Authors: Desiree Holt
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Romance, #Western, #Westerns, #Erotic Romance
Ride a Cowboy (18 page)
Settling himself between her thighs, he continued to fondle and tease her cunt and rub her clit. She was so hot she was sure she’d combust at any moment. He kept the fire deep inside her smoldering, the flame leaping a little higher each time he rubbed harder, easing back when his strokes softened. She was so close. So close. She wanted him inside her right now.
When she was sure she couldn’t stand it one more minute, she heard the crinkle of foil and the snap of latex and his hot erection pressed against the opening of her vagina. Kyle eased himself into her, his big hands cradling her hips, his movement slow. With the dildo in her ass, the space was compressed, and when he was finally all the way in, she felt fuller than she’d ever thought possible.
“Hang on for the ride, Jessie. It’s gonna be a ballbuster.”
And it was, his cock driving into her again and again, slowly at first, then picking up speed. His fingers tightened on her skin and she sensed he was close. She rocked on her knees, clenching and unclenching her hands against the small of her back, matching herself to his movement.
“Ready, sugar?” His voice was so tight with forced control she almost didn’t recognize it.
Ready? She was more than ready.
“Yes,” she hissed, thrusting back even more.
He slammed into her, once, twice, three times. She was so close to the edge, the final thrust tipped her over and they came together, bodies shuddering as spasms wracked them. Face pressed to the pillow, she tumbled into space, explosions of light behind her eyelids while her pussy clenched and clenched and clenched around his thick, hot cock.
When the last aftershock had finally subsided, Kyle flipped the safety latch that unlocked the handcuffs, slowly withdrew both himself and the dildo from the grasp of her body, and rolled to the side, taking her with him. Jessie could hardly catch her breath, working hard to draw air into her lungs. Her heart thundered at the force of a climax more explosive even than the ones of the previous night. And with something else, too. Something she didn’t want to put a name to. Something that had blossomed inside her as Kyle emptied himself into the latex sheath inside her.
She lay there, reluctantly turning it over in her mind while he levered himself off the bed and headed to the bathroom to dispose of the condom. When he returned, he carried a warm cloth that he used to bathe her, wiping away the traces of the lube and pressing the heat into her aching folds. With graceful movements, he shifted her around, rearranged the pillows and crawled into bed next to her.
“Close your eyes, Jessie,” he murmured, his lips grazing her ear. “Let me have one more night for you to sleep in my arms.”
No way could she have found the strength to move anyway. They hadn’t taken a lot of time tonight to do this, but it had been fiery, draining, wringing everything from her body. Besides, there was something about lying here next to him that made her feel better than she had in a long time. And
that
was something she needed to figure out.
Or walk away from.
****
It all came down to one word.
Trust.
Jessie not only had to trust Kyle, she had to trust herself. And she realized with a pang that the latter was something she’d managed to avoid for a long time. She’d seen too many relationships fail. Too many marriages end in divorce. And too many men who resented a strong woman and immediately set out to tame her.
But Kyle Mitchell didn’t seem to fit that mold. That first night he’d let her do anything she wanted, even cuff him to her bed. Even invade his body. And when he’d turned the tables, it hadn’t been a power trip, rather a plan to give her as much pleasure as he could. The toys he bought had been for
her
pleasure. The things he’d done had put her satisfaction first.
And dinner. When he’d said romance, that was exactly what he meant. What could be more romantic than eating outside on a warm night with the colors and lights and sounds of San Antonio and a hunk of a cowboy dancing attention?
She also saw a depth to him that she hadn’t expected. There was a lot more to this man than eight seconds on two thousand pounds of bull.
How did you resist a man like that?
“Opening night in Houston is two nights from now,” he told her when she climbed into her car in the morning. “You think about everything we said to each other, Jessie.” His long fingers caressed one cheek. “I know how I feel. At least I think I do. Now you have to decide how
you
feel.”
“Kyle,” she began.
“No.” He touched her lips. “Don’t say anything right now. You go home and think about everything we’ve done together, all the feelings wrapped up in it. And how well we fit together. I won’t pressure you anymore. But if you think we’ve got a chance, be there to watch me ride on opening night.”
He leaned into the window and kissed her thoroughly, his tongue stroking hers, his lips branding hers. Then he backed away. “Drive safely, Jessie. Oh, and one more thing?”
“Yes?” She stopped, about to coast into the street.
“I love you.”
Then he turned and jogged back inside, leaving her sitting there with her mouth open and her heart racing.
****
The last forty-eight hours had been tumultuous as she tried to sort out her conflicting feelings.
“Take a chance for once,” she kept saying. “You might get hurt, sure, but it doesn’t sound like it. Do it, Jessie. For once trust your heart instead of your head.”
Trust. Something she had in very small supply. For two days, she wrestled with herself, her heart and brain waging a fierce battle. Even that morning, when she’d struggled out of bed after a restless night, she hadn’t been sure what she’d do. But looking at herself in the bathroom mirror as she brushed her teeth, she saw how colorless her life would be if she didn’t for once take a leap of faith.
So here she was, at the big Houston Stock Show and Rodeo, wondering what the hell she was even doing here. Kyle had texted her and told her if she decided to come, he’d leave something for her at the box office. She expected a ticket. Instead the man behind one of the glass windows handed her a long white envelope and asked her to wait while he called someone.
Called someone? Surely not Kyle. He’d be busy getting ready for his events. She’d been to enough rodeos to know he’d be getting himself psyched up for his competition, which, according to the program she clutched desperately in her hand, was in about thirty minutes.
She opened the envelope, pulled out the single sheet of paper and unfolded it.
“I’ve been holding my breath waiting for you. I’ll be on that bull for eight seconds but after that I’m taking you for a longer ride. I love, you. Kyle.”
She was standing there, staring at the paper, when a voice at her elbow broke into her thoughts.
“Jessie?”
She looked up, recognizing the man who’d come to pick up Kyle at the jail. What was his name? She wished she could remember, but she’d been too busy being pissed off that day.
“Gary Handler.” He held out his hand. “Nice to see you again, Sheriff. And under better circumstances.”
She shook his hand, dazed. “Yes. Of course.”
“Kyle’s been as bent out of shape as a pretzel, waiting to see if you’d show. Come on. His event comes up pretty soon. Let’s go.”
“Go?” She frowned at him. “Go where?”
“Back to the pens. He said if you showed, the box office would call back here and I should come and get you.” He touched her elbow. “We’d better hurry.”
Her mind still reeling, she followed Gary through a door, down a long corridor and into the staging area for the events. At once all her senses were assaulted by the mixture of sounds and aromas that signaled the working areas of a rodeo. The scent of animals and dirt drifting in the air, horses neighing, bulls stamping, and a chorus of voices talking at the same time.
Should I have come? Should I really be here?
But then they were at the area behind the chutes and there was Kyle, wearing jeans, his hand-tooled boots and a plaid shirt. Tension lined his body, but the minute he saw her, his face broke out into a huge grin. He lifted her off her feet, twirling her around like a kid.
“You came.” He set her down on her feet and kissed her so thoroughly she heard whistles and shouts coming at them, even some clapping.
“Kyle.” She finally managed to tear her mouth away and catch her breath. “This is a little public for something like that.”
He pulled her tight against him. “Sugar, that’s tame compared to what I plan to do when we’re in private.” He gave her another quick kiss. “Does this mean what I think it does? You’ll give us a real chance?”
“How can I not?” It was that simple.
She stood on tiptoe and whispered in his ear, “I brought, um, your presents.”
He looked at her, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “Then I can’t wait to get out of here. I love you.”
She finally was able to say the words. “I love you, too. So don’t you dare get hurt out there.”
“Not a chance. I’ll be on that bull for eight seconds, Jessie, but then the ride I’m planning to take you on will last for the rest of our lives.”
About the Author
Known the world over as The Oldest Living Erotica Author, Desiree Holt proves every day that she is more than the sum of her years and more than the grandmother who plays with Barbie and Ken dolls: She is The Hardest Working Erotica Author, producing one novel or more each month—and sending her readers and reviewers into rhapsodies about her five star storytelling.
How did she become so prolific? She counts innumerable rich experiences in her long life, including years in the music business representing every kind of artist from country singer to heavy metal rock bands. For several years she also ran her own public relations agency handling any client who interested her. Many did. Many became genuine characters whom she refashioned as heroes and heroines to live within the pages of her novels.
Her imagination does her proud. She is twice a finalist for an EPIC E-Book Award, a nominee for a Romantic Times Reviewers Choice Award, winner of the first 5 Heart Sweetheart of the Year Award at The Romance Studio as well as twice a CAPA Award for best BDSM book of the year, winner of the Holt Medallion, multiple winner of the Whipped Cream Book of the Week Award and is published by five different houses. She has been featured on CBS Sunday Morning and in The Village Voice, The Daily Beast, USA Today and numerous other national publications.
“Desiree Holt is the most amazing erotica author of our time and each story is more fulfilling then the last”
~Romance Junkies
Learn more about her and read her novels here:
www.facebook.com/desireeholtauthor
Twitter @desireeholt
Pinterest: desiree02holt
Also on LinkedIn and Google+
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