Bram clears his throat, and I reluctantly look back at him. Maybe he can see in my eyes that I’m just daring him to say something, so he looks away, busying himself by picking up a menu. I can’t help but smirk at that. For all of Bram’s money and affluence, he’s still a bit intimidated by his younger cousin.
The lunch ends up going smoothly, and even though Linden was grating on my nerves yesterday, he’s more subdued today. Maybe it’s the hangover. Everyone has been turned down a few notches. Still, when the waitress comes by to take away our empty plates, I find myself sighing internally with relief. As much as I honestly do care for Bram and Linden, and I don’t mind Nicola and Steph, all I want to do is spend my last moments with the woman next to me. Little by little, I can feel that darkness creeping in, snaking black fingers that take hold of your brain, and I want to do what I can to keep them at bay.
Even though they seem to increase when I’m thinking about Kayla, she’s also the cure.
We all make tentative plans to meet later on at the bowling alley bar inside the hotel, even though in the back of my head I know I’m not going to show up. I’ll say goodbye to them in the morning. That will be enough for me.
The minute they leave and get in their cars, I grab Kayla’s hand and lead her along the peeling paint fence toward one of the barns in the background. Unlike the barns used for the restaurant and wine tasting, this one looks neglected.
“Where are you taking me?” she asks as I look around, checking to see if anyone is looking. From this angle there’s nothing in sight except hayfields and rows of grapes.
“I know you’re not too keen on the dog watching us,” I tell her, leading her into the barn, past farm equipment, to the ladder that leads up to the hayloft.
“I’m also not too keen on rolling around in rat poop,” she says.
I shoot her a smile and start to climb the ladder. “Wait there. Let me check.” I climb and pop my head over the edge. It’s not packed with hay, but there are a lot of bales stacked along one side, some of the hay loose and spreading onto the floor. It will be comfortable enough. And no, I don’t see any rats.
I step off the ladder and wave her up. “Come on,” I say quietly. “The hay is fine.”
She purses her lips, thinking it over. I stand at the edge and unzip my cargo pants, bringing my dick out of them, already stiff as a board.
Her eyes widen as I knew they would. My girl is a hungry little creature.
“I’ll be right up,” she says, her mouth parting sweetly as she clamors up the ladder. When she gets to the top, she stays down on her knees. Her hands grab the back of my thighs, her nails digging in, and she stares up at me with burning eyes.
She doesn’t break eye contact with me—I’m starting to think she gets off by watching me get off. I’ve been with my fair share of women, but none of them were as brazen as she is, not even close. And it’s not that I feel like she’s lusting over me like a slab of meat. At the beginning, maybe. But now, it’s more than that.
At least, I hope it’s more.
She takes me in her mouth, working me softly, sweetly, but oh so fucking wild. I close my eyes and throw my head back, both wanting her to continue and wanting her to stop.
When I’m close to coming, I pull back, breathless. She stares at me, soulful, yearning, her perfect mouth open and glistening, practically begging for my cum.
I lick my lips and grab her by the arms, hauling her up beside me. I put one hand behind her head, feeling how small she is, how perfectly she fits in my palm. The urge to protect her or fuck her is a war raged deep inside, all the time. No wonder she’s driving me mad.