After her second beer, she felt a little glow in her stomach and a hot flush in her cheeks. She giggled a little more too. She rarely giggled, except when she drank. She let Drew pull her back from the fire and take her behind one of the trees. He kissed her mouth, her cheeks, and her neck. His hands finally managed to fully cup her breasts. It felt nice, and she made a soft, almost purring, sound. He grew bolder the longer they stood there, making out, and pressing her up against him. She grew kind of warm and achy where he began thickening against her. It was… a curious sensation. She was also a little bit curious to see what a penis looked like in real life. She’d seen plenty of pictures to know how they looked, but she’d never… handled one. Or touched one. Or looked at a real naked one.
His hands cupped her butt as he suddenly groaned. His mouth traveled down to the top of her tank top and pushed it down a little.
“Let’s go to your room,” he mumbled while blowing warm air on top of the material that covered her nipple. “Don’t need another visit from Ian Eff-ing Rydell.”
She suddenly straightened her back. “Did you say Ian? What are you talking about?”
Drew popped his head back up and started nibbling on her neck again. She most likely would have a hickey tomorrow. “He came into the feed store and freaking warned me to stay away from you. Can you believe that prick? As if I’m some kind of danger to you.”
“Why would he do that?” Her voice sounded way too high. She pushed him back to get his attention off her neck. “Why would Ian come and warn you to stay away from me?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “How the hell’s bells should I know?” He pulled up on her butt and groaned again at the sensation. She didn’t. Her mind was otherwise occupied, trying to figure out why Ian Rydell would warn her boyfriend to stay away from her. The nerve! What was wrong with that man? He was so freaking weird.
“Your room?”
“What? Oh, yes, sure.”
She let him drop his hands before he followed her to the bedroom. He closed the door and lay down on her neatly made bed. Still wearing his dusty cowboy boots, she cringed as he crossed his ankles on her bed and the loose dirt fell off his boots and splattered all over her clean bedspread. She felt her mouth tightening. Didn’t he have any manners? Putting his dirty boots on her bed? He pulled her forward and started the nuzzling all over again. She, however, was still glaring at the offensive boots while trying to make herself forget about them, and simply seize the moment. But her gaze kept wandering down there as he shifted around to get more comfortable, causing even more dirt to fall on her bed. What if there was dried horse crap in that mess? There most likely was. Drew was fondling her now, and feeling her up. He kept kissing her while he kept trying pretty hard to lower her shirt over her breasts. He groaned, moaned, and tried to persuade her. She wanted to groan and moan, but all she could think about were his freaking boots. She suddenly ripped her mouth from his and sat up. Why couldn’t she just be normal? Or just get turned on? Or want to have sex? Why did she persist on making more of it than she should have? Why didn’t she just enjoy it? Who obsessed over filthy boots when her boyfriend was trying so diligently to make her feel nice?
“I think… I think that’s enough for tonight.”
He suddenly swore. “Are you kidding me? You’re going to blueball me like this? I thought… bringing me in here you were finally ready to spread those legs of yours.”
She shut her eyes. She didn’t like to talk about sex like that. She didn’t like to call it banging, or getting laid, or putting out, or hooking up… or all the other things most people called it. She didn’t like people who used crude language. Yet, for her entire life, that was all she was ever exposed to. Her brothers, their friends, her father, and her mother
His hands cupped her butt as he suddenly groaned. His mouth traveled down to the top of her tank top and pushed it down a little.
“Let’s go to your room,” he mumbled while blowing warm air on top of the material that covered her nipple. “Don’t need another visit from Ian Eff-ing Rydell.”
She suddenly straightened her back. “Did you say Ian? What are you talking about?”
Drew popped his head back up and started nibbling on her neck again. She most likely would have a hickey tomorrow. “He came into the feed store and freaking warned me to stay away from you. Can you believe that prick? As if I’m some kind of danger to you.”
“Why would he do that?” Her voice sounded way too high. She pushed him back to get his attention off her neck. “Why would Ian come and warn you to stay away from me?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “How the hell’s bells should I know?” He pulled up on her butt and groaned again at the sensation. She didn’t. Her mind was otherwise occupied, trying to figure out why Ian Rydell would warn her boyfriend to stay away from her. The nerve! What was wrong with that man? He was so freaking weird.
“Your room?”
“What? Oh, yes, sure.”
She let him drop his hands before he followed her to the bedroom. He closed the door and lay down on her neatly made bed. Still wearing his dusty cowboy boots, she cringed as he crossed his ankles on her bed and the loose dirt fell off his boots and splattered all over her clean bedspread. She felt her mouth tightening. Didn’t he have any manners? Putting his dirty boots on her bed? He pulled her forward and started the nuzzling all over again. She, however, was still glaring at the offensive boots while trying to make herself forget about them, and simply seize the moment. But her gaze kept wandering down there as he shifted around to get more comfortable, causing even more dirt to fall on her bed. What if there was dried horse crap in that mess? There most likely was. Drew was fondling her now, and feeling her up. He kept kissing her while he kept trying pretty hard to lower her shirt over her breasts. He groaned, moaned, and tried to persuade her. She wanted to groan and moan, but all she could think about were his freaking boots. She suddenly ripped her mouth from his and sat up. Why couldn’t she just be normal? Or just get turned on? Or want to have sex? Why did she persist on making more of it than she should have? Why didn’t she just enjoy it? Who obsessed over filthy boots when her boyfriend was trying so diligently to make her feel nice?
“I think… I think that’s enough for tonight.”
He suddenly swore. “Are you kidding me? You’re going to blueball me like this? I thought… bringing me in here you were finally ready to spread those legs of yours.”
She shut her eyes. She didn’t like to talk about sex like that. She didn’t like to call it banging, or getting laid, or putting out, or hooking up… or all the other things most people called it. She didn’t like people who used crude language. Yet, for her entire life, that was all she was ever exposed to. Her brothers, their friends, her father, and her mother
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