with my cock hanging heavy between my thighs, coated in her.

She blinks, then glances at the sticky mess on the pumpkin floor. “Um… how exactly are you going to explain that to Lawson?”

I can’t help but laugh, shaking my head. “Easy. We’ll burn the float as soon as we exit. Destroy all the evidence. Or maybe we can take it to the farm and park it there. Keep it posted there as a relic for us.”

“A shrine to our bad decisions?” she asks, arching a brow. “Honey, there’s nothing bad about what we just did in here.”

She tries to stifle a laugh, but it bursts out, her smile wide and unguarded.

I lean forward, rocking onto my knees to capture her pouty lips in another kiss. Her mouth is warm and sweet, her hands finding their way to my chest, clinging to me like she doesn’t want to let go just yet.

Before we can lose ourselves again, the pumpkin jolts to a sudden stop, and her eyes fly open, wide with panic. “Shit,” she whispers, glancing around. “Is it over already?”

“Hold on, let me check.”

I climb the ladder quickly, poking my head out of the top of the pumpkin to confirm the worst—or maybe the best. We’re back in the parade parking lot, surrounded by floats being unhitched and parked.

Lawson’s already swinging down from his truck, his grin wide and knowing, like he knows the shit we just pulled. But how could he know? He can’t know.

Eh, I don't even care if he knows. I kind of hope he does. I wave like an idiot anyway, throwing in a big, dumb grin just to make him laugh.

“Hey, big brother! Smooth ride!”

Lawson shakes his head, chuckling. “You’re a mess, Cash.”

He’s not wrong. I grin back because, yeah, I am, and then I duck back down into the pumpkin to see Rae.

“Coast is clear,” I say, crouching in front of her. “Just a couple of float people out there. No big deal.”

She nods, taking my hand as I help her to her feet. Her dress is rumpled, her hair a little wild, but damn if she doesn’t look beautiful anyway. I smooth her dress over her thighs, tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, and steal one last kiss.

“You look perfect,” I say softly, and the grin she gives me is pure sunshine, enough to light up this entire lot.

She follows me to the float’s exit, and I swing the door open, stepping down onto the ground first. I turn, offering her a hand as she descends, and we step out into the lot together, trying to look casual.

Like we didn’t just desecrate the mayor’s prized pumpkin and every mile of our small town's square.

We’re halfway across the lot when I spot Rhett, the city's trusty plumber and the guy in charge of the state fair’s port-o-potties. Just seeing him reminds me of the mountain of logistical headaches I’ve been ignoring all day in favor of playing mayor and fucking Rae.

I stop and glance at her. “Hey, I need to talk to Rhett about those port-o-potties they’re shipping in for us next weekend. Can I catch you in a little bit? My place for dinner tonight?”

She tilts her head, still grinning. “Sure. I’ll call you.”

I watch as she heads off in the opposite direction, the hem of her dress swaying with each step. I could spend hours watching her move, staring at her pretty face, kissing her and thinking of new ways to make her come, but I force myself not to in order to focus.

Not that it’ll stay that way for long. I’ll have her again.

Tonight.