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“It’s not your one big thing,” Amanda argued. You are, again, literally entering private property uninvited to take a picture of Jagger McCoy’s cock all to show Giselle you can ‘do the dirty work yourself,’ whatever the hell that means.”
“Emphasis on dirty... because you know his cock is big and dirty. In a good way,” Jenna added sheepishly.
“Do you think Jagger McCoy gets an erection every time we say Jagger McCoy’s cock?” Finley couldn’t help but ask.
“That would be fucking hilarious,” Amanda said before they erupted into laughter.
Finley pulled up the zipper of her dark green leather bodysuit and then took a deep breath. She certainly looked the part of a stealthy thief with her thigh-high boots, and yes, she had opted for a chunky heel instead, considering the terrain. She had also tied her hair into a long sleek ponytail that swished down her back with every movement she made.
“Besides, I’m just scouting out the area,” she told her friends. “I only want to see what he does, scope out his routine. I’m not going to do anything yet.”
“There’re bugs,” Jenna exclaimed as if she had come up with the one thing that would keep Finley from completing the challenge. “Big ones. Huge ones.”
“Stop that. Besides, I already thought of that; that’s why I’m wearing this,” she said, gesturing to her full bodysuit, which covered every inch of her body. No bug would be getting into her clothes. “I’m going to be fine. If I need help, I’ll call you guys, okay? Besides, that’s why I’m doing it now, during daylight, so I can see my way out easily.”
Twenty minutes later, after she had to repeatedly promise up and down that she would in fact call them if she needed help, Finley covered the distance from the town to the boundary of the forest with her car until she came across a sign telling her she was trespassing. At that point, she removed herself from the safety of her vehicle, then with her phone in her pocket tucked against her breast, she zipped the bodysuit up again, and entered the forest.
She tried not to think of the bugs. Then she had to stifle her groans when that was all she could think about. Until she cleverly put Giselle’s face on the body of one such bug, that little trick renewed her confidence a hundred times over.
After what seemed like forever, a cabin came into view. Hiding behind the foliage, hoping her forest-green bodysuit helped her blend in, she eyed the building.
It was now or never. As quietly as she could, she sprinted across the expanse of bare ground and then hid behind some wooden barrels.
At that point, she heard the faint sound of water splashing. Was someone swimming?
Pivoting, she followed the sound of the water, then concealed herself yet again behind some shrubbery.
And low and behold, she spotted him.
Her mouth dropped open, and she forgot how to close it. Her heart started to pound so loud and hard in her chest she thought she might give her presence away.
But more extraordinary, her nipples strained painfully against the confinement of the leather of the bodice. And her skimpy lace panties had grown undeniably wet in an instant.
He was magnificent, just as Jenna had said. But also scary, just as Amanda had said.
After swimming a lap in the crystal-clear water, unmistakably cold despite it being a lovely spring afternoon, Jagger McCoy rose out of the depths like a water god in the late sun-kissed afternoon light.
To say he was ripped would be an understatement. The man had zero fat and 100% muscle. His torso, sculpted for sheer power, sported a chiseled chest sprinkled with dark hair that took her breath away. Brick-like abs nestled against a ridiculously flat stomach, and the trail of hair that tapered to a soul-melting, clit-tingling V disappeared into his damn swimming trunks.
She looked again, got more distracted by the thickness of his muscle-bound thighs during her perusal, and then had to accept he was wearing shorts. Damp shorts that clung to every inch of the colossal bulge between his legs, but Giselle would only insist he was packing a pair of socks down his shorts before swimming. Or two pairs. Or three.
Fuck.
Her job would have been done if only he swam naked. Why didn’t he swim naked like a normal person?
She took a few pics anyway. She wasn’t sure why. She knew she’d never even show them to Giselle, knowing her step-cousin wouldn’t accept them as proof of anything. She wouldn’t show them to Amanda or Jenna either, which was odd because they usually showed each other everything. But these... She wanted to keep these for herself.
But that wasn’t going to win her the challenge, so she had to think of something else. Somehow, she had to get to his cabin before he did, hide out in a strategic place— probably his bathroom, because he was bound to take a shower after his swim—and then she would finally get her picture and leave.
Plan in place; she scrambled away, ducking and diving, certain she looked quite funny to an outsider. Reaching the cabin, her throbbing heart detonated like a bomb with every beat as she crept up the porch and then tried the handle on the door. Perspiration started to trickle down her back, forcing her to pull down the zipper on the front of the bodysuit. She hadn’t anticipated she would be doing so much running, even though she really should have.
The door was unlocked. She darted inside and closed the door quickly behind her. Something poked at her breast, but with her adrenaline running high, she scarcely noticed and brushed it aside.
Taking a wide glance around the abode, she noted the overwhelmingly masculine nature of the set-up, from the furniture to the scent in the air. A dash of men's cologne mixed with wood and leather.
She found herself drawing in deeper breaths. The fragrance had an addictive factor, and all her senses seemed to come alive at once.
Hurrying, she found the main bedroom and slipped into the ensuite bathroom.
