Page 33 of Ugly Duckling (Content Advisory #6)

Twenty-Six

If being introverted was a sport, I’d come in fourth so I wouldn’t have to get on the podium.

—Sutton to Gunner

SUTTON

Caddo Lake was paradise.

I loved being on the river. The campground was even better. Quiet and secluded, with a bunch of like-minded people that just wanted to spend time with their family and enjoy nature.

The only issue that I found was that being in an RV had sounded like a good idea at the time, but it wasn’t as good as I’d made it out to be in my head.

Why was it worse than I thought?

Because I’d spent the entire day watching Gunner prance around in short swim shorts that fit him like a glove, and no t-shirt.

Watched water drip down his defined pectorals, stomach, and into his waistband.

Enjoyed the way his body rippled and flowed as the men played a friendly game of football.

Needless to say, having nothing to do but watch, I got a front-row seat to the Gunner show.

And I was a needy little bitch by the time we were settling in for the night.

Well, the kids were settling in.

The parents had no intention of going to bed anytime soon.

I’d just gotten Lottie to sleep on the camper bed in the back bedroom—Gunner had gone on a beer run with Cutter and Copper—when I closed the door on Lottie.

Cutter and Copper went to their seats closer to the fire, and Gunner resumed the one next to where I’d been sitting before I got Lottie in bed.

The poor girl had fallen asleep in my arms with s’mores covering her face, and I’d had to get Audric to carry her inside for me.

It was then, upon realizing that I wasn’t outside, that he turned around to look at the camper.

That was when he spotted me staring.

He raised his eyebrows at me and I grinned as I lifted my shirt up, showing my bare belly.

With the angle that I was at, the only person that could see was him, which was why I lifted my shirt up higher.

He cleared his throat and twisted the seat around so that he could stare at me while still being in the conversation around the fire.

I backed up and sat on the couch that faced the door, then switched on the lamp in the corner and twisted the knob until the light was as strong as you could get.

I grinned wickedly at my man, then let my legs fall open.

I’d ditched the wet bikini bathing suit bottom some time ago, and I’d been sitting there underwearless for hours, unbeknownst to him.

He looked back at me and his mouth fell open.

He couldn’t see much.

Him that far away, there was no way that he could see every little thing.

But he knew what I was doing, and that was enough to have him shifting in his chair uncomfortably.

He reached down between his legs and shifted his cock, which had me giggling.

He turned back to the fire and responded to something that someone had said, but glanced over periodically to see what I was doing.

I lifted my shirt up higher and reached for my nipple, twisting it lightly.

He reached a hand up and scratched at his head, then replied to something else someone said.

I let my fingers drift, my pussy aching with the need to touch it to relieve the ache, and smiled when he leaned forward in his chair, his hands on his knees, as he kept stealing surreptitious looks my way.

I circled my clit with my finger, and that must’ve been all he could take because he said something to the group and stood up.

Anticipation zinged through me as he got up and rushed toward the camper.

He climbed the stairs, and in two steps, he was on me, picking me up around the waist with both hands and walking with me toward his bedroom.

The door slid closed silently until it banged hard against the wall and bounced back open slightly.

Neither one of us cared as he laid me down on the end of the bed and yanked me to where my ass was hanging over the edge.

“You been naked under this all afternoon?” he rasped.

“I had bottoms on,” I teased. “You saw me in them.”

“But you could’ve taken them off at any point once you got this cover-up on,” he pointed out.

I groaned when I felt the head of his cock prodding my entrance. “Please.”

“Fuck,” he replied and bucked his hips forward.

He buried himself halfway inside of me before pulling out and pushing the rest of the way back in.

Both of us let out a breath of air as he bottomed out inside of me.

“Always so damn hot,” he gritted out. “Fuck, and so tight.”

“Move,” I begged. “Please.”

He gave me what I asked for, fucking me hard and fast.

It didn’t take long for me to fall over the edge, and he followed right behind me seconds later.

Just as he came to a stop, I looked up to see the little tether that was holding the TV to the wall moving, swaying side to side.

A frisson of worry wormed its way through me as I said, “How bad do you think the trailer was rocking?”

He grunted. “No idea.”

“Maybe they didn’t notice?” I hoped.

He didn’t bother appeasing me with a lie.

“There’s a slight possibility.” He shrugged. “But sorry, they more than likely noticed.”

Still, as I got cleaned up and headed back outside, hobbling the whole way, the silence was oppressive.

It was Chevy who broke the quiet.

“That trailer’s shocks need greased.”

I died.

Literally, I died.

If it wasn’t so hard to get back inside on my bum ankle, I would’ve gone back inside and never come back out.