Big Man

All the while, I picture Grant fingering me. The way he rolled straight over and claimed my pussy without any hesitation. I picture him storming in here right now and taking me all over again in the shower, pinning me against the wall as he fingers me.

My clit throbs again, and I add a second finger, rubbing just hard enough to get my legs trembling, my knees shaking and my breath coming fast. When I come, I have to sag against the shower wall to hold myself up, and there’s another rush as my juices, mingled with what was left of Grant’s cum inside me, rush down my inner leg. I groan aloud, loving that hot sensation, loving the feeling that he was still inside me.

I finish washing, and once I’ve toweled off, I feel steady enough to walk at least semi-normally, though my legs still have a tendency to bow outward, a telltale giveaway of exactly what we were up to last night.

Not to mention I was already sore from the farm work.

Well, I’ll just get more sore today, I resolve. So I might as well get used to it.

I dress in my now-favorite jean shorts and another throwaway T-shirt, one of the many ragged ones I brought with me on this trip, intending to throw them away at the end. I hadn’t worn jeans and a T-shirt this often since… Well, I can’t even remember now. But there’s something relaxing about it. Something that feels really at home, no matter how much I don’t want to admit it.

Like returning from a long vacation to find your familiar old comfy clothes right where you left them.

Except this isn’t a return from vacation for me. This is just a break in my normal life. I remind myself of that as I stride out into the kitchen.

Once again, there’s already a pot of coffee brewed and some rolls out by the microwave. I grab one and pour two cups of coffee this time, checking out the kitchen window.

It doesn’t take me long to spot Grant. He’s set up next to the shed today, ripping up the fence that borders the house to replace the posts. There’s a stack of new posts beside him, and some wire to run between them. He’s about halfway done.

I shake my head, in awe of how fast this man works. Then I scoop up both cups of coffee and pad out barefoot into the yard.

“Grant,” I call.

He turns, glances over his shoulder.

I lift the second cup. “Re-up?” I ask.

He smiles and runs a hand through his hair, turning away from the fence and setting down the post holer he’d been using.

He jogs across the grass to my side, and I pass him the cup, sneaking a peek at his white tank top, which sticks to his sweat-slicked muscles as he leans back to take a long drink of the coffee.

I fucked him last night, I think, a thrill sparking through my body. My belly tightens with pleasure at the thought.

Then he finishes drinking and I quickly tear my gaze away, back to the fence, sipping from my mug as well. “Finished the roof already?” I ask when we’ve both taken a few more sips.

“Yesterday,” he nods. “While you were resting.”

“Thank you.” I bite my lip and catch his eye. “I… Sorry again about that.”

“Don’t be,” he says, his voice fierce and sincere. It’s so vehement that I don’t even try to argue with him this time. I just bow my head in agreement and take another sip of coffee.

“Need any help with these?” I ask, nodding at the fences.

He shakes his head. “I’m good on these.” Before I can butt in and insist that I want to help—that this is as much my project as his, if not more so, since it’s my mother’s farm we’re fixing up. His dad just bought into it was all—he seems to preempt my argument. “I had planned to start on the house itself soon, though,” he says. “Repaint the rooms now that the electrical wiring’s done, and get a head start on the gardens out front.”

“That gate too,” I say. “And the porch, the tire swing…”

“What’s wrong with the tire swing?” he responds, almost defensive. I blink, startled.

“Nothing, just… It’s ancient. The rope has got to be rotten through by now. It can’t be safe.”

He shakes his head. “Some things don’t need changing, you know. You can leave some stuff be.”

I raise an eyebrow. “What’s so special about that one swing?”

“Nothing!” He groans and takes another long drink of his coffee. “Never mind. Forget it.”

“Grant—”

“There’s a party tonight,” he says, startling me.

I blink up at him for a few seconds in silence, not exactly sure how I’m supposed to respond to that. “Okay?”

“Would you like to come with me?”

I let that hang for a moment. He wants to spend time with me, thinks one part of my brain. He wants to be seen with me in public, thinks another part. Even after yesterday. Even after everything. But still… I bite the inside of my cheek, thinking about what kind of party it could possibly be in a town like this. “You don’t seem like the partying type,” I say after a moment, mostly to stall.