Page 106 of Quiver

Fletcher nodded and walked a slow circle around her, taking in the outfit Kylie and her mother had picked out in Burlington a few days ago. The navy-blue, double-breasted blazer hung open, a row of silver buttons running down each side of Kylie’s chest, invoking a rough military look up top, whereas the pants flared out in rich layers of overlapping burgundy, which gave the illusion of flowing skirts while still offering the security and freedom to sit on a saddle comfortably. The ensemble managed to convey a lot of the elements of the character she still hoped to play without being on the nose. The widening of Fletcher’s dark pupils offered an added affirmation she’d also managed to capture a hint of sex appeal as a bonus.

“Yeah.” Fletcher stepped forward, resting a hand on Kylie’s hip and steering her backward into an empty stall.

She laughed, but Fletcher captured the sound with her kiss and turned it into a moan.

They’d gotten more demonstrative in the last few days, a hunger building inversely to the amount of time they had left. In the aftermath of their last big talk, the intimacy that had been previously reserved for the bedroom flooded nearly every encounter. Riding and shooting practices still carried a sense of urgency, often three times a day, but any minute in between crackled with sexual tension. Kisses in the barn, making out in the kitchen, ravishing each other in front of the living room fireplace. They had two modes, work and sex, and even those blurred in moments like these as Fletcher’s hand worked under the short waist of her jacket instead of returning to the task of prepping for their dress rehearsal.

She ran her thumb upward, caressing the side of Kylie’s breast through her shirt. Kylie tilted her head back until it bumped against the wall of the barn, and Fletcher kissed along her neck and throat. “God, you’re good at that.”

Fletcher murmured against her collarbone, but she couldn’t make out the words over the pounding of her own pulse. Then Fletcher’s hand splayed flat and hot against her stomach, then downward, the tension building at Kylie’s core given more room to expand as the button of the pants flipped open. She barely registered what was happening before Fletcher skimmed lower.

“Oh, fuck.” She clutched one hand in Fletcher’s hair, and the other flattened against the wall of the stall to offer balance. The fire consumed her quickly, its strength and fervor too much to withstand.

Fletcher slipped into her, rough and slick and well-practiced. There was no need for prelude between them. Working one denim-clad thigh between the silk and linen of Kylie’s leg, Fletcher merged support with more excruciatingly magnificent pressure. Grinding, grabbing, rocking, they set a frantic pace. Fletcher’s hand kneaded her ass, then curved lower to pull Kylie’s leg up and hook it over her own hip. The angle allowed her to add another finger and go deeper.

“Yes,” she hissed, filled and frenzied. “So close, so fast.”

God, Fletcher had barely gotten inside of her, and she was already dissolving. It didn’t even make sense for her to have such a hair trigger at this point. She should’ve been sated, and certainly she was still sore from the last few times, but she couldn’t get enough of this woman. She might not ever get enough of her.

Fletcher bit at her neck as she thrust harder, using the weight of both their bodies to drive into her.

“Fletch.” The only word she could remember came out strangled, but she didn’t have to ask. Fletcher knew, she always knew. The only doubt was whether or not she was ready to heed the request Kylie’s chaotic brain didn’t have the capacity to articulate. She held her breath as the world flashed white behind her eyelids and then exploded red when Fletcher pressed her thumb to Kylie’s clit.

Biting her own lip and clawing at Fletcher’s neck, she didn’t quite manage to hold in a cry of release as she came. Wild, intense, and uncontrolled, she lost herself as the convulsions ripped through her as fast and hard as every other aspect of the encounter.

Then, as quickly as they’d started, she fell forward onto Fletcher’s shoulder. “Fuck.”

“Absolutely.” Fletcher agreed as she withdrew from her with the most temperance and grace either of them had executed up to that point.

They did what they could to catch their breath while still pinned to the wall, and once her head stopped spinning, she nipped Fletcher’s earlobe. “So the outfit’s good, huh?”

“It’ll do.”

The laugh on her lips died at the sound of tires coming up the drive. “Shit.”

Fletcher stepped back with only a slight wobble. “Time for class.”

“I’m not sure I’m in any position to handle deadly weapons or stand in the presence of children.”

“What’s the saying? The show must go on?”

“Surely, the dress rehearsal can start a few minutes late.”

A car door slammed outside, and Bear bolted from the back of the arena right through the barn. “It’s Ava.”

She shook her head. “Not sure that’s any better.”

The heavy door slid open as they stepped farther apart, making the most of Ava’s immediate attention on her dog to try to look natural before she noticed them.

“Hey, you two,” Ava finally said when she glanced up. “Ready to go?”

“I’m always ready.” Kylie forced herself into acting mode, but Fletcher snorted at her answer like a twelve-year-old.

Ava shot her a curious look. “And what about you? Going to ride Gabrielle today?”

“Yeah, we’re good. Just have to get a few more quivers for the kids.” Fletcher ducked into the tack room, leaving Ava to turn back to Kylie as she stepped out of the stall.

“Your ensemble is stunning.” Ava’s eyes lit up at first glance, then narrowed. “I, um, you missed a button, though.”