“You okay?” he asks, peering at me through his lashes, his breathing labored and panting.
“Yes.”
“I’m going to move now.” He begins to pound into me, forcing through all my resistance and barriers, both my body and my heart. His face red with concentration, the sweat I feel gathering in the ditch of his spine is slippery in the sun beating down. I’m enraptured by the way he just has his hand laying possessively on my neck, as he fills me over and over. He kisses and bites everywhere. I’m fairly certain there will be bruises and hickeys peppering my neck and breasts later.
Leaning up, he grips my hips in a punishing hold, fucking me hard and fast before slowing down and rubbing my clit softly, teasingly, before repeating his rough, hard thrusts. Then soft and slow. Then hard and fast. I’m overwhelmed by the sensations flooding me.
Spreading his thighs so mine are laying on them, he lifts me until I’m almost in his lap. He places one hand on my hip and the other flat on my stomach and we move slowly together, as he increases the pressure harder and harder until I can feel what he’s doing. He’s pressing against himself moving inside me. Pressing that secret spot inside me against the ridge of hiscock, over and over, as his barbell slides against the sensitive skin.
Moaning, I fist the blanket as he sets a consistent pace. My moans grow until I am just panting, my mouth open, no sound left. It builds and builds, low in my belly, as he pushes and thrusts, pushes and thrusts. I feel pressure and the pleasure begins to flow through me like pulsing energy until he pushes me over the edge, and I come all over him. Both of us are completely soaked, covered in me.
He has the most ethereal look of complete happiness and gratification on his face. He pulls out of me, making me whimper, grabs my hips and flips me onto my stomach, pulling my hips up.
“Fuck, baby, look at this ass,” he tells me as he bites me hard, causing me to cry out. He follows it with a chuckle before he slams into me again, pushing me forward, his strong hands holding onto me so I don’t fall. He fucks me hard, his piercing rubbing over and over against the front wall of my pussy, the slick wetness making us slippery, sweat clinging to us. I bow my back and pant as he thrusts, his movements erratic and unsteady, his breathing labored.
One hand holds my hip, the other grabbing the back of my neck. He presses me down onto the blanket, his hand keeping me in place. Holding me tight, he slams into me, pressing so hard into me I feel him everywhere. I cry out in pleasure, coming around him, my muscles spasming as he shutters against my back, fucking me roughly. My body is trapped between him and the blanket, before he falls across my back, moaning out a long ‘fuck’ and digging his teeth into my shoulder.
We lay there for a few minutes, his arms around me, our breathing adding to the music of the day. The horses have wandered a bit from us but not far enough they are out of sight.
“Want to rinse off in the creek? It’ll be cold but...” he trails off, moving off of me.
“Sure,” I say as I stand. I want to cover myself now that things aren’t sexual.
“Don’t,” he commands as if he can read my mind. “If you want to cover up because you’re cold, or even shy, then go ahead. But don’t do it because you think I don’t want to see you. If it was up to me, I would keep you naked and wanting, every minute of the day.” He pulls me against him and kisses my head before lightly smacking my ass.
“We will get to spanking, next time.” Looking up at the sun, he sighs. “Shit, Hurricane, we gotta get back. I need to shower and get to the arena. Not that I don’t want to bring your smell with me all day,” I crinkle my nose, and he laughs, “but the bulls would not respond well.”
Chapter 26
My Best Friend’s Girl
Duke
Pushing my black hat on my head, I fix my shirt, making sure it’s even. I adjust my buckle; it’s a dress piece with DW engraved on it, with a little silver version of Lola, that Cash got me a few years ago for Christmas. Reaching down, I rearrange my pants until they are sitting right on my boots. Spraying on a little of my sandalwood cologne, I walk into the main part of the house, reaching down to rub Dolly between her ears, and I whistle for Hank.
I fill their bowls with their food, grab my keys, and walk to my truck. I take my hat off, ruffling my hair and set it on the seat next to me. I look over at the empty passenger seat and imagine a green-eyed girl gazing back, strawberries and vanilla filling the cab with her warmth, her sun.
I haven’t been to the rodeo in a while, but I need the break tonight. I want to fix things with her, but I want her to have space too. Take a pause, let both of us breathe, and decide if this is the right thing. Riding past theWelcome to Inspirationsign, I head west toward Lewistown. I can’t wait to see Cash on the bull. He’s a showman, incredibly talented, and always captures the attention of whoever watches.
He wants me to meet Callie tonight, and I know how much it means to him. He’s genuinely serious about this girl, with an intensity and focus usually reserved for me. We have always balanced each other well. Him, bright and sunny, easy going, roll-with-it and me, dark and stormy, intense, stubborn. We work well this way.
In twenty years, we’ve never needed to fight over women. He always attracted a different sort of woman than me. Now I’m so happy he is finally finding someone who is feeding his needs; his need for honest affection and understanding of who he really is, even if it’s happening at the same time I try to stop falling for Caroline.
Pulling in the lot for the arena, I park my truck in a spot in a long row of pickup trucks. Climbing out, I place my hat on my head, adjust my shirt, and walk toward the check-in tent. Cash always puts me on the VIP list when I tell him I’m coming—better seats and usually access to the riders’ tent. Checked in, lanyard around my neck, I set off in search of a drink and a place to sit.
I got here late. I didn’t care much for the other events, though I see on the leaderboard Cash placed second in calf roping. Riding is next so I head to my seat and wait. Cash is riding third, just behind Miles Wilkes. By the time his scores are up, he’ll know whether he beat him or not. The energy in the arena is reaching a fever pitch, boots stomping and hats waving as people try to get the bulls excited. The first rider pulls an eighty-seven, not a great showing. Miles and Steeler emerge from the chute and it’s a rodeo ballet the way they move together. He’s masterful at his craft and it’s easy to seewhy he’s dethroning Cash in city after city. Not every show, not every time, but enough that the crowd is on their feet.
When he dismounts and the score shows ninety-three, a huge cheer erupts from the crowd.
“Shit.” That’s a damn hard score to beat.
Cash is in the chute now, the beast under him doing his best to unseat his rider even behind the gate. The announcer does his spiel, calling out ‘Ashley Colter,’ and the crowd roars louder. I watch Cash; he dips his chin and adjusts the tail, rubbing the rope to warm the rosin. The gate swings open.
Bombardier shoots through the gate, repeatedly kicking his rear legs out. Cash flies forward over and over again, his arm flung in the air, his helmet making him look a bit bobble head-like. Bombardier takes three or four leaps, completely off the ground, tossing Cash around like a ragdoll. Cash, for his part, leans forward and back in time almost perfectly with the bull. I can see how tightly his thighs grip as he tries to keep his seat the full eight seconds.
A horn finally blares through the arena, and the pickup men run forward, dragging Cash down and away as the barrelmen dance and run to distract the bull. Cash climbs over the gate and he’s free. Standing, I head to the riders’ tent behind the chutes. I saw what I came to see so I want to meet Cash and Callie.
“You dirty little buckle bunny. You think Ashley would ever seriously want some overweight, hanger-on, pretender who isn’t even from around here? You don’t know shit about him! I’ve been around here for years.”
