Prologue #2
I fisted his shirt, not wanting him to pull away, while I toed off my boots and shimmied out of my shorts as quickly as I could. I lightly nipped at his bottom lip before breaking away to pull my tank top over my head.
His chest heaved as he drank me in. I watched his eyes skim slowly over my white lace bra and panties.
“Fuck. You’re a goddamn smokeshow,” he said as his hand cupped my jaw and his thumb brushed over my bottom lip.
I never needed reassurance from a man to tell me the obvious, but for some reason, coming from him felt different. I tried to brush it off with a quick laugh, but it came out low and sultry.
My hand went to his belt, pulling him back into me. I needed him closer. Now. I didn’t want to stop touching him. Not even for one second. I slammed my mouth to his, his teeth scraping against my swollen lips until he sucked in my tongue.
Fuck. This man was going to be my undoing.
And I didn’t even know his name.
I tugged on his belt, unclasping the buckle and unbuttoning and lowering his zipper. His cock strained at his boxer briefs, and my pulse pounded like a drum between my legs. I could feel my panties already soaked. I pressed my thighs together, subconsciously desperate for any form of friction.
I tried to steady my breathing as I watched him lean down to tear off his boots, then quickly pull his shirt over his head. He looked almost as desperate as I was.
Goddamn. The man was a fucking god. Every muscle was shredded. Ridged lats, strong pecs, abs chiseled right down to his cut V. Muscles that only hard work and cowboying could create. Saliva pooled in my mouth. I’d be drooling if I kept ogling him this way.
“How do you want me, cowboy?” I asked, watching him step out of his jeans.
His strong, thick thighs dusted with hair reminded me that he was very much a man. My heart pounded erratically, anticipating what he had in store for me. I’d try anything once, and I was quickly growing obsessed with this cowboy. I’d do anything he asked of me.
“Spread yourself out on the couch,” he instructed.
I lay down across the plush, gray couch, unclasping my bra and letting the straps fall off my shoulders. The cool evening air teased my now-exposed skin, making my nipples pebble.
He bit his lip, just as he had in the bar, and hummed in appreciation.
“Panties off,” he demanded. “Spread those pretty thighs for me, sweetheart.”
I shimmied the lace over my hips, down my legs, and over my feet until I could kick them off. Who cares where they landed in the dark? I did as he asked, allowing my knees to fall open so he could see how wet I was for him.
The moon cast shadows across his face, but his eyes blazed with need.
“See something you like?” I teased.
“Fuck, you’re drenched.”
“Just for you, baby.” I ran a hand up the inside of my thigh, my fingertips dancing over my pussy lips, spreading the moisture up and over my clit. “Do you have a condom?”
He stood still for a moment, his gaze jolting back to mine. A moment of what looked like doubt—or was it guilt?—washed over him as he hesitated. My brows pinched together, concerned. Did he not want to do this? Did I take it too far? Was he regretting bringing me home?
He turned around, walking away and disappearing behind a door, which I assumed was his bedroom. I sat up. Maybe this wasn’t going to happen after all? Shit. Where were my panties?
I scanned the dark floor, looking for where my underwear could have landed. I squinted, not being able to see much. I did, however, notice a toy tractor lying on its side on the carpet. Did this guy have a kid?
Before I had too much time to spiral on that, he strode back out into the living room.
Having shed his briefs, he was now on full display—every chiseled, rock-hard, tan muscle.
I wanted to lick this man. Everywhere. It didn’t matter where as long as my tongue was on his body.
His hand flexed as he rolled the condom onto his very large cock.
“Holy shit!” I said, before I could even think. “How in the hell do you walk around with that thing?”
I’d seen men in pornos that big, but I didn’t think it actually existed.
Now sheathed, he glanced up at me, his face dark and determined.
Not even answering my question, he stalked toward me, his cock bouncing as he approached.
I scraped my teeth over my bottom lip, contemplating how in the world he was going to fit.
Hell, I was wondering if I’d even be able to sit straight in my saddle tomorrow.
That was a problem for tomorrow, though.
He knelt on the couch, pushing me back, wedging himself between my legs.
His strong, steady, calloused hands went to my knees to guide them open.
Positioning himself between my hips, he ran his tip through my wetness, flicking and teasing against my clit.
I bucked my hips, urging him on. He did it again, coating himself in it.
“Fuck me,” I pleaded, wrapping my hand around his neck, drawing him down to brush a soft kiss across his lips.
“This sweet little cunt hungry for my cock?” he whispered.
I hummed in agreement. I loved a man who talked dirty. “Fucking starved for it.” I arched toward him, rocking against his hard cock that was mere inches away from where I needed it.
I gripped his dick and positioned the tip at my entrance. “I want to feel how deep you can go,” I told him. I had no idea how much I could fit, but I was desperate and willing to try.
He inched forward, the thick tip stretching me. My breath hitched.
“You can take me,” he encouraged. “I can feel how much your pussy wants to suck me in. Now breathe, and let me take care of this needy little cunt.”
I inhaled through my nose, smelling the scent of whiskey on our breaths and the sweet musk of my arousal that mingled with his. My head swam with desire and liquor as he pressed farther in.
“Fuck,” I gasped, attempting to push air from my lungs.
I spread my knees wider, opening for him as he stretched my walls, pushing torturously slow until he bottomed out. It was intense, almost too much. Pain mixed with pleasure.
“It’s too much,” I whimpered, pushing on his abs. Not knowing whether to push him away or force him to move.
“No, baby. You’re taking me so well. I bet this pretty pussy hasn’t been properly filled until now, has it?”
My heart pounded. He was right. This was beyond anything I’d ever felt before, and I fucking wanted it. I wanted him to pound me into this couch until all I felt was the ghost of his cock in me for days to come.
“Then fucking move, cowboy,” I said through gritted teeth, my hips squirming beneath him.
He started to pull out, and I watched with rapt attention between us as he slammed back into me.
“Oh my God!” I screamed as he hit that sensitive spot deep inside.
He paused then, looking over my head, away from us. I stared at him. His eyes grew dark and murderous, but he didn’t stop.
Thrusting hard against me, he asked through gritted teeth, “Does that feel good?”
“You feel so good,” I somehow managed to say.
What was he looking at?
He pounded harder, nearly to the point of pain. His eyes were glued to something over my head.
“Oh, so you’ve resorted to being a fucking slut because you can’t have your way?” A woman’s voice pierced through our heavy breathing.
“What the fuck?” I stilled. There was someone else in the room with us.
I pushed at his chest.
He thrust again, harder this time.
“Fucking shit, get off me.” I pushed at him again.
He froze, as if he remembered I was underneath him. He let me push him off, and I scrambled out from beneath him, turning to see the redheaded woman standing in the dark, her arms crossed over her chest. She tapped her slippered foot, a smug look on her face.
“What the fuck is this?” I asked again, grabbing a pillow off the couch to cover myself while I stumbled around, picking up my clothes.
Irritation seemed to waft off her. “Is this some tantrum you’re throwing because I’m taking our daughter? You could at least fuck whatever pussy you find in the back seat of your truck, instead of bringing it here where your wife and daughter will hear it.”
“You’re fucking married?” I yelled at him, quickly shrugging on my shirt.
“Ex-wife,” he said so quietly, I barely heard him over the blood roaring in my ears.
“But she lives with you?” I ran a hand through my hair in frustration. I needed to get the fuck out of here. I yanked my cell phone out of my shorts as I scrambled to put them on. “You have a fucking kid?”
“Better pipe down, doll, or you’ll wake her, too,” the woman said with a smirk, but her eyes were burning into the man I felt vibrating beside me.
“This is so fucked up.” Suddenly, that little tractor toy made sense. I no longer cared where my panties were at this point. I donned my shorts, zipping them up before pulling my boots on.
“I’ll drive you back to the bar,” he offered, but he still hadn’t looked at me.
“Don’t bother. I’ll call for a ride.”
I pushed past him, the heat of his skin scorching me as I walked out the door.
The whiskey rolled in my stomach, telling me I was too drunk to walk back to the rodeo grounds, but I was too pissed to even think straight.
The last thing I wanted to do was call Kale or Viv to come get me.
I didn’t want anyone to see this walk of shame.
The next day, I froze in my tracks when I walked out of the stables. He was fucking here! The man had no fucking class. If I were him, I wouldn’t be caught dead showing my face around after the shit he pulled with me.
What the fuck did he think he was doing?
He was gathered in a group of cowboys and trainers, most of whom worked with the other barrel racers—my competition. What were they doing? My gaze narrowed as I watched the flash of green transfer between hands. Were they betting?
“Looks like Hank’s at it again.” Viv sighed, coming up beside me, her saddle and blanket over her arm.
“Hank? Paige’s trainer?” I asked. Paige Gibson was my biggest competition. She and I were always going back and forth, setting new records. I didn’t particularly like her, either, or her trainer, for that matter. I watched Hank, a big, bulky man with a thick beard, gather money in his hands.
“They’re betting on our runs?” There was no way in hell I was going to put up with this shit. Not when I was already feeling the shameful burn of last night … or the fact that I was about to race last in the bottom of the draw, especially against a son of a Dash Ta Fame barrel racing stallion.
I stomped toward them, fuming. I hoped my eyes burned into the fucking side of these men’s heads.
“Oh, shit,” I heard Viv say behind me.
Oh, shit, was right. They were about to get a fucking mouthful from me.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Hank?” I asked him, watching as he took the money from the men around him.
“Just a little friendly gambling,” he boasted. “Lina, it’s really nothing to worry about,” he said nonchalantly, pocketing the rest of his cash. I hoped he felt the fucking fire in my eyes.
Seeing this as their cue to leave, the other men turned and walked away. Everyone, except him. He hovered behind me. I could practically feel the heat wafting off him, like a sunburn on my fucking back.
“What’s the bet?” I demanded. I needed to know.
“Reed, here.” He gestured to the man towering behind me. Reed. So that was his fucking name. “He and I bet with the others that Paige beats you today by one whole second.”
“Fuck that! Mushu’s a free runner who drags his butt around those barrels.” I was seething, my chest heaving.
“That may be so, but you’re in the bottom of the draw today. Paige races first.”
I clenched my hands into fists, keeping my thumb on the outside just like my cousin Jude showed me. I wasn’t going to deck him, but I also wasn’t afraid to use them if I needed to. His eyes skipped down to my hands, his smirk growing, as if he fucking knew he was getting into my head.
“May the best racer win,” he said, tipping his hat and walking away.
“Wow! You’re a real fucking winner. Betting against me, Reed ?” I asked before I turned around, emphasizing his name. I hope to God my voice sounded scary enough he would shy away from me and crawl back to whatever fucked-up hole he crawled out of.
But he didn’t. He held his ground when I turned to face him, stuffing his hands into his pocket as if none of this was a big deal to him.
His face was a mask of smug indifference, and I wanted to pound my fist right into his skull.
I imagined those handsome features caving in until they were just an ugly pit of pulp.
“She has a badass stallion,” he said, shrugging like it didn’t matter to him. Like none of this mattered to him. Like he wasn’t balls deep in my pussy only hours ago.
If I couldn’t use my fists, I’d use my hands. I shoved his solid chest as hard as I could, nearly pushing him off balance. But the man was built like a fucking tank.
“Fuck you.” I pushed him again. This time, he braced himself enough only to rock on his heels.
“Double fuck you.” I stepped into his space, my chest brushing his.
“You’re fucking disgusting.” I nearly spat in his face.
“If you think you can fuck me and then fuck me over, you have another thing coming.”
His mask seemed to drop just for a moment, a look of disappointment and regret washing over him. He could feel guilty and live with his dirty conscience for all I cared. And to think my drunk ass thought it was love at first sight!
“You’re fucking dead to me!” I roared.
His eyebrow cocked. “Is that so? Makes no difference to me, Lina, but thank you for helping me give Mrs. Ownstead a show.”
I slapped him then. Right across that smug-ass face of his. Then spat, watching my spit land right on his mouth. Good.
“That’s the last you’ll ever taste of me. Fuck you, Reed Ownstead!”
I turned on my heels, leaving him in the dust of the stable while I stormed to Mushu’s stall.
I needed to get my head on straight if I had any chance of running the fastest time.
If this was Reed’s attempt to throw me off my game …
to show me that last night meant nothing …
well, I’d have to show him that he meant nothing to me.