Epilogue #3
It’s an invitation for more than just liquor and he knows it, but just like offering to buy your girl a drink, it’s the signal he’s hopefully looking for in the coy game we’re playing. His gaze was heated across that bonfire and I’m pretty sure it wasn’t due to the flames.
He swallows hard. His clenched jaw and flared nostrils tell me he’s either about to punch me in the face or drop to his knees and suck my dick right here in this dirt field.
After the longest second of my life — which is saying something since I ride bucking horses for a living — he nods and follows me to my truck.
Thank fuck. We can go back to being enemies in the morning, but tonight, I want to make him my own personal bucking beast.
We walk back two more rows, gaining some much needed distance between us and the bonfire.
I unlock the cab and pull the bottle of whiskey and a few other smaller items from the glove box.
Not bothering with cups, I take a swig from the bottle before passing it to him and pocketing the items I hope we’ll need soon.
He looks at the bottle like it personally offended him before coming to a decision and throwing back a healthy swallow. He definitely can’t hide his wince this time, but before I can take the bottle from him, he downs a second big gulp and starts coughing immediately.
“Not a big drinker then?” I smirk.
After another cough, he wipes his mouth.
“Not really.” Something flashes in his eyes and whatever hesitation he had a few minutes ago is replaced by a solid resolve to see where this thing between us goes.
He takes a bold step closer so that when he hands the bottle to me, pressing it into my stomach, his fingers graze my abs through my shirt.
“Or maybe I’m just thirsty for something else. ”
Bingo.
This man is like my own fucking kryptonite because there is nothing I love more than a dirty talker in a cowboy hat.
Hooking my index fingers in his belt loops, I yank him closer still, feeling brave thanks to the cheers and laughter coming from the bonfire letting me know the party is still in full swing four hundred yards away — buying us a little time.
Up close, I can see the youth in his features.
I’m only twenty, but I look a lot older. Hell, I feel a lot older. This sport will do that to a person.
“You’ve done this before, right?”
I know I could make it good for him, hell I am going to make it good for him, but I’ve already taken someone’s virginity and it was a fucking disaster.
Way too much pressure.
But that wasn’t even the worst part. The next day I woke up and was oddly torn up over it.
I replayed it a thousand times in my mind wondering if I could have done something differently or better for her.
The first time is a big deal. A lot of people remember it forever and despite how I feel about Walker in the arena, no one deserves for their first time to be a quick, rough fuck between enemies and hidden like a dirty little secret their partner is ashamed of.
I’m surprisingly sentimental over shit like that.
I take it to heart.
I think it’s because my first-time was a clusterfuck of limbs and expectations.
I had sex with a guy before I had sex with a girl and the dude did not care that I’d never taken a dick before.
We were both seventeen, but he’d already been having sex for a while.
Anyway, he finished, I didn’t, and as soon as he was done, he said thanks, I feel a lot better.
Then he zipped up his pants and went upstairs in search of more cheese puffs while leaving me on the fucking floor of the bathroom in his parent’s basement, wondering if that’s really how that was supposed to go.
When I saw him at school the next day, he didn’t even acknowledge my presence.
That’s how I lost my virginity.
Returning to the present, I see Walker sneering at me and I smile at the snarl on his face. “I’m not a virgin,” he replies.
“Just covering my bases,” I explain with a wink and a grin.
Walker continues staring at me with a decent amount of loathing in his eyes.
Okay, a hate fuck then. I’m down.
I actually prefer rough sex to gentle caresses and shit. It’s why I tend to enjoy myself more with male partners than female ones…I just also prefer that everyone’s properly prepped and aware of what’s coming.
“And we don’t tell anyone about this, understood?” I add. “I don’t want my career being overshadowed by my sexual preferences,” I growl, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck and pulling him to me, thankful some small piece of rationality is still present.
“And you think I do?” he responds against my lips with fire in his words. “I’ve got just as many eyes on me this season as you…probably more.”
“No,” I admit. “I know you don’t. And just for the record, I’m going to kick your ever-loving ass tomorrow.” My smirk is unmistakable right before my lips crash down on his.
“You couldn’t manage it today,” his smartass pants between kisses as I assault his mouth. “What makes you think tomorrow will be any different?”
I pull away from him and I know the biggest grin is spreading across my face because this is going to be oh so fun. “Cocky little shit, aren’t you?”
He shrugs. “Nothing really little about me.”
“That’s yet to be determined,” I chuckle, but as soon as he reaches forward cupping me through my Wranglers, I’m willing to let the issue go.
“We gonna waste time trading insults or would you rather give me what I came over here for?”
Fuck me sideways and halfway to Sunday.
Just to be sure we’re on the same page, I place my hand on his shoulder and lean in so my lips are against his ear. “And what exactly did you come over here for?”
The hand over my cock squeezes and blood rushes to fill my dick so fast, I sway on my feet, gravel filling my voice.
Giving him a wicked smirk, I nod. “Not here though.”
We’re still leaning against the passenger side of my truck in a row full of other trucks and party goers who could wander down this row seeking their own liquor to add to the mix. Including Corey Banks.
“There’s a barn where they store the tractors and maintenance equipment down by the river,” Walker offers.
I quirk a brow. “A literal roll in the hay, huh, cowboy?”
He drops his hand, tired of my sarcasm, and crowds closer until he has me pressed against the truck. In this position we’re eye to eye.
“You always talk this much?” He grips my biceps and I let out a groan. I can tell he wants to be rough and fuck, I want to let him. The way he’s holding back has my cock twitching in my skin-tight jeans. I’ve been on the road forever and I’ve missed the feel of a man.
“Yeah,” I admit. “But it’s a lot harder for me to talk when my mouth is full.” So, by all means, shut me up.
At the thought of me wrapping my lips around him, he yanks me away from the truck door and pulls me behind him, weaving between the vehicles, careful to stay out of sight.
I still feel a little off balance because he’s the biggest threat to my title, but he’s also hot as hell, willing, and he has just as much on the line as I do so I can trust him to keep his mouth shut.
Even through the haze of the alcohol, I feel his desperation for this.
For me. So, I let him lead me into the darkness.