Chapter 11
I didn’t think shit could get weirder after our group date the other night, but I’d been wrong.
I mean, after Branch’s revelations on the dance floor, it had been a fun night.
We drank some more, I rode the mechanical bull much to the delight of the crowd and the disgruntlement of the operator.
They’d walked me back to my hotel room, kissed me on the cheek and then said goodnight.
It was actually really damn nice. I’d crawled into bed beside a sleepy Frankie, who’d big-spooned me like the champion he was, and I’d had happy dreams of riding Bushwhacker and having orgies.
I could get used to the whole group dating thing. It was nice.
I should have known better.
At the rodeo grounds the following day, a hand had grabbed me from nowhere and pulled me behind a tent selling belt buckles. I’d almost screamed until I realized it was Dylan.
“Are you crazy? I almost nailed you in the nuts,” I’d hissed.
He grinned down at me, pushing my hat back from my head. “It would have been worth it for this,” and then he had kissed the ever loving shit out of me. Honestly, I had been panting by the end of it, pressed between a security fence and his hard body.
I’d barely recovered from that when a serious-faced Beau had asked to see me about my thigh injury in the med tent, marching me into his treatment room and then kissing me until my lips were swollen and my hair was a mess.
Thank god for hats. Was it hat hair? Was it sex hair? The viewers at home will never know.
When I’d walked past Branch on the way to the chutes, his fingers had brushed mine on the way past and he’d winked. Butterflies had gone off in my chest.
It was like they’d combined together to make sure my head was as messed up as my panties.
I climbed up on the rail of the chute, and tried to get my head back into the game.
The only male in my life right in this moment was snorting snot, but damn he was buff.
Pile Driver was a pretty rank bull, and he was going to make me work for it.
I breathed deeply as I climbed over and jammed myself into the chute, the ropeman passing my rope tail so I could rub my glove up and down it to make it tacky.
I vaguely heard someone say, “Looks like she’s done that before.
” Yeah, hee-fucking-haw asshole. But I ignored the barbs.
This was a boys’ club, and there was only one way that I could prove my right to be here and that was on the back of a bull.
I looked up at the ropeman, a young guy about twenty-two, and he just rolled his eyes.
I grinned beneath my helmet. Yeah, they weren’t all fucking pigs.
I grabbed my rope, did the simple yet intricate tie that was meant to keep me in place while I was being tossed about with the g-force of a jet plane. I took a deep breath, prayed to any deity that would listen, and nodded to the gate guy.
The gate flung open and I can’t describe the rush. It was like my body just knew that this was right. My legs were right, my arms right, I moved with the bull like I was a part of it. I didn’t try to be flashy. I just rode the damn bull and when the whistle blew, I leapt off.
Adrenaline pumped through my veins as the bullfighters ushered the bull out of the ring. I ripped off my hemet and tossed it into the air.
“YES!” This time, there were a few whoops from the crowd, and the steady thrum of applause. I smiled at them all like I was a fucking beauty queen because right now, I was a damn Queen!
I walked out of the ring, riding high. Calypso was out the back, her grin as wide as mine. “T.M.! That was a great ride. I think you’re settling in well, how are you feeling?”
I grinned and hugged her, the rush settling like a high over my skin. “I feel like I’m flying high, Caly. Like I’m exactly where I need to be.”
“And what do you say to the people who are calling for you to withdraw from the competition?”
My smile fell into something far less pleasant. “I say to them, get used to seeing my damn face, because as long as I can ride those bulls, I am going to be here.”
Calypso grinned, and turned to the camera. “You heard her Doug. Get used to seeing her around the arenas because she’s here to stay. I for one am excited to see how far she can go.”
The cameraman nodded, indicating he’d turned the camera off, and Caly turned to me. “Girl, you are my fucking hero. We need to have that drink soon!”
I was still puffing a bit, because riding a bull was hard damn work. “You got it!”
I slapped her on the arm and walked toward the back of the chutes.
I smiled even at the old fucks who glared at me, because when I rode a rank bull for eight, I put a fly in their perfect little ointment.
They can’t say I can’t do it. They can’t say it's a man's sport, because here I was with a vagina, conquering a goddamn beast. And that beast was WbrP.
I walked back toward a pavilion that was acting as a dressing room, but before I reached it I spotted Frankie.
“Frankie!” I squealed, running toward him dragging my rope along the ground, the bells clanging over rocks.
“Did you see me make the eight? On freaking Pile Driver. Did you see?” He only ever watched the replays but his grin was wide enough that I knew he had.
I dropped my rope and launched myself into his arms, and he caught me easily.
“I did, Querida, and it was fucking magnificent. You were magnificent.” Then he kissed me. Four for four. Not that I was trying to collect the whole set but damn it felt good. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him back, moaning into his mouth.
Miguel came up behind. “If I make eight seconds, will you kiss me like that, Francisco?”
I laughed against Frankie’s lips, even as he let go of me with one hand and flipped him off.
He bent down and picked up my rope. “Come with me,” he whispered, and he dragged me away from the pavilion and behind the chain link fence.
He began to jog a little, and my legs were already shaky from my ride.
He pulled me into what appeared to be a store room, filled with boxes of toilet paper and tools. It was about six feet squared, barely enough room to swing a cat, but as soon as that door closed, I launched myself into his arms again, my mouth capturing his.
His hands cupped my ass as he did that thing with his tongue that made my mind fritz.
“Tessa, fuck,” he groaned, sitting me on top of a stack of toilet paper.
He unclipped my vest and my chaps, but he never removed his lips from mine.
To think there were guys out there who were impressed they could take off a bra without looking. Pfft.
He dropped my gear on the floor at our feet, unbuttoning my shirt quickly.
“I forgot the strapping,” he groaned, but damn if he wasn’t persistent.
He nipped my earlobe, his tongue running over my salty, sweat soaked skin.
Had to be gross, but he hummed like he was tasting ambrosia.
Finally, he’d released my breasts from their prison and when he’d finally divested me of all my top half, he gazed at my breasts like he’d discovered the meaning of life.
When he wrapped his full lips around one of my nipples, I thought perhaps he had, because holy shit.
“Frankie,” I moaned and his body shuddered.
He looked up at me, his dark eyes full of lust and something more tender. “I swear, I am going to try every day for the rest of my life to make you say my name like that again.”
He scraped his teeth against my nipple again, and I couldn’t have stopped the moan if I tried. I pushed at his shirt, unbuttoning what I could, and then tearing the rest open. His tanned chest made my mouth water. I wanted to lick every ridge of his long, lean body.
My head fell back against a box as he switched nipples. Sweet Jesus. He swirled his tongue and my body curled towards his.
“Frankie please,” I groaned, pulling his head back to mine so I could capture his lips. I needed so much more. “Please,” I whimpered.
“Tess, Querida, I swear this wasn’t what I planned. When I thought about making love to you, there was a bed and candles and I buried myself between your thighs for hours before I finally had you, but…”
Yeah, but. This was perfect. I wanted him now. Hell, we had waited long enough. “This is perfect, now get your pants off, Frankie.”
He laughed, shedding his clothes and mine at the same time, the multitasking bastard.
I fumbled with my belt until Frankie took over.
I knew when my talents were needed elsewhere so I scraped my nails over his chest, smirking at his hiss when I lightly pinched his nipples.
“Tessa,” he growled and I was a goner. I threw the last of my clothes off, and slammed my body into Frankie’s.
His hand slipped between us, and he let out another growl at the wetness between my thighs. He murmured things in Portuguese that I was way too revved up to try and translate, but it sounded like an ode to how damn beautiful I was.
He slid his fingers inside me, and I gasped out a whimpering sigh.
Yes. This was perfect. Why hadn’t we done this before?
Frankie and I were made for each other. When he slid a second finger in, I didn’t think anymore, I just moved.
I curled against his fingers, my hands gripping his shoulders as he stroked my g-spot like it was his damn pet.
My first orgasm washed over my body and I moaned loudly.
Frankie chuckled against my neck. “Hush, Gatinha. I don’t want anyone to interrupt us or we’ll have to stop.
” Then he kissed me and replaced his fingers with the straining length of his cock.
I pulled back, needing to look. We both watched as his hard cock entered me, our twin moans not quiet in the least. Jesus, I hope no one was back here, but when he was finally buried, I threw back my head and closed my eyes.
The stretch was perfect. He was perfect. So I told him so.
The look he gave me was filled with so much emotion I wanted to run away from how it made me feel.
But he didn’t put any of it into words, because he knew me as well as I knew myself.
He slid back and slammed home, and I slapped a hand over my mouth to stifle my moans.
We found a hot, sweaty rhythm, our skin sheening with sweat as we made love.
That's what it was, even if it was in a storage room at a rodeo. When his head dipped down to take my nipple in his mouth at the same time as his cock hit the perfect spot, black dots danced in my vision. Holy hell.
“Frankie,” I moaned again, and he slammed into me harder until we were wild and I could barely hold on, my orgasm rolling over me like a thousand pound bull, and I bit his chest, making him roar loudly, burying himself in me so hard his balls slapped against my ass.
He filled me, our bodies one being, his hips making jerky motions as he came.
I rode my orgasm and his, panting like I’d run a marathon.
He collapsed forward, and I hoped the boxes behind my ass could hold our combined weight because there was no way I could let him go.
I wrapped my arms and legs around his body, trying to keep us as one person for as long as I could.
Finally, he straightened and kissed me with so much emotion it threatened to make me cry. He cupped my cheek, just staring at me like the sun rose and set in my eyes. “You are perfect, Tessa May Everett.” The other three words hung in the air around us, but he didn’t say them.
I didn’t know if I was relieved or sad he stilled his tongue.
And that scared the shit out of me.