Her touch was enough to send a shudder of need through him, and Griffin gritted his teeth. He wanted to make this last more than two minutes, but that was about where he was already.
She stroked again and then again.
Griffin caught her by the wrists and pulled her hands away. “As much as I appreciate that, I’m pretty on edge here, and I have a much better idea about what could be milking me right now.”
Her eyes jumped from his cock to his face.
“Absolutely,” she said breathlessly.
Griffin grabbed his shirt and spread it over the hay bale, then sat back down—bare ass on hay was not particularly pleasant—then he pulled her back into his lap.
“While I would love to take a few hours with you, or even all night, for now, I can’t wait, and we’ll have to be quick. Never know when someone might come out to check on things.”
Her eyes flew to the barn door. “Maybe not in a downpour,” she said.
She clearly wasn’t bothered by the idea that someone might come out and catch them. There were a couple of open stall doors and two wooden barrels between them and the door that would block enough for them to grab clothes or at least duck into Hermione’s stall again to avoid being completely exposed.
Griffin didn’t really care at the moment, however, about what anyone else was doing, including plans for coming to the barn. All he cared about was Charlie. He ran a hand down her side to her hip and then slipped between her legs to cup her.
She was hot and wet, and he wanted every inch of her. He stroked over her clit, causing her to shiver.
“God, Griffin, that feels so much better when you do it than when I do.”
“Have you been touching yourself while you’ve been back? Thinking of me?”
She nodded. “I was touching myself before I got back here thinking about you.”
He circled her clit again and then slipped his finger into her tight heat. He leaned in and kissed her, long and deep, and he felt her pussy clench around his finger. He stroked her gently, making sure she was wet and ready, then added a second finger. He curled his fingers, finding her G-spot—validated by her, “Oh my God, Griffin, yes, there,” as she gripped his shoulders. He rubbed lazily over the sweet spot, gradually increasing the pressure and rhythm until her fingers digging into his shoulders became nearly painful, and she threw her head back, moving against his fingers, seeking release.
“Griffin, Griffin, Griffin,” she chanted breathlessly. Her eyes were closed, her hair was swinging, her breasts bouncing.
His name on her lips was so fucking sweet.
“Charlie,” he groaned in response.
He was never going to recover from this.
And then she was there, clamping down and calling his name.
“Charlie, you are—”
She leaned in and covered his mouth in a hot kiss before he could finish the thought. He slipped his hand from her body and gripped her hips, bringing her against his aching cock. She held his face and kissed him deep and hot. Then she sat back, breathing hard. And grinning.
“You ready for me?” she asked.
No. No way. “I’ve been ready for you for two months,” he told her.
That was true if they were talking about sex.
Not if they were talking about falling in love with her.
But he’d deal with that later.
Especially after she wrapped her hand around his cock and lifted her ass, moved forward, and then lowered herself onto him.
He slid in easily. They both moaned. She took his face in her hands again and kissed him, their bodies fully joined. He cupped the back of her head, holding her still as he stroked her tongue, tasting her, drinking her in.
Finally, they broke apart. She rested her forehead on his. They both just breathed. Hard.
“This is… this feels… better than… anything.”
She was having trouble finding her words. Damn. He felt downright proud about that.
And that was all it took for him to fall face-first the rest of the way into infatuation.
He’d made Charlotte Landry stumble over expressing herself. That was a trophy-worthy accomplishment right there.
“It sure fucking does,” he agreed, squeezing her hip.
“Is it… the hay?” She lifted her head and gave him a mischievous smile. “Because I might just replace all my furniture with hay bales.”
And he was grinning. Like a dumbass. While balls deep inside of her.
What the hell did this woman do to him?
“It’s the hay,” he said. “But only this hay bale. You want to feel like this”—He lifted her and then lowered her on his cock, slowly, relishing every inch as he sank deep— “you have to keep coming here.”
Dang, he was flirting. And telling her that he’d really like her to stick around. Or at least come back after she left.
But all of those thoughts were obliterated when she rewarded him with another lift and lower, taking him fully. She was tight, but it was like a glove around him. A hot, wet glove.
“Well, Dr. Foster, you have very nice hay.”
He was saved from having to flirt any further, thank God, by her picking up the pace.
He was right there with her. This he understood. This he could handle.
He gripped her hips, she gripped his shoulders, and they moved together.
Until… a loud bleat interrupted them.
They both froze.
No. No. Damn goats. He looked over to find Sugar watching them.
She bleated at them again.
This was not okay. How the fuck had he forgotten about the animals?
Of course, that needed no actual thought. Charlie. Charlie was how he’d forgotten about the animals. And forgotten not to get attached and to protect his heart.
“She’s going to take a bite out of my ass, isn’t she?” Charlie asked.
He moved his hands to cover her cheeks. “No.” But he wasn’t entirely sure that was true. It might be her leg if it wasn’t her butt.
Charlie frowned at the goat. “Knock it off. You’re not his type.”
Sugar bleated in answer and took a step forward.
“Swear to God, little girl, you even take a nip at me, and I’ll keep Griffin out of this barn and away from you for two weeks,” Charlie told her.
Sugar gave her a loud, “Blaaaaa!” But she didn’t come closer.
“That’s right. He’s mine. You can flirt with him when he comes to feed you and give you medicine or whatever he does, but keep your hooves to yourself. Got it?”
Griffin was shocked to feel laughter rippling up from his gut through his chest.
He was fucking Charlie Landry. On a hay bale in an animal barn. With a goat looking on.
And not only was she completely into it and not upset about the hay and the smell, but she was engaging his goat stalker in conversation.
Sugar lifted her chin and gave her another blast of annoyed goat language.
“Fine. I’ll get you a boy goat,” Charlie said. “But you need to go to your stall now. Stalker and voyeur is not cool.”
Griffin stared as Sugar turned and headed for Hermione’s stall. It wasn’t hers, but he wasn’t going to argue.
Charlie turned back to him. “Now, where were we?”
She started to lift herself, but he gripped her hips, stopping her.
She looked startled, but he quickly shook his head. “That was…”