“Can I go a little faster?” Wren asks.
I glance up at them. “Feeling confident?”
Wren shrugs. “What’s the worst that can happen?”
I let a little more rope out so Blaze can walk a wider circle and encourage him to move a little faster. “We’re about to find out.”
Blaze moves from a walk to an undignified trot. He shakes his head, and his thick mane moves with him.
Wren begins to bounce in the seat a little. But their laughter is clear and bright as they move around the paddock.
“You wanna go faster?” I ask.
“Yes. But I’m scared I’m gonna fall off.”
“You want me to get on behind you?” I’m not sure what the etiquette is. If this was a woman, I’d have flirted my way onto the back of that horse already. Fuck, we’d likely already be on our way out into the woods.
I find myself holding my breath.
“Sure,” Wren says, and wriggles forward on the saddle.
I smile to myself, then look at Blaze. “Do not move, or you will make me look like a total fucking idiot.”
I walk up behind Blaze. Then run and leapfrog on behind Wren, who yelps as I land behind them.
Blaze dances a bit of a jig as I scoop the reins into one hand and place my other around Wren’s waist. Blaze shifts under the combined weight, his ears flicking back at this unusual arrangement. I’ve never taken someone else out on him with me.
With Wren’s back pressed flush against my chest, I can feel their warmth through all the layers we’re wearing. And do I get a perverse pleasure seeing Wren in my jacket?
Yes, I fucking do.
I’m wearing the spare I keep in the back of the truck.
“You good?” I ask, leaning to one side so I can dip my nose closer to the side of Wren’s head. Their hair is as soft as I thought it would be.
“Yes.” Wren’s single word is roughly spoken.
“Hold steady. I’ll do the work. You just keep your hands on the horn of the saddle.” Their hands are in gloves now, but I think back to earlier when I held Wren’s hands in mine, patching up their cuts. They were slender, but strong, with short, unpolished nails.
Wren grabs the horn with both hands, and I wonder for a moment what it would be like for them to jerk my cock until I come all over them.
“Breathe,” I coax as Wren stiffens; their pulse must be racing faster than Blaze’s shifting muscles. “Move with me and Blaze. You’re gonna be fine.” I tighten my arm around Wren’s waist. “I’m not going to let you fall. And if you want to stop, just say so.”
I’ve never been more grateful that Atom’s grandfather installed a mighty-sized paddock.
I click my tongue twice, Blaze’s signal to move, and give him a gentle squeeze with my heels. Knowing my rhythm, Blazesurges into a trot, the rhythmic bounce jostling Wren in my arms.
“Faster?” I ask.
“Yes,” Wren shouts as the world starts to rush by. I urge Blaze into a smooth and powerful canter. The sudden burst of speed steals Wren’s breath, the wind tangles their hair, and I keep my face to the side of theirs to stop it whipping me.
There are three sounds I love most in life. The roar of my motorcycle. The cries of sex. And the way the ground thunders beneath iron hooves.
Wren’s body presses back against mine. “Take the reins,” I say.
“God, no,” Wren squeals.
But I free one of their hands and weave the reins on it. “He listens. So, trust him.”
