He’d just upended sex—I mean six—huge bags that read "Mulch ‘n Manure." Concealed behind two layers of mirrored glass, I gazed outside the office building’s second-story window and watched the sexy stud shovel shit.

I’d spent the last seven minutes hiding behind binoculars, studying every close-up inch of tanned skin visible in the eyepieces, analyzing both his tight ass and his shoveling technique. Pathetic, I know. But the tattoo-adorned naked torso below was so worth a little patheticism. God. I can’t even justify my actions without butchering the English language. Lame and boring, that was me, hiding up here. Alone...

It doesn’t have to be that way, my increasingly loud inner vixen clamored. After ignoring the prodding from my naughtier side for twenty-one years, all I could do now was listen…and gaze at the sweaty, sculpted body below.

My hands shook as I focused in on the detailed depiction of the Sun adorning the broad curve of one deltoid. Jagged, dagger-like rays of orange and yellow streaked across the muscles of his upper arm, flexing every time he moved.

A bold tribal symbol was splayed over his opposite shoulder, but I couldn’t get a bead on the design covering one pec. What was it? And what would it feel like to run my fingertips through the fine dusting of hair on his body, tracing the tattoos?

Heat swarmed through me, flushing my face and settling deep in my abdomen.

Wasn’t I too young for hot flashes?

My breath flowed a little faster as I tilted my head, scanning the length of his strong back and hard butt (the latter covered in faded denim, darn it).

He’d arrived late. As the afternoon had worn on, I’d thought perhaps Travis—of Travis Taylor’s Landscaping & Design, according to the sign on his battered truck—might not show today, but I’d waited, hanging around long after quitting time.

My patience (or desperation) had paid off.

Last Friday, I’d finally worked up the courage to speak and we’d exchanged a few words, but I wanted a lot more than words.

I wanted his tongue.

In my mouth.

Licking across my skin.

Diving between my legs.

My body shook with the force of that wanting.

He was like a wild palomino stallion—untamed—and I wanted to ride him. But I’d always been afraid of horses.

No guts, no glory, my inner vixen taunted. I crammed the binoculars in the drawer and pulled out my purse. After powdering my nose (yeah, like he'd even be close enough to notice!) and freshening my lips with Sultry Summer Pink, I made a beeline for the source of every erotic fantasy I’ve had this summer.

* * *

Travis wiped a forearm across his dripping brow. It came away smeared with dirt. Damn. He’d been in such a rush, he’d left his bandanna in the truck. With the back of one glove, he mopped his forehead, then glanced at the large glass doors...still no movement from inside the building. Shit, he’d hurried for nothing. The strait-laced female he glimpsed most Friday afternoons must’ve already left. And wasn’t he the fool for wasting time thinking about her? She wasn’t his usual bump ’n grind.

But then, since quitting the hard stuff two years ago, his usual type left him limp. On the flip side, the buttoned-up beauty that smiled shyly and stopped just short of flirting...well hell, she about made his weekend every Friday. At least, jacking off to thoughts of her made his weekend.

Damn. He’d sworn off the pills and powder, put the illegal shit behind him, but if she had even a hint of the things he wanted to do to her body, she’d have his sorry ass arrested.

So why waste time contemplating a subdued innocent when his mind should be on work? He dropped the shovel and picked up the rake.

Now he had to spread manure with a fucking hard-on. Smart, Trav, real smart.

> * *

I pushed through the revolving doors and entered the sweltering August heat. Several steps down the concrete walkway and he was close enough to hear me. My heart was jackhammering in my chest. Be cool. Keep it casual. Before I lost my nerve, I spoke up. "You’re working late today."

The guy I’d been ogling all summer straightened and whipped around to face me. Droplets of perspiration flew from his hair. "So are you, I see."

His gloved fingers flexed on the handle of the rake. Up close, I could see the blocky, rugged cross spanning the left side of his chest, a decrepit skull lolling next to the base. A faded snake coiled from there to the right side of his stomach. I should have been disgusted; I hated snakes.

So why did I find it sexy?

Maybe it had something to do with the mass of muscles beneath the sinuous tattoo? Maybe I was just losing my mind...

"Nice tat," I said, trying not to obviously stare at the glistening tanned skin and delineated biceps not four feet away. Heat from the concrete beneath my feet rose upward. The flesh beneath my skirt boiled.

He grinned. "Which one?"

I stared at the four distinct tattoos visible with his shirt off. As always, I found myself drawn to the newest-looking one on his left shoulder. "The Sun."

"That’s my favorite, too."

"What’s that?" I pointed to the asymmetrical symbol.

"No clue. I was wasted when I got it."

At least he was honest. My eyes wandered over the inked drawings and my mouth watered. How I wanted to rip the rake from his grasp, throw it to the side and rake my nails down his chest. I blinked, trying to erase the vision…the yearning.

"How long’ve you worked here?" He nodded toward the office complex.

You wanna get naked?

"Oh, um..." Good Lord. A few bulging muscles, a couple of hot tattoos, and I turn into a blathering idiot. "Just this summer. Internship. I graduate this month."

Now why had I told him that?

"Cool. Congratulations." He shifted. Muscles flexed. The sun’s rays danced—both on his body and inside mine.

My loins twitched, the heartbeat in my crotch pulsing between my legs. I couldn’t keep my eyes off his chiseled shoulder. "Where’d you get it?" I blurted.

"What? The tattoo?"

I nodded. Sweat erupted above my lips; I mashed them together, smearing the freshly applied lipstick. "Electric Ed’s Body Art and Piercings. Over on Montague. Are you thinking of getting one?"

You wanna get naked?

"Um. I might. A little graduation present. Maybe." Could I sound any dorkier?

He laughed and hefted the rake. "Something to shock the parents, is that it?"

I stood straighter and forced myself to meet his gaze, sweat and pulsing pussy be damned. "No. Something for me."

"Whoa! So the sex kitten has claws." His grin widened. "Maybe I’ll see you over there sometime. Like tonight."

Was that a dare? Sex kitten?! "Maybe you will."

I gripped my purse to keep from tearing his jeans off.

My inner vixen wanted to get down-and-dirty in the dirt, but I restrained myself. Barely.

Before I hyperventilated and passed out—in a pile of freshly raked fertilizer—I sauntered (with a bit of extra hip action) toward my car.

Had I just made a not-quite date to meet Mr. Travis Landscaper at a tattoo parlor? Tonight?

I needed to find a map and Electric Ed’s. Fast.

* * *

Two hours later, fresh from a cold shower, Travis sat in the parking lot of Electric Ed’s, drumming his fingers on the wheel and sucking on a Tic-Tac, wishing it was her clit. What in the hell was he doing?

Lusting after a shy intern he had no business even thinking about? Waiting for her to mark her lovely skin? Hoping to ply her with liquor—in the guise of moral support—and plow into her?

How low could he sink?

As deep as she’d let him...

His cock twitched at the thought.

Hell, it had been a long day. Two of his guys had called in sick at the last minute—hungover, he’d bet. He should be at home, reclining in front of the tube, brewski in one hand, Whopper in the other. Handling his dick after that. Then bed.

Five a.m. came early.

Releasing his grip on the wheel, Travis reached for the ignition.

Then something, someone, caught his eye and he sat up, every muscle taut. He recognized her by the walk alone. Everything else was transformed.

Gone was the prim little knot; her hair swinging free. Shorter than he’d expected, but wild, the strands waved around her head like a mane. Gone was the dark, boxy suit, replaced by curve-hugging denim and a red halter top that left damn near all of her back exposed.

In a pair of worn cowboy boots, she glided straight up to the door and disappeared inside Ed’s. Travis was out of the truck and after her in a flash.

* * *

"So what’d you decide on?" Travis asked, after following her around the front room while she looked at designs.

She spun to face him and her eyes lit up. "You came! I mean, hi."

Then she stood there, looking at him like Santa had just dropped him off in front of her fireplace. Trav felt about ten feet tall. "The tattoo?" he reminded, grinning.

"This one." She blushed and pointed to a wicked line drawing of a tiger. He approved. "I was born in the year of the Chinese tiger."

Travis winked. "Year of the cock."

Her eyes flared. "Are you getting another tattoo?"

"Not tonight. They’re addictive. I’ve put myself on a tattoo moratorium until I turn thirty. Then I’ll reconsider. See what skin is left...see what appeals."

"And that’ll be when?" she fished.

Trav willingly took the bait. "A little less than two years."

"Really?"

"I know. I already look thirty. Hell, forty."

"No you don’t. Not anywhere near forty. Early thirties, maybe, but you’re still gorgeous." She slapped a hand over her mouth.

So damn innocent. He leaned in close. Are you a virgin? "What’d you come here for?" "A tattoo."

"Is that all?"

He watched as she licked her lips and assessed his body. His skin sizzled—there was that look again. She was staring at him like she’d been on a no-sugar diet for years and he was a seven-layer chocolate cake. Maybe after the tattoo, he’d take her for dessert. Eat her for dessert. "Do you like chocolate?"

"Who doesn’t?"

Her eyes said she knew they weren’t talking about food. Damn. He wanted to thrust his cock between her lips. He wanted to ride her mouth to completion, that innocent, needs kissing-and-fucking, lipstick-tinted mouth.

"Do you like it hard?" He had to test her. Could she keep up with him? Satisfy him?

Could he go slow enough to satisfy her?

"Hard?" She made a little sound in her throat, a cross between a moan and a hum. His dick thrummed in response. "I, um, like my chocolate creamy, but I..." She swallowed and dropped her gaze. It centered on his fly. "I like other things hard."

"Ready, little lady?" Some new guy, every inch of exposed skin on his arms and neck inked, interrupted. "You’re next.

" Three minutes later, she was straddling a chair, her back going under the needle, her hands gripping his. "It's gonna hurt, isn't it? Crap. Maybe I should have taken some Tylenol?"

"Don't think it'd make a bit of difference, not now."

"Go ahead," she told the guy hovering at her shoulder. "I'm ready. I think."

Travis loved her innocence. He loved her courage more. "You don’t have to do this, you know. You could just get something pierced, save—"

"I want to." A buzzing sound emitted from beside the tattoo artist. She tensed when he touched the instrument to her back. But she didn’t move away. "I’m tired of being boring."

"Who says you’re boring?"

"My ex-boyfriend."

"He’s a fucking idiot."

"What a sweet thing to say." She flinched and started breathing through her mouth...slow, measured exhalations. Deep inhalations. God, her mouth. A work of art. A dark, hollow cavern...made to encase his cock.

He watched her as long as he could, saying nothing, stripping her with his mind, fucking her with his gaze. Her eyes never left his. She squeezed his fingers tighter.

"I want your soft pink lips wrapped around my dick," he said quietly, partly to distract her. Mostly because he was a horny bastard. "It’s not your fault other men haven’t seen the fire in you. Known how to feed the flames, then put them out."

"I..." She bit her bottom lip, eyes blazing.

"All done." The guy behind her stood up. "Pay up and get a bed, you two. I’m runnin’ a business, not a damn dating service."

* * *

My shoulder blade stung like the devil, but when Travis placed his arm across my lower back and escorted me into the night, all I felt was the blood rushing between my inner thighs. I wanted him and I didn’t care if he knew it. No guts, no glory...

Outside Electric Ed’s, I turned to him. "Will you take me?"

"Home?"

Take me. I couldn’t say it again. Instead, I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him, hoping he’d take over, hoping he’d know—

His mint-flavored tongue banished all thought.

He pressed his lips hard against mine and explored my mouth. After the way he’d undressed me with his eyes, aroused me with his words, I didn’t need preliminaries.

This wouldn’t be the fumbling attempts of a frat boy or the first-time sprint of a high school senior. This would be sex with a sexy stranger. Something to remember, to learn from, to relive every Friday afternoon for the next two years, maybe longer. My pussy muscles clenched, ready.

Hands around my waist, he picked me up and walked through the shadowy parking lot. Headlights zoomed past. Horns blared in the distance.

The oppressive, humid heat settled in my gut, fed by his mouth on mine, increased by his callused thumbs edging beneath my top, scraping across my breasts.

He came to a stop and put me down next to a sparkling crew cab pickup. "Wow," I gasped when he released my breasts, wishing he hadn't stopped. "Nicer than your work truck."

"Yeah. Thanks. You got condoms?" he asked, digging for his keys. "Did you come prepared?"

I thought of the three packets tucked in my back pocket. "Several."

He opened the rear door. I clambered inside and he climbed in after me. My lungs heaved, inhaling the scents of new car and aroused pussy.

The bench seat was plush. The truck hot. I was on fire.

"Good girl. I did, too." He arched over the seat and started the truck, flipping the a/c on high. The big diesel engine rumbled to life. Travis leaned back against the corner and stared at me in the reflected neon light, blinking past the windshield from the flashing Electric Ed’s sign overhead. His breath rasped over my ears. "Seems the sex kitten is more of a wildcat. You sure you want this?"

No guts... "Definitely."

"You a virgin?"

"Definitely not."

"Good. But I’d want you either way." He opened his jeans. "Will you...?"

In the shadows, I zeroed in on his cock. Grasping him with one hand, I brought my lips to his lap. Would he be able to tell I hadn’t done this before?

"Lick me."

I followed his instruction, placing my lips against the hard flesh and kissing from the base, along his shaft, to the wide head at the top. He knotted several fingers in my hair and guided me.

His other hand slipped beneath my jeans and teased along the crack of my ass. I felt myself get wetter.

I took him into my mouth, my tongue exploring the new tastes and textures. His hips lifted off the seat, pushing more of his rod in my mouth. My heart raced.

"Bite me."

"What?" I mumbled around his cock.

"I like a little pain. Makes me feel alive."

A thrill shot through me. Fear or adrenaline? "Are you into really kinky stuff?"

"I’m into only what two people agree on. Are you gonna bite me?"

"Can I suck you instead?"

He gave a low laugh. "Go for it, baby."

I did, taking him deep within my mouth. My tongue curved around his shaft and I pulled hard, the muscles in my throat and neck working as my cheeks suctioned against his dick.

"Yeah, like that."

Feeling braver, I gently grated my teeth around the thick muscle. His fingertips edged beneath my panties and he touched my soaked flesh, teasing my slit.

I groaned, wanting to come, wanting to wait, confused, just wanting. Needing. Gripping my hair, he pulled my head back, dislodging himself from my mouth. I sat up. My lips felt swollen, tingly. I stared at him, wishing we were outside, in the daylight...wishing that I could see him better.

"Take off your jeans," he ordered.

I obeyed, lacking in grace, but scrambling out of my boots and the sweat-dampened denim as fast as I could. I tore off my panties.

Naked. In the backseat of a truck. With a near stranger. Take that! I told my inner vixen...then I riffled my jeans for a condom.

Travis scooted beneath me until his back reclined on the seat. He spread his knees and took the packet from my fumbling fingers, rolling the rubber down his cock.

"I wish I’d gotten glow in the dark," I complained, wanting to see his dick.

"Next time," he grunted, guiding me between his legs.

Every muscle in my body spasmed at the thought of next time, at the thought of now. I hovered above his upraised erection.

"Come here, Wildcat. I’ve been thinking about this for weeks." Fingers pressed into my hips, he centered me over his prick. My thigh muscles shook from the strain of holding back. I gripped his shoulders, digging my nails into his skin. His cock nudged along my slit.

"Relax. You’re more than ready." His fingers tightened and he pulled me down against his groin, ramming high inside my pussy.

I screamed. My inner muscles rippled around him, drawing him deeper. His hands went to my ass. He kneaded the cheeks of my bottom, pulling them apart and lunging higher.

I leaned down and kissed the cross on his chest, the evil-looking skull, even sucked on the snake. My hips rotated, bringing my clit in contact with his curly pubic hair. My breath escaped on a gasp. Travis groaned and sought my lips. He thrust his tongue inside my mouth and rubbed it along mine. His body arched off the seat, plundering my flesh, plowing into me, just like I’d fantasized.

The big truck rocked. One hand left my ass and I felt him untie my top. He pulled it from my neck, tossing the fabric aside. He lifted my torso and kissed his way down my chin, my chest... His lips latched onto one nipple and he sucked.

My hips ground my pussy against his groin. I rode him, thinking of horses, thinking of meadows, thinking of running free, riding a stallion bareback, riding this sexy, tattooed landscaper that was playing stud to my vixen.

His teeth clamped down, biting my nipple, and I cried out.

"Want me to stop?" he asked around my breast.

God, no! I arched against him, frantic, needing to climax.

He lunged higher, harder. Fingers returned to my ass, reached between my legs, past his cock, to tease my clit from behind. He spit out my breast and his lips returned to mine. He sucked my bottom lip into his mouth. I sucked on his top one. I bit it.

He growled.

His fingers plucked and pruned my clit, nurturing the tiny seed, making it harden, grow, until I felt my orgasm burst through me, watering his fingers, sucking at his dick, like parched earth seeking rain.

A long, low squeal came from my throat. Travis hummed his pleasure, sucked my lip a little harder, and shot his load. His cock jerked inside my convulsing pussy. He groaned again and his head fell to the seat.

Cool air washed over my backside. I sighed, trying to catch my breath. His fingers relinquished their post between my legs and began skimming up my back. He encountered the bandage and circled it, bringing his hands to my shoulders.

He raised his head and kissed me. "Want to go out for dessert?"

"You mean like a date?"

"Hell yeah, I mean like a date. And then I’m taking you home. We need to wash your new tiger and put some lotion on it."

Electric Ed’s blinked off, leaving us in near darkness. My fingers traced over his deltoid. "Why is the Sun your favorite?"

"Nighttime confessions? Okay. I’ll trade. When I was younger, I did a lot of shit I’m not proud of. The Sun is a reminder—look for the positive. Silver linings, light at the end of the tunnel, and all that. Your turn: do you really think you’re boring?"

"Not anymore." I kissed his jaw. "Do you have any Hershey’s syrup in your fridge?"

"Think so. Don’t know how old it is." He shifted and withdrew, causing renewed tingles to dance through my crotch. "Why?"

"Can we skip dessert? Just go back to your place, get the chocolate syrup and, um, you can eat me for dessert?"

"Wildcat, you’re on." He slapped my bare bottom. "Now get dressed."

I rubbed my legs over his hairy ones. "Do I have to?"

"Death by innocence. You’re gutsier than I expected."

That made two of us. "Complaining?"

"Nope. I’m forecasting clear and sunny skies."



THE END