Kerry strode out in front—totally sure of herself, barefoot and not giving a damn about what might be hiding in the grass. I couldn't stop staring, honestly, laser-focused on how her hips moved with every step, how her ass just did its thing, that leaf skirt or whatever hugging her just right.
Now, the heat between her thighs wasn't exactly subtle anymore—a shiny little trail running down her leg. And that scent—God, talk about distracting—thick, sweet, almost wild, just hanging in the air like she owned the night.
"Dexter, you can piss here." She pointed to a patch of grass, her voice practical—maternal. "And remember—when you poop, dig a hole..." She mimed the motion with her hands, her fingers pressing into the earth. "And after you're done, fill the hole again with the dirt."
I nodded, but my mind was elsewhere.
Because Kerry was still standing there.
And if I played this right?
I was about to see everything.
