The Bad Boys Of Molly Riot: The Complete Hard Rock Star Series

by Jade Allen

  “YES!” I scream. “FUCK ME, JESSE!!”

  He thrusts his whole length into me and, for a second, my vision goes black. He pumps his dick into me from behind and I bounce up and down on him in the same rhythm. When his fingers go back to my clit, I can barely even stand it. But he keeps going, faster and faster, as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over me. His cock gets even harder and I know he’s about to come. “Annabelle, I love you,” he calls out in a rush as his hot release shoots deep into me.

  I come at the same time, my inner walls clamping rhythmically along his length. I lie still on the bed for a moment, letting the last jolts of my orgasm ripple through me.

  He comes to lie on the bed and I rest my head on his deeply muscled chest, now covered with beads of sweat. “Has that ever happened to you before?” I ask, my fingers tracing the pronounced V of his pelvic muscles.

  “What?” he asks, trying to catch his breath.

  “Coming at the same time.”

  He thinks for a moment. “No. I don’t think it has.”

  “Me neither.” I pause. “So, did you really mean…?”

  He rolls over so we’re face to face. “I meant what I said, Annabelle.” He cups the side of my face with his hand. “I’m in love with you.”

  “I love you too, Jesse.” We kiss, but soon I feel a dropping feeling in my stomach and pull away.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks.

  “It’s just … I love you, and you love me, and that’s wonderful and all. But you’re leaving in four days. You don’t even have a permanent address!”

  “Well, I do. My dad’s house, for taxes. But I know what you mean.” He pauses. “Well, what if you came out on the road with me?”

  “What? …Could I even do that?”

  He nods. “Sure. A lot of guys bring their wives. A buddy of mine even brings his little boy along.”

  “I…” I can’t believe we’re having this conversation. Three weeks ago, we didn’t even know each other. Now I’m considering “going on the road” with him indefinitely?

  The word “wives” keeps coming back to mind. “Are you asking me to…?” I ask him.

  His brow furrows then he laughs. He has dimples, I realize. I am considering running away with a man whose dimples I didn’t even know about until two seconds ago. “Not necessarily, though we should talk about that. I just know that I love you, and I want to keep spending time with you.”

  “I have to think about this,” I say slowly. I touch his cheek. “Thank you for asking me.”

  He pulls me to him. “Meeting you, getting to know you—it’s the best I’ve felt in a long time. So, thank you, Annabelle.”

  I look at the clock. “You don’t have another event until tomorrow, right?”

  “Nope,” he agrees.

  We don’t leave the bed until morning.

  ****

  When we get back to the rodeo, Jesse races off toward the arena to avoid being late.

  I meet up with Sherry, whose husband and mother have combined babysitting forces at home so I won’t have to watch another event alone. “Aren’t those the same clothes you wore yesterday?” she asks.

  “Shut up,” I reply, but can’t keep from smiling. He loves me! a happy little voice inside keeps screaming. He loves me!

  We make our way into the stands and take our seats to watch the saddle bronc riding competition. I hate the idea of Jesse falling again. It sounds like his mother’s death hit him pretty hard; I wonder if they were close, unlike he and his father.

  His offer to come on the road with him pops up in my brain. “Sherry?” I ask.

  “Yeah?”

  “When did you know that John was the one?”

  She looks thoughtful. “I’m not sure I think there is a one. I think you meet someone, you fall in love, and you commit to a lifetime of working on your relationship.” She looks at me. “Are you falling for the cowboy?”

  “I think I already fell,” I confess. A smile creeps onto my face. “He told me that he loves me.”

  She squeals as only a best friend can upon learning such news. “And you said it back?”

  I nod. “Then he asked me to go on the road with him.”

  She wrinkles her nose. “What does that even mean?”

  “I’m not sure. I think it means I go with him to rodeos all over the country until … I don’t know.”

  “But you hate the rodeo!”

  I look around the arena. Just the sight of a cowboy hat used to fill me with contempt, but now I have much more positive associations with it.

  “It’s not so bad,” I say. “And I can freelance from anywhere.”

  “You’re really considering this, aren’t you?”

  “I might be.” I grab her hand. “I’d miss you, though.”

  She squeezes my hand. “I’d miss you, too.” She looks down into the arena where Jesse’s due to appear. “Jesse’s good people, though. And he’s crazy about you.”

  “You think?” I ask.

  She scoffs. “Are you kidding? His whole face lights up when you walk into a room.”

  The event begins and we lean forward to watch the cowboys in action. One man falls and has to be helped out of the arena. My stomach lurches as I imagine a similar fate befalling Jesse.

  When he rides out, though, Jesse doesn’t look like the same rider as yesterday. Instead he looks more like he did back at the stables: loose, but confident and in control. He looks over in my direction, waving his hat wildly, grinning ear to ear. I jump from my seat, waving and cheering, “You’ve got this, Jesse!”

  He rides wonderfully and ends up placing! Sherry and I both give him a standing ovation as he receives his medal. Doing well in this event is nice, but I know it’s the bull-riding championship that really matters. If he doesn’t win money in bull riding, then his offer to come on the road with him will become moot. He’ll be stuck back in Alabama milking cows while his domineering father cracks the whip.

  Some “relaxing” time seemed to help him loosen up before this event. Luckily, we’ve got time for a lot more of that before the bull-riding championship begins tomorrow night.

  ****

  It’s the last night of the bull-riding finals, and I’m right in the front row with Sherry and her family. My stomach is full of butterflies. Jesse’s done well so far—I’ve gotten so used to seeing him on horses that it’s strange seeing him atop a big, hulking animal like a bull. But he manages these beasts with seemingly effortless grace. His stiffness has completely left him now.

  I like to think I had a little something to do with that.

  I still haven’t given him an answer about going out on the road. And he leaves tomorrow morning. I try to put these thoughts out of my mind and focus on the rodeo.

  The stands are twice as packed as they’ve been for any other event. All the other events have taken place during the day, while for the past two nights, lights have lit up the arena for the bull-riding championship. Jesse’s explained how bull-riding works but I still need John, Sherry’s husband, to point out which cowboys are doing well.

  We watch the third cowboy in a row get bucked off his bull almost as soon as they enter the arena. “Are the bulls in a feistier mood today than yesterday?” I ask.

  “Don’t you worry about Jesse,” John says. “Your man is some kind of animal,” he says in an admiring tone. “He may be in line to win this thing.”

  I raise my eyebrows. $100,000. That would put any worries about having to go back home to the dairy farm out of Jesse’s mind.

  Jesse comes out for his last ride on the bull. At first, he looks a bit off-balance and my heart leaps into my throat. The audience gasps, and then sighs in relief as Jesse rights himself. He’s become a crowd favorite during the last two days of the championship—not that I’m surprised.

  From there, Jesse performs magnificently. I thought he was good on a horse, but I can see that bull riding is truly Jesse’s event. I don’t even need to ask John to explain. Jesse’
s told me before that the points are out of 100 in bull riding, and that an 80 is a terrific score. Getting above a 90 is nearly unheard of.

  Jesse gets a 95.

  And when the champion is announced, they call Jesse’s name.

  Outside the arena, I run into Jesse’s waiting arms. “You were so good, Jesse,” I tell him. “I’m so proud of you.”

  He hugs me back hard. “It was all thanks to you.” He reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “I just kept thinking if I don’t win this thing, I might not ever get to see you again.” He looks down. “Not that I…”

  “Yes,” I say quickly.

  “What?”

  “Yes, I’ll go with you,” I tell him. “I can do my work from anywhere, and Sherry’s already given me her blessing.”

  Jesse’s face splits into that crooked smile I’ve come to love so much. “I love you, Annabelle.”

  “I love you, too … Cowboy.”

  He pulls off his cowboy hat and settles it on my head. “You’re a cowgirl now.”

  My old biases against the rodeo start to rise up in my chest, but they settle back down as I look into Jesse’s star-studded blue eyes. If getting to be with Jesse means being a cowgirl, then sign me up for some spurs and a pistol.

  THE END

  The Billionaire Cowboy’s Desire

  Story Description

  Ava Mitchell, a sassy and voluptuous fashion design student from Rhode Island joins her best friend on a vacation to a beautiful and scenic ranch in Colorado. There, she meets Noah, a gorgeous cowboy who she feels irresistibly drawn to, and who manages to invade her thoughts night after restless night.

  Noah has a secret that he likes to keep from the guests: he's really not a ranch hand after all. He actually owns the place, along with a massive mansion nearby. Up until now, he's maintained a strict "hands-off" policy with his visitors, but when Ava walks into his life, the rules that he established are challenged.

  Soon his desire boils over, driving him into Ava's arms where he unveils his true identity...and gives her an unforgettable private education about life on the ranch.

  “You want me to pass up Donna Karan, Marc Jacobs, Vera Wang, and Mathieu Mirano? All to spend a week in the company of cows and chickens?!?” Ava exclaimed.

  “And horses...” her best friend Christie interjected, as if that should adequately justify passing up a trip to the fashion houses of New York in exchange for a week-long “life on a ranch” experience.

  It wasn't that Ava had anything against farm animals, she just made a rule of keeping them as far away from her Gucci stilettos and her Jimmy Choo pumps as possible. OK, up until now, there had been no rule on the subject, but given her friend's ludicrous request, it was about time the rule be made.

  “You know I could never afford the trip on my own, and admit it, you can't possibly think your meager savings is going to get you through those houses' front doors, never mind walking out with bags of irresistible clothing.”

  Christie may have a point, but Ava wasn't ready to back down just yet. Besides, she'd be perfectly happy sitting outside of Michael Kors, watching the wealthiest of society prance in and out. She'd be content to dream of the day women would prance in and out of her shop, adorning themselves in her fabulous creations—just not at the same ridiculous price tags. It was her driving force; Ava loved everything about the fashion industry, except for the astronomical cost that came with being fashionable. It was what had kept her dressed in thrift shop finds as a kid, instead of in the beautiful clothing that only the rich girls could afford. She wanted to learn every couture secret out there and use her knowledge to make the art of fashion accessible to the next generation of less-than-filthy-rich teens and young women.

  “Then why don't we pool our money and you come with me to New York?” she posited, thinking it to be a far more reasonable request, even as Christie's eyes seemed to bulge out of her head at the suggestion.

  “You can throw on a pair of overalls and look just fine on a ranch. What do you think it's going to take to get me prepped for a fashion house?” Christie asked dryly, surveying her generic brand leggings and oversized T-shirt.

  “Besides, you're at the top of your class. We both know you're destined for a glamorous internship and a star-studded career in the fashion industry. What need is a ranch going to have for a mediocre paralegal when I'm finished school? So, it's only fair that you come with me before your career takes off and you no longer have time for us little people,” Christie cajoled, with puppy dog eyes and a devilish grin.

  Ava had no doubt that Christie knew she was about to win. It was one of Ava's greatest gifts and her biggest flaw at the same time. She was too kind-hearted. Not in the way that made her a good person, but in the way that made her a perpetual doormat. Throughout her childhood and high school years, she was a habitual people-pleaser, and it had interfered with every facet of her life, from her social life to her academic performance.

  However, from the day she was accepted into the Bachelor of Fine Arts in Apparel Design at the Rhode Island School of Design, her life changed. She had found something she was good at, something she could take pride in. Ava was happy, and her confidence soared. When it came to Christie, her spine seemed to turn to Jell-O. Christie was right; Sarah would likely be spending the last year of her degree in fashion hot spots like New York, Milan and Paris. Meanwhile, she knew Christie had dreamed of learning to work with horses since she was a little girl—and even less well-off than Ava—and who knew how long it would be before she had another opportunity like this one.

  Ava exhaled heavily, rolling her eyes. Christie's grin transformed into an enormous smile, recognizing the resignation and knowing she'd accomplished her goal. She threw her arms around her friend, hugging her tightly for a moment before standing upright, a frantic look on her face.

  “OK, so that means we have exactly two weeks until we leave. I'll take care of all the arrangements. You just make sure you pack something that the cows and chickens can't ruin,” Christie teased.

  Ava nodded, trying to mentally envision the contents of her closet and cringing at the thought of manure-soaked crepe de chine pants or mud-splattered silk tunics. It wasn't that her clothing was the most expensive stuff out there—most of her wardrobe was actually comprised of her own designs—but she'd hate to ruin so many one-of-a-kind creations. Deciding not to think about the impending defilement of her attire, she glanced at her watch, realizing she'd been dallying at lunch for too long.

  “I gotta go!” she announced, rising from the diner's booth. “I've got a heavy schedule all week, so give me a call this weekend and we'll finalize the details.” “...and see if I can't figure out how to weasel my way out of this rustic excuse for a vacation,” she mumbled under her breath.

  Unfortunately, the week passed by too quickly, and by the time the weekend arrived, she hadn't even a pitiful excuse in sight. Worse, Christie had investigated the itinerary for the vacation, and as she recited it over the phone, Ava fought valiantly against the urge to back out. Early mornings, horse grooming, ranch maintenance—which she could only imagine meant cleaning out stalls and other ungodly tasks. But at the end of the long list of indescribable horrors sat the reason Ava stood strong against the innate desire to flee. Horseback riding, training sessions, sunset trail riding and other stuff that she knew meant the world to Christie. She committed the trip—and its wretched itinerary—to the back of her mind for her remaining week in civilization, and did her best to make every moment pass by as slowly as possible. Unfortunately, the fates were unkind to Ava, speeding her through the week at an exorbitant speed and before she knew it, their day of departure was upon her.

  She awoke early to squeeze in a shower and prep time before their flight. Slipping on a pair of form-fitting, bootcut jeans and a simple viscose tank top that had a deceptively demure neckline in the front but plunged all the way to the waist of her jeans in the back. She checked her reflection in the mirror, sliding her hands al
ong the outline of her curvy figure. At first, studying in the fashion industry, she'd been terribly self-conscious about her curves, but as time went by and she saw one skinny model after the next, she realized something. Those women, while beautiful, were cookie cutters, exact replicas of one another. Even worse, from studying behind the scenes she had come to see their many flaws; sunken faces, bony thinness, Botox and volume injections and a steady calendar of plastic surgery to keep up with the latest body trend.

  In contrast, Ava saw herself as absolutely unique, with a curvy, one-of-a-kind frame, long, golden blonde hair and crystal blue eyes that captured the attention and admiration of men and women alike. Satisfied with the woman staring back at her in the mirror, Ava nodded, heading out into the small, common living room of her shared apartment. She grabbed her luggage from next to the front door and forced her feet to usher her downstairs to the lobby where Christie was, no doubt, already waiting anxiously. She did her best to plaster a smile on her face, seeing no point in making this a miserable experience for both of them, and made small talk all the way to the airport and throughout the plane ride from Rhode Island to Colorado. Ava loved to fly, though her tight budget didn't allow for air travel very often.

  The four-hour flight flew by quickly, and Ava took a deep breath as she stepped off the plane. This was it; there was no turning back. She wasn't entirely certain what she had against ranch life so much—aside from the obvious muck and mud issues, of course. She supposed it must have something to do with the unfamiliarity of the situation. In truth, the only pet Ava had ever had was a goldfish, her parents both allergic to most domestic animals. She felt very out of her comfort zone when she thought about spending time on a ranch, surrounded by large, strange animals and burly farmworkers. So much land somehow seemed unnatural, too, having grown up in a two-bedroom apartment before moving into the apartment she shared with two other fashion students.