We sat on a glorious pile of our own discarded clothes—my jacket folded beneath us like the throne it deserved to be, her's spread across the hay to protect that flawless skin from anything as crude as prickle.
The rest of our fabric lay scattered in elegant disarray, somewhere between a love nest and a small, delicious act of sacrilege against whatever gods still bothered with modesty.
The stable wrapped us in that hushed, amber calm that only exists after two people have thoroughly emptied themselves into each other and have nothing left to hide, with no secrets or any need for performances.
Just raw, satisfied silence.
Madison settled between my legs, her back against my chest, my arms wrapped possessively around her waist, her head tucked perfectly into the hollow under my chin.
