Rodeo Riders (4 page)

Chapter Six

The
everything
didn’t take long. Not only had Cougar wound up in the emergency room with a concussion, he’d cracked a bone in his neck. For two days, he hadn’t been able to move. Despite his pounding head, he’d been awake and aware.

“You were paralyzed?” She nearly gagged on the word.

“Obviously not permanently, but long enough to get my attention.”

Get my attention
had to be the understatement of the year. She couldn’t imagine anything more terrifying than losing control of one’s body. The thought of Cougar confined to a wheelchair made her blood run cold.

“Thank God you aren’t,” she whispered. Her fingers on him tightened. She couldn’t relax them because she needed to feel his strength. “Did feeling come back all at once?”

“It took a couple of months because of the bruising to the nerves.”

The story was getting worse. Only knowing how it came out kept her sane. Or was she? Last night he had been the dominant one. He’d taken them over the edge. Although she’d been more than ready for sex, she’d happily gone at his pace.

Not tonight. Tonight she needed to say things with her body that she had no words for.

“I’ve always thought of you as, I don’t know, more something than most men. Physically superior, maybe.”

“I’m not.”

Tell that to my body.
Her hands were sweating, and she didn’t trust her legs. Her bra had suddenly become too small for her heavy breasts. And her pussy—a single touch there and she’d probably explode.

The power behind her need for Cougar frightened her, and yet she was too far gone to walk away. She’d drink from him, and the act would serve as affirmation of how healthy and whole he was.

Thank goodness his shirt came with snaps. Otherwise, she would have popped all the buttons the way she yanked on it. When she’d exposed his chest, he reached for her, but she pushed, forcing him to balance with his arms behind him on the hay, much as he’d done to her last night on the bed. Leaning forward, she ran first her lips and then her tongue over his newly exposed flesh. The salty, masculine taste raced through her and became part of her. Fed her need.

Moving to his side, she rested her cheek against his right nub. One hand went to the back of his neck. The other slid toward intimate territory. Damn his jeans!

Men were protective of the family jewels and hesitant to give women unmonitored access to them. She might not be a well-traveled sex partner, but she knew those elementary things.

And didn’t care.

Contain him somehow. Let him know who’s in charge. Show him how much you love the body he came too close to losing control of.

Most of all, drink from everything he has to give.

Sliding his shirt off his shoulders so it bunched around his wrists like makeshift handcuffs solved the immediate problem of keeping his hands off her. At first his jeans’ snap resisted her efforts, but she kept after it. The zipper put up less resistance.

“Just like that?” he asked.

“Just like that.”

“What if someone comes in?”

“I’ll tell them the place is taken and to mosey on down the road.”

She’d dropped to her knees and tugged off one boot before what she’d said registered. Any number of people had every right to come in here. What would they think if they ran into a couple going at each other?

Let them deal with it. Let them beat a hasty retreat.

Both of his boots now rested near the hay bale. Cougar hadn’t moved.

I’m not going to think. And I hope you don’t either. We need to do this. That’s all that matters, the need.

“Stand up,” she ordered.

He did, shaking off his shirt at the same time. She barely managed to wait until he was done, before yanking down on his jeans.

Don’t talk, please. Don’t make me explain what I’m doing.

Only a long sigh from one of the stalls broke the silence, and no outside sounds reached them. There was just the two of them, and insanity.

She drew the jeans over first one raised foot and then the other. Eyes closed, she stroked his calves. She started working her hands higher. His knees were remarkable, bone and cartilage masterfully created. But as much as they fascinated her, even more she needed to feel his thighs, to embrace his cock.

His shorts. Damn it, she hadn’t—

Biting down on frustration, she willed her fingers to glide to the back of his thighs. He shivered, and she laughed, the sound full of power and animal need. Despite the roaring in her head, it was now easier to continue her upward journey. She needed to embrace his cock, but that could wait because even the backs of his legs carried the same message of strength under smooth flesh. Downy hairs grew at the juncture of thigh and buttocks, and she gently stroked them. His hands rested on the top of her head.

She couldn’t keep her hands off his briefs, or, more precisely, out from under them. As she slid her fingers past the thin layer, the mark the elastic had left at the base of his buttocks caught her attention. She might have spent a long time exploring the thin indentations if he hadn’t twitched. Ah, the man was sensitive there.

And there too, she discovered as she inched northward. His ass was compact and nicely curved with layers of skin and muscle between her and bone. Buried in there was the strength that would come into play during the sex act. Strange how normal his muscles felt now, strange how urgent her need to have them work her.

“Damn you, Jordan. You’re driving me crazy!”

“I intend to.”

“Not if I have my way. Someone could come in. If we’re going to—”

“We are. Now.”

“No, not yet. Your clothes.”

Much as she hated ending her exploration of his ass, she stood, leaned against him and pulled off her boots. He reached for her jeans, but she shoved him away.

“No. This time I’m in charge.”

“Are you?”

Hell no.
But until or unless he made a liar out of her, she would strip for him and give herself up as a gift to this man who’d nearly lost his life or, if not that, his physical freedom. Too excited to attempt a slow seduction, she dispensed with her jeans and panties at the same time. As she did, he shrugged out of his briefs and perched on the edge of the canvas-covered bale. His cock waited for her, impatient and strong.

She managed to unfasten her blouse before need gripped her. Something between a growl and a cry escaped her. Then she was on him, pushing him onto his back. He reached up, his hands gripping her shoulders and bringing her forward. Straddling him, she stood on her toes and started to lower herself over him, seeking the union of cock and cunt.

“Wait. Stop!”

“What?”

“I need a condom.”

Oh shit, shit.
But even as she gathered her thoughts to tell him she didn’t care, she knew she wouldn’t say the words. Dizzy, she tore his hands off her. “Stay there. I’ll get—”

“In my wallet.”

Fumbling in the near dark for his jeans took an unreal amount of time. She tried to make peace with her naked belly, ass, pussy and legs as she dug through his wallet. Finding the condom was more important than shedding her blouse, which still hung half off her. When her fingers closed around the small package, she snorted in triumph. Tearing at the wrapping with her teeth, she stumbled back to where she’d left Cougar.

Hard as it had been to locate the necessary protection, closing her hand around his cock felt like a homing pigeon returning to its nest. The instant her fingertips stroked the soft, potent flesh, what little strength she’d held on to deserted her. She couldn’t stop shaking, couldn’t help but wonder at the near miracle that had brought them to this point.

She was going to have sex with Cougar, again take him into her. Share that deepest of intimacies.

As for why she needed this so much—

“Jordan?”

Jerked out of her knotted thoughts, she forced herself back to reality. She was standing beside this cowboy with her hands cupping his penis and the condom caught between her index and middle fingers. If they were going to have sex—which she needed to do in ways that rocked her to her soul—she had a task to perform. But once she had, she’d no longer be able to feel his flesh.

If they were married, if they were trying to create a life, nothing man-made would stand between them.

“Yes, yes,” she muttered. But instead of doing what she’d committed herself to, she placed the condom on his belly. Then, more frightened, overwhelmed and eager than maybe she’d ever been, she cradled him between her palms. So big. So strong. And so incredibly hot and alive.

Hers. For this brief time, hers.

“Oh God,” he hissed. “Damn. Damn.”

Those could be her words as well, would have been if the intimacy of what she was doing hadn’t rendered her mute. Much as she loved sex—who didn’t?—she’d always been torn between having a climax rock her and the core-deep vulnerability that went with release. She’d had no longtime lovers, no fiancé, no husband, no one she felt utterly safe with.

And now she was about to give her body to this most challenging of men.

So, for moments that had no meaning, she cradled and controlled.

“Jordan? I can’t…”

Of course. She was asking the impossible of him, playing and delaying, while expecting him to stay there like some specimen under scrutiny. Besides, as wonderful as he felt between her fingers, she’d been clenching and releasing her sex muscles in a pitiful attempt to satisfy her need.

She’d never put on a condom. As a result, an act that shouldn’t have been that difficult took forever. Finally, however, she’d sheathed him. Now there was no reason to put off the inevitable, was there?

Placing her legs on either side of his feet, she straddled him. Attention fully on what little she could see of him, she slid closer, calves brushing calves, thighs kissing thighs. He settled his hands along the sides of her neck and drew her toward him. She knelt on the hay. If only she could read what was in his expression!

No. Not enough.

Overwhelmed by the awesome responsibility she’d given herself, she nevertheless reached between her legs and parted her wet lips. Then, guided by instinct, she positioned herself over him. His tip kissed her clit. Down, down she went, his hands balancing her. Despite the burning in her thighs, she remained over him. Skewered. Gifted.

“Home. You’re home,” she muttered.

She couldn’t quite call his response a chuckle, but even if he was laughing at her, she didn’t mind. He was where he belonged. Where she needed him to be. Instead of beginning the friction she craved, she closed her inner muscles around him and embraced all of him. Acknowledged what she’d accomplished.

Using a gliding motion, he ran his hands from her neck to her bra which he yanked up over her breasts. For a moment, he simply held them. When he stroked the pebbled area around her nipples, she thought she might start crying. Desperate not to expose herself that way, she rose up a little and took him with her. The idea of moving with his cock buried in her was nearly more than she could handle. She settled herself against him, gasping as his bulk consumed even more of her. He gripped her nipples as if determined to hold her in place, but she fought him, fought the demon in her that screamed for her to attack him.

Barely containing herself, she began a pumping motion that caused her legs to burn and her mouth to open. “Got you. Got you. Won’t let you loose.”

“Who says I want to be free?” Arching off the bale, he powered into her. His hold on her nipples kept her in place.

Up and down. Up and down. Leg muscles on fire, hunched over now, her fingers digging into his chest, and his features a mix of black and red.

“I can’t!” he gasped. “Jordan, I can’t!”

“What?”

“Move. You’re pressing on…”

How could that be when she felt weightless? But by concentrating, she felt his effort throughout her. His cock slid against her rear wall. Although she loved the sensation, she needed more.

When she tried to draw away, he refused to release her nipples. She continued to pull, oblivious to any discomfort or perhaps driven by it. Finally he let her go, and she straightened, fingers still digging into him, his cock deep and true.

Then she stood with her knees bent and her toes digging into the hay. His cock slipped out. Empty and hating the sensation, she turned so her back was to him. With a hand around his cock, she knelt. Her body again swallowed him.

Mine.

He took hold of her waist and lifted her a little. She reveled in the feel of his tip just inside her and the danger of losing him. Then he pulled her down, placed his feet on the floor and tensed. She held herself in place as he pounded into her. Her blouse fell back, revealing her breasts. With one hand, she feathered his balls. The other claimed a breast.

Pressure on her back made her wonder if he was trying to push her off him. Then she realized he wanted her to lean forward again. She did, taking in a few more precious inches of him, joining them, feeling his hot bulk. She managed a crude rhythm that brought her down just as he strained upward. Her cheeks burned, heat rolling down her neck to ignite her breasts. Hunger gnawed at her, and she ground her knuckles against her breast.

Fuck him, fuck him. Eat him.

“Not—not going to work.”

She tried to look over her shoulder at him.

“I still can’t—move enough.”

She nearly told him she’d happily fuck his brains out and all he had to do was lie there and enjoy the ride, but just as she couldn’t stay still, obviously neither could he.

Before she could guess what he had in mind, he pushed, forcing her up and off him and leaving her pussy empty. He stood, grabbed her around the waist and positioned her on the bale much as he’d been. On her back, she stared up at him.

“There. Now we’ll do it my way.”

What did she care? As long as he silenced the terrible ache, he could do anything he wanted. His expression unreadable, he placed his hands at the backs of her knees and lifted her legs into the air. He crouched over her, aimed, housed himself. He leaned closer, loomed over her, trapped her under him. She felt small and helpless, desirable, wild.