Chapter 21

CHAPTER 21

JESS

S late looked positively disgusted as he watched me demonstrate how to milk Pepper. On the inside, I was cracking up at the repulsed look on his face, but on the outside, I tried my best to remain impassive, even if he did look like someone had smeared crap on his upper lip.

"Okay," I said. "You want to begin by squeezing with your thumb and index finger as high up as possible on the udder."

I folded my hands around his, moving them into position and then using my own fingers on top of his to show him the movement. "Trap the milk like this, and then squeeze the remaining fingers while you keep trapping the milk."

He nearly reared back when the first squirt of milk came out, yanking his feet out of the splash zone just in case it missed the pail. Holding back laughter, I admonished him playfully. "Be gentle, Slate. No woman wants her teats handled that way."

He rolled his eyes before he smirked at me. "I don't remember you having complaints about the way I handled your teats."

Unable to resist, I stuck my tongue out at him. "You're going to pay for that one."

"I already am," he said, giving his hands on the udder a pointed look. "It's not like I'm doing this for the fun of it."

"But you will be," I teased. "As soon as you realize how relaxing it actually is."

"It's harder to get it out than I thought," he mused out loud, but soon, he had the hang of it and I set up Daisy beside him.

Moving over to her, I kept a close eye on Slate and Pepper, but it didn't take him long to stop looking so disgusted. In fact, he seemed to start enjoying himself not so long after I'd left him alone with her.

"This isn't that bad," he said, sounding surprised. He even flashed me a charming smile over his shoulder. "Told you I was good at teats."

Which reminds me .

Now that he was into the swing of things, I aimed one of Daisy's teats at him and shot him in the back with milk from my cow. Slate nearly leaped out of his skin when the hot spray hit him. I shrieked with laughter, watching him leap up from his stool like a ballerina and prance around, trying to peel his wet shirt off.

Just as he exposed a sliver of his abs, I shot him again, but I'd lost the element of surprise. He dropped the hem of his shirt, getting a gleam in his eye. He bent over and reached for Pepper's udder once more.

Carefully taking aim, he held her teat like a gun, even making sound effects as he shot me back. "Pew, pew, pew."

Laughter bubbled out of me and I ducked, but as soon as I shifted to be able to reach Daisy's udder, he fired.

Hot milk hit the base of my throat and I glared at him, trying my best to look serious. "Oh, you've gone and done it now, mister."

"Me?" he asked incredulously, sending another spray of milk my way. "Last I checked, I was minding my own business when you started this."

While he'd been speaking, I'd slowly positioned my fingers on Daisy's teat. Before he could see it coming, I shot him again. Soon, we were both drenched, laughing our heads off as we tried in vain to flick some of the creamy milk off our skins.

Good to know he doesn't take himself too seriously.

"Truce?" I stood up and patted Daisy's butt with my free hand. "Thanks, girl. You're a champ."

"Pepper here is the champ," Slate said and gave Pepper's back a rub before glancing down at himself. "God, this is a mess. Truce."

"Yep," I agreed, feeling the milk between my boobs and running along my stomach to gather at the hem of my wet jeans. "A sticky mess. We should go get cleaned up. It won't be long until we start reeking."

"I'm pretty sure we already do." He smirked, then lowered his head and shook out his hair like a dog, managing to hit me with a few more droplets. "Race you to the shower?"

"You're on." I didn't hesitate, spinning around and taking off in the direction of the house. I was pretty fast, but Slate's long legs ate up the distance, and the fact that I'd started laughing again didn't help my cause.

As I ran, I noticed that my dad's truck wasn't back yet. They'd gone to the bank to find out about that loan, which was why I'd been feeling so melancholy earlier when Slate had found me. If they still hadn't returned, I assumed they'd stopped to grab some lunch at the sandwich shop or maybe popped in to say hi to friends on a neighboring farm.

Either way, the milk currently drying on my skin made it difficult to worry about what was taking them so long. Slate reached the front door before I did, tossing his hands up in victory and doing a little dancing jig.

He shimmied his hips, a big grin on his face. He pulled some moves that made me arch an eyebrow at him. "Are you humping the air?"

"No, I was dancing," he said indignantly, but that shimmer of barely restrained laughter in his eyes caught my attention. "Why? Is it getting you all hot and bothered?"

"I'm hot and bothered, alright, which is why I'm taking a shower first."

He abruptly stopped dancing and shook his head. "I was here first and I'm the guest."

"What is it people always say?" I asked, pretending to need a minute to think as we shed our shoes and socks on the porch. "Oh, that's right. Ladies first."

"Not when the lady started a milk fight," he protested. Then he laughed and took off running again, his footsteps thundering up the stairs.

I squealed, dropping my shoes and taking off after him. To my surprise, when I reached the bathroom, the door was still open. He hadn't shut it behind him, reaching into the shower to get the water running first.

While he was fidgeting with the old faucet, I grinned and took off my shirt, letting it land in the tub with a wet plop. The sound made him jerk his head around. His eyes widened when he saw me standing there in just a milky bra.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

I reached for the button of my jeans and started shimmying out of them. "It's nothing you haven't seen before. We're both desperate to get in there and I guess there's no real reason to wait."

Slate kept watching me as I pulled off my jeans and discarded them in the tub with my shirt. I felt my lips inching into a smirk as I strode past him. "Be sure to put your clothes in the tub instead of the hamper. I'll rinse them before we put them in the washer."

It was the least sexy thing I could imagine saying in that moment, but Slate's eyes were heated on mine as he nodded. As I opened the shower door, he suddenly turned and locked the bathroom door. Then he stripped, all the while keeping those gorgeous light honey brown eyes on mine.

I refused to break eye contact, but in my periphery, I watched closely as he lifted his shirt, exposing washboard abs and trim hips, and more importantly, that delicate line of hair that stretched from his belly button down.

Water filled my mouth. My breath stuck in my lungs as he flung the shirt into the tub. Then he deftly flicked open the button on his jeans and unzipped. Meanwhile, the room was heating up in more ways than one. A slight cloud of steam rose from the shower and misted the mirror.

It gave the whole scene an almost dreamlike feel and I was here for it. Later, I'd probably be kicking my own ass about this, but right then, I was loving it.

Slate pushed his jeans down deliberately, keeping his black boxer-briefs on as he stepped out of the pants and added them to the pile of clothes in the tub. Finally, I couldn't help myself anymore.

My gaze dropped and I drank him in from the tops of his bare feet to the strong curves of his calves and the thick muscles in his thighs. Obviously, I glimpsed the package hiding behind his underwear, and there was definitely something happening there.

Although his boxers weren't wet and hugging him, and his dick wasn't creating a full tent, there was a very obvious stretching of the fabric. It told me his magnificent cock was waking up.

A soft groan reached my ears. When I looked up, his eyelids were heavier than they had been before. He stalked toward me, zeroing in on me like prey. I walked backward, careful to step over the lip of the shower as I backed up until my ass touched warm tile.

Slate didn't stop moving until his front pressed against mine and my back was fully supported by the wall. He braced his elbows against the tiles, penning me in before his mouth descended on mine. I moaned, winding my arms around his neck and bringing him closer.

As his tongue stroked my lips, he dropped his hands to my hips, gripping them tight and moving us under the spray. I giggled into his mouth, unsticking my torso from his to allow the water to run between us.

Space was the last thing I wanted, but we sure needed it. Slate grinned against my lips. His tongue dipped into my mouth, and he made me see stars. Then he suddenly lifted his head away and ran a hand into my hair.

He gripped it gently, tipping my head back to let the water soak it. I swallowed, my nipples already on high alert and my core aching for attention. Friction.

As he worked his fingers through my hair, he brought his mouth to the elongated column of my throat and pressed hot kisses to it. I shuddered, so turned on and yet so aware that we were both still mostly covered in cow goo.

Deciding to take a page out of his book, I adjusted my position under the water to let it stream in tiny rivulets to everywhere I needed it most. Then I reached for the shower gel. Very much distracted by his kisses and his fingertips massaging my scalp, I managed to squeeze a generous dollop of the soap into my palms. Lathering up, I started washing him.

I dragged my hands across his back, shoulders, and arms, relishing the warm strength of them all. Then I worked my fingers between us to wash his chest. Slate groaned, moving his abdomen with my hands to give me the space I needed to clean him up.

Once I was done, he worked shampoo into my hair with as much care and washed it. He used the suds to wipe away the rest of the sticky mess. All the while, he kissed me. My throat, my mouth, my shoulders. It didn't seem to matter where on me he was putting his lips, as long as they were never far away from my skin.

As soon as we were sufficiently un-sticky, he backed me up against the wall again. In response, I dug my fingers into his shoulders, needing him as close as I could possibly get.

We made out like crazy, our tongues entwining and our teeth crashing. His hands roamed and gripped. My hips eventually started to roll. I knew full well that we shouldn't have been doing this.

My parents could be home any minute. Moreover, as attracted as I was to him, things could quickly become complicated with Slate. Yet I couldn't bring myself to stop. I didn't want to.

Right here and right now, this was what I wanted. He was what I wanted, and for as long as we were alone and in the shower together, I planned on having it.