Chapter Thirty Seven No Tears #5
God, I want to trace those lines of muscle with my tongue just to see if he tastes as good as he looks. I shift in my seat, heat creeping up my neck. His eyes flicker toward me for just a second, the corner of his mouth twitching like he already knows exactly what I’m thinking.
I buckle in, my throat tightening as I stare straight ahead, stealing glances from the corner of my eye. Hungry isn’t even the word—and I’m not scared to look at Saint. I want him to know exactly what’s running through my head.
He catches me staring, lips curving into the faintest smile before he speaks, his voice rough enough to curl down my spine. “You keep looking at me like that, pretty, and I’ma have to remind you what happens when you do.”
Before I can answer, his hand slides from the wheel to my neck, tilting my face toward him. His mouth crashes into mine, his tongue entering my mouth gently before he pulls away just as quickly, leaving my lips tingling and my thighs tingling.
He glances into the backseat, his tone shifting like nothing just happened. “Everybody good back there?”
After a chorus of laughter and yeses fill the car, he shifts the truck into drive, the engine rumbling as we pull off into the night.
? ? ?
The sky is painted in streaks of orange and pink when we arrive, the sun still hanging low enough to cast long shadows across the ranch. The air carries that crisp hint of evening, the type of fall night that teases winter without fully giving in.
The ranch itself looks like something straight out of an old Western—weathered wood siding, wide wraparound porches lined with white railings, rocking chairs creaking in the evening breeze.
Lanterns flicker along the porch, their glow soft against the fading daylight, while strings of bulbs stretch overhead, waiting for nightfall to flip the party into something wilder.
Horses tear across the open field, dirt flying behind them as riders lean low in their saddles, chasing bragging rights.
Others move at an easy trot, weaving through the crowd with quiet confidence, hats tilted against the light.
Closer to the house, mechanical bulls spin and buck, riders clinging tight until the inevitable fall sends the crowd roaring with laughter.
I slip my hand into Saint’s, my other into Cairo’s, linking us together like a chain. The move isn’t for them—it’s for everyone else. Anyone thinking about walking up, can see that I’m clearly taken care of and so are they.
The looks don’t take long to follow. A few girls in cut-off shorts glance our way, whispering behind their hands. Some guys give a nod of respect, stepping aside as we pass.
The message is clear, and it settles in my chest like a quiet thrill. The music’s loud, but it’s the sight of the mechanical bulls near the barn that catches Arina’s attention. Her eyes light up instantly, she grabs my arm, bouncing on her toes like a kid.
“Oh my God, bitch we have to do it!” she squeals, pointing as another girl goes flying off, landing in the padded pit to a wave of cheers.
I laugh, already feeling the challenge stir in my chest. “Fuck it. Why not?” I say, my grin spreading. “Matter of fact—let’s see who can stay on the longest.”
Arina’s smirk matches mine, and just like that, it’s on.
King’s face lights up, his voice booming over the music. “Oh, hell yeah—I gotta see this! Arina, you better hold on tight!” His eyes track her every move, clearly already picturing the show.
Saint arches a brow, a slow grin tugging at the corner of his lips as his gaze drags over me. “Now this,” he says, voice low, “I don’t wanna miss.”
Then Cairo slaps my ass hard enough to make me gasp, his grin wicked. “Oh, hell yeah. We’re gonna need drinks for this one.”
I swat at him as he backs away, excitement in every step. “Get me something strong!” I call after him, my cheeks burning but my smile refusing to fade.
Before he disappears into the crowd, I lean in to Saint, pressing a quick kiss to his lips—sweet, but charged enough to draw a quiet groan from him. “Make sure he’s got a drink waiting for us when we’re done,” I murmur, low enough for only him to hear. “We’re gonna need it.”
Saint chuckles, his hand brushing over my waist as I pull back. “Don’t worry,” he says, caramel delights glinting with that dangerous promise. “I’ll make sure he has them ready. You just don’t fall too quick, pretty.”
Arina grabs my hand, tugging me toward the pen as the operator waves us over.
The crowd stirs instantly, phones rising, eager for the show that’s about to unfold.
The people part as me and Arina climb into the pen, the announcer calling out that the bulls are running side by side tonight—two rides at once, double the show.
I swing my leg over the saddle, the leather slick beneath my thighs.
The bull’s body is cold at first, steel and padding hidden beneath the worn covering.
But the second I grip the handle, adrenaline floods through me.
My thighs tighten around the bull, denim scraping against the polished surface as I shift for balance.
Across from me, Arina mirrors my movement, her braid falling over her shoulder as she grins at me, eyes sparkling with challenge.
“Ready to lose?” She shouts over the noise.
“Not a chance,” I fire back, tightening my hold.
The operator gives a nod—and with a sharp buzz, both bulls jolt to life.
The first spin nearly flips me sideways, the force dragging against my arms as my thighs burn from holding on.
The crowd roars, boots stomping against the dirt floor.
I bite my lip, adjusting my grip, my body bouncing hard against the saddle as the bull twists left, then snaps right.
Every movement jolts through me, thighs hugging tighter, muscles trembling as I fight to stay on.
Arina’s bull bucks even harder. Her legs clamp down for dear life as King’s voice cuts through the chaos. “Hold on, baby! You got it!” He looks half proud, half ready to jump in and catch her if she falls.
Saint stands near the fence, arms folded across his chest, but his eyes never leave me. He doesn’t yell, doesn’t cheer—he just watches, lips tugging into a slow, hungry grin like he’s enjoying every second of me fighting to hold on.
Cairo’s louder than King, of course—pumping his fist in the air, grinning. “That’s what I’m talking about, baby girl!” His voice rings over the crowd, wild and unfiltered, his bright green eyes gleaming like the sight of me holding tight and bouncing against the bull is the highlight of his night.
The bull jerks hard, and I let out a breathless laugh, adrenaline firing through my veins. My thighs scream from the pressure, my arms aching from the strain, my hair whipping across my face.
Arina lets out a shriek, her grip slipping before she tumbles into the padded pit, the crowd exploding with cheers and laughter. I can’t help but laugh, still hanging on—until my bull twists sharp and snaps downward as I go flying, landing with a thud beside her.
The world spins for a second before I burst into laughter, dirt clinging to my knees as I push myself upright.
King’s doubled over, clapping and shaking his head, yelling something about how close she came. Saint’s grin turns sharper, darker—like watching me hold on and fall lit something inside him. Cairo whistles loud, clapping like I just won a championship. “That’s it! That’s how you do it!”
The crowd’s energy hums in my ears as I brush dirt from my shorts, my pulse still racing.
Arina’s beside me, laughing just as hard, her braid a frizzy mess.
We climb out of the pit, legs wobbling like jelly, the adrenaline still coursing through us.
The cheers fade behind us, but the wild energy lingers.
King reaches out for Arina, pulling her up into his arms. “You did good, baby,” he says, brushing dirt from her arm like she didn’t just eat it in front of half the ranch. His eyes glow with pride, and she melts right into it, still laughing breathlessly.
Cairo helps me stand, as Saint appears at my side, two drinks in hand. He passes me one, his eyes never leaving mine. “You earned it pretty.” His lips curve into a slow grin as his caramel coated eyes trail briefly down my dirt-streaked body.
I take the cup, the chill of condensation biting into my palm. “I lasted longer than Arina, so yes I did earn it.”
Arina gasps, grabbing the drink from Saint. “By, like, three seconds! Don’t even start.”
Cairo laughs from behind us. “Doesn’t matter who won,” he says. “Y’all both looked damn good on that bull.” He gives a low whistle, his sage green eyes stuck on me. “And definitely made my night.”
I roll my eyes but the smile wins anyway as I take a slow sip.
Saint just shakes his head, his gaze deepening like he’s already undressing me with it.
He hasn’t said much—and honestly, he doesn’t have to.
I know the look. He’s imagining every way he’s going to make me ride him until my legs give out.
He turns away, heading for the bar as Arina and I clink our cups together. The adrenaline hasn’t even started to fade, and as we lean against the fence, sipping our drinks, I know one thing for sure—the night’s only just begun.