Bad Things(50)

I was a fast runner. I went to great pains to stay in good shape, and jogged outside whenever the weather allowed. Which was why I was surprised when Tristan was suddenly running beside me, and then passing me.

I wasn’t sure when he’d left the house, but I was sure it’d been after I had.

I saw a flash of spotted brown fur at the corner of my vision, and turned on my heel. We were still several house rows away from the stables, which meant we actually had a shot at saving some chickens.

Coffeecup hesitated at one house, sniffing out something, and I pounced, diving for him. The rain had already made his coat slick and wet, and he wriggled out of my arms before I could get the leash on his collar.

I screamed curses at him as I scrambled back to my feet, resuming the chase.

I nearly cheered as Tristan intercepted him in the muddy ditch that led up and directly into the stables. He gripped the dog’s collar, hooting with laughter. We were sharing rather smug smiles as I approached, when Coffeecup pulled a ninja dog move and slipped out of his collar, darting for the stables.

Tristan tackled him, grabbing him around the chest to hold him back.

I dug into the mud for his collar, glaring at the stupid dog while I tightened it around his neck, one rung tighter than the last time, since it had apparently been loose enough for him to slip out of. I clipped the leash on, still catching my breath.

“You look like you couldn’t decide whether you wanted to mud wrestle, or be in a wet T-shirt contest,” Tristan said with a laugh, having to shout to be heard over the downpour.

I looked down at my sopping wet, muddy white tank top. He had a point…but he hadn’t faired any better.

I pointed at him. “So do you! You look worse, in fact. I’m not the one on their back in the mud!”

I shouldn’t have said it. It was too much like a challenge, and I should have known better than to offer Tristan a challenge.

His hands snaked behind my knees, pulling me down with him, until my bare knees sank heavily into the mud on either side of his hips.

“You son of a bitch!” I said, but I was laughing.

“I’m pretty sure saying that is a faux pas, now that you’ve actually met my mother.”

“My bad. I take it back. Here, accept my sincere apology.” As I spoke, I reached down, gripping a heavy handful of mud. I was giving him my sweetest smile as I smeared it on top of his head.

He gasped, and then gave me the most evil grin. “You’re gonna pay for that,” he said through his teeth.

I tried to get up, but one hand on my hip kept me straddling him. He had the advantage, with much bigger hands, and the huge gob of mud that he smeared over my chest far outweighed the bit I’d put on his head.

I gasped in outrage. “That was so much worse than what I did to you! So rude!”

He laughed, muddy hand going to my other hip. “Really? A handful of mud on your chest is worse than what you just did to my head?”

“Well, let’s see,” I said, diving for more mud. My target was no secret. I went for his face.

He caught both of my wrists, pulling them far apart, which brought our chests flush.

I rubbed against him, smearing as much mud as I could from my thin white shirt onto his. The motion of our chests rubbing together had our playful mood changing in a hurry.

He brought my wrists behind my back, pushing me down until my hips were crushed to his. As though they had a mind of their own, my hips moved, bearing down. My entire body seemed to shudder as I made contact with his obvious erection.

Our faces were close, and I couldn’t have said whether it was him or me that moved first, but our lips met in a furious clash. He lay back, and I followed him down, moaning into his mouth as his tongue swept into mine, invading like he owned the place.

His kiss was insidious, seeping into every part of me. He took me over in a way I couldn’t believe I allowed. A few seconds into the kiss, and I was ready to relinquish all control, which I’d have sworn was the antithesis of everything I was before I’d met Tristan.

He let go of my hands, his fingers sinking into my ass as he pushed his straining cock right into the center of me.

I’d never considered myself to be a particularly sexual person, but I was mindless in that moment, every part of me sexual, focused only on the heavy beat of desire in my blood—on having him inside of me.

I gripped one hand into his short hair, the other reaching down his chest, over his hard abdomen, and finally over his thick length, rubbing.