“Thanks, Kasey. You didn’t do too bad yourself.” I hold up my finger and thumb. “So close to that top spot.” I give him a genuine smile of my own.
“So you’ve been watching me, then?”
“Don’t flatter yourself.” I roll my eyes and turn back towards the equipment I need to hang up before I take a shower.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says as he turns and walks away.
After a few more rounds around the tack room, I turn the light off, lock the door, and step inside my room. My body still buzzes with adrenaline after my win. It was close, but with each ride, we seem to be shaving off the milliseconds. Except the room feels too hot, too tight. I need to burn some energy. Pulling my hair loose and tossing my hat on my bed, I step out into the warm summer night and make my way back towards the arena. I make a mental note to find out what truck Dean drives so I can spot it in the future. Like other nights, most people have packed up and set off for their next stop, but I hate driving at night and like to get my sleep. I’ll leave first thing in the morning.
I pass a few venue staff on their way out, nodding to a few but keep walking until I reach the outdoor arena. The dirt has just been raked and the overhead lights are off. The full moon casts a glow around me that feels so peaceful I could lay down on one of the bleachers and stare at the stars until the sun came up. Deciding against it, I make my way to the middle of the arena and spin in a slow circle, taking in the rows of empty seats surrounding me. When I ride, I don’t have time to look around me. I’m in and out. I forget how many people fill this space. It’s humbling.
“Like the view, darlin’?” Startled, I spin towards the deep voice, the one I’ve tried to steer clear of all night. Even whenwe stood on stage together, I wouldn’t look his way. I felt his eyes burning a hole in the side of my face the whole time, but I didn’t cave. But now, with nowhere to hide, I feel like his prey. He’s still in his black chaps, the long fringe on the sides slapping against his long legs as he eats up the distance between us. I can’t decide if I should try and run past him or hold my ground. Before I come to a decision, his boots stop a few short feet away from me. The wind kicks up, blowing my curls around my face. Heavy hands frame my face, pushing the strands behind my ears. “Don’t ever tie this back again, you hear me?”
“W-What?” I gasp, his touch rough and gentle at the same time. A contradiction I can’t wrap my brain around.
Running his hands through my hair again, he stares into my eyes and whispers, “Let your wild out, don’t tame it.”
Despite the hot summer air around us, my skin breaks out in a cold sweat. He’s too close. I can smell his mouth watering scent all over me, and I just know my clothes will smell like him tomorrow. I shouldn’t want that to be the case so badly. My body trembles and I lean into him without thinking. He drops his hand with a cocky smirk, and I reel back, running my hands over my arms. He walks over to the side where a barrel sits on its side, overlooked by the crews that put everything away earlier this evening. He carries himself with confidence, a natural ease to his strides. The long sleeves of his black Carhart are rolled up, exposing the tattoos I’ve been dying to see underneath. His forearms flex as he effortlessly rights the barrel and carries it towards me. As he gets closer, I try to look at the ink that he usually keeps hidden underneath his riding gear. Just above the spur on his left hand is a tattoo of a skeleton head wearing a cowboy hat, cacti sprouting from the top. His right arm turns and I just make out the outline of a horse's face on the inside of his forearm.
When the barrel makes a heavy thud next to me, I snap my attention to him, confusion written all over my face. “Up,” he mumbles gruffly, grabbing me by the hips and lifting me. My hands fly out and grip his shoulders for balance. They are firm and clearly lined with bulky muscles. I feel every flex and strain as he sits my ass roughly on the top of the barrel.
“What the fuck, Dean?” I try to push myself off, but he grabs my knees in his warm hands and pushes them apart.
“Absolutely not!” I struggle against his hold. “We cannot do this again, that was a?—”
I’m silenced in an instant with the growl he lets loose into the space between us. “Don’t you fucking dare,” he says between clenched teeth. I should be terrified, I’m alone with this man. This wild, uncontrollable, infuriatingly addicting man. “Don’t you even think it.”Mistake. It was on the tip of my tongue to say, but I know it would be a lie, no matter how hard I try to convince myself otherwise.
“A one-time thing.” My breath comes out hushed. I swallow hard. “I liked that shirt, you know.” This gets a small laugh from him, and it catches me by surprise. It never crossed my mind that this man would smile, let alone laugh. It’s like a drug—now that I’ve heard it, I want it, crave it, but know I shouldn’t.
“You’re like a shot of whiskey, darlin’.” He turns those stormy eyes to me and I fall victim to him all over again. “One ain’t ever enough.”
Last time I had whiskey, I ended up with a tattoo on my ass. What will happen this time? We stay staring at each other, his hands roaming over my thighs, my knees, massaging my calves, before working their way up to my waistband. He pauses, and then I’m not sure who breaks first. He flicks my jeans open, pulling the zipper down as I tear at the buttons of his shirt, pulling it from the band of his jeans and throwing it open. My mouth drops, saliva pooling in my mouth at the specimenbetween my legs. His chest is dusted in black hair. Abs stacked on abs perfectly line his stomach and a line of hair marks a path to his buckle. Even in the dim lighting, I can’t make out an inch of skin. He’s covered in the most intricate tattoos I have ever seen. He’s incredible, and I can’t tear my eyes off of him.
“Like what you see, darlin’?” he mumbles against my temple, leaning in closer. I reach my hands up and graze them over his skin, marveling in the way his body reacts to my touch. Across one pec is another giant skull, the top of his head covered by a black hat, much like the one Dean wears now. A bandana covers its chin with the wordsHell Raiserwritten underneath. My fingers continue their path down over his ribs, his muscles tensing when I hit a sensitive spot. I can feel the way his mouth curves upward against my skin. I’ve never wanted the sun to come up faster so I could memorize every line, every shape, and every design inked into his skin. I’m drowning in the intimacy between us, at war with myself and the rules I’d laid out so long ago.
“You’re thinking too hard.”
“I’m…unsure.”
He nudges my cheek and I turn to look into those eyes that are slowly pulling me under his spell. “Then it’s a good thing I’m not.” He lifts me, and just as I think he’s about to put me back on my feet and end our night, my skin meets the cold metal of the barrel as he rips my jeans down my legs. My cotton thong is doing little to cover me. Slowly, he lowers his head between my legs, his trimmed beard rubbing against the sensitive flesh of my inner thighs. I bite my lip to hold back the moan begging to be set free. This man has me twisted, but I can’t look away. His black cowboy hat covers the face I want to watch as he makes his way higher between my legs. Without thinking, I reach out to grab the hat off his head, but he catches my hand, his grip tight. The brim tips up and wild eyes stare back at me. He givesme a shake of his head and wordlessly brings his mouth close to mine. I lick my lips in anticipation, wanting nothing more in this moment than to feel his lips on mine. To taste him, to drink him in.
Reaching up with his other hand, he removes his black hat and rests it gently on top of my head, then winks at me before pulling it down over my face. Unable to see anything, my senses are heightened. I gulp in mouthfuls ofhim. His hat even smells like rain, how does it not reek of sweat and leather? But leave it to this paradox of a man to smell like the one thing that takes me back to better days. I’m shaken from my thoughts as one finger pulls the center of my thong to the side, the night air cool against my sex. Moaning, I lean back on my elbows, letting my head fall back. I tremble when his finger runs over me, causing me to jump and scoot closer to the edge of the barrel, seeking him out. His hot tongue darts out and leaves a wet trail up the top of my thigh, moving to the other as he runs a damp path into my skin. Once again, it feels like he’s marking me in a way that is soul consuming, and so fucking hot.
The moment he latches onto my clit, I scream out, my voice echoing inside his hat. I’ve had men between my legs before, but it’s never felt like this. He nips, sucks, and eats like a man starved. In the back corners of my mind, I’m reminded that we are out in the open, exposed for anyone to stumble upon. But it only intensifies my pleasure. A thick finger slides inside, curving upward to a place that has me breathless.
“I told you that you’d enjoy being worshiped,” he growls against my waist, his hot breath misting against my skin. “I also told you you’d enjoy being dominated. Mark my words, darlin’, I intend to do both.”Oh God.I ride his hand, his mouth sucking my clit back between his lips. Once his teeth graze over that part of me, white hot flames shoot out from my core to the tips of my fingers and toes. My whole body vibrates with the pleasurethis man serves me. I can hardly catch my breath, but Dean continues to rub me. Through the last waves of orgasm, he holds me, strokes me,ruinsme. His strong arms pulls me against his chest, his heartbeat wild below my cheek. The sound of the night slowly returns around us, and I’m left wishing we were in a bed where I would relish in his attention for hours.
“Dean, that you?”Shit!We freeze, grabbing the collar of his shirt. I pull him closer to me desperate to hide from view. Dean shifts his legs wider and holds me tighter against him.
“Shhh, it’s alright,” he whispers against the side of my head. Turning his head to look over his shoulder, he yells back at the man on the other end of the arena. “Yeah, just trying to get some air.” The mans shuffles away and when Dean turns back to me, he wears a mischievous grin, one that I return, pushing him away roughly. Tugging the hat off my tangled hair, I shove it against his bare chest, jump off the barrel, and adjust my jeans back over my hips. He doesn't even offer a hand.
“What a gentleman,” I scoff, shoving past him. Those long fingers that just moments ago were deep inside me grip my forearm, stopping me in a spin.
“I never claimed to be one.” Wrenching my arm free, I flip him the middle finger and stomp off, his boot steps hot on my heels. It’s not until I’m almost to the gate that I notice a black horse tied to the fence. He’s tall, pushing close to eighteen hands. I reach out to rub him between the eyes, but Dean snatches my wrist and pulls me back against his chest. The horse rocks back and forth, eying us cautiously. Wiggling out of his grasp, I spin towards Dean, jabbing a finger into his still bare chest.
“What is your problem?” I glare up at him.
Stormy eyes flick between me and his horse behind me. “He’s a mean motherfucker, Hannah.” I toss my hands in the air and laugh in his face.
