by Olivia Fox
Fear for Prancer, pain, love.
“Is anything broken?”
“Huuuuhhhhhnnnn.” I said in mummy language, trying to tell him I was fine, but still lacking the air to give voice to my words.
He didn’t move me, just squatted at my side, guarding me, removing my helmet and stroking my hair.
“If you’re hurt, blink three times.” He whispered.
I shook my head and he closed his eyes, bringing the back of my hand to his mouth for a kiss. “God Gabriela, if anything ever happened to you. It’d destroy me.”
He pulled me onto his lap with his legs splayed out into the dirt, and rocked me. I saw Matías walking towards us on his horse, holding Prancer’s reins in his hand, and I flopped against Carlos’s chest, made limp by the sudden release of tension.
I had to get back on and ride, and something told me Carlos wasn’t going to like it.
I was right.
“That fucking horse almost killed you!”
“It was my fault. I wasn’t paying attention.” I said, rubbing my palm across his jaw to soothe the savage beast.
“I’m going to have shredded horse on a bun for dinner tonight, so help me God,” he snarled.
I laughed, “You know how many times I've fallen off the back of a horse. Don't worry, daddy. My bones are very supple.”
“Supple, huh? I know something else that's supple,” he said, melting into me, letting me know I had won.
That is until Prancer was safely back in his stall after just one more track work out with me. We drove to our hotel, and after my shower, Carlos dropped his bomb.
“You’re not racing Sunday, Gabriela.”
All the years of being bossed around and told what to do by my papá made the situation very familiar. His overprotectiveness was like a plastic bag over my head, wrapped tightly around my neck.
Why did men think they had the right to tell women what to do?
I’d figure out a way to race Prancer, even if it meant going behind my husband’s back to do so. “I thought you were different, but you're no better than my father!" My muscles quivered and I scowled at him.
He crossed his arms and raised a single, thick brow at me, pursed his lips, and said, "I'm not your father little girl, but you're about to find out what a daddy can do for that pouting little pussy. Get on your knees. Now.” He tore his zipper down. “I know you like it rough."
26
Gabriela
I knelt on the floor before his towering body, watching as his cock grew in his hand, halfway hating myself for being so powerless when it came to the things he could do to my pussy.
I pulled his hand away and wrapped my fingers around his shaft, teasing the tip with my tongue, savoring the fluid which leaked from the tip.
My breath came in soft pants as I stared at his rigid erection and he commanded me, “Open. You’re going to learn how to do as your told, if I have to teach you myself.”
I poked my tongue out past my lips, teasing him, jabbing my breasts out into the air between us so he’d notice.”
“Be a good girl, Gabriela. Show me you know how.”
He glowered when I laughed but offered no resistance when I reached out and tugged down on the heavy weight of him, freeing his cock with a delicious bounce that slapped his stomach.
Full of cum and completely swollen with it, his balls were all mine, and I hefted their weight in my hand.
Again, I wrapped my hand around his stiff shaft, deliberately touching him exactly how he liked it, rubbing his wetness up and down, squeezing his erection through my hand and into my mouth to increase his pleasure. “Is that what you want, baby? You want to swallow my cock?”
I pulled back to answer and looked up at his cocky, crooked smile, “Please,” I mewled, “I love having you in my mouth.”
He slid his hand to the back of my head, taking over, shoving the thick tip of his head against my lips and I whimpered, opening my lips to receive him. “Good girl. Open up for daddy.” His first three thrusts to the back of my throat were slow and deliberate, and the sensation of being helpless, forced to take all of him in my mouth, made the place between my legs ramp up its heat.
I wiggled below him, and his firm thrusts became urgent, hurried, chasing their relief so his heavy balls slapped my chin, he dove so deeply into my mouth, holding me in place to suck him.
“I need to feel your sweet pussy around me, Gabriela. Stand up.” I took one last chance to lick up all of the pre-cum at the tip of his swollen cock, making him grunt as I did so and he held a hand out to help me up off the ground.
As soon as I did, he lifted me, wrapping my legs around his hips and backed me up against the wall. “Watch me as I slide into you. This is the only cock you’ll ever know, the only one to ever make you come so hard you beg and scream for mercy.” His words made the spot between my legs seize with the urge to have him deep inside.
I stared in wonder as his huge head rested against my opening, seemingly too large to fit.
As if reading my mind he said, “Don’t worry, baby. It’ll go in. Let me push your love button to get you ready.” He swirled slow circles around my swollen clit with his fingers and my body flooded with overlapping waves of desire.
I made a begging sound after his first hard thrust, and then a second. “You remind me of a stallion, filling me up so full.” His muscles rippled with every relentless slam of his pelvis, and he grunted his lust, lost to everything around him but the urgent need to drag his dick in and out of my pussy. “Oh fuck, daddy, empty your balls inside me. I want all your cum.”
He grasped my ass, lifting me up and onto his erection which he still yanked in and out of me, rasping its pliable yet rigid tip across my sensitive g-spot so that I couldn’t hold back much longer.
He pinned me to the wall with his huge cock, drilling into me, and I was desperate to help him orgasm as his rough motions pushed me over the edge.
Everything below my belly button cramped up in need of release, and I reached down to gently stroke his tight balls. I leaned forward to whisper in his ear while opening my legs wide to take all of him, “Mmm… you like that? You like my wet pussy squeezing around your thick dick while you shove into me like a stud?”
Through gritted teeth he answered, “Keep talking to me like that, and I won’t be able to hold back.”
Suddenly, he was slamming my lower back to the wall with the force of his thrusts, “This pussy is so fucking good. Here it comes, baby.”
We grunted and gasped, locked in a mad embrace while he crammed into me and filled me up with his thick maleness.
“Ride me hard, daddy. I’m coming!”
Carlos raised a single hand to my head, tugging my hair hard enough so my entire body vibrated in response, and the ache in my groin suddenly ripped free with a soul-shattering orgasm which robbed me of my senses.
My legs draped over him, still pinned to the wall. I wondered how I would solve the dilemma of wanting to make my husband happy, while needing to race Native Prancer.
It was as though the man I married could see into my soul, and I feared very much said spirit was going to disappoint him beyond all redemption.
27
Carlos
We’d been pretty fucking silent on the ride over from the hotel to the stables where Prancer was boarded.
My wife was as spontaneous, spirited, and impetuous as the horses she rode, and it still rubbed me the wrong way that she'd grown up reined in by her father and then had been forced to marry me—no matter how much I liked the end result.
The air hung empty between us, with Gabriela staring out at the blurred countryside which bled by as we sped our way down Highway 101. She was clueless about the fact that my guts were twisted up like a ball of yarn, and had been ever since I lay next to her this morning, watching her and waiting for her to wake, while at the same time praying she wouldn’t so I could go on staring at her while she slept.
Just now she was coiling her hair around her fin
gers in a way that crushed my heart.
What the hell was this thing between us?
I found myself suspended halfway between agony and ecstasy all of the time in her presence.
My wife had no idea how I’d been mulling over how she deserved so much better than being tied to the life of organized crime we'd been born into.
I wanted, no needed, to give her safety, security, and a man light with love and laughter.
A man unlike me.
For the first time in my life, I was actually doing something I’d never done before.
I was going to take it back.
I’d told her she couldn’t race and the way it trampled her spirit made me toss and turn all night beside her.
A quick glance her way let me know she was still spinning those silken strands around her fingers. Pensive and silent.
It was time to set my beautiful butterfly free from the icy cold steel that pinned her wings til now.
For the first time in her life, there’d be no man telling her what to do.
And for the first time in my life, making someone else happy was even better than getting my own way.
Which is why the security around the perimeter of the racetrack was going to be squeezed tighter than a flea’s butthole.
My baby would be safe, while she raced her Native Prancer to the finish line.
My body sat heavily in the driver’s seat, and I blew air out my cheeks, running through all the dangerous what ifs in my mind, tapping my fingers to some imaginary beat on the steering wheel.
Like the muted beat of hooves around the track, thunderous and persistent?
Or the beat of bullets, barking death?
“Gabriela.” I flared my nostrils and her name came out much choppier and intense than I meant it to.
She turned her head and crossed her arms while observing me, refusing to speak.
Shit.
I’d never been so scared in all my life as when riding next to this five foot tall female with an angel pussy and breasts like Minni di Virgini. The thought of losing her because my inner control freak was keeping her from her life’s passion left a taste like an Amaretto Sour in my mouth, and stabbed at the back of my throat.
Could I really do this?
“Gabriela,” I purposely softened my voice. “I’m sorry.”
She tucked her hands more tightly under her arms, shrugging herself into a corner that we might not be able to back out of.
Losing her was a risk I was absolutely unwilling to take.
“I’ve got no right to keep you from racing Prancer. He’s your horse.”
She squinted at me and kept her arms locked tight. “Don’t fuck with me Carlos.”
I didn’t blame her. I’d gone back and forth enough on this issue, reminding her again what it had been like to grow up as Javier Serrano’s daughter, she had a right to question my motives.
“Serious as a heart attack, Gabriela. And I think I might perish of one myself if I don’t stop thinking about you up there on that huge, unpredictable beast, getting hurt.”
“Don’t be silly. You saw me fall once, you know I can handle it. Supple, remember?” She stroked my arm and a woosh of air I didn’t know I’d been holding sped past my lips.
“Did you know jockeys are the worst-paid and most seriously injured athletes in any professional sport?” It was hard for me to say the words out loud, but she needed to hear them.
She grinned at me, her cheeks pinked and eyes beaming and there was actually laughter in her voice when she said, “As you well-observed, daddy, neither one of us is hurting for money. I race because I have to. It’s my life’s purpose.” Her stare was bottomless and fixed on my own. “Just like your love. I couldn’t live without either one.”
Game over.
I couldn’t deny this girl anything.
It didn’t surprise me one bit to watch my wife drive the huge colt between her legs over the finish line in first place, leaving all the other jockeys in her dust. That didn’t change the fact that I wanted to take out a full-page ad in the New York Times advertising the fact.
But you could have knocked me over with a feather after I took a quick trip to the concession stand to grab her a drink.
I came around the corner and the voice that made my heart melt like chocolate was giving a stern talking to somebody.
I’d hate to be them.
“Some people say, ‘three strikes you’re out’ but I’m not so generous with my tolerance. This is twice you assholes tried to jump me, and the second time you failed. What do I have to do to get it through your thick skulls that you need to leave me alone, drive these hay hooks through the most vulnerable part of your anatomy?” Her voice was glacier-cold, and sharp as a razor blade and she punctuated every syllable with a swing of one of the hooks she held in each hand.
Her father’s daughter.
The sight of her standing over the same men who had tried and failed to stuff her in the trunk, and somehow made it past my front line of defense today, made hatred chew at my gut, and the urge to kill had my trigger finger twitching.
Somebody’s head was going to roll, but not until I’d taken care of these two assholes.
“How the hell did you take their weapons away this time?” I asked, and my warrior wife didn’t even spare me a single glance over her shoulder, keeping her gaze pinned on her captives.
Good girl.
“Tell you later,” she sniped out. “Give me a hand here? Or am I going to have to rescue myself?”
I was one hundred percent certain that she could have done just that, but it didn’t resolve the persistent problem we had with the Sinaloans trying to abduct my bride.
Once the men had been cuffed and driven off, Gabriela and I settled Prancer in for the night.
“Vida really helps with his anxiety,” she said.
The horse was so high strung, he didn’t sleep at night. Until the damn goat became his companion, bedding down in the same stall.
On cue, Vida bleated from atop the tiny house we’d shoved in the corner for her and hopped down to join her buddy. The two of them preferred to snuggle up to each other on the straw, spending the night butted up against each other’s warmth.
Same as me and my girl.
Speaking of, I had to get her back to the hotel. I needed to be in control of something again, even if only in the bedroom.
She’d backed me into a corner with Prancer, leaving me no choice but to give in. And now it was payback time.
Time for some hot, rough sex with Gabriela spinning on my dick like a perverted pinwheel.
28
Gabriela
The next week I was still riding high when, El General, the Sinaloan Cartel boss and my father’s enemy, had his annual cocktail party at his home on the lake. The General never donned an army uniform. His nickname evolved due to his command over hundreds of “soldiers,” and his cunning control over their operations in the pursuit of business both criminal and legal.
Carlos and I knew the Cartel code, he couldn’t attempt to hurt us during a celebration in his home. It would be a safe opportunity to find out whether or not he was behind the goons targeting me, or if they were just stupid enough to make a go of it on their own.
Let’s be real, it was time for Carlos and I to make an appearance as the power couple that we were. The small territory where we reigned was everything to us. Our dominion was more magnificent than Chicago, New York, and L.A. combined, buried as it was in the treasure chest of the Lost Coast, behind the redwood curtain. Our families were on track to become more legitimate with each passing year, even more so with the bond of marriage now between us.
I’d been to this opulent home as a kid, and it was still as show-offy now as it was back then, huge, elaborate water fountain fronting the double staircase that climbed twenty feet before arriving at the front door.
With the code of honor’s protection, there was no need to carry, but I knew that Carlos did and I saw him unconsciously
pat the silver .38 beneath his blazer as we ascended the steep steps.
I took the stairs as a challenge in my Dolce & Gabbana heels, my handsome husband suited up in his tux at my side. We were entering into enemy territory, and it wasn’t just the climb that made my breath burst in and out of my lungs. But damned if I’d give into the urge to turn around, head back down the stairs and return home, safe and sound.
Instead, I ignored the tautness in my belly, and gripped Carlo’s hand more tightly, noticing the curious stares we were getting as we approached the front door.
I couldn’t blame them, I’d stare too.
The man beside me was born into privilege and had every right to grow up to be a power-hungry jerk. But he was everything but that.
Heads swiveled away when they caught his fierce gaze, and he pulled me more closely to him, making his point.
I was his.
We were one.
Let no one attempt to come between us, unless they wanted to feel the full force of the Serrano-Drago wrath coming down hard.
We walked past the mirror and the sight of him towering above me, even when I wore heels tugged at my stomach and plucked at my nipples.
I knew what it was like to have those sensual lips brushing back and forth against the tips of my breasts until it left me panting and squirming to have him inside of me.
Were there other women here who had experienced the same? Did any of them have his lips on them, raw and naked in the bedroom? The thought jump-started a burning sensation in my chest.
Right on cue, a soft and teasing voice spoke out behind us, “Carlos?”
My husband halted as abruptly as though he’d run into a brick wall.
He turned towards the siren’s voice and brought me around with him to face the most stunning creature I’d ever seen outside the pages of a magazine.
Her blonde hair just kissed her shoulder blades, and her naturally red lips fell open when she literally stumbled sideways grabbing onto her friend’s arm who stood beside her.
