in the ignition and--holy hell. The vibrations were magical, pushing his hard dick against her. Her eyes drifted shut and her head fell back, her breath escaping in a soft sigh. He captured her breasts briefly, feeling her nipples stab his palms through the thin fabric of her bra, before he slid his fingertips beneath the waistband of her jeans.
She shifted forward, denying his touch, and a moan escaped her lips. All right, then. She wanted to come with his cock against her.
"Drive," she urged.
"How am I supposed to see where I'm going?"
She lowered her head to his shoulder, as if that was an answer.
"I want to see your face when you come." Jesus, he wanted to whip out his dick right now and shove it in her, but he hadn't brought condoms.
"So close," she whimpered against his neck. "Drive."
He reached for the gear and shifted blindly, looking over her shoulder to make sure he didn't run into a damned tree or something. She didn't wriggle on him. No, she seemed content to let the tractor do all the work. The tractor and his aching dick. She owed him something good after this.
The road was rutted, and the first bump dislodged her. She righted herself, her legs tight about his hips, and when he hit the next bump, he felt her come. Her hips rolled forward, determined to keep contact, as the rest of her body started moving in boneless waves, her breath uneven against his throat.
He gripped her ponytail and pulled her head back so he could watch the play of pleasure across her face, then he reached between them to unbuckle his belt, ready to stroke one out right there. God, his balls ached.
The beep of a horn behind him had him gripping the wheel with both hands and taking his foot off the gas. But the truck that honked was on the other side of the fence, his neighbors tooting a hello. Kennedy burrowed her face deeper into his shoulder.
"God, do you think they saw me? That they know what I was doing?"
Luke had caught the thumbs up sign from the passenger which let him know they knew exactly what she'd been doing. But he rubbed her lower back. "No, sweetheart."
The urgency to get back to the house and pound into her had eased, especially when she pulled herself together and decided to stand on the running board instead of sit on his lap. She didn't meet his gaze, which was fine since he needed to keep his attention on their path, anyway.
"Are you hungry?" she asked, swinging off the tractor onto the porch when he slowed.
"Let me mow a bit, then I'll be in," he said, needing to get himself under control. He wasn't sure why he needed to be in control out here, but he hated not being in control. And Kennedy was rough on that. So he let her go into the house--she seemed grateful, if the posture of her shoulders was any clue--and he put the tractor in gear.
He wasn't sure how he heard her scream over the puttering engine, but somehow it pierced the low sound. He yanked the brake, killed the motor and bolted for the house, drawing his gun from his holster. Had to be a snake. Had to be.
"Kennedy!" he shouted when he burst through the door, damn near taking the screen off its hinges.
"The bedroom," she called back. "It's okay. It's okay. I'm sorry."
He rounded the corner to see her standing outside the bedroom, her hand stretched toward him, placating. He holstered the gun but didn't slow, grabbing her arms when he reached her, needing to make sure she was all right.
"What the hell happened?"
"Unexpected company." She nodded toward the bedroom.
He rested his hand on the gun again, expecting to see a snake or rat or possum. What he saw was the barn cat laying on the foot of the bed, panting heavily.
"I thought she was dying," Kennedy said quietly, following Luke into the bed.
Not dying, no. Having kittens. On his bed. Shit.
She'd had two, and both were still in the sack. Christ, had she never had a litter before? Where was her instinct to tear the placenta from around her babies? Pulling his
She shifted forward, denying his touch, and a moan escaped her lips. All right, then. She wanted to come with his cock against her.
"Drive," she urged.
"How am I supposed to see where I'm going?"
She lowered her head to his shoulder, as if that was an answer.
"I want to see your face when you come." Jesus, he wanted to whip out his dick right now and shove it in her, but he hadn't brought condoms.
"So close," she whimpered against his neck. "Drive."
He reached for the gear and shifted blindly, looking over her shoulder to make sure he didn't run into a damned tree or something. She didn't wriggle on him. No, she seemed content to let the tractor do all the work. The tractor and his aching dick. She owed him something good after this.
The road was rutted, and the first bump dislodged her. She righted herself, her legs tight about his hips, and when he hit the next bump, he felt her come. Her hips rolled forward, determined to keep contact, as the rest of her body started moving in boneless waves, her breath uneven against his throat.
He gripped her ponytail and pulled her head back so he could watch the play of pleasure across her face, then he reached between them to unbuckle his belt, ready to stroke one out right there. God, his balls ached.
The beep of a horn behind him had him gripping the wheel with both hands and taking his foot off the gas. But the truck that honked was on the other side of the fence, his neighbors tooting a hello. Kennedy burrowed her face deeper into his shoulder.
"God, do you think they saw me? That they know what I was doing?"
Luke had caught the thumbs up sign from the passenger which let him know they knew exactly what she'd been doing. But he rubbed her lower back. "No, sweetheart."
The urgency to get back to the house and pound into her had eased, especially when she pulled herself together and decided to stand on the running board instead of sit on his lap. She didn't meet his gaze, which was fine since he needed to keep his attention on their path, anyway.
"Are you hungry?" she asked, swinging off the tractor onto the porch when he slowed.
"Let me mow a bit, then I'll be in," he said, needing to get himself under control. He wasn't sure why he needed to be in control out here, but he hated not being in control. And Kennedy was rough on that. So he let her go into the house--she seemed grateful, if the posture of her shoulders was any clue--and he put the tractor in gear.
He wasn't sure how he heard her scream over the puttering engine, but somehow it pierced the low sound. He yanked the brake, killed the motor and bolted for the house, drawing his gun from his holster. Had to be a snake. Had to be.
"Kennedy!" he shouted when he burst through the door, damn near taking the screen off its hinges.
"The bedroom," she called back. "It's okay. It's okay. I'm sorry."
He rounded the corner to see her standing outside the bedroom, her hand stretched toward him, placating. He holstered the gun but didn't slow, grabbing her arms when he reached her, needing to make sure she was all right.
"What the hell happened?"
"Unexpected company." She nodded toward the bedroom.
He rested his hand on the gun again, expecting to see a snake or rat or possum. What he saw was the barn cat laying on the foot of the bed, panting heavily.
"I thought she was dying," Kennedy said quietly, following Luke into the bed.
Not dying, no. Having kittens. On his bed. Shit.
She'd had two, and both were still in the sack. Christ, had she never had a litter before? Where was her instinct to tear the placenta from around her babies? Pulling his
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