Page 45 of Hotshot

I listened absently to his idle chatter, his tone dropping to a soothing coo for Bess’s benefit as he watered her and brushed her coat. I watched his sure movements, his strong hands on the brush. I didn’t know anything about horses but I could tell he was good with them. He was patient and confident and…somehow, that felt like a character reference of sorts.

He left Bess and Fred with promises to return soon, then washed his hands in the office bathroom while I perused a wall of framed photographs of the Cunningham horses.

“They’re beautiful,” I commented when he joined me. “This whole place is…so nice. Thanks for showing it to me.”

Hank beamed. “You’re welcome.”

“I mean it. Bess is awesome, and the barn is cool and…it’s nice to see you in your preferred habitat in daylight,” I added with a playful shrug. “It makes this seem less…sleazy.”

“Sleazy?” He pulled his hat off and tossed it onto the desk.

“You know what I mean.”

“I do, but…that’s not the right word. Think of a new one.”

“Crazy?”

“Nope.” Hank shook his head and slipped his fingers through his hair. “I don’t like that one either.”

I didn’t have any more words. My tongue was tied.

I studied his chiseled stubbled jaw, crooked nose, and full lips. He had a face with a view. Every perfect feature was offset by a quirk—the divot in his cheek, his unkempt wavy hair, the long, jagged scar under his chin he’d told me was from the time he’d fallen off a tractor. Hank was super handsome yet interesting-looking too.

And his body was…HOT. All caps. I’d held his balls, stroked his cock, and run my fingers up and down his chest. I’d licked his nipples, flicked my tongue over the sensitive flesh till he’d groaned. I’d kissed him dirty, raked fingers through his hair as I’d cleaned his tonsils and writhed against him. I’d come in his mouth, on his hands, and all over his chest.

Two weeks later, I was very aware that there was so much more to do. I wanted to do it all. I wanted to suck him, lick him, fuck him. I wanted him to fuck me too—to know what it felt like…if only once.

And I really wanted to kiss him again. I could do it now. We were alone. No one in the office or the stable or?—

I stopped thinking and acted, pouncing on Hank like a greedy cat. I grabbed his neck and slanted my mouth over his.

Fuck, it was better than the first time. And it escalated just as quickly. One second, we were making out and the next, we were humping and grinding, straining to get closer than physically possible with so many layers of denim in between.

“Want to touch you,” I panted, sliding my cock over his.

Hank groaned, his nostrils flaring as he eyed me. “Come this way.”

He didn’t wait for a reply. He strode into the main section of the barn and headed up a short flight of stairs to a hayloft. Bales were stacked high and neat, covering the entire loft. It was very…private.

We continued where we left off, sucking face like a couple of vampires. My shirt was bunched around my chest, my lips were swollen, and my cock ached behind my zipper. I couldn’t stop kissing him.

He finally broke for air, unbuckling his belt, then mine.

“We shouldn’t do this here,” I panted.

“It’s already done. Touch me…or just lick me. Are you ready for that?”

“I…yeah.”

His pirate’s smile was wicked in the extreme. “Good boy. C’mere. On your knees.”

I obeyed.

I kneeled on the hay-strewn loft floor and gazed up at Hank with sex-drunk eyes as he unzipped. He lowered his jeans and boxer briefs over his ass, and his half-hard penis twitched as if in anticipation. I circled him at his base and slowly stroked him to his tip, squeezing his slit, and tracing the prominent vein along his shaft.

“Am I doing this right?” I whispered, glancing up at him.

Hank’s lopsided lazy grin was the sexiest thing ever. Part of me wanted to knock him flat on a bale of hay, climb on top of him, and rub up on him like mad, but his cock had my full attention.