Chapter One
Save a Horse, Ride a Cowgirl
“Oh, fuck, yes, cowgirl! Just like that!” Wrenley’s sultry, raspy cries drifted down to me like honey warmed by sunlight — sweet, thick, and so very impossible to resist. Just like how Wrenley always was.
I lay underneath her in my bed. Her warm, thick-as-all-hell thighs bracketed my head.
My tongue was buried deep within her, thrusting into her at a steady yet relentless pace.
She was so wet, her juices were leaking down my face faster than I could drink.
Her pussy was already gripping my tongue tightly, her body tensing.
Holding her against my face with my arms wrapped around her large thighs, my fingertips barely reached her clit.
Still, they wrote love songs there to drive her closer to the edge.
Wrenley was no small thing, and I appreciated every unapologetic curve with a worshipper’s devotion.
She was voluptuous in every way from her huge tits that overflowed from my hands, rounded belly, wide hips built for swaying, and a fat ass.
As mouthwateringly sexy as her body was, her unabashed confidence made me feral for her.
Wrenley carried herself like a woman who knew she deserved to take up space and did so unapologetically. It was an inspiring rebellion.
She was wearing one of my old college football jerseys.
It was oversized on her, swallowing her 5’2” frame while somehow showing it off all at once.
One of the sleeves hung off her shoulder, yet the bottom crept up the curve of her luscious ass.
My jersey was far more material than what she usually wore at the Labyrinthine Den, the bar where she worked as a stripper and I as security, and something about that made it an even more dangerous outfit.
I wasn’t sure if it was because it felt intimate to see her in it, or if it was because it felt like she was allowing me to claim her as mine.
My bull felt it was the latter, their roaring bellow ringing in my ears.
Regardless of the reason, it was enough to unravel me faster than any shred of lace or glitter ever could.
Then, there was the sight of her. Golden hour sunbeams from my bedroom window kissed her lustrous brown skin in a way that made an artist weep over how they would never capture the sight.
Her normal rosy blush was an even deeper shade under her dark, scattered freckles.
Her head was tipped back, sending her long, fluffy ginger curls down her back and past her ass to tease my nipples behind her.
Although I couldn’t see her face from this angle, I knew all too well what it looked like.
I would bet my next three paychecks that those beautiful cognac brown eyes were fluttered closed in pleasure.
Her naturally long eyelashes danced on her blushing cheeks alongside her freckles.
Those plump, full lips were opened on breathless gasps.
As my body tightened with need, I moaned into her, sparks dancing down my spine.
My hips twitched up beneath her, seeking friction, and she grounded more into my face.
The headboard groaned under the tightening grasp of her long, piercing nails.
Wrenley was an absolute vision glittering in gold and rubies, but she was more than anything material. A priceless gem, the gods didn’t use a mold for her creation and made her one-of-a-kind. Even without her rounded harpy wings out behind her, she looked like an angel.
“Holy fucking shit, Tilly!” She gasped loudly as my tongue hit a spot that made her whole body shiver. “You feel so damn good inside of me.”
But this angel had one hell of a filthy mouth.
Her praise and the breathy sounds around her curses were the best kind of madness, but the way she said my name like it belonged in her throat? Like I was hers as much as she was mine? The pulse of electricity that coursed through me was so powerful that my fingers almost slipped from her clit.
Fuck me if she didn’t ride my face like she was designed for it.
There was a music born into her writhing hips.
The beat was my favorite hype song with a drop worth the wait.
The notes seemed to blossom along her spine, making her arch her back and roll her body perfectly.
It was a heaven-sent spectacle that I couldn’t take my eyes off.
My turtledove was chasing her own pleasure, and I was happy to be the steed she rode as she did.
Happy to be her everything, my bull added with a snort. I couldn’t agree more.
“Don’t stop!” Wrenley gasped, her voice quivering with desperation and sweetness all at once. “Please don’t stop!”
I wouldn’t dream of it, shortcake, I thought just as her body tensed.
Her breath caught before her voice broke into something beautiful and wild.
The way she screamed my name like a sacred prayer bathed me in electric warmth.
I was drowning in her. The heat of the moment and a want so intense that it was close to reverence blazed through me.
My own body was wound so tight that I immediately went over the edge with her.
We both rode through each colliding wave.
It was perfect, everything I could have ever wanted from my wildest fantasies.
Maybe because it was from my wildest fantasy.
Before I could question how too perfect all of this was, Wrenley’s laughter filled my room.
Slowly and almost regretfully, she scooted off my face to look down at me.
A trail from her pussy to my mouth and chin followed her, and I trembled.
When her bright brown eyes met my dark ones, I noticed a knowing glint there.
From seemingly out of nowhere, she pulled out a familiar remote control, one that I knew controlled an anal vibrator that I had always wanted to try.
She smiled widely before she pressed a button. “Your turn, cowgirl.”
The energetic blaring of my alarm slammed me back to reality.
I jerked awake. Quickly, my bedroom ceiling snapped into focus. The familiar white popcorn-painting. The spinning of my fan. The darkness deepening as it tried and failed to encroach on my dawn-simulating smart crystal ball.
No sunlight haloing golden brown skin.
No fluffy ginger spirals.
No beautiful, bitable curves.
No moans or laughter.
Just me tangled in cold sheets.
“Fuck,” I croaked, my deep voice rough from sleep and something else.
My tongue felt dry, thick, and clumsy in my mouth.
Still feeling partially trapped in the dream, my thoughts moved in a sticky slow motion.
Even my bull was slow to rouse inside me, silent and mooing begrudgingly.
My heart raced, and my breath punched out of me in hurried gasps.
My skin felt too tight and hot. My nerves were so alive that I was fighting to steady my shaky hands.
There was too much energy pent-up within me for how weary I felt.
And, that was before acknowledging my lingering fucking boner.
I covered my face with both hands and groaned, equally from frustration and arousal pooling low in my abdomen.
Certain parts of my anatomy that gave me dysphoria as a trans woman.
After college, I managed to save up enough for the spells to shave my Adam’s apple down and remove my balls.
But my dick was the one thing that had never offended me.
Maybe it was all the Omegaverse I read with female Alphas who had girl-dicks of their own that made me enjoy it.
However, on mornings like this, it was inconvenient at best and my biggest op at worst. Especially with how painfully hard I was—
The blaring music crescendoed near my head from my crystal ball, Cleo, on my nightstand. I knew without looking that the clear orb was filled with smoke that was slowly growing brighter to help wake me up like the dawning sunrise.
I cleared my throat. “I’m awake now, Cleo.”
“Evening, girlfriend! Happy to hear you’re finally up!” Her perky, robotic voice replied, slightly exasperated, after she paused the song. “You need to hurry and get ready for work! It’s 7:24 PM!”
“Shit!” My stomach dropped. If I didn’t leave in twenty minutes, I was going to be late, which meant paperwork, lectures, and, worst of all, my little sister doing the most.
“I’m so sorry! I have been trying to wake you for the past half an hour,” Cleo said as I shot up with an almost-dizzying amount of supernatural speed, even for me as a minotaur-shifter.
I shoved the blankets off. Cool air kissed my skin and helped temper my boner a little. It was something more than nothing.
I raced into the bathroom, flicking the light on and squinting at my reflection.
I looked like an absolute mess. My warm, deep chestnut-toned skin looked flushed, especially in the bright lighting.
There were bags under my eyes, and my pupils were blown so wide that they took over the espresso-brown of my irises.
My plump lips were swollen like I’d been biting them, and there were trails of dried drool framing my frown.
Even my silver nose ring was askew. My jumbo bonnet was barely hanging on with several strands of dark mahogany curls peeking out.
I blew a breath, lifting some away from my face.
Hurriedly, I straightened my nose ring and corrected my bonnet to contain as much of my hair as possible to keep it out of my face.
Then, I snatched up my toothbrush and toothpaste.
The mint burned, but I scrubbed relentlessly.
As if I could brush away the vivid imaginings of my tongue in Wrenley’s pussy —
Don’t think about it.