Page 71 of Own the Eights Gets Married
But what did it matter?
They were fearless adventurers, led by their primal desire for carnal release.
It didn’t get more National Geographicgraphicthan that.
“I hope it doesn’t bother you I haven’t shaved in three days,” she moaned as he rocked his hips, filling her completely with long, luscious strokes of his hard length.
He wrapped her hair in his hand and gave a pull, sending another burst of fireworks through her body.
“I haven’t shaved either, babe,” he answered in a low rasp.
She reached back and ran her fingers down the scruff of his jawline. “True, but you get sexy while I get hairy like an—”
Jordan froze mid-thrust. “An alpaca,” he said, his voice losing its sexy growl.
She glanced back at her slack-jawed fiancé. “A what?”
“An alpaca, Georgie,” he repeated.
“Yeah, alpacas are hairy. I was going to say ape. But sure, we could go with alpaca.”
“Georgie, there’s an alpaca right there,” he said, still motionless.
A rumble of thunder cut through the gentle rain, ushering in a downpour, as she looked up to see the animal.
Jordan stepped back and pulled up his pants. “It’s looking at us. It’s watching us.”
Georgie blinked away the rain and pulled up her yoga capris. Yes, the alpaca probably didn’t care that they were bumping the wilderness uglies, but something seemed way off about being half-dressed in front of the inquisitive animal.
“Syd and Buck said they allowed their alpacas to roam around their land. This is probably one of them,” she offered.
Panic marred Jordan’s perfect stubbled face. “Georgie, I hate to tell you this but—”
She pressed her hand to his lips, silencing him. “Are you about to tell me you’re afraid of alpacas?”
With her hand covering his mouth, he nodded.
As if the animal could sense Jordan’s apprehension, the creature emitted a high-pitched squeal.
Georgie screamed, jumping back and dropping her hand from her fiancé’s mouth.
“Oh my, God! Is that what they sound like?” she exclaimed, starting to get a little freaked out herself.
“Only when they’re mad,” Jordan answered as if he were narrating a Stephen King horror novel.
Her gaze bounced between the incensed animal and her panicked fiancé. “How do you know all this?”
“Do you remember where my goat phobia came from?” he asked.
She nodded, cupping her hand over her face to shield her eyes from the downpour. “Yes, you were at a petting zoo when you were little, and an asshole baby goat tried to eat your shirt. We cured you of that fear during the Battle of the Blogs back in June.”
“There’s something I didn’t tell you about the petting zoo, Georgie,” he began, staring at the massive creature.
She blew out a tight breath. “Is it that there was an alpaca there, and it tried to eat your shirt, too?” she replied, filling in the blank.
How many animals frightened her big, strong man?
“No, it didn’t try to eat my shirt,” he answered, fear lacing each word.
