Page 74 of Our Long Days
She rolls her eyes. “Don’t get used to it.”
“Never.” I laugh. “Have the boys behaved for you?”
She isn’t as cunning as she thinks. For weeks, I spied her sneaking the goats into the A-frame. The muddy tracks and piles of hay on her porch were also a dead giveaway.
“We shared a watermelon when I got home, and there were no fainting incidents. They miss you.”
“Just them?” I roll onto my side, the lumpy mattress digging into my ribs.
“Mm-hmm.” She nods coyly, drawing her bottom lip between her teeth. “How’s it going?”
I tell her about my day, leaving out Tim’s inappropriatecomment. She pouts when I say I’ll likely be gone another two days, a shared sentiment.
“Anything you want me to do tomorrow?” she asks.
“Nothing out of the norm. It’ll be quiet, so feel free to finish early and head to your mom’s.”
Claire is hosting family dinner tomorrow. It’s funny, the first part of the year was spent avoiding those dinners. Now, all I want to do is sit in my usual seat, Florence on my left. Not that anyone can know.
Not yet.
“Mom said she’d send me home with some leftovers for you.” She maneuvers the phone to settle on her back, left arm spread wide. The top three buttons are undone, revealing the soft swell of her breasts. “This bed is so comfortable.”
I palm my erection through my shorts. “Did you do as you’re told? No bra. No panties. Just my shirt.”
She lifts a shoulder. “Maybe. You’ll have to come check for yourself.”
A growl vibrates from my chest. “You’re asking to be punished.”
Her left hand disappears from view, eyes fluttering closed.
“Fuck, Trouble. Are you touching yourself?” My cock pulses. “How wet are you?”
“Soaked,” she purrs.
I groan. For months, I tried to resist her, and now I’ve had another taste, I’m feral for her. “How many fingers?”
She pouts. “No fingers.”
I frown, not understanding, until a glistening, hot pink dildo comes into shot.
Fuck. My. Life.
“Shit, Florence. My dirty girl.” I pull my length out, fisting it, using the pre-cum as lubricant. It’s nothing compared to sliding into her tight heat. “What does it feel like?”
“Big. Thebiggest.” The smirk on her face is devilish. “Anyway, lumberjack, you’ve got a long day tomorrow. Sleep well.”
She blows a kiss through the phone, and just like I did, she ends the call with a wink. Touché.
Not three minutes later, my orgasm spurts across my stomach, images of Florence using that toy as my muse.
Pulling out my phone, I drop Megan a text, asking if we can get a head start on tomorrow’s jobs.
A certain brat needs an attitude adjustment.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
florence
