The summer heat In Western Georgia was the kind that didn’t just press against your skin—it crawled down your back, curled into your waistband, and made everything feel a little slower, a little stickier, a little more dangerous.
Maddie was eighteen, freshly graduated and walking temptation wrapped in sun-kissed skin and sin. She had legs that looked like they belonged on a magazine cover, an hourglass body barely hidden beneath cutoff denim and faded tank tops, and a mouth that smiled like it already knew all your secrets.
People didn’t talk about Maddie. They watched her. They crossed their legs tighter in church pews when she walked in, or adjusted their belts behind the wheel of pickup trucks when she passed by barefoot on the side of the road.
She didn’t sleep around.
But she could have.
And that power buzzed under her skin like lightning waiting to strike.
That July, she picked up work helping around the Millers’ ranch—mucking stalls, organizing tack, running errands for the house. It was good money for a girl who didn’t want to leave town just yet. The Millers were old money in Peach Hollow, and their daughter, Caroline, had just come home from her first year at a private liberal arts college up north. Rumor had it she’d come back heartbroken. Maybe a boy. Maybe a girl. Maybe both.
Caroline was different from the rest of the town—tall, soft but sharp-eyed, with perfect posture and a sadness that hung around her like perfume. She had a record player and painted her toenails in shades of stormcloud and wine. She didn’t talk much. But she watched Maddie. Closely.
And Maddie noticed.
One night, long after the sun had dipped down and the moon was full and wide, Maddie finished brushing the horses and walked back up the house to find Caroline sitting on the porch swing in a thin white robe, a glass of bourbon in one hand, sweat on her collarbone, and her legs stretched out long and bare.
“Long day?” Caroline asked, voice low and syrupy.
Maddie smirked. “You could say that. Got some dirt in places I’d rather not have dirt.”
Caroline sipped her drink, eyes never leaving Maddie’s figure as she leaned against the wooden column. The porch light threw soft amber shadows across Maddie’s bare shoulders, catching the way her tank top clung to her chest, damp with sweat and clinging to every curve.
“You ever dance barefoot on a night like this?” Caroline asked, tipping her head toward the record player by her feet.
Maddie shook her head. “Only in my kitchen. Alone.”
“Then you haven’t really lived.” Caroline stood slowly, setting the drink down and turning the volume up. A vinyl crackled, then came the sound of something slow and aching—a bluesy, sultry tune that felt like molasses poured over a flame.
Without asking, Caroline reached for Maddie’s hand.
Maddie gave it.
The touch sent a spark straight up Maddie’s arm, into her chest, and down her belly like warm thunder. Caroline pulled her gently into a slow sway, just inches between their bodies. Maddie was suddenly very aware of her skin, the breeze, the night sounds, and the intensity in Caroline’s eyes.
“You ever kissed a girl before?” Caroline asked, almost too soft to hear.
Maddie swallowed. “No… but I’ve thought about it.”
Caroline stepped closer. Their bodies brushed. Maddie could feel the heat off her skin. Her breath. The rise and fall of her chest. Her nipples, pressed beneath the robe, firm and visible in the low light.
Caroline’s hand slid up to cradle Maddie’s neck.
“Then maybe it’s time.”
And then she kissed her.
It was gentle at first. Exploratory. Caroline’s lips were cool from bourbon, tasting faintly of oak and summer peaches. Maddie melted into it, her fingers curling in the fabric of Caroline’s robe, heart pounding in her chest like a war drum.
The kiss deepened. Became greedy.
Maddie’s mouth opened to Caroline’s tongue, and a soft, startled moan escaped her throat—high, involuntary, and aching with want.
They stumbled backward onto the porch swing, Caroline pushing Maddie down beneath her, straddling her lap as the swing creaked in rhythm with their breathless gasps. The robe slipped from Caroline’s shoulder, revealing warm skin, flushed and smooth. Maddie ran her fingers up along her ribs, then hesitated just under the curve of Caroline’s full breast.
“You can touch me,” Caroline whispered. “I want you to.”
That was all Maddie needed.
She slid her hand under the robe and cupped her breast, feeling the heavy weight of it, the stiff pink nipple pressing against her palm. Caroline gasped and ground her hips down into Maddie’s lap. The swing groaned beneath them.
Caroline kissed down Maddie’s throat, sucking a mark just above her collarbone.
Maddie’s shirt was pulled up. Her breasts exposed to the night air. Caroline stared at them like they were art—then leaned down and wrapped her lips around one nipple, her tongue soft and slow, then firm.
Maddie bucked beneath her.
“Oh god… don’t stop…”
Caroline didn’t.
They ended up tangled together on the porch floor, clothes shed, bodies glistening with sweat and moonlight. Caroline kissed her way between Maddie’s thighs, her breath hot and wet, her mouth devouring her in slow, steady licks until Maddie cried out, thighs trembling, hips bucking.
And then Caroline climbed on top of her and rode her fingers, whispering all the filthy things she used to think about at school when she was alone in her dorm bed.
When it was over, they lay naked in each other’s arms on the porch swing, breath slowing, stars spinning above them.
Caroline whispered, “I don’t know what this means.”
Maddie kissed her collarbone. “I do. It means I’m never going to be the same again.”
She wasn’t.
That was the night Maddie Rae Covington stopped wondering what she was made for.
And started becoming the woman who would take what she wanted—whoever she wanted.
XOXO
Maddie’s Page