Page 58 of Roguefinder

“Your fault,” I muttered, content to stay put. The mud might have started out cold, but it was warm now. And pretty soft. Maybe pigs were onto something.

Jesse pinched my ass. “Come on. We can’t fall asleep out here.”

Sighing, I let him help me to my feet.

“You okay?” he asked.

I looked down. Mud streaked my thighs and nestled in crevices I didn’t want to think about. Jesse’s cum trickled from me in a warm slide. Purple bruises peeked between the smears of mud on my hips, and my asshole needed an ice pack or ten.

“Yeah,” I said. “I’m great.”

His smile managed to be tender and heated all at once. “I have towels and wet wipes in the car.”

“Of course you do.”

The car was just steps away, and I realized he’d planned it, ending our run in the same place we’d started.

He planted me sideways in the passenger seat with my feet resting on the ground, started the car, and cranked the heat until warmth hit me from every angle. A second later, I opened my eyes to find him squatting in front of me.

“Sorry,” I mumbled. “Fell asleep.”

“It’s okay.” He chafed my calves, cleaning the mud with the same efficiency he displayed in the kitchen. He was mud-splattered, too, but he tended me, big hands working the towel over my knees and between my thighs.

“I can do it,” I said.

“Hush. You’re high as a kite on endorphins.” He rose a little as he moved the towel to my abs. “Your only job right now is to look pretty.”

The heater blasted hot air over my shoulder, its soft hum almost as nice as Jesse’s hands on my skin. “I can do that.”

He stood and kissed the top of my head. “I know. Don’t fall asleep. I want you to eat something.”

“Not sleeping,” I said, eyelids heavy as he shooed me all the way into the car and shut the door. He toweled off and got in, and the sight of his big naked body against the dark leather perked me right back up again.

“You should pitch this as an ad to the Lamborghini people.”

His lips twitched as he handed over my clothes. “I don’t think they need any help selling cars.”

We smiled at each other as we dressed, occasionally knocking elbows. Afterward, he produced a water bottle and a plastic container and set them in my lap.

“Drink the whole thing,” he said, pulling onto the road. The Lamborghini’s headlights bounced over the trees, and the wipers flicked away the last of the rain.

“Yes, Daddy,” I said, tucking the bottle between my legs so I could pry open the container. Apple slices fanned across the bottom.

Without taking his eyes off the road, Jesse reached back and dug in his backpack. A second later, he tucked something next to my thigh.

Two brownies in plastic, the smooth frosting dimpled with multicolored candies.

I looked at him in profile, taking in the firm line of his jaw and his dark hair drying in thick waves. The stubble on its way to becoming a beard. His long fingers curled around the leather steering wheel.

“I thought you packed tiramisu,” I said.

He glanced at me, his eyes soft. “I was going to.” He turned back to the road and reached over, resting a warm hand on my thigh. “But I’ve grown pretty fond of those.”

Chapter

Eleven

JESSE