Tal

TAL

It’s been a long day, but at least I was alone instead of entertaining somebody else. I got a lot done. Step’s repaired, tomatoes are picked, drew the dirt up on the potato hills, and fixed my wild boar pit. Hope springs eternal.

I’ve been down in the creek for maybe ten minutes, just soaking. I finished washing up, and now I’m just enjoying myself. The water is clear and cool, it’s shady down here, and the breeze is barely moving the leaves on the trees. A song came to me, and I’ve been singing for about five minutes, just listening to the sound of the notes and the feelings of the words as they pour out of me. One of the songs was Gigi’s favorite, and I remember singing it to her when she was small. It hurts my heart to hear the words come out of my mouth, but it’s oddly comforting too.

When I finish it, I dunk myself under the water’s surface once more, then climb out. I never bring a towel or clothes, just slip on my shower shoes and let the air do the work on the way to the cabin. The sun warms my skin as soon as I step out of the shade, and from somewhere in the brightness, a voice says, “Well, hello there!”

It takes me a few blinks and a hand to shade my eyes before I see her standing there—Morrow. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I need to talk to you. Aren’t you even going to try to cover yourself?” she asks, a grin stretching across her face.

“Why? You know what a man looks like, and I don’t owe you any modesty. You just walked up on me on my own property, so you deserve whatever you get.” I haven’t even slowed down, just step right up in front of her.

“I deserve whatever I get? What am I going to get?”

That was not the kind of response I was expecting. “I dunno. What do you want?” She’s looking me up and down, and that’s not lost on me. “Something particular in mind?” When she doesn’t answer me, I take two steps closer. My cock is almost touching her. “Speak.” One of her eyebrows rises ever so slightly, and her lips part. I can see the tip of her tongue, and it darts out to wet her lower lip just as her nostrils flare. “I know what you want.”

Her breathing has changed, and her cheeks are slightly pinker than they were a minute ago. “Oh, yeah? What do I want?”

“You want a fucking.”

“You think so?” That’s her attempt at being coy, and it’s not working. She’s about as coy as a preacher’s daughter with a hickey the size of a tennis ball on her neck.

My voice is nothing more than a low growl. “Just say it. If you want it, just say it.”

She’s practically panting when she says, “Yes. I want a fucking.”

“Then don’t be mad when that’s exactly what you get.”