“Have you seen the McGee’s at all?” Dad’s voice crackles over the phone.

I lean back against the headboard and look around my childhood room. Dust covered basketball trophies and sketches from middle school line the walls. “I have. Nash and I are actually doing some work over there.”

“Huh. You don’t say.”

“Yes,” I slowly answer. “We are.”

“Ranch hand work? You hate working in the fields.”

“No, Mrs. McGee needs help around the house. Repair stuff.”

“That’s nice of you.”

I stifle a yawn. “We could use the money.”

“What about Cheyenne?”

The name sends ripples of want through me. I’ve been counting the hours since she ran away from Nash and me this afternoon. “I’ve seen her,” I simply say.

“She’s going to be a school teacher. Did she tell you?”

“That’s great.”

A heavy pause fills the air.

“Is there something else you want to say?” I ask.

“She’s a nice girl.”

“Damn, old man.”

“Hey,” he barks. “Show me some respect. If your mother was alive to hear you talking like that...”

“I’m kidding,” I interrupt. “I mean old man in the respectful sense.”

A door loudly shuts somewhere downstairs. I grit my teeth. Nash has been puttering around the house for the last hour, banging shit and sulking. I’m a breath away from going down there and cursing him out. We’re both sexually frustrated, but that doesn’t mean we have to be mopey bitches.

It’s ironic how fast his cocky attitude from this afternoon faded. Cheyenne not coming back to us within the hour hit his ego hard. I do get it. Nash and I aren’t used to waiting too long for women.

And usually the waiting we do isn’t this painful.

“She always had a thing for you,” Dad says.

“What’s that?”

“Cheyenne always had a thing for you.”

My lips twist into a smile. “You’re thinking you’re going to set me up.”

“And what’s wrong with that?”

“Getting set up means settling down.”

“Yeah,” he grumpily says. “And we know how you feel about that.”

More banging reverberates through the house. “Talk to you later, Dad. Have a good trip.”

“Don’t burn the ranch down.”

“I haven’t yet.”

I hang up and toss the phone on the end of the bed. Hooking my arms behind my head, I settle into the pillows. Nash’s knocking around has been replaced with the radio.

I take in a long breath and let it out through clenched teeth. There’s no relaxing. Not with Cheyenne McGee still on the run.

I half expected her to come back to us tonight. The electricity that happened between us wasn’t in my head. If our kiss made her half as wild as it did me she’s going to have trouble sleeping for weeks.

My dick twitches in my boxers. I fly my hand down and rub my fingers across the bulge. A vision forms in front of me. Cheyenne’s full lips eagerly part. They’re pink and raw, and ready to take my length in.

I tug my dick out of the slit in my boxers and slowly pump it. My fingers curl around the base and travel up to the tip. It pulses hot in my hand. I close my eyes and imagine Cheyenne’s pussy locked around it.

I clench and release the pressure on my shaft. My hand slides up and down, my fingers crashing against my balls and slipping over the tip of my dick.

Two pink nipples bounce around in front of me. They’re perfectly centered, mounds of flesh and a line of cleavage, all begging to be touched. I take one in two fingers and turn it clockwise. Cheyenne screams in pleasure. She arches her back, sending her nipples pointing towards the sky.

I rub my dick faster. My balls clench tight. Pleasure and pressure build. I burst, sweet relief flying across my leg.

My hand falls to my side and my ears fill with white noise. The vision of Cheyenne is still there, her naked body teasing me.

“Fuck.”

I may have just burst all over the bed, but I’m not satiated. Shooting my load and calling it a day isn’t going to get the job done.

I need the real thing. I need Cheyenne’s tits pressed into my face. I need her tongue running across my balls.

There’s a heavy knock on the door. I push my dick back into my boxers and sit up.

“What?”

“The wi-fi isn’t working,” Nash grumpily says.

“Too bad. Go read a book.”

“I don’t need a book.”

I smirk to myself. “You need to watch porn, huh?”

“What if I do? So what?”

I get up and open the door. Nash is still wearing his clothes and hat. He crosses his arms and glares at me like it’s my fault the internet is screwed up.

“Jerking off won’t do it,” I say. I push past him and navigate towards the bathroom. “Trust me.”