47. Indecently Public
47
INDECENTLY PUBLIC
WYATT
H e tried to kiss my lady.
Rage boils inside me, a white-hot jealousy that threatens to consume every shred of my self-control. I do my best to casually saunter forward, stuffing my hands deep in my pockets to keep my composure.
Boone’s eyes bulge when he sees me towering over him, but his confusion quickly turns to irritation. “What’re you doing here in the back pens, Patterson? You always seem to show up at the wrong times.”
“Or the right ones,” Dakota interjects from behind me.
That settles some of the boiling irritation in my chest, but I still grip his shoulder hard enough that Boone winces.
“I think you and I need to have a little talk,” I drawl, the veins in my arms bulging with the force of my clenched fist.
I’m pissed that he tried to kiss Dakota, but I’m also angry because I’d never want someone treating my daughter that way, and I feel like it’s my duty to set this guy straight once and for all.
All he does is chew on that goddamn toothpick.
I pluck the wooden toothpick from Boone’s lips and throw it into the hay bale. “Listen up, Bowman. ”
“What the hell, man?” Boone tries to rip himself out of my grasp, but he can’t. He might be a bull rider, but I’ve got a decade of hockey under my belt.
I lower my voice, getting so close to his face that my nose bumps his. “Where’s your dictionary?”
He cocks his head like Luna when she hears a high-pitched noise. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Your dictionary. Where is it?” I punctuate each word with a sharp snap.
“Do I look like the kind of guy who owns a fucking dictionary?” Boone frowns, trying to break out of my grasp, but I hold him tighter.
I glance at Boone’s black button-down, the fabric pulled tight, too tight, over his broad chest. “No, you don’t,” I admit. “I’ll make this easy then.”
I pull out my phone from my jeans and start typing. Now that I’m a dad, there’s this strange urge to educate the assholes of the world. Dakota peers over my shoulder at the screen. When I finish typing, I shove my phone in Boone’s face.
“Read this,” I command.
Boone grumbles something under his breath, but he reads the screen with pinched brows. “No, meaning no. Not any. There is no excuse. Used to give a negative response...” He looks up, more irritated than confused now. “What the hell am I reading?”
“Watch that tone.” I shove my phone back into my pocket. “You’re reading the definition of the word ‘no,’ because apparently, you need to learn the meaning of it. So let me educate you, when a woman says no, she means hell no. You got that, or do you need to read that definition again?”
“God damn ,” Dakota mumbles, fanning herself in my periphery. She sounds a little breathless, a little impressed.
It makes me a little hard.
Boone gulps, darting his eyes to her. “Yeah, I got it. You don’t need to shove your phone in my face; I get it. I’m sorry. ”
We stare at each other for a few tense seconds. Images of him trying to kiss her flash through my mind, fueling my irritation. But I can be the bigger man.
Boone might’ve made some mistakes, but people deserve second chances. I know if I stay, I’m going to do something I regret, so with one last squeeze of his shoulders, I say, “She’s right. You’re not a bad man, Bowman, so act like a good one.”
I release him, striding away to a more secluded area outside the animal corrals. I need some breathing room to cool off. I hear Dakota’s footsteps behind me, soft but persistent, and soon it’s just us among the hay bales and horses, the familiar scents of straw and leather cocooning us.
I lean against a hay bale and pinch the bridge of my nose. Deep breaths. In and out.
“You’re mad,” she blurts the obvious, sounding worried as she grips my forearm. “Nothing happened between us. I swear, Wyatt. I would never do something like that to you. I pushed him away.”
“I know you did. I saw. I’m not mad,” I lie because this isn’t her problem. I’m the one who needs to calm the hell down. This is her big day, and I don’t want to ruin anything. She has to ride in less than an hour.
She loops her arms around my waist, burying her head against my chest. “You seem really mad.”
The smell hits me.
Sandalwood cologne. His smell—on her.
The muscles in my back tense. I don’t want her smelling like him, which I know is ridiculous, but I’m not feeling all too levelheaded right now.
I catch her wrist and tug her deeper into the shadows behind the hay bales, away from prying eyes. Grabbing her hips, I lift her up on top of a hay bale, earning me a surprised intake of air from her. Every heavy breath brings our chests closer together.
“Fine. You’re right. I’m mad,” I say, pinning her against the hay with my hips. “I’m mad because you smell like him. I’m mad because he still wants you. But most of all, I’m mad because I’ve been in love with you since the day you saved my life, and I want everyone in this whole damn world to know it.”
I don’t give her a chance to respond. I kiss her hard—just to make sure she gets the whole goddamn point.
My lips crash onto hers, rolling and rolling, our breaths mingling. She twists her fingers in my hair, and the sensation sends electric sparks down my spine. She meets my kiss and raises me one better, sucking my tongue into her mouth.
The feel of her in my arms, it’s everything and somehow not enough. I reach down and grip the back of her hips, my fingers digging into her soft flesh. I push her down onto the hay behind her, the rough straw poking at my jeans. All I’m thinking about is how I need her, right here, right now, but I can’t.
Maybe I can.
No, I can’t fuck her on a hay barrel in the middle of the rodeo grounds.
She moans into my mouth, and that sound vibrates through my entire body. “I want you, Wyatt. Please. Now. There’s only you.”
I groan into her neck, nipping at her shoulder with pent-up frustration. It’s the only thing I needed to hear from her.
“We can’t,” I whisper, my breath hot against her skin. “There are people around, and these chaps of yours are gonna be hell to get off.”
“I don’t care about anyone else,” she breathes against my lips. “And I think you can handle taking off my pants just fine.”
My breathing is ragged, and this idea of hers is starting to sound brilliant. “You want me to fuck you right here on this hay bale?”
Her hands are already at my belt, and her fingers slip as she tries to undo the buckle. “Yes, right here. There aren’t that many people around, and if someone randomly walks by, well…” Her lips curl into a wicked grin.
Her movements are frantic, and her desperation, that need I feel in her touch, it’s all the convincing I need. She pulls out my cock, and for a second, I think about how if one of those security guards sees this, I could go to jail for public indecency, but then she swipes her finger around the tip, and I think Dakota Cutler is worth jail time.
My mind is a haze of desire, consumed by how much I want her. Her fingers tease my dick, sending jolts of pleasure through me. It sets me loose, and I undo her belt buckle and then the zipper, but these jeans are impossible to get off with the chaps. There’s no leverage for her to wrap her legs around my waist, but she’s had these jeans for years, so the fabric is pretty worn.
Bet I could rip them.
I struggle, fumbling with the zipper. The damn thing won’t budge. “You know what? Fuck this. I’ll buy you some new pants.” I grunt, ripping the fabric of her jeans right down the middle inseam, giving her a satisfied smirk. “Much better.”
Her mouth falls. “Did you just rip my jeans right down the middle? How’s that even possible?”
I roll my eyes at the surprise in her tone. “You’ve had these for years, honey. The fabric is so worn, it’s like paper. I think it’s time for a new pair.”
I barely shove her panties aside before I pick her up by the backs of her knees and press her ass into the hay bale. She guides me in, and I slip into her wet warmth, deeper, always so deep. I bite her neck to muffle my groan.
The feeling of her is too much.
Once I’m fully inside her, I still, letting her adjust to me. I always need this to be good for her. She throws her head up to the orange sky, moaning. “Oh god, I mean Wyatt. Holy shit. Don’t ever take your cock out of me. You stay right here forever.”
I chuckle against her, and that vibration makes me all too aware of being inside her, so it quickly escalates into another breathy groan. I hiss in a breath, the sensation almost too much to bear. “You’re so fucking tight, honey.”
And then we really start moving.
Her warmth wraps around me, and this right here, there’s no better feeling in the world. She clings to my back as I roll my hips, sinking deeper into her. She clutches her legs around me, scraping up my back with the blunt tips of her nails. The sound of our slapping skin echoes through the rodeo grounds, louder than the crowd’s cheers.
It’s wild and fast, and I wish I had the self-control to savor this moment, but I can’t. All I can think about is the way she’s biting my neck and how she’s screaming even louder than I am, and how she won’t stop looking into my eyes, and I can’t stop staring at her because I want to see exactly how I make her feel.
I need to watch her shatter around me.
Each thrust drives us closer to the edge, and I can feel my control slipping. The way she clutches at me, her nails digging into my shoulders, her pussy gripping me, tells me she’s just as close.
I thrust deeper, my hips snapping forward as I pull her down onto me at the same time. Her legs start to tremble around my waist, and a searing heat races up my spine, electrifying every nerve.
We’re both shaking, teetering, burning, and then we plunge over the edge together. Her moans mix with mine, raw and loud, and the sight of a few people glancing our way only makes me come harder.
God bless hay bales and their perfect height.
She clenches around me, her body pulsing in time with mine, and I pour myself into her. We scream our moans into the sunset, our voices melding with the sounds of the rodeo, until there’s nothing left but our ragged breathing .
“Look at you,” I say, stroking her cheek as I soften inside her. She’s flushed, her skin glowing with satisfaction.
“I think some people are.” She smiles against my lips, her breath still coming in soft pants. “Wyatt Patterson, who knew you were so dirty, fucking me in public like that?”
I kiss her, slow and tender this time. “What can I say? I wanted this whole rodeo to hear you screaming my name so they know you’re mine.”
“Oh, summer boy,” she drawls, resting her forehead against me. “I think the entire world knows I’m yours now.”