Chapter 32
Fable
The second the chute flew open, Beau shot out like a fucking force of nature.
His thick thighs clamped down on the bull’s heaving body.
His grip on the bull rope was brutal, forearm flexed tight as the animal bucked hard, trying like hell to throw him.
His free hand hovered above his head, fingers splayed, counterbalancing every twist.
Dalton whistled, running along the fence, but I barely heard him.
My phone was raised, but I wasn’t even watching through the screen anymore—just laser focused on him.
The way his hips rocked in the saddle, the deep curve of his back as he rolled with the bull’s movements, his belt buckle flashing in the sun.
Jesus fucking Christ.
The way his thighs flexed every time he squeezed tighter had heat curling low in my stomach.
The bull twisted hard, hooves slamming into the dirt, and Beau adjusted instantly, rolling his hips forward, pressing down like he owned the bull. It wasn’t strength—it was something dominant.
“Eight seconds,” Dalton shouted.
He was panting when he finally threw himself off, landing with a low grunt in the dirt, his body wrecked from the ride.
Dalton grabbed the bull, ushering him right back into one of the larger pens.
“Holy shit, Banks,” Dalton shouted as he latched the gate shut, but I barely registered his voice.
I wasn’t paying attention to Dalton. Beau wasn’t paying attention to him either.
Our eyes locked in a way that made my breath hitch. He dragged his helmet off slowly, his hair clinging to his forehead.
Neither of us moved. Neither of us breathed.
That smirk—the one that had haunted me long after that night in the hotel—curved his lips, dark eyes burning into mine, silently daring me to say something.
I should’ve.
I should’ve rolled my eyes, cracked a joke, anything to break the heat thickening the air between us. I swallowed hard, my fingers tightening around my phone as my pulse pounded in my ears.
I didn’t run away this time.
I ran toward him.
My boots barely touched the ground as I sprinted to the arena gate. Beau stood there in the middle of the dirt, mustache twitching as his lips parted slightly.
Gold chaps over dark jeans. A thick belt buckle glinting under the morning sun. His broad chest rising and falling with every deep breath.
He didn’t move. He watched me, eyes burning into mine.
Fuck—I wanted him.
Just like when I watched him through my phone, like when his hips moved against mine in that hotel bed, when he whispered praises in my ear and made me fall apart beneath him.
There was too much on the line—our friendship, him being my neighbor, the way I needed him.
But the second I looked down at the dirt covering the arena floor, the same dirt I had once been terrified to step in, I realized it didn’t matter because I needed him more than I was scared of what the dirt would do to me.
I grabbed the fence and threw myself over it.
Beau’s nostrils flared, he dropped his gloves and threw off his helmet as I sprinted toward him.
When I stopped in front of him, he brought his hand up, rough and calloused, sliding his fingers against my chin, tilting it up. His thumb traced my bottom lip, his breath fanning against my skin, and his eyes locked onto mine.
“Fuck this,” he muttered.
I didn’t know who moved first, but as Beau’s mouth devoured mine, I didn’t care.
I was consumed—by him, by the musk of sweat and leather, the tang of dirt in the air, the distant sound of bulls shifting in their pens.
The rough scrape of his mustache against my lips had me whimpering into his mouth, and fuck, I wanted more.
His hands were everywhere—gripping, grabbing, claiming. When he slid them down to my ass, I gasped, and he used the opportunity to deepen the kiss, sliding his tongue against mine.
“Oh, shit.”
Dalton’s voice snapped through the moment, and Beau growled, breaking the kiss only long enough to glare over his shoulder.
“Leave.”
“I was—”
“Leave. Now.”
Dalton’s grin stretched wide. “Alright, alright, I’m out. See ya later, Fable.”
I barely managed a weak wave before Beau’s mouth was back on mine, his hands squeezing my ass as he lifted me effortlessly, my legs wrapping around his waist out of pure instinct.
“I’ve been dreaming of this.” His breath was hot against my mouth.
I moaned as he walked me backward toward the gate, his hard body pressing against me, his belt buckle cold where it dug into my stomach.
“So fucking sweet,” he murmured, flicking his tongue against the corner of my mouth before dragging it down my jawline. “Like strawberries and vanilla.”
His teeth scraped against my pulse point, and my head tipped back with a ragged moan.
I was so fucked.
“I need you,” he rasped. “If I walk you home, will you let me eat? Because I’m a man starved.”
I had no words. I could only nod as he unlatched the gate and carried me out of the arena.
By the time we got to my house, I was a mess. My fingers trembled as I fumbled with the doorknob. Beau was right behind me, pressing in close, his cock hard against my ass, his breath hot against my ear.
“Open it,” he murmured.
I barely managed to push the door open before he was inside.
Slowly, he walked to the chair in the corner, dropped into it, and spread his legs wide, his belt buckle catching the light, his hands resting on his thick thighs.
With a lazy smile, he lifted a hand and crooked his finger. “Get up on here,” he drawled.
I swallowed hard, my pulse hammering between my legs.
“You watched me ride, ’bout time you return the favor.”
Yes.
“Please,” I begged as I stepped toward him.
I lifted a leg, preparing to get on top, but he put up a hand to stop me. “Pants off.”
I nodded and stepped out of my jeans. As I climbed onto his lap, Beau shook his head.
“Shirt too,” he rasped.
My fingers trembled as I grabbed the hem, peeling it off slowly, leaving me standing in nothing but my black bra and panties. He dragged his gaze over me, and my skin buzzed with the attention.
Beau groaned and ripped open his vest and tossed it onto the ground. His broad chest heaved beneath his button-down, sweat clinging to his skin from the ride.
If this had been anyone else, I would have begged them to shower first, needing them to be clean, but this was a part of Beau, and I wanted to take him as he was.
“Fuck, baby,” he murmured, sliding his hands up my thighs as I stood between his legs. “Get on. Let me show you how a real ride feels.”
I giggled as I lifted a leg and rested my knees on either side of his body. Our mouths met as he ran his rough hands across my skin.
“That’s it, baby. Grind on me. See how fucking hard you make me.”
As I rocked against the thick strain of his cock beneath his jeans, a desperate ache coiled in my core.
His mustache was rough against my skin as he fisted my hair, tilting my head back and exposing the vulnerable column of my throat.
He trailed his lips down, kissing, nipping, worshipping, until he reached the swell of my cleavage.
“So fucking pretty.”
I ground down harder, the cold metal of his belt buckle pressing against my inner thighs.
“I need you,” I mewled.
His fingers found the clasp of my bra, popped it open, and he peeled the bra down my arms until it hit the floor.
I sucked in a breath, heat prickling over my skin as the cool air kissed what he’d just uncovered.
I reached down for my underwear. My fingers hooked the sides, awkwardly taking them off as I straddled him.
“Let me worship you,” he rasped. “Let me show you how a woman like you should be loved.”
Then his mouth was on me, sucking, tugging, his tongue flicking in torturous strokes that had me whimpering. I rolled my hips, pressing against that damn buckle, the friction teasing me to the edge.
Nothing was going to stop me from exploding, but I was desperate and needed him.
I managed to push off him, only to undo his pants and yank them off with his boxer briefs as he lifted his hips to help me. His cock slapped against his stomach, hard, thick, already leaking. My mouth watered at the sight, thighs clenching as I dropped to my knees in front of him.
Beau leaned back in the chair, his dark eyes hooded as he watched me. “That’s my girl,” he murmured. “Open that pretty little mouth.” He gripped my hair, yanking enough to make me whimper. “That’s it, Cowgirl.”
I dragged my tongue along the thick, pulsing vein running down his length, tasting salt and heat. He hissed, his fingers tightening in my hair.
“Fuck, baby,” Beau groaned, his head tipping back, eyes dark with hunger. “Look at you. Like you were fucking made to have my cock down your throat.” He growled, jaw clenched. “Be a good girl and swallow.”
I wrapped my lips around the swollen tip, swirling my tongue before sinking down, stretching my throat to take him deeper. His hips jerked forward, a filthy groan ripping from his throat.
“Fuck—just like that,” he rasped, gripping the arm of the chair with his other hand, knuckles white. “Take all of me, baby. Shit, you look so fucking good choking on my dick.”
I moaned around him, letting the vibration send him closer to the edge. I wanted him ruined. I wanted him to break.
I took him to the back of my throat, swallowing him down, my nails digging into his thighs. His control shattered.
“Goddamn,” he growled, his hips bucking as his fingers twisted in my hair, holding me still while he fucked my mouth. “Gonna use that tight little throat till I come all over your fucking tongue.”
I hummed, encouraging him, my eyes locked on his as I flattened my tongue against him.
“You want it, don’t you?” he panted, breath ragged, his cock throbbing on my tongue. “Wanna be my filthy little cum dump?”
I nodded, whimpering, desperate for him to lose it.