A Date With the Other Side (16 page)

He should have quit while he was ahead.

Shelby shoved open the big door and disappeared into the barn.

“Aren’t we trespassing?” Though they had actually approached the property from the back, he could see a white farmhouse not too far ahead. A dog was barking as he ducked inside after Shelby.

“No, I have a standing invitation to take my tour through here. In exchange, I take the groups by the Bigleys’ produce and honey stand. They usually sell about fifty to a hundred dollars a week to the tour-goers so they consider it worth it to have me in their barn. But this week they’re in West Virginia visiting relatives for the holiday weekend.”

It wasn’t a big barn, in Boston’s ignorant opinion. It was also empty except for a tractor and a big pile of hay. It didn’t even smell.

“I thought barns had animals. This is just a tractor garage.”

Shelby turned to face him, hands on her hips. “It is, really. The Bigleys built a bigger barn ten years ago, but they can’t tear this one down for historical preservation reasons. This barn is a hundred and fifty years old. So they just store the tractor here.”

“What’s the hay for?” Boston walked over and stuck his toe into the big pile.

“It’s actually straw, not hay. And it’s used for the dirt drive when it’s muddy so the tractor doesn’t get stuck.”

Shelby picked up a handful and poked him in the middle with it. “It won’t hurt you, you know. It’s actually very soft.”

The pile rose behind her, and she was smiling, a teasing glint in her eye, and the urge to tumble her back onto that straw was strong and arousing. He could just give her a little push, she’d fall back, legs splaying apart, breasts bouncing in that sexy little top, and he could go down between her thighs with his mouth…

“Boston?” Shelby peered closely at him. “What are you thinking about? You look awfully serious all of a sudden.”

Good God, he was actually fantasizing about taking a tumble in the hay. How was that for ironic. And actually it would be a tumble in the
straw
.

Ironic, maybe, but also a damn good idea. He was throbbing hard and unwilling to ignore the fact any longer. “I was thinking how you’d look laid out on the straw, spreading your legs for me.”

Shelby’s brows shot straight up under her hair. Her mouth slipped open, and a little raspy gasp of surprise flew out. She gave a nervous laugh. “You can’t be serious.”

“Very serious.” Boston took her hand and set it on his shaft jutting against his jeans.

Her hand was hot and her fingers jerked, and he closed his eyes for a split second before letting her go, allowing her to pull back if she wanted.

“This does seem serious,” she said, giving his cock a squeeze before moving away slowly, dragging down the length of him in a firm caress. “What should we do about it?”

“I think,” Boston said as he stuck his foot behind hers and gave her a push that sent her off balance, “that you should lie down and spread your legs.”

Shelby windmilled her arms, grabbed for him with a little squawk, but he sidestepped her and let her stumble backward into the straw, landing on her sexy little ass, shirt riding up to the curve of her breasts.

It was better than his fantasy, because in reality Shelby looked up at him with a raw sexual excitement, her eyes flashing with desire, her tongue dragging over her lip. Her succulent breasts strained beneath the little girl halter top, and her shorts hugged her crotch tightly, outlining the folds of her sex for him.

Then she dug her fingers into the straw and dropped her thighs wide open for him.

Boston let a moan escape, then bent down to experience his first romp in the straw.

Shelby couldn’t believe she was about to do it in the Bigleys’ barn, but even Strawberry the dead cow sitting on her couldn’t stop her now.

The way Boston looked at her, like she was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen in his life, made her feel willing to do just about anything. As he knelt between her knees, he just stared at her, eyes roaming from her lips to her breasts, to her crotch and up again, while his breath hitched, his eyes darkened, and that impressive bump in his jeans grew longer still.

And the longer he stared at her, the more she wanted him to touch her. The slicker her inner thighs became, saturating her panties with her want for him. Her shorts had ridden up, nudging into her behind and cupping her in front, and Boston ran his finger over the stitching right under the zipper. Right along the seam that separated her lips and her cheeks, and when he reverently slid his finger up and down, from her pubic bone down around, she gave a tiny whimper.

“Are you comfortable?” he asked, nose nudging into her belly button, lips skimming over her waistband.

“Yes.” The straw against her back was fine, but the ache pooling inside her was unbearable.

Still she knew she needed to tell him not to have high expectations for her. It was only fair to warn him so he wasn’t disappointed.

“Boston, you should know something,” she managed to say, clamping her eyes shut in embarrassment, while he pulled her shoes and socks off.

“What’s that?” The button on her shorts went, and his hot breath hit her skin as he took the zipper down.

“I…” She what? Shelby lost her thought when Boston sucked her flesh into his mouth, right above her panties, a strange restless longing ripping through her. She loved the action, the feel of him, but it was the wrong place. There he was only teasing, when she really wanted his mouth on hers, or her breasts, or down between her legs…

“What, beautiful? Tell me.”

Shelby forced her eyes open, watched the top of his head bent over her, felt his teeth graze her, nipping, tugging her panties down an inch. It felt so good, her body sensitive and straining up against him, but she had to tell him.

“I don’t have orgasms,” she blurted out, then nearly groaned when he went still against her.

His gaze was hooded when he glanced up. “Ever?”

“Well, not very often. I’m not a very passionate person,” she said as she lay on a straw pile in a barn with him draped all over her between her thighs. It occurred to her maybe she wasn’t being very convincing.

“You could have fooled me,” Boston said, sitting back up.

“I just thought you should know, so you don’t expect too much.” Shelby felt her cheeks burning and, with belated modesty, started to move her knees together.

His hand stopped her. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I was going to stand up. Finish the tour.” Crawl into a hole and die.

“Okay,” he agreed, tossing her legs back apart and pressing them against the bed of straw. “But first, I’m going to make you come.”

“You can’t,” she protested weakly, knowing she was right but enjoying the sudden look of determination on Boston’s face. Clearly he spotted a challenge.

“You don’t think I can?” He came in right over her, his erection pressing against her leg, his chest covering hers, his mouth hovering an inch above her lips, his eyes staring right into hers.

Shelby shook her head, a little frantic. Why wouldn’t he let her save him from mediocre sex? She couldn’t hold out much longer if he kept at it. “It’s not you, it’s me. Some people just don’t enjoy sex the way others do.”

Boston kissed her, hard, with lots of tongue and possession. Shelby groaned against him, her nipples strumming, thighs clenching around him.

He jerked back just as quickly and slid down lower and lower until he was hovering over her undone zipper. “You look aroused to me. Your eyes are wide, your breathing is hard. Your nipples are popping out of that little top, and if I’m not mistaken, your panties are damp.” He drew in a deep breath. “You even smell wet.”

Shelby shuddered, rolling her head back. He did have a point.

“Are you wet, Shelby?”

She shook her head, a strangled “No” coming out of her mouth.

“I don’t believe you.” He sat back on his haunches, pulled his T-shirt off, and tossed it in the dirt. Then he reached for her shorts. “Let’s find out. If you are wet, I bet I can make you come in less than five minutes. If you’re not, give me ten.”

It sounded so good, but he just really didn’t understand that she wanted to come, she really did, she just couldn’t. It was like her body got right to the store and then couldn’t walk inside. She could get real close, but could never tumble over the edge.

Her shorts went down, so tight from her attempt to look sexy that they dragged her panties to her knees on their downward path. Boston pulled her shorts over her ankles and sent them over by his T-shirt. He left her panties alone, hugging across her thighs, but baring her mound to him and making her feel very naughty.

The straw poked her backside a little as she slid around restlessly, but it was nothing but another turn-on. She had her pants down in a barn and Boston was determined to make her come. Dang, she wanted to oblige him, just for trying so hard.

Another tug behind her neck and he had her halter top un-done and was sliding it past her hips, down over her panties, dragging them with it, until suddenly in the still dusky air, she was completely naked before him.

“Oh, Shelby,” he said, sucking in hard. “You are absolutely
hot
.”

For a response, her nipples hardened. Boston actually smirked, the sexy bastard. Shelby threw a piece of straw at him. “Stop staring at me.” A girl could only take so much without being mortified to death or expiring from want.

The straw landed in his black hair and he ignored it. Instead he propped himself up on his elbows and spread her apart with his thumbs, taking another one of those long and searching looks at her most intimate spot.

Shelby squirmed, equal parts turned on and embarrassed. “Boston.” The tips of her toes were probably even blushing.

“You definitely look wet.” Boston dipped his index finger between her folds, just dusting across her clitoris and skimming over her swollen and slick flesh, never really sinking in. He spread her moisture back over the curve of her cheeks, then backtracked, and trailed hot wetness over both of her inner thighs. “You’re so wet you’ve got plenty to spare.”

And as if to prove his point, he drew his finger into his mouth and sucked.

Shelby was never so shocked in her whole life, and a squeaky “Oh!” flew out before she could stop herself. Because, while she was shocked, she was also titillated, eager to see what Boston would do next.

“Mmmm. You taste good.” Then he made a show of checking his watch. “I’ve got about four minutes left, right?”

Shelby had no idea, the very concept of time suddenly seeming ridiculous for stodgy people who weren’t getting sexually tortured in the most exquisite manner in a barn.

Boston’s body was taut, tense with arousal, his chest far from brawny, but powerful, lean, tightly coiled muscles that were hard and bunched beneath his skin. His jaw was locked, but he still managed a cocky grin.

His wet finger fell onto her nipple, brushing over it, dampening her areola, plucking at her until she arched toward him. “Boston!”

Any other desperate plea she was going to make was cut off by his kiss, heavy and open, his tongue swirling over hers while he teased first one nipple, then the other, cupping her breasts and nudging them together.

When he pulled back, he took her up with him, leaning her against his chest. Then while his mouth moved across hers and she struggled for oxygen, without the least little bit of warning, his finger sank into her, going deep as her muscles clenched around him and quivered with pleasure.

Breaking the kiss, he pushed her head against his chest. “Just lie there, Shelby, while I make you come. Do you want to come?”

Could there be a stupider question on this earth? “Yes.”

Nudging her thighs apart with his knee, Boston pulled his finger back and dragged it across her clitoris, pausing to make little circles around the swollen button. “Do you want to come hard?”

Eyes half closed as she let his chest hold up her head, Shelby breathed in the sweaty sexy scent of Boston’s skin, felt the sheen of moisture on his flesh in the humid barn, and arched her back as he drove into her.

“Yes, I want to come hard.” More than anything, she wanted to break right then over Boston’s hand and soak up the satisfaction.

He moved in and out with excruciating slowness, stilling her with a hand on her back whenever she tried to rock him to a faster rhythm. She was pulsing, building, aching toward that all-elusive orgasm, and she shuddered, clawing into his abdominal flesh.

“Yes, yes.”

The hand behind her skimmed over her backside and suddenly there was another finger nudging into her, coming from behind to join the one from the front, sliding into her hot cocoon with ease. Shelby gasped as her body stretched to accommodate him and he stroked her over and over.

Squeezing him, arching her back, burying her head in his chest as he drowned her in pleasure, Shelby cried out into his flesh, so close, so close, straining too hard, reaching for it, wanting to find it, but always staying just far enough back to keep her from it. Desperate, she sensed it slipping away, passing her over again, the train on the verge of rolling out without her, leaving her frustrated and unfulfilled yet another time.

Then Boston wiggled his back finger, while the front slid out and pressed her clitoris, and her head snapped back as her body jerked her out of her thoughts. There was an agonizing pause, everything stilled, goose bumps racing over her damp flesh, then suddenly she was there.

She came with great shuddering sobs, intense waves of ecstasy passing over her while his fingers stroked, stroked, milking maximum pleasure from her.

Clinging to him, she rode it out all the way, amazed and shocked and deeply, seriously pleased.

“Oh, my,” she said, sagging against him, burying her face in his smooth chest, the rapid beat of his heart filling her ear.

“You feel so good, Shelby.” He wiggled his finger still inside her. “I loved feeling you clench down on me, pulse as you came. You’re damn sexy.”

Shelby gave a little laugh. She couldn’t believe it. She’d had an orgasm in the Bigleys’ barn, and it had been
good
. Maybe just about the best she’d ever had.