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Chapter 14

Then, on the seventh day, Craig texted me. That is to say, Craig sent me directions and a dick pic. Said photo had been taken outside. I hadn’t a clue where he’d shot it. Not that I cared, really. I mean, all I saw was his gloriously beautiful wiener and a map showing me how to get to it. X, it seemed, marked the spot—or maybe make that XXX.

I took off like Evel Knievel—also, by the way, a famous Montanan. Fifteen minutes later, I found myself on the outskirts of town, along the majestic Yellowstone River. I hugged the rocky banks, nose up, waiting for the first tantalizing molecule of him to hit my sinus cavity.

I grinned when I caught the whiff, the decidedly unique aroma of my boyfriend. He smelled of youth and sex and Right Guard and Prell. No one smelled quite like Craig. No one made my cock swell like he did.