Page 39 of Dirty Cowboy

Emma lifts the T-shirt to her nose and inhales.

Fuck me.

“Thank you,” she says softly, fingers smoothing over the fabric. “I should start a collection.”

I need to get out of here.

“I put tea on, but I forgot to turn off the barn lights.” The words tumble out, fast and desperate. “I’ll be right back.”

I don’t wait for a response. I take the stairs two at a time, push out the front door, and step into the cool night air with a semi-hard dick and way too many thoughts of Emma in that damn tank top.

Think of something else.

Pigs. Horses. Kittens. Tractors. Hay?—

Damn it. Now she’s on the hay, looking up at me with those blue eyes, mouth parted, and waiting.

By the time I reach the barn, I’m hard as a damn rock.

I ignore the horses and sink onto a hay bale, leaning back, letting out a slow, measured breath.

The wind howls through the gaps in the barn walls, rattling the doors. The horses stir, their soft huffs filling the silence. I rub over my jeans, trying to will away the ache, but all I can think about is her.

Emma.

Emma, with her lips parted in a breathless moan. Emma, with her hands on me, her fingers wrapping around my cock, her mouth warm and soft, taking me in.

Jesus.

I shift, unbuttoning my jeans, letting the zipper slide down as I free myself. My hand wraps around my length, slow at first, teasing, imagining the heat of her mouth replacing my palm.

She’d be a good girl for me.

I stroke once, then twice, my grip tightening. I imagine her lips stretched around me, her tongue swirling, my fingers tangled in her hair as I guide her movements, controlling the rhythm.

Pleasure coils deep in my spine, the pressure building, and tightening in my balls.

A groan slips past my lips, my body thrumming with need, the fantasy tipping over into something I can’t contain. I’m so close, heat surging through me, every muscle taut?—

Then a phone rings.

And it’s not mine.

"Emma! Emma, where are you?"

Eric’s voice booms through the house, shaking the walls and rattling my spine. I press my back against the cool bathroom door, my heart slamming against my ribs. My mind spins, replaying every illicit detail of what I just witnessed. The front door slams, the force of it echoing through the quiet, sending a thrill of panic—and something darker—racing down my spine.

“In the bathroom! I’ll be down in a sec!”

My voice bounces off the tiles, too high and too breathy, but instead of waiting, Eric storms up the stairs like a stampede, each step vibrating through the house. I clench my fists, my entire body thrumming with the deep, heated embarrassment of it all. But beneath it, under the mortification, a deep ache refuses to be ignored.

I never should have gone back to the barn. And I never should have peered through that damn crack in the wooden wall.

But I did.

And I saw everything.

Eric, sprawled back on a hay bale, jeans pushed down just enough, his large hand gripping his hard cock. His lips moved silently, like he was murmuring my name, though I couldn’t hear past the thundering pulse in my ears. His hips thrust in slow, deliberate strokes, and my breath caught, my thighs pressing together as heat pooled low in my belly.

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