16. Sixteen #2
“We can switch spots if that’s easiest.” I risk looking up at her again, and it is the wrong move. There’s a heat there—something I’d like to burn in.
Cass stares at me, her lips parted and chest rising and falling right along with mine. My blood heats instantly, breaking me out of whatever explanation I was giving. Despite the clear skies overhead, the air feels electric—just like the storms yesterday.
“What if,” she says, just loud enough for me to hear over the rumbling of the machine. “What if I do something wrong and need help?” Her tongue pokes out briefly as she swipes it at the corner of her bottom lip, and fuck. This was a terrible idea.
And I can say that because it wasn’t even my idea.
I’m suddenly counting yards behind us, wondering how far we have to travel for this lesson to feel private.
“I think you’ll do alright,” I encourage, swallowing to keep the words from creeping up my throat.
Somehow, I fail at the task. “If you’re nervous…
” The words linger—one last feeble attempt at keeping myself under control and maintaining my focus.
“If you’re nervous, you can sit on my lap.
I promise to be nothing but respectful.”
There.
It’s done.
The ball is in her court.
Right when I think she’s going to refuse, second-guessing the last twenty-four hours, Cass plants her ass firmly on my thigh. My senses light up like Christmas, and I’m back to sitting around the bonfire again.
I shift forward, acutely aware of every single place our bodies touch.
Cass perched on my leg, the rumble of the tractor beneath us, I go over the basics again.
This time, when I show her the gear shift and the throttle, I have an excuse to reach around her, for my arm to brush against hers, warm skin on skin.
When she confirms her understanding, Cass shifts to get a boot on the clutch, and when she presses it to the floor, her body slides back. Her ass glides up my thigh until things get dangerous.
I keep a firm grip on the wheel, steering to make sure we don’t hit anything, but there’s no way to keep myself from getting hard. There’s no way she won’t be able to feel it if—
The tractor jolts forward, and we’re moving.
With her hands joining mine on the wheel, Cass takes over and steers us through the open gates into the empty pasture. Trees line the outside of the field, separating us from the world behind us. Out here, we feel completely alone.
With every small bump, every subtle shift, I can only feel friction. My face goes hot when she slides back further, turning the wheel until we are traveling down the fenceline to the back of the field. It only serves to take us further from Walton and his prying eyes.
“You good?” I ask, my mouth dangerously close to her ear, lips mere millimeters away from where I can see her pulse fluttering.
The gear is so low on this thing that we are still crawling. It’s the best way to teach, because steering becomes easy—barely a job, especially on a straightaway.
Cass’s breath catches when I drift closer, my lips ghosting over her skin. This close, it’s easier to hear one another, but I just wish the damn farm equipment would be quieter. I want to drink in whatever sounds she’s making—whatever is happening between us.
“I’m perfect,” she answers, and I can’t help but agree. “You?”
“Right where I want to be.”
Slowly, Cass leans back into my chest, my arms still bracketing either side of her on the wheel. She shifts her hips, pushing until I know she can feel me there—hard and ready.
I wait to see how she will react, craving the feel of her on me. I want friction. I want sensation. I want her.
There’s a pause—a moment where I’m sure she’s about to hit the break and hop off the equipment, but she doesn’t.
Instead, Cassidy moves again, sliding forward in a move that has to be intentional.
I suck in a breath, the friction I wanted doing nothing to satisfy me. All it does is leave me aching and desperate.“Driving like a pro,” I praise, not knowing if it’s about her actual driving or if—
She arches her back again, more confident this time. It sends her ass sliding right over my cock. My lips have moved to hover over her bare shoulder, brushing the heated skin there. I’ve stopped watching where she’s steering us—which is a problem.
Another problem is that we haven’t stopped to pull the lever on the spreader. No work is currently getting done aside from burning up the gas in the tractor.
A rough drag of her down the length of my stiff cock, sliding over jeans, and I’m lost to her. To be frank, I care very little for what she does with this tractor. Whatever she’s currently doing? She’s excelling. “Atta girl,” I nearly whisper—not sure if she even heard it.
A groan pulls from her throat, heady and intoxicating as my hands find their way to her waist. I take the lead, guiding her on the next slide.
Backward, forward. Backward, forwa—
Fuck.
“You have to stop,” I breathe out.
The brakes jolt us as the tractor ceases moving. “Sorry,” she says, and I want to lick the pink that’s now colored her cheeks.
I’m throbbing, the need blazing hotter than a late August bonfire. If she kept going, I would have been done—gone within seconds.
“Sorry for what?” I question.
“For…” She hesitates. “You said I should stop.”
My hands still sit on either side of her hips as I watch the flush of embarrassment creep up her neck. We’re parked in the middle of the field, surrounded by grass and trees lining the fence. We’re alone.
I squeeze her hips, just slightly, leaning forward until my lips trail up her heated skin, all the way to the shell of her ear. “Only because I was about to come,” I admit, my voice low.
Cass lets out a shuddering breath, her foot still firmly on the brake. “Oh,” she breathes out.
She takes her hands off the wheel, placing them over mine with a gentle touch.
I’m so hard, I can’t think straight—can’t think beyond her bare shoulder, my lips, and the involuntary way I encourage her again with my hands.
Hesitantly, Cass arches her back, sliding her ass right over my cock again, the heat returning.
She rocks against me, her head tilting back. “Do you want to come?” she asks, punctuating the statement with another firm drag over my lap.
The sensation builds, and I can no longer think of a reason why that answer would ever be no.
Of course, I want to come.
Of course, I want to come with Cassidy Summers as the one making it happen.
I groan, tilting my head back when she drags over me again. “Yeah,” I say. “Yeah, I do.”
Cass takes that as permission, foot driving into the brake to keep us parked, hands braced on the wheel, she rocks herself against me, letting out harsh breaths with every push.
I watch her long hair sweep across her back, shifting with every movement. My entire body is set aflame—burning up in the atmosphere that is her.
I give in, guiding her hips with my hands, lifting myself off the seat to get more friction—more sensation until I’m consumed by sunshine and long conversations—by sugary coffee and—shit.
“That’s it,” I groan, watching as she tilts her head back, staring up at the blue sky. She arches again, and I watch as her ass slides back, watch the bulge in my jeans as my orgasm builds. “Go on,” I encourage, my fingers leaving dents in her sides. “Finish what you started.”
She takes me up on that offer.
I’m thrusting, meeting every motion as I pull her hips down. There’s more pressure, and everything is building, building—
When I feel the pleasure crest, I hold her against me, stilling her as I fill my jeans.
Fuck.
This was not thought through. Somehow, we need to get the spreader going, drive around this field until it’s empty, and I have to make it back to the barn without being seen so I can go up to the house and change.
“Shit,” I breathe, my chest heaving. I still haven’t had a proper conversation with her. Instead of doing my job, I’ve completely lost control.
And you know what?
I let out another deep breath.
I don’t think I care. The farm is running. The horses are happy. What’s needed done is getting done. I’ve completely lost my control, and I liked it.
When Cass turns to look at me, a satisfied smile teases the edges of her mouth. Her gaze slides down to where our bodies meet, and back up.
“Might want to clean up,” she taunts. “I can help you make your escape into the house when we get back. I’m very stealthy.”
I huff a laugh before adjusting the backward ballcap on my head. The sun lights up her features, reminding me of how beautiful she is—or just reaffirming. It’s difficult to forget anything about Cass.
“I think I remember seeing some of the stealth when you fought off a flock of geese a few months ago.”
She stands, hopping off the tractor with ease as she moves to pull the lever on the spreader, and I’m graced with the dark spot on my jeans.
I run a hand down my face. “A fucking teenager,” I mutter.
When Cassidy hops back up onto the tractor, she perches herself on my knee, careful to avoid the proof of what we just did.
And as we circle the field, even as we return to the empty barn, and I scramble my way to the house, narrowly avoiding Roe on the way, I can’t help but think about how badly I want to do it all over again.