25 - Sawyer
25
Sawyer
Nothing made my dick harder than putting other rodeo cowboys in their place.
Johnny and Elijah were better than most. Cocky, but not huge fucking assholes about it like the rest of the field. They were competitive, a trait that was pretty goddamn mandatory in this business.
But I still loved wiping the smiles off their faces.
Doing it in front of Sophie, the woman they’d been falling over each other to impress? It made my goddamn year .
Deep down, I knew that was a childish emotion. The kind of attitude schoolyard boys had. So-and-so had a new bike, so I wanted to take it for a ride, too.
But I couldn’t deny how I felt.
Sophie was still stuck in my head like a bad idea. I’d done my best to shake her out of there since the rodeo had started, but that turned out to be harder than knocking Chris Goddamn Appleton out of first place.
When I closed my eyes at night, it was her face that filled my dreams.
When I tried ignoring her, she followed me across the room and gave me a free drink.
When I tried distracting myself outside of the rodeo, she showed up at the gym wearing skin-tight leggings that made my cock stand up and pay attention.
Jesus fucking Christ, those leggings. I considered myself a strong man, but when she started doing squats a few feet away? I couldn’t stop myself from stealing a glance. No man was that strong.
I’d spent the rest of the day fantasizing about what I wanted to do to her. Pulling down those leggings, bending her over the bench, and filling her from behind. Bottoming out inside of her, giving every single fucking inch I had. Taking hold of her blonde ponytail and squeezing possessively, arching her back and making her twist to look back at me with those sky-colored eyes Johnny kept going on about.
Fuck me. I had it bad. Sophie was like a drug, and I couldn’t stop thinking about my next hit.
Which was ironic since I hadn’t even had her yet.
I saw the way she and Johnny interacted tonight, though. A quiet word together by the edge of the ring. A casual arm slipped around a waist. They shared a new familiarity that hadn’t been there two days ago.
And it made me want her more than ever.
I could have won that date. Whiplash Willie was a bitch to ride, but I had a sense for how it worked. I could have smashed the all-time record, landed on my feet, and taken Sophie out to dinner. I would have gotten what I wanted while simultaneously shoving my victory in Johnny and Elijah’s faces.
I had a secret of my own, though. I knew something that most men didn’t.
If you made a woman wait for something she wanted? It only made her want it more.
It was obvious. Common goddamn sense. It’s why all the best chefs delayed their meals just a little bit. If you made them wait, made their mouth water just a little bit longer, then that first bite they sank their teeth into would taste so much better.
But most men charged forward whenever they got a chance.
Not me.
I knew that I wanted Sophie. I knew that she wanted me too, even if she didn’t want to admit it to herself. And most importantly: I knew that the longer I made her wait, the better it would be when I finally surrendered to the erotic fantasies that were tormenting my dreams.
And when I did finally have her? When I held her down on the bed, fucking her with every ounce of passion I had, until she was begging me to make her come again?
She would know what it’s like to be with a real man.