Chapter 3
My fury stuck with me throughout the examination of the injured horse that the guy, Todd, had come to get me to examine. Thankfully, the injury turned out to be something pretty minor. My anger lasted for the remainder of the day and into the night until I was able to call it quits and go to bed.
I was staying in Raff’s two-horse trailer, which had an attached living quarters.
It was where he stayed during the various rodeos.
Even if he could afford to stay in hotels, he refused to be that far from his patients.
I was the same way. Raff had left it behind for me to use as well.
If, for some reason, he couldn’t get back to it by the end of the rodeo, I promised I’d drive it to him.
He lived in Window Rock, Arizona, on the border between Arizona and New Mexico.
It wouldn’t be that big of a deal to drive it to him, then he’d drive me to Gallup Municipal Airport so I could fly home.
However, now that I was lying in bed with nothing to do, my mind wouldn’t stop thinking of Cowboy.
I was still upset about how he had treated me and the assumptions he had made about me.
What right did he have to assume anything?
I hated that he thought the same thing countless others had over the years.
With them, though, I hadn’t been half as upset as I was this time.
The reason why was clear, even if I wanted to tell myself it wasn’t.
It was because of the response he elicited from me the moment I laid eyes on him when I came out of the supply room.
Standing there, I felt as if someone had zapped me with a current of electricity.
As the tingling ran through my body, I took in his appearance.
He was dressed like most of the other men around the rodeo—in jeans, a dark blue T-shirt, cowboy boots, and a black leather vest over his shirt, along with the required cowboy hat.
His height was the first thing I noticed.
As someone barely hitting five feet four, most people were taller.
In Cowboy’s case, he was over six feet, maybe by two or three inches.
His clothing was tight enough to mold to his ripped physique and show it off.
I saw his impressive musculature through his shirt.
His mostly bare arms bulged with muscle, showcasing the various tattoos he had inked there.
All that muscle was covered in a warm, bronze-brown skin.
His coloring hinted that he and I might have something in common.
Neither of us was entirely Caucasian. I guessed him to be partially Black, like I was half-Thai.
Fleetingly, I wondered if he had some of the same troubles I had with certain people.
There were a lot of prejudiced and ignorant individuals in the world.
When he got closer to me, I saw his eyes were an incredible light green color.
They were mesmerizing. Cowboy’s hair was dark brown like mine, with a fade cut on the sides and back, and the longer hair on top was gorgeous, with glossy curls.
To complement it, his jaw was covered in a closely cropped beard and mustache.
However, I was able to shake off my enthrallment due to his words.
Those were what lit the match to my temper.
His smirk and assumption that I was some buckle bunny that Raff was screwing in the back infuriated me.
And his ongoing remarks drove me to want to punch him.
Lucky for him, I kept it to only a slap.
But when he strutted toward me, swaggering confidence in his every step, I’d been ready to blast him more.
Only Cowboy had other ideas, and yanking me against his body and kissing me almost made me dissolve into a puddle and swear I’d do anything he wanted and let him do whatever he pleased.
I did have a sliver of resistance left when he ordered me to open my mouth.
I thanked God silently that Todd had intruded, asking for Dr. Coleman.
I enjoyed the confused then dawning comprehension on Cowboy’s face as he realized I was a vet, not some easy buckle bunny fucking Raff.
Walking away, I tried to forget all about the rude, sarcastic man.
Unfortunately, he stuck with me and had me swinging erratically back and forth between anger and desire until I wanted to scream.
When my day ended, I came back to Raff’s home away from home.
The living quarters were tight. The space was eight feet wide, spanning the width of the trailer, and then nine feet long.
Despite the cramped quarters, it had all the necessities.
There was a raised sleeping platform with a queen-size bed.
Throughout, they put storage cabinets and drawers in every spot they could build them.
It reminded me of the mini homes you often see on television these days.
A small four-foot-long sofa spanned one wall. On the opposite wall was an economy kitchenette consisting of a microwave, sink, stove top, and dishwasher. Beyond that, you entered the bathroom, which contained another small sink, a commode, and a miniature shower—all the comforts I needed.
A part of me wanted to call Raff and tell him about his so-called friend. The reason I didn’t was that I hated the thought of upsetting him. He was dealing with enough without me adding to the mix.
Raff’s sister, CarliAnne, had called him in a panic.
Her son, fourteen-year-old Austin, had run off.
CarliAnne was a single mom who had only her brother to help her with her son.
Their parents were dead, and the boy’s dad wasn’t in the picture.
Austin’s dad had left CarliAnne and him long ago.
Even when he was with them, he wasn’t much help, according to Raff.
I’d met CarliAnne and Austin a few times.
I knew how she struggled because of the things Raff told me.
I hadn’t hesitated saying yes when he called to ask if I’d cover for him.
Luckily, he updated me yesterday to let me know they had found Austin.
They were working to get the boy to see that running away wasn’t acceptable.
He disappeared because he had gone looking for his dad, Aaron.
It killed Raff that Austin’s dad had nothing to do with his son, yet his nephew yearned to have a relationship with Aaron.
And the older he got, the more he asked why he couldn’t see his dad or be with him.
The answer they kept from him was that Aaron wasn’t a good person to be around, and he made no effort to have anything to do with his son.
I assured Raff that I had everything under control and that he should take care of his family first. However, after my run-in with Cowboy, I wanted to hear my friend’s voice and tell him what happened.
But I wouldn’t do it. Raff had enough on his plate.
The thing I was wishing for more was that Cowboy wouldn’t bother him.
And if he did, what would he say to Raff about me?
Did the arrogant ass feel any remorse for his assumptions about me? Probably not.
Rolling over, I thumped my pillow repeatedly.
I pretended it was to get it into the shape I wanted, but the truth was, it was to vent my frustration.
Along with my residual anger, I was battling my craving.
It wasn’t a craving for chocolate, wealth, or anything of that nature.
It was a physical one involving hot, sweaty sex, and the star of it was the cocky, sexy, mouthwatering Cowboy.
My body went into overdrive at the sight of him, and his attitude did nothing to quell it. Squeezing my eyes tighter, I admonished myself. Saranya, stop this nonsense. You don’t want a man like that, even if he were capable of being serious, which he isn’t. You know how men like him are.
My sternness didn’t stop me. I flipped over onto my other side, then squeezed my thighs together.
Images of what Cowboy would look like naked kept running through my mind like a movie.
The thought of touching and worshipping his body and letting him do the same to me aroused me more.
My pussy was slick with my body’s dew. My clit throbbed, and the tips of my tits tingled and burned.
I stood it as long as I could, which was maybe twenty minutes, then I broke. I kicked off the covers and rolled onto my back. I slept naked, but being here, I felt it was smarter to sleep in shorts and a T-shirt. Shoving up my shirt, then pushing down my shorts to my knees, I gave in to it.
I started with my breasts. I cupped both and then kneaded them.
I ran my fingers around in circles until I reached my nipples.
Teasing those with my fingers, I moaned.
The sound got louder when I twisted them.
The bite of it made me hiss. Plucking and working them until they were almost sore, and I was soaked between my legs, made me move to the next stage.
Widening my legs, I slid a hand down my torso to my pussy.
The first stroke through the folds made me shudder. It didn’t take long for me to be strumming my clit and thrusting fingers inside myself. I tried to keep my cries quiet. There were others in trailers similar to mine close by. It wasn’t easy.
I imagined that Cowboy was thrusting his cock in and out of my pussy.
That visual and me picturing what his cock looked like had me cresting and having a tremendous orgasm in very little time.
I bit the back of my other hand to muffle my cries as my body shook and I produced more sticky wetness all over my fingers.
When I came down from the high, I was still needy.
So much so, I moved straight back to pleasuring myself.
My fertile mind further painted a picture of Cowboy and what he’d do to me.
The second time I came, I had to bury my face in my pillow to dampen my scream of ecstasy.
As I floated down from it, tears pricked my eyes.