Prologue
prologue
Lina
One Year Earlier
H e was fucking me— with his eyes . Eyes that were dark and shadowed beneath a black cowboy hat. The rowdy Saddle Room bar at the Joseph Round-Up pumped classic country music over the inebriated shouts and laughter of the crowd. The bass reverberated through the soles of my boots, traveling up my bare legs, until it settled in my core. It almost felt like the cowboy who bit at his lip while he watched me was humming right into my cunt. Thick hands picked up the glass of whiskey off the bar top, bringing it to his lips. Hands that I could imagine wrapping around my throat. He sipped, his gaze locked on me. And it felt like he was sipping me .
“Are we getting a tattoo or what?” Viv asked, nudging my shoulder.
“You’re seriously going to do that?” Kale Pardy asked, reaching over me to slam his token on the bar.
“How do ya want it?” the bartender asked.
“Neat,” Kale stated matter-of-factly.
Vivian Kelly, my only barrel racing friend—because the rest were competition—was always up to get fucking trashed with me.
“Actually,” I said, eyeing my cowboy on the other side of the bartop, “give that to me.” I held out my hand and Viv slapped the temporary Saddle Room logo tattoo into my turned up palm.
“Oh, I see.” Viv smirked, following my gaze.
Even among the bustling rodeo crowd, he seemed large. Wide set shoulders, corded arms that proved he was used to throwing calves over his shoulders—I’d let him throw me. A trim dark beard covered his square jaw. He looked older than what I typically went for, edgy and rugged. I bet he had more experience than any of the boys I’ve slept with. And I was tired of playing with boys . I needed a man . A man who could match me in my hidden desires, who was willing to push boundaries I had yet to explore.
His tongue darted out to lick his fuckable lips as if tasting the whiskey left there. Oh, how I’d love to taste that whiskey. Neon beer signs on the wall behind him glowed like a beacon, telling me to come hither. I felt like a moth being drawn to the fire, but I didn’t care if he burnedme. I’d let myself burn to ashes just to have that man touch me.
The bartender set Kale’s whiskey on the bar. Before he could grab it, I swiped it up, knocking it back until every drop slid down my throat. That burn so fucking good—coursing down my throat, spreading it’s warmth to my limbs, my breasts, my belly, and between my legs, until even my toes tingled in my boots.
“Hey! You fucking serious?” Kale exclaimed, looking aghast.
I shoved the glass into his chest.
“I’m in love, Kale.”
Smoldering eyes, darkened by his cowboy hat, traced the curve of my breasts in my tight tank top. It felt like he was trailing a finger over my skin, dipping into my cleavage and circling my tits. His gaze traveled over my long legs as I stepped away from my friends and pushed through the crowd. I felt like I was swimming with the current, floating on a cloud, moving in slow motion toward him, while his eyes did not stop devouring me.
I stepped into his space, the shadows giving way to a handsome face, dark brown eyes that were warm and full of desire. A perfect strong nose and full lips that tipped in a lazy smile.
Cologne that smelled like sandalwood and leather hit me like a gust of wind. My breath hitched. Music pounded in my ears, but the noise of the crowd seemed to fade into the distance.
So this is what love at fucking first sight feels like?
I took a bold step closer, my toes bumping his boots, then another step until I was nearly pressing my body against his.
“You new here, cowboy?” I asked looking up at him, my hand going to his belt buckle, drawing him closer until he was pressed against me. The heat and hardness of this very large man felt so damn good against my soft skin.
“I’ve been around.” His voice was husky and deep, a rasp to it that was fucking sexy. What I wouldn’t do to hear this man tell me to “beg” and “be a good girl?”
I brushed my fingertips down the cold metal of his belt buckle, over the zipper of his jeans. I could feel the stiff bulge in his pants. Good Lord! This man was huge!
I wrapped my hand over his dick, gripping it through his jeans, just as the Saddle Room tradition demands, claiming him as mine.
He hissed through his teeth, his cock twitching in my grasp. I smirked, feeling powerful and in control. This man was going to be mine all night long.
“I was hoping you could help me with something?” I asked, holding up my other palm with the temporary tattoo.
“Yeah?” his fingertips trailed up my arms, sending shivers in their wake. “Where do you want it?”
I brushed my wavy brown hair off my shoulder and stood taller, revealing the top of my cleavage. His gaze followed my movement.
“I was thinking it should go right above my heart.”
His smile grew slightly, a mischievous light flickering in his dark orbs.
“We need to get it wet first.” His voice rumbled against my skin.
I pushed my tits against his chest, offering myself to him.
He set his hat on the bar beside his drink. His breath danced across my skin and I could smell the smoky sweetness of whiskey. His eyes held mine as he wrapped his large hands around my waist, holding me still while he dipped his head. I arched toward him and his lips brushed against the sensitive skin of my breast, his stubble scrapping deliciously across the swell. My lungs sucked in air to keep myself grounded. His fingers dug into my hips.
Slowly, torturously, his tongue swirled, his mouth opening to suck me in. God, I hoped this man fucking bruised me. I hope he left his mark beneath the tattoo. His mouth pulled and sucked at my skin, drawing me in. Each pull of his mouth was like a fucking tether to my clit. Each pull and pulse shot waves of pleasure to my pussy. I closed my eyes, the heady buzz of the whiskey making this feel like he was fucking me right here under the red glow of the neon. I rocked my hips against him, his cock bucking into my stomach.
I panted, my pussy pulsed. His mouth sucked. It felt like he was sucking me dry.
“I want you to fuck me,” I breathed out. I don’t know if I thought it or said it out loud.
But I think I said it aloud, because he answered with another thrust of his cock against my belly, his tongue darting out to soothe the skin he had most likely marked.
He pulled away. Cool air danced across my flesh where he had latched to me. His eyes held mine, now almost black with need.
Fuck, I think I did say it out loud.
He let go of my waist, but he did not step away from where we stood against each other. Peeling the plastic off the tattoo, he put pressure on it. His hand was so large it nearly covered my whole breast. I watched my chest quickly rise and fall beneath his palm. His deeply tanned skin complimenting my golden tan, his rough and calloused, mine soft and supple.
His gaze flicked back to mine, holding me there, piercing into my very soul. All I could hear was our heaving breaths, my blood pumping in my ears, and the subtle hum of the bar disappearing into the distance.
“Come back to my place.”
He didn’t have to ask or demand it. I would have followed him anywhere. He could have led me into the bathroom and I would have spread my legs for him.