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How does he get along with friends without speaking? Does he have friends? I mean, if he’s like that as a mute, can you imagine what would come out of his mouth if he spoke?
I shake my head. Curiosity swirls in my mind over what happened to him at the age of four that made him stop talking, but I push the thought away. We’ve all got problems.
“I want to hear you,” someone pants.
I slow as I hit the stall.
“Show me what you want me to do,” she whispers.
I almost drop the hay.
Her voice is barely audible, so soft like she’s hanging on by a thread.
I set the hay down, taking a step back. It could be anyone. There’s lots of people here right now, and I don’t want to be embarrassed. Slowly, I retreat.
But then I hear a grunt, a shuffle of hay, and a small cry. I halt.
“I’m gonna make you moan,” she tells him. “You’re gonna like it that much.”
I don’t know why, but I take a soft step forward. Following the sounds to the far stall at the end of the stable, I get to the door with the top half partially open and listen closely again.
“Come on…” she moans.
I hold my breath and peer through the crack in the door. Skin and hands fill my view as he threads his fingers through her long black hair, and she kneels between his legs and sucks his…
I look away for a second, heat rising to my cheeks.
But her soft little whimpers draw my attention again.
Her head moves up and down on him, her hands running up his jean-clad thighs and gripping his belt, pulling his pants down more, so that I see his hips and the curve of his ass.
I can’t see her face, and I can’t see what she’s doing to him, but I know.
I slide my eyes up—taking in his muscles, skin, shiny with sweat again, and before I get to his face, I know who it is.
Kaleb has his head tilted back, his eyes closed, and breathes hard as he grips her hair, forcing her up and down on his cock. The muscles in his forearms flex, and his hair damn near hangs in his eyes, but I watch his face, the woman forgotten. Sweat dampens the ends of his hair, sticking to his skin, and his lips tighten periodically, because he…
He likes it. I hear her moan, even with him in her mouth, and he pulls her down on him again and again as his eyebrows pinch together.
And then his eyes open.
His head tilts forward again, and his gaze pins me through the crack like he knew I was here the whole time.
Shit.
I stop breathing again. My body tenses, and shame burns my skin, but he starts moving faster, pumping himself into her mouth now as his eyes burn a hole right through me.
My mouth opens, because it’s the only thing that will move. I don’t even see her anymore as he leans forward into her, one hand still in her hair and one hand holding a sideboard as he fucks her mouth. His hips pump faster and faster, his eyes suddenly piercing like they did last night when he pushed me into the wall and… smelled me.
A drop of sweat falls down my stomach under my flannel, and I almost find myself starting to move with him, entranced.
I lean into the door, soaking up the only few centimeters closer I can get.
She groans, he and I stare at each other, and all I see is how he would’ve moved with me last night.
If I hadn’t stopped him.
But then a moan escapes, and I don’t realize it came from me until I see the corner of his mouth curl into a smile. I suck in a breath, finally realizing what the hell I’m doing.
