Chapter Twenty One
But Mudding is For Making Out
S creams erupt.
Wiki whoops and tackles Clem into a puddle. Hazy’s swearing up a storm, boots stomping through the grass as she tries to dodge flying dirt. Colby is belly-laughing from the safety of her saddle.
And Georgia?
She’s trying to sneak off. Turning Pudding in a wide arc, aiming for the outer pasture like we won’t notice.
“Not so fast, freckles!” I shout, mounting in record time and slapping the reins.
She lets out a loud giggle that carries on a breeze and finds its way into my veins.
Dusty bolts after her, hooves pounding through the slop, kicking up water and debris as I gain ground.
She glances over her shoulder, eyes wide with mock horror, then lets out a delighted screech as she kicks Pudding into a gallop.
The sound of everyone drifts into the distance as we race deeper into the grass-filled pasture and away from the mud.
I catch up just as she veers right to avoid a massive puddle, and I cut her off, swinging Dusty tight and splashing her entire left side with a wave of cold, fresh rainwater.
She gasps. “You’re dead!”
“And you look good wet.”
“Do not tempt me to show you what wet is, Archer!”
God help me—I wish you would, baby.
My jaw clenches from the force of choking back my words.
“I thought you were supposed to be a cowboy,” she taunts, letting Pudding prance back and forth in place. “Isn’t that why you wear those boots?”
“No, darlin’,” I drawl, edging closer, and backing her against a fence. “The boots are for work. My hat?” My chin dips toward the hat on her head. “That’s for cowboyin’.”
Georgia giggles, biting her lip. “Don’t you mean my hat?”
I huff, slowly inching Dusty forward. Pudding mirrors my lead, tail swishing back and forth. She’s open on either side if she wants to run, but Georgia's oblivious to what’s happening.
“You do know what they say about cowboy hats, right?”
Her brows draw tight and she shakes her head once.
Smirking, I reach forward and grab Pudding's reins from her hands, using them to guide her closer.
“Kade!” she cries, gripping the pommel. “What the hell!?”
Dusty huffs and hooves at the ground, but they’re both patient as hell, used to kids and crazy cowboys, and I easily get them side to side, where I keep Georgia.
My eyes glide all across her face—from her freckles to her eyes, down to her lips, where they stay.
“Rule is: Wear the hat, ride the cowboy,” I rumble, voice full of gravel and lust I can’t hide. She sucks in a sharp breath that goes straight to my cock and I meet her gaze. “So either give me my hat, or ride me, darlin’. Choice is yours.”
And. Just. Like. That .
My wildfire is back.
Cheeks so red, even her faintest freckles pop. Eyes glassy and narrowed. Jaw ticking wildly. Brows tight, nose wrinkled.
She’s pissed, and I find it so fucking hot, it makes me forget what I’m doing.
“How about neither, you pig!” she whisper-hisses, peeling my fingers off the reins. “I’d rather ride a murderous bull than your….your… ”
“Come on,” I prompt, tongue clicking. “You can say it.”
“Again with the innuendos,” she mutters, shooting me a glare. “This is why people find you annoying.”
“Say it, Georgia. Say ‘I want to ride your cock, Kade. Wanna swing your hat over my head while I bounce on your big, long, perfect, cowboy co —’”
She slaps a hand over my mouth, blush full and pretty. “I. Do. Not!”
Eyes locked right on hers, my lips press against her palm in a soft kiss. She sucks in a sharp breath and shivers, so I do it again, flicking my tongue.
Georgia yanks her hand away like I’ve burned her and clutches it to her chest.
“ Liar .”
A breath, an eye twitch, another shiver.
And then…
“I am not lying! Oh my God! You’re a filthy, dirty, sex-crazed, brute!”
She’s screeching now. This is a new level of Georgia's rage, and it’s adorable.
I drag my tongue across my lip and her eyes fly to it like a magnet. She shudders, hips shifting against the rough leather of her saddle. Leaning forward, I drop my voice, breath fanning over her face, and murmur, “ Liar .”
And then I wrap my arm around her waist, and yank .
She’s pliant, body soft and distracted, and she comes easy. For a split second, before she realizes what’s happening.
“Holy shit!” she shouts, arms flailing for purchase. “Kade! Oh, fuck, Kade! What—”
“You know,” I grit out, tightening my hold as I heave her over Pudding and drop her ass in front of me sidesaddle. “I’ve pictured you saying that exact thing a time or two, but it was a hell of a lot less dying cat and more husky, bit of a moan.”
She freezes, muscles going limp, and I chuckle, shooting her a smirk.
“Did I shock you into silence, freckles?” Georgia blinks once, twice, before batting at my hands. I tighten my grip and shake my head. “Don’t do that, or I’ll drop you.”
I watch her look down and note the exact second she realizes she’s dangling off a horse, held on by only my wavering grip. She’s not far from the ground, but for some reason, she reacts like I’m dangling her from a fucking roof.
She screams, long, loud, and terrifying to everyone involved.
Pudding takes off like she’s in the Derby, and all I can do is thank God that she’d already released the reins and was free from the horse.
“Now you’ve done it,” I snap, huffing. My arms are burning, but my left peck is on fire. “You better hold on.”
It takes a second, but I maneuver her so she's fully side-saddle in front of me. Once she’s steady, I grip her left leg and she whimpers, nails digging into my forearm.
“Oh my God, what are you doing? You’re going to get me killed!”
“I’m trying to keep you very much alive,” I grunt out. “You wanna help me out with that?”
She inhales sharply and nods, wild-eyed. “Yes. Very much, yes.”
Chuckling, I squeeze her thigh and tap it twice. “Swing your leg over.”
“I—I can’t,” she stammers, shaking against me. “I’ll just stay right here.”
“Come on, now.” I soften, but my grip tightens, worried she’ll let herself fall. “You can, baby. Just breathe. Relax for me.”
She shivers— hard —but lets out a slow exhale, her body starting to ease in my hands like she really trusts me. Like the idea too damn much.
“Good girl, darlin’.”
“Don’t say that to me,” she chokes out.
Brows pinched, I murmur, “Darlin’?”
“No—I mean, yeah, that too, but…” She sucks in a breath and whispers, her voice all distant and entranced, “ Good girl .”
“Why can’t I call you a good girl when you’re bein’ good for me?” I ask, guiding her leg over as I scoot back, settling her right up behind the pommel. She gasps, going rigid again, and I tap her thigh. “Tell me, baby.”
“Don’t call me that either!” she snaps, but helps me settle her safely where I want her. “And it’s like catnip. I’ll go all feral and start licking you like you’re my own personal cowboy-toy.”
“Think I might like that,” I whisper across her neck, wrapping her hands around the horn. “Hold on tight, yeah?”
“Yes,” she huffs, adjusting her seat. Her ass brushes my cock and I swallow a groan. “I’m not an idiot.”
I glance to the ominous, dark sky like it might spare me. “Never said you were.”
“It was your tone!”
“Christ, woman,” I mutter, adjusting us both so I’m not worried she’s gonna yeet us into a ditch. “Can’t you just say thank you and be quiet for once?”
“Thank you?!” she screeches, whipping around to glare at me. Dusty jolts, snorting, and hops into an irritated side-trot. “Shouldn’t you be apologizing! This is your fault!”
“Easy, boy,” I murmur, tightening the reins as I narrow my eyes at her. “Lower your voice. You’re pissing Dusty off—and that’s damn hard to do.”
The brim of my hat collides with my chest, and I quickly reach up, snatching it from her head and shoving it onto mine.
“Hey,” she murmurs, nose twitching, “I liked wearing that.”
I give her a cocky, lazy grin and waggle my brows. “You know the rule now. Care to earn it back?”
Her eyes slice to my lips and for a second, I think she might say fuck it and kiss me, but a crackle of thunder far off in the distance has her whipping around.
I tighten my hand around the reins in case Dusty spooks, but he doesn't seem to notice, content to munch on grass while slowly moving forward.
“Another storm?”
“We’ve got time,” I say softly, eyeing the sky.
We’re about a half a mile out, but the storm is farther.
“Probably an hour before it’s over us. That’s how it is here.
We get storms often in Spring. Big ones, small showers, flash storms that’ll pop up out of nowhere and flood us in the blink of an eye. ”
“I've noticed,” she murmurs, leaning into my chest. Her head hits my right shoulder, but for once, I don’t feel the deep ache. “It’s not too different from West Virginia, but after living in New York for so long, I guess I forgot how bipolar the weather can be.”
I want to ask her to keep going, but I’m afraid opening my mouth will make her close hers, so I tighten my arm low on her waist, and when she immediately sighs into me, I decide no question is better than this feeling.
She feels so perfect against me. Too perfect.
But then she has to go and snuggle her ass against my dick, and like the traitor it is, it perks right up.
I haven’t stopped thinking about how her body felt back at the house—soft and warm, those perfect tits smashing against my chest, nipples tight and begging to be sucked.
I shift in the saddle, torn between hiding my erection and grinding against her ass like an animal.
God, I want her.
I don’t know if it’s that damn body, curvy and strong, all that creamy skin dusted with freckles, or that face I can’t stop thinking about. Her smart mouth and smoldering eyes. That hair I want fisted in my hand while I fuck her so deep she forgets her own name.
Don’t know if it’s the image of her cheeks flushed and lips wrapped around my cock while I watch tears build in her pretty eyes, or the way she laughs like she’s never been allowed to be this happy before—but it’s all stuck in my head.
She’s in my fucking head.