I stopped pretending this was a one-off accident. Luis hadn’t said anything, but Cole definitely had. I could hear the shift in the way the boys talked. The teasing got bolder. The looks lasted longer. There was weight behind the way they greeted, that edge of expectation just below the surface.

I didn’t mind. And the truth was, I needed it. The ache hadn’t gone away since that first time in the trees. My muscles burnt from work, but the need inside me was worse.

The next morning, I woke early again.

The bunkhouse was dim, filled with slow breathing and the occasional shift of sheets. My eyes drifted across the room. Cole was already awake, sitting up in bed, arms behind his head. When he saw me look, he smirked and nodded once toward Zeke’s empty bed.

I didn’t need to ask. They had clearly agreed it was Zeke’s turn, and I suspected that Cole would be watching through the window.

I rolled my eyes and pushed back the blanket. My body was already warm, thighs damp with the slow build of need that never left me anymore. I had slept naked. It excited me to be so exposed in this cabin full of men. I crossed the room and grabbed a shirt. It wasn’t mine. It was too big, the sleeves loose, the hem brushing the top of my thighs. No bra. No panties. Just skin under borrowed flannel, and the scent of sweat and man still clinging to the fabric.

The cold hit me when I stepped outside. My nipples tightened under the shirt. My pussy throbbed with every step. I didn’t walk fast. I knew he was waiting.

Zeke stood at the edge of the clearing, arms crossed, grinning like he’d been planning this moment since the second he heard about it.

“Morning,” he said.

Zeke didn’t waste time before cracking a joke. “I brought you some new wood to work with.” I gave him a look, unimpressed if faintly amused by his corniness. He nodded down. “Standing timber. Needs some expert handling.”

I stared at his crotch. The bulge was far more impressive than his jokes. While that didn’t require much, the bulge was legitimately impressive. 

“And you expect me to help with that? 'I thought you said this was no place for a girl like me,' I said.

“I have re-evaluated the value you could bring to the team here,” he said, smirking. “If you handled that big tree yesterday, you should just be able to manage what I am packing.”

I snorted. He stepped closer, unbothered by the cold, the early hour, or the fact that I hadn’t said yes yet. His confidence held him upright. “I’m all ready for harvest; I’m leaking sap already.” He would have kept going, but I reached down and unzipped him.

His cock sprang out, hard and already leaking. I wrapped my fingers around it and stroked him once, slowly. His breath caught, but then he just started right back talking again.

“I’d been thinking about a poem to commemorate the occasion. I had a couple of verses in mind. Nothing too long. Just something about morning dew and supple…”

I jerked him harder.

“Fuck,” he breathed, smirk wavering.

I kept stroking. Long pulls from base to head, squeezing just a little tighter. His cock throbbed in my hand. His eyes drifted half-lidded, but his mouth kept working.

“Hope you don’t mind undergrowth. Been a long season without trimming.”

I reached up with my free hand, grabbed his jaw, and kissed him.

He shut up.

His lips were warm, eager. Tongue pushing against mine. My hand kept moving on his cock, slow and steady, until he started groaning into my mouth instead of speaking. That was better.

He fumbled with the buttons on the borrowed shirt. He got it open enough to expose my breasts. His hands cupped them fast, rough and greedy. His thumbs dragged over my nipples. My legs trembled. My fist worked his cock faster. He moaned into the kiss, panting now.

His fingers dropped between my legs. He found my pussy soaked and aching. Two fingers slid inside and curled. I broke the kiss with a sharp inhale, hips jerking.

He opened his mouth to say something clever. I grabbed his head and shoved his face to my chest.

“Suck.”

He obeyed.

His mouth closed over my nipple, sucking hard while his fingers pumped into me, my hand still jerking him off in time. His moans were muffled against my skin. His cock pulsed in my grip. My breath came faster, knees shaking, heat building.

His tongue circled. His fingers stroked. My palm worked the head of his cock, wet and slick and pulsing harder with every stroke.

His mouth sucked harder, tongue circling the tight point of my nipple. His fingers pumped deeper, curling just right, soaked from my cunt. I groaned, louder now, hips rocking against his hand, wrist working his cock with a grip that made his jaw twitch against my skin.

I dragged my hand down to his balls, cupping them as I stroked, squeezing just enough to pull another moan from his throat. He moved faster, his fingers pressing up into the heat inside me, thumb brushing over my clit with each motion. My thighs clenched around his wrist. My knees trembled.

I ground my breast harder against his mouth. He grunted as my grip around his cock twisted at the top, slick and rhythmic, matching the pulse in my own body.

I was soaked. His fingers slid in and out with no resistance, every curl hitting the spot that made my back arch. My hand kept pumping. His cock throbbed harder with every stroke. I could feel him getting close. My own orgasm rose with it, slow and hot and relentless, tightening everything inside me.

We rocked together. Wet sounds filled the space between us. My breath came faster. My moans turned to gasps. His hips bucked into my fist, his hand jerking against my cunt, thumb locked on my clit, working in tight, steady circles.

His thumb circled my clit just right. My muscles locked. The pressure deep inside pushed up fast, blinding and sharp. My thighs clenched around his hand. My breath caught in my throat, then broke.

The moan tore out of me, raw and open, louder than I meant. It echoed through the trees. I didn’t care. My pussy pulsed around his fingers. My whole body quivered, legs shaking, hips grinding into his hand while the orgasm crashed through me, wave after wave, wet and overwhelming.

I didn’t stop.

I kept stroking his cock through every shudder. My fist worked him fast and tight. I felt his hips twitch. His breath came out in broken gasps. His cock jerked once in my grip. Then again.

He came hard.

Thick ropes of cum hit his stomach first. The next spurt coated my fingers, then streaked across the front of the shirt I’d borrowed. I kept stroking. Another shot spilt over my hand, before dripping down his shaft. His body trembled. His jaw clenched. His knees almost gave.

I slowed my hand, letting the last few pulses drag out while he sagged forward, chest heaving, forehead pressed between my tits.

My thighs were still twitching. My cunt still fluttered around the ghost of his fingers. I looked down at the mess between us. My hand was soaked. His cock twitching. My shirt was stained. Then I glanced toward the bunkhouse.

One of the windows was fogged up, with a small gap in the condensation where it had been wiped away so someone could see through. Cole. Elbow on the sill, head tipped forward, eyes locked on us. His other arm moved out of sight, clearly moving fast. His jaw was clenched, lips parted.

I didn’t say anything. Neither did Zeke. He shifted his head just enough to see what I was looking at. He huffed against my skin, half a laugh, half a groan.

We watched.

Cole’s breath caught, body tensing. His shoulders jerked once. Then again. His head dropped. A beat later, he flopped back out of view.