Summer Sweat (A Spruce Texas Romance Book 6) by Daryl Banner

Author:Daryl Banner [Banner, Daryl]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Frozenfyre Publishing
Published: 2022-03-08T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

Harrison

Every day used to be the same.

Now nothing will ever be the same.

“Can you help me find somethin’?” asks Hoyt, strolling up to my side as I’m checking on the pigs. “Sure,” I answer mildly, then follow him off to the toolshed.

The second the door shuts, we go at each other senseless with our hands and mouths. Sharing feverish kisses. Grappling with one another’s bodies. Groping each other’s dicks.

Just a regular pair of horny animals, that’s what we are.

Another day: “Hey, can you help me with this thing?” he asks, finding me in the fields with Fred. “Yeah, one sec,” I mutter, finish up with Fred, then head off casually with Hoyt.

To another storage shed by the house.

Where we go at it yet again, this time managing to shove our hands down each other’s pants and jerk each other off.

I feel like a thirty-year-old teenager, living out an adolescence I never had. Experiencing my puberty in fast-forward. My heart, galloping at any time of the day for whatever it is Hoyt and I have in mind when we finally get each other alone.

Another day: “Hey, Harrison, can you check this out? Thing’s making a weird noise.”

“Harrison, I want to show you somethin’. Got a minute?” he says yet another day, throwing a thumb over his shoulder.

“Hey, Harrison, I did that thing you asked me to do. Can you come make sure I did it right?”

“Hey, Harrison, I’m out of fuel. Where do you keep the gas?”

“Hey, Harrison, the sprayer is acting up. Can you help?”

“Hey, Harrison …”

“Harrison …”

And every single time, with a totally put-on, lame, casual tone of voice, I answer: “Sure thing, be there in a sec.”

Then we’re in the dark behind some closed door, and the ever so comforting sound of his jagged breaths and mine fill the space as we go to town on each other, losing ourselves to the passion.

I can’t say there’s any known part of me that could’ve possibly predicted that this is how my summer would be spent: running off with an eighteen-year-old, keeping shameful secrets, experiencing a long-overdue sexual awakening, and discovering more about myself than I ever thought I would.

And every night after the lights go out, we have a routine. My stomach fills with butterflies of anticipation as I put on something nice, yet easy to take off—sweats, shorts, t-shirt, whatever I have. I double-check myself in the mirror. I smile giddily despite myself. Then I take off across the long field, practically on my tippy-toes.

To our special, secret spot in the horse barn.

He’s always there first. “Hey, pretty,” he greets me each time, then tugs on my shirt, dragging me to our clumpy, makeshift bed, and down we go to try something else with each other.

I get used to the sound of his soft voice in my ear, whether he intends to whisper and moan into it, or it’s just by chance. It has become an aphrodisiac to me, listening to him get so turned on by each and every little thing I do to him.

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