Page 52 of Canadian Harvest

I smile as I reach up, tugging at the elastic holding it in. It hadn’t crossed my mind before that he would want the character I’m dressed as, but now he’s making his demands. I’m thrilled that it’smehe wants. The real me.

I put the elastic around my wrist and fluff my hair out. I imagine it looks as untamed as his wig right now, but I don’t care. He’s looking at me like I’m the most beautiful woman in the world.

“Better. So much better,” he whispers, running his fingers through it.

I reach up and tug his wig off, throwing it to the ground with mine. His short, dark hair is matted down with sweat, but I don’t care. He’s still the sexiest man I’ve ever seen.

We stand like this, staring at each other for a few more breaths, just taking each other in.

“Has the beast gone soft on me?” I joke.

He places his hand on my thigh that’s wrapped around him, thrusting up into me. “Does this feel like I’ve gone soft on you?”

“No, it definitely doesn’t.”

Our kiss becomes more frantic as he pulls at the strings of his pants. We chuckle as he needs to break his lips from mine to figure out the lacing where a zipper would normally be. He pulls them down just enough to set his cock free, placing it between us as he brings the foil of a condom up to his mouth.

“Where were you hiding that?” I laugh. There wasn’t any space for him to have his wallet or keys, making him leave those in his truck—thank goodness for safety in small towns—but he was able to hide a condom.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t find a way to hide this in these ridiculous pants? No way, I wasn’t going to take a chance.”

I’m not laughing any longer when he picks up my other leg, wrapping me fully around his hips and shifting into my entrance. My arms circle his neck, using the side of the barn behind me as leverage as he slides in.

He’s gentle at first, giving me long, slow strokes as he rests his head in the crook of my neck. My fingers find their way into his hair, holding on tight as we start to find our groove. Before long, our tempo is increasing, matching the heaving beat of the base rocking through the barn walls.

With my skirt around my waist and my legs wrapped around his, he leans down and pulls my breast out from my dress, taking my nipple in his mouth with one hard suck.

My fingers grip his hair tighter as I moan, bucking my hips to take him deeper.

“So needy,” he says as he nips at my bud.

“Mitch,” is all I can say. My brain is on overload with the music behind me, Mitch filling me. It’s thrilling being outside, knowing that anyone could round that corner and see us, but also feeling completely safe that Mitch would take care of me if that happened.

If he didn’t like the idea of me being around other men without wearing panties, I don’t want to know what would happen if another man saw us like this.

The tempo of Mitch’s thrusts increase, as does the beat from the music inside. I feel myself climbing, getting closer and closer to the edge that I want to fall over more than I’ve wanted anything in my life. Mitch is holding me up with his strong hands under my thighs, but I need more.

“Touch yourself, Belle. Do it for me,” he pants.

My eyes meet his for a brief moment before his gaze trails to my hand sliding down my body. I cup my breast, tweaking the stiff peak and rolling it between my fingers.

“Rachel,” Mitch warns, his eyes never stray from my hand, but there’s impatience in his voice.

I give a throaty laugh, which is cut off when Mitch starts to get rougher with his hips, building the pressure within me.

My hand skirts down the fabric of my bodice, gathering my skirt around my waist so I can reach underneath. We both moan when I reach my core, pressing tight circles. I’m not going to last long, and I don’t think he’s going to either.

We stay like that, not speaking or making a sound but letting our bodies do the talking.

My hand moves faster, so does Mitch. His hand winds its way up my side, grabbing onto my hair and tugging, holding my head back, resting his forehead on mine. We breathe each other in as we come together, our bodies nothing but mixed sweat, disheveled clothes, and jagged breaths.

“I bet you’re going to regret no panties now, Princess,” he chuckles in that low, rugged voice of his.

“I regret nothing, Beast.”

26

MITCH