Nuts

“Let’s be clear,” he murmured, nipping at me a bit. “I wanted to bend you over that barrel out back and shuck you until there was corn silk everywhere.”


I closed my eyes at the sudden image of Leo, strong and naked, glorious and naked, and also naked, thrusting into me from behind as he tipped me merrily over a rain barrel, while fireworks lit up the night sky and corn silk blew lazily across the yard. Instant heat bloomed low and my hips arched backward, seeking contact with anything that resembled a cornstalk. As one of his hands slipped under my shirt I felt my heart pound faster, my blood racing around my body.

My lips felt lonely. My breasts felt heavy and full. My hips felt in need of very specific guidance, mostly of the back-and-forth kind. And other areas felt achingly empty. I tipped my head back onto his chest. As his mouth moved against my neck, his scent surrounded me, earthy and grassy and salty sun-browned. I looked down as he started popping open my buttons, and saw his hands on my body. Wide, strong, and a little dirty, the line of dirt embedded underneath his nails persisting even though I know he scrubbed before coming over. Coarse, callused, hardworking hands, which were gentle as they eased my shirt from my shoulders to pool on the scuffed floor that was used to long, hot, dirty days. I wanted the same thing from him.

Long, hot, dirty days. And nights.

I spun around, letting him surround me as he leaned me back against the sink. His eyes burned as he took in my red and white and blue, and he grinned, realizing that I’d planned to celebrate this holiday with him in the naughtiest way possible.

“Look at you, Sugar Snap,” he whispered, lifting me as easily as he might lift a kitten, setting me on the edge of the counter, spreading my legs in one swift move. He stood between them and pulled my legs around him as I balanced right on the edge. Then with one finger, placed exactly in the center of my stomach, he poked me. And I fell with a splash into the sink.

“What? Seriously—what?” I sputtered, legs flapping and water flying everywhere.

Leo held me at arm’s length and just laughed and laughed. But when his eyes met mine again, they were less mischievous and more devious. His hands, which had been keeping me from climbing out of the sink while he laughed, now slipped under the water, sliding along the inside of my thighs, underneath my shorts and—

“You’re wet,” he remarked, his gaze heated.

“Well, yeah,” I replied, gripping the edge of the sink as his fingers dipped lower against my—

“Not just from the water.” He moved closer, flush against the counter, as I found myself leaning into his hand, bobbing in the sink. My breath caught. The passion that was always bubbling just under the surface was now catching fire, sending tingles to the tips of everything.

“Did you know your eyes change color?” he murmured, his gaze heated as looked at me closely, so closely.

“Hmm?” I tried hard to keep my eyes open, when all I wanted to do was close them and relish these feelings.

“They change. When you’re excited.” His fingers slipped inside my panties. My back arched involuntarily, and I held so very tight to the edge.

“I know they change . . . color when I’m . . . frustrated . . . fuck, that feels good.”

“They’re usually this light hazel color, maybe a little blue, maybe a little brown, but when they go green . . . mmm.” He sped up his fingers. Which sped up my breathing. He leaned closer, pressing his lips to my neck, kissing a path upwards to just below my ear, where he whispered, “Did you know they go full green? Right before you come?”

I groaned. This man knew me; knew me so well. He stood back a bit, studying me.

Alice Clayton's books