Bad Son (Wild Men 3.50)

Which makes sense. It’s not my home. I’ve no right to invite anyone in.

But before I second guess myself any more, she smiles and passes me her backpack over the fence.

“Sure! Thanks.” Then she pulls herself over the fence, and I think too late to help her.

I think too late that she’d choose not to use the gate.

Crazy girl. I grab her arm and haul her over, letting her backpack and the rake fall, and by the time she’s over and inside the garden, I’m snickering.

We stumble on the grass together, trying to catch our balance. I plant my feet wide and steady her, and the feel of her sweet curvy body pressed to mine sends a heady wave of need straight to my balls. I’m getting hard so fast I’m lightheaded.

Whoa. Down, boy.

I could kiss her. I could throw her down on the grass and lie on top of her, between her legs. I could touch her, pleasure her. Sink inside her.

She’s still laughing, though, and it’s the best sound in the world, even if it brings me down to earth with a thud.

“Okay.” She wipes at her eyes. “I’m inside your garden. Now what?”

What is she doing?

What am I doing? I’m grinning and have no fucking clue why. “I need to rake the leaves.”

“Okay, gimme that.” She gestures imperiously at the rake, all sign of embarrassment and flustered nervousness gone. “I’ve got this.”

I narrow my eyes at her, confused. “You wanna rake the leaves.”

“Yeah. Sure. Why not?”

I swear, this girl makes no sense. “I’m supposed to do it.”

“So we do it together.”

“Why?”

And how the fuck can we rake the leaves together? There’s only one rake, and in any case...

“That’s what friends do,” she says, cutting through my thoughts. “They do stuff together. Trust me.”

Do I trust her?

God help me, I think I do.

And it’s not as if I’d know what friends do. Never really had any.

She grabs the rake and I stare at her, her curves, her mouth, her tits, her eyes, her heart-shaped ass when she bends over.

Hell, I’m so damn horny. I want her so damn much. I never thought it was possible to want someone you like, to burn with want for someone who claims to be your friend.

I let my long T-shirt cover the tent in my pants and hope she doesn’t notice. Then I wonder what she’d do if she did notice.

She was looking at me earlier. Would she let me touch her, kiss her? It’s so hard to ignore when she’s right here, in my face, so pretty and getting sweaty as she rakes the dry leaves.

So damn hard...

Finally I can’t take it anymore and I grab the rake, stopping her. “Enough.”

She eyes me as I take over. At least by keeping my hands busy I won’t be tempted to reach for her, run my palms over the dip of her waist, the flare of her hips, over the swell of her ass. “You could have let me do this.”