Chapter 4
four
. . .
Judy
I've never been on a horse before. The massive chestnut mare in front of me me snorts and shifts, making my heart flutter with a mix of fear and excitement.
But it's not the horse that has my pulse racing—it's Wayne standing beside us, his large hand resting possessively on my thigh as he gives me instructions in that deep, rumbling voice that vibrates straight through me.
I'm wearing the shortest shorts I could find in my limited wardrobe, and his calloused palm feels like fire against my bare skin.
"You'll ride with me today," he says, and something about the way he says it—like he's claiming me—makes heat pool between my legs.
"I don't want to fall," I admit, trying to focus on the potential danger rather than on how close he's standing, how his scent—leather and sweat and something purely male—wraps around me like a physical touch.
His lips quirk up at the corner. Not quite a smile, but close. "I won't let you fall, angel."
There it is again. Angel. My heart skips.
"Ready?" he asks, and before I can answer, his hands circle my waist. His fingers nearly touch around my middle, and he lifts me like I weigh nothing at all, setting me gently on the saddle.
I gasp, grabbing the horn for stability, but also from the shock of his strength. The casual display of power sends a thrill down my spine, settling low in my belly. What else could those hands do? How easily could he move me wherever he wanted?
The thought makes my cheeks burn.
"Scoot forward," he instructs, and I comply, sliding ahead on the saddle. In one fluid motion, he swings himself up behind me, his broad chest a solid wall against my back. His arms come around me to take the reins, effectively caging me in.
I'm surrounded by him—his heat, his scent, the steady rhythm of his breathing. My body reacts instantly, nipples tightening beneath my thin tank top. I pray he doesn't notice.
"Relax," he murmurs, his breath hot against my ear. "Let your body move with the horse. With me."
He clicks his tongue and the mare starts forward. The motion rocks me back against him, and I have to bite my lip to keep from gasping. Each step of the horse pushes me against his chest, then forward, then back again in a rhythm that feels almost…intimate.
We leave the barn area and head toward an open field, then to a trail that leads into a stand of trees.
The world looks different from up here—wider, more beautiful.
The late morning sun filters through the leaves, dappling the path ahead with gold.
Under different circumstances, I might be mesmerized by the view.
But all I can focus on is Wayne. The solid strength of his thighs bracketing mine. The way his arms flex as he guides the reins. The heat of his chest seeping through my thin top.
"You're doing great," he says, voice low in my ear. "Natural."
I smile, pleased by his praise. "It's easier than I thought."
"That's because I'm doing all the work," he chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest and into my back. The vibration of it travels straight to my core.
We continue along the trail, the horse's gait smooth and steady. I start to relax, leaning back slightly into Wayne's chest. That's when I feel it—hard and thick against my lower back. His erection, pressing insistently through his jeans.
My breath catches. He's aroused. The knowledge sends a jolt of heat straight between my legs.
I should be embarrassed. Should sit up straighter, create distance. But instead, I find myself settling more firmly against him, curious and hungry for the feeling.
Behind me, Wayne's breathing changes, becoming slightly heavier. His thighs tense on either side of mine.
"Trail gets a bit rougher ahead," he says, voice strained. "Hold on tight."
The path narrows, forcing the horse to pick her way more carefully over roots and rocks. Each step jostles me against Wayne, his erection now pressing directly against the curve of my ass through our clothes. It feels huge. Intimidating. Thrilling.
I bite my lip hard, stifling a moan. Between my legs, I'm growing embarrassingly wet, my panties damp against the saddle. My thighs clench instinctively around the horse, seeking pressure, relief from the growing ache.
"You okay?" Wayne asks, misinterpreting my tension. His hand briefly leaves the reins to squeeze my hip reassuringly.
"Y-yes," I manage, voice higher than normal. "Just…taking it all in."
He makes a sound—half grunt, half groan—that suggests he knows exactly what I'm feeling. His erection seems to twitch against me, growing even harder if that's possible.
"Just relax," he murmurs, but there's an edge to his voice now. A tightness that wasn't there before. "Let me control the horse."
We emerge from the trees into a sun-drenched meadow.
Wildflowers sway in the breeze, and in the distance, mountains rise blue and hazy.
It's breathtaking, but I can barely focus on it.
All my attention is on the insistent pressure of Wayne's cock against my ass, the way it grinds subtly with each step of the horse.
My body responds with a rush of heat. My clit throbs, desperate for touch, for friction. I shift in the saddle, trying to ease the ache, but it only makes things worse. Better? I don't even know anymore.
"Stop squirming," Wayne growls, his free hand gripping my hip firmly, holding me still. The command in his voice sends another rush of wetness between my thighs.
"Sorry," I whisper, not sorry at all.
I wonder if he knows what he's doing to me. If he can tell how wet I am, how desperately I want to turn in the saddle and press myself against him properly. The thought should mortify me—I barely know this man—but all I feel is a hungry curiosity. A need to explore this new, aching desire.
The horse continues its steady pace across the meadow, each step rocking me against Wayne's hardness.
My breathing grows shallow. My skin feels too tight, too sensitive.
If this continues much longer, I might do something embarrassing, like moan out loud or grind myself shamelessly against the saddle.
"We should head back soon," Wayne says, voice rough. Is he affected as I am? Is he struggling for control too?
I nod, not trusting my voice. As we turn back toward the trail, I can't help but wonder what would happen if I reached back and touched him. If I let him know that I feel it—feel him.
And I want more.