chapterseven
Quinn
It’s later than I normally stay awake. I’m a country boy so usually early to rise, early to bed. Tonight I’m being a pussy and piddling around in the barn in hopes that Amber will be asleep when I go inside. And I’m trying to get rid of the restless energy I still have from nearly beating that Eileen’s teenage son to a bloody pulp. Thankfully I only grabbed him by the collar and growled menacingly in his face. But I meant what I told him, if he ever touches Amber again, he better hope I call the sheriff because getting in trouble with the law will be a whole lot better than the beat down I’d give him. I don’t give a fuck how old he is.
Thankfully, the lights are off and the house is quiet when I creep inside. I fight the urge to climb the stairs and check on her.
Instead, I pad quietly to my own room. My bathroom light is still on and illuminates a swath of the floor leading to the bed. That’s when I realize my bed isn’t empty.
Nope, Amber is curled up and sleeping soundly, her arms wrapped around my pillow like she needed to be close to my scent.
Her arms and shoulder are bare, her back too.
I tug on the sheet just enough to confirm to myself that the little minx crawled into my bed completely naked.
I stare at the curve of her hip, then because I can’t help myself, I dip my hand into my pants. I squeeze my throbbing cock.
“Goddamn you, angel baby,” I groan.
Amber doesn’t even stir. I stare at the pale softness of her skin. So flawless and sweet.
She rolls to her back, unfolding herself from the pillow she hugged. Now her fucking titties are just there, bare and on display. And just like that I remember her kiss, remember the way her hard little nipple rolled against my tongue.
My balls tighten. Oh fuck, I’m going come. I pull down my pants to release my angry dick. Then I’m spraying white ropes of come across the sheets and her skin.
She moans and her body arches.
And I turn to go, disgusted with myself for abusing her sweet, sweet body like this.
Twenty minutes later, I’m laying at an odd angle across the old weathered couch in our barn office. And my phone rings.
“What?” I bark.
There’s a low chuckle I recognize immediately. “You need more hugs, big brother,” Roe says.
“Is there something you wanted?”
“Where are you? You sound like you’re in a wind tunnel,” Roe says.
I sigh. “I’m in the barn, actually. On Dad’s old couch.”
“What the hell are you doing out there?”
“Long story.”
“The gist?”
“Keeping myself away from Amber.”
“Why?” Roe asks.
“She’s nineteen years old.”
“So? That makes her a legal adult. She’s old enough to vote, so our country believes she’s capable of making at least that kind of decision.”
“I’m twelve years older than her, Roe. She’s innocent and sweet and I’m so—”
“Fucking cranky? Yeah, the rest of us had a meeting and we decided it’s because you need to get laid.”