“Good. I want to learn how a real cowgirl does it.”
“You’re doing damn fine,” he managed. He closed his eyes and spent a few seconds enjoying her ministrations. Because they were good. Her hands on his body, the way her breath ratcheted and the feel of her bared thigh on his arm made him feel out of control.
His Maggie knew what she was about.
That thought startled him. He’d never thought of a woman in those terms. And he shouldn’t now because Maggie didn’t belong to him or Texas. She’d wear the boots for a while. She’d ride the cowboy for a while. Then she’d go back to Philly, set the boots in the back of her closet to collect dust. And he’d be “that one time when I owned a ranch for two months” memory in the back of her mind.
For some reason the thought of her forgetting him bothered him.
He caught her hand, tossing out any serious thoughts. Time for Miss Maggie to get her ride on. “Your hands are ready. Let’s go over some basics.”
“Okay.”
“First you’ll need the right equipment.” He eyed her lush breasts, the dark areolas visible through the silver lace. “Never mind, I can see you’ve got the equipment.”
Her giggle made her breasts bounce slightly. Another good reason to make her laugh. Jiggly parts.
“Now, let’s talk about mounting up. The bull will be in the chute, ready to go. You need to be wary of climbing on. There are things that could go wrong. The bull could get aggravated and...blow his load.”
“Really?” Maggie asked.
“I’m struggling with the analogy,” he said, caressing her hip. She slapped his hand away with a look of warning. Role play. Right. “In actuality the bull is pissed off. Me? I’m just turned the hell on.”
“So let’s try this,” she said, sliding her panties off, presenting him with her rounded ass.
He groaned at the lush sight.
“What?” she asked. She turned around and his eyes zeroed in on the trimmed strip of hair covering the sweetest of prizes. Better than a gold buckle. He gripped the bed so he wouldn’t touch her.
“This is torture,” he croaked.
“Should I go ahead and mount?”
“Yes. Please.” She set her knee on the bed, opening her thighs enough so he could see the puffed lips of her sex. He dug his fingers into the mattress harder.
“Does it help to touch the bull?” she asked, swinging one leg over him so she straddled his thighs. She still wore the boots and hat. Her breasts spilled over the lace of her bra and her firm thighs on either side, pubis thrust toward him, was the hottest thing he’d ever seen. Seriously. Hottest thing ever.
“Uh, usually not. But in this case...”
She trailed a soothing hand down his chest and abs. “Good boy.”
Cal managed a choked laugh. “You’re killing me.”
“Next, I grab the rope, right?”
“Uh, there’s no rope, baby.”
“So let’s pretend.” She clasped his cock and eased toward it. Maneuvering the tip, she brushed her clitoris. “Oh, yes, that’s nice.”
Understatement.
Her head dropped back, the cowboy hat nearly coming off. Her brown hair tumbled down her back as she moved her hips, using the head of his cock to circle her clit. Wicked hot heat singed him.
Her breath came hard. “Is this okay? Am I doing it right? ’Cause it feels right. It feels so good.”
“You’re doing fine,” he said, reaching up to clasp her hips. He wanted inside her, but he loved watching her pleasure herself.
“Just a sec,” she said, shimmying over to snatch something from the table. She held the condom package up. “You almost forgot about this.”
Shit. He never forgot a condom, not even when drunk. Maggie had swept him away so completely he wasn’t himself.
She made quick work of getting him sheathed. “There. I’m sure it’s important that the bull is always protected. Animal welfare and all that.” Clasping the base of his cock, she lifted herself and sank down on him.
Cal groaned at both the unexpected move and the sheer pleasure of being enveloped by her tightness.
“I’m on,” she trilled, her grin triumphant and naughty. “Instruct me.”
He didn’t want to play anymore. He wanted to fuck. But he always finished what he started, so he lifted his hips. “Let’s make sure you’re on good.”
She squealed a little and then closed her eyes. “Oh, I’m on good. Very good.”
“Okay, now what you have to realize is the bull has a mind of his own and his goal is to get you off.”
“That’s my goal, too,” she teased.
Cal grinned. “And so you try to anticipate his moves so you can stay on.”
“So I can get off,” she joked.
“Okay, cowgirl, hold on.” He bucked his hips, moving to the left, then to the right. “Now you try and stay on. And it might help if you move with the bull.”
Maggie nodded and moved her hips, riding him. She paused only a moment to reach behind her back and release her gorgeous breasts from the bra that held them captive. They were full, rounded, perfectly tipped orbs of some kind of something he didn’t have words for because he was too busy feeling the tight, beautifulness that was Maggie. But he could damn sure appreciate perfection. He thrust, grinding his hips, pretending he was a bull so his cowgirl could get her ride on. Her breasts bounced, her delicious brown waves swayed and her face was screwed in concentration.
Then she leaned forward, placing each hand on either side of his head. Her breasts fell against his chin and she lifted one foot and planted it beside his hip. Then she started moving, lifting her body and sinking down onto his cock. He filled his mouth with one of her nipples, sucking hard, nipping with his teeth. She groaned and increased her speed, her lips brushing his jaw with small, sweet kisses. She bit his earlobe and whispered, “You don’t seem like you’re interested in bucking me off anymore.”
He released her breast so it slapped his chest. “If bulls were ridden like this, I’m sure they wouldn’t be interested in getting free, either. You’re amazing,” he said, his balls tightening as the pressure built. He was close to exploding...but Maggie hadn’t come yet. And he was a Texas gentleman so he pushed her upright so she sat astride him again, and gently parted the folds of her sex, finding the bud of her clitoris. Wetting his thumb with her slickness, he began slow, steady circles.
“Oh,” she said, her head falling back. “That’s so good.”
“So come for me, baby. I want to watch you ride me and come.” He increased the tempo, loving the sight of her so open to him. She was pink, lush and so very feminine—a visual feast any red-blooded man could appreciate.
Only took a few seconds before he felt her tighten, the muscles inside her pulling at his cock as she found her release.
“Oh, oh, oh,” she said, her eyes closed, her mouth open. But the trembling of her hips paired with the contractions sent him over the edge. He clasped her hips, moving her, and came in a hot torrent of wonderfulness. Maggie went limp and collapsed on his torso.
Cal kept moving until he was empty and then he fell still, savoring the feel of her body covering his. He wound his arms around her, dropping a kiss on her sweaty cheek. “You’re a good student.”
She laughed. “I held on...and got off.”
“Mmm-hmm. And you can ride me anytime.”
“Bet you say that to all the girls,” she said against his neck, dropping a kiss against the scruff he’d neglected to shave that morning because they’d spent too much time in the shower. His hunger for her was insatiable, like nothing he’d ever experienced. He didn’t understand why he felt this way, why he wanted to breathe her in twenty-four hours a day. And it wasn’t just sex. It was eating cereal with her, working beside her as she painted, cleaned, dug up flower beds. For the first time in forever, his feet didn’t itch...and even worse, he didn’t hunger for the dust of the arena, the smell of sweat or the cold beer waiting at the end of each night.
And that scared him down to the marrow in his bones.
Because he didn’t feel hungry anymore.
Because he’d started wondering what it might be like to let the life he’d led slip away, fade behind him.
Because, for the first time in his life, he wondered what it would be like to sink into a recliner and watch the game, plant some tomatoes and watch them grow, and make a mortgage payment and not worry about what bull he drew or practicing or reserving a hotel room in Dallas.
“Stay with me,” she whispered, sliding off him and curling next to his side.
They were the same words she’d whispered every night, the words he loved to hear. “You bet.”
* * *
A FEW DAYS later Maggie watched Cal adjust the rope for Wyatt. The bucking barrel was ready and Cal’s kid brother looked like Christmas had come early.
“Start slow and work on tightening the muscles in your thighs as you move. You’ll be sore tomorrow, but it will be a good sore,” Cal said.
Wyatt nodded. “Can’t be worse than the way I feel after two-a-days. Besides I’ve been practicing on Jamie Riggs’s bucking barrel. I’m pretty good on it.”
“We’ll see,” Cal said, handing Wyatt a helmet.