Bought by the Raunchy Cowboy: A BBW Billionaire Romance

by Raina Wilde

  “So I've heard. ”

  After all, there was no use in denying he knew about the auction. Everybody knew everything in this town, especially something as scandalous as this. Christy would know he was lying if he attempted it, and Graham had always been a largely honest person to begin with. What you saw was what you got.

  That made it even harder to keep from Christy how flustered he felt.

  “You want me to take another bag? ” Graham offered. “I can take another – save you a second trip. ”

  “Oh, sure, ” said Christy, handing it over. “Thanks. ”

  As friendly as their interaction was, it really only existed on the surface. The pair were always civil and pleasant with one another – but nor did they have a reason to dig deeper to develop a true friendship. Graham had always assumed that was at least in part due to his beef with Christy's father, but now he wasn't so sure. Maybe Graham really was too standoffish? Or maybe it would just be weird to befriend a man you delivered groceries to, no matter the circumstances.

  He was over-thinking all of this, and now Christy was ready to leave. She was just heading out of the kitchen when Graham spoke, pretty much before he had a chance to think. “Say – it's warm out. We're both working hard. You should stay for a cold drink before your next delivery. ”

  Graham knew as soon as he started speaking that this offer was a mistake. The feeling only deepened as he saw Christy's brow furrow slightly – and then a little realization settle in.

  Shit.

  “Mr. Sullivan, ” said Christy, her tone almost disapproving. “I know why you're asking me this. ”

  “I – I'm not. . . ”

  “But you are, ” said Christy. She wasn't argumentative, but her voice was relatively firm; Graham was surprised to see this side of her, though he supposed he needn't have been. He had seen the way Christy came after her father at the fair. Why wouldn't she be stern with a near-stranger? “Listen – I'm not trying to be unfriendly, but it's really just my virginity that's for sale. If you'd like to bid, then bid; otherwise, that's all I'm looking for around here. I'm sorry to be blunt. ”

  Graham shook his head. “You shouldn't – I mean. I just thought you'd like a drink, maybe – with the hot day. . . ”

  “You didn't, ” Christy insisted. “You're thinking about the auction, and that's fine. It'll stay between us; I'm not going to tell anybody. But I suggest if you're interested, you make a bid. That's all I can tell you. ”

  With that, she inclined her head at Graham politely, turning back to start walking out of the kitchen. Still a little flabbergasted, all Graham could do was follow after her, silenced with surprise, and struggling to keep his eyes off the generous roundness of her ass. His ears were burning up with shame. He couldn't believe he had just betrayed all his decisions to be discreet and subtle. He'd lasted nearly two years, and now this young woman had undone his resolve with… well. A smile.

  A smile and a very special auction.

  “I'll see you next week, then, ” said Christy, with only a hint of the rest of their conversation coloring her tone. A little dry smile curled the corner of her coral-pink lips – and then she turned to climb into her truck.

  “Sure, ” Graham called after her. “Thanks, Miss Robinson. ”

  He watched her reverse down the driveway, one arm stretched out over the back of her seat to get a better look. Graham imagined how that would tug her tank top up, revealing a thin line of bare skin above the waistband of her pants, and felt a bead of sweat drip down his forehead that was entirely unconnected to the weather. Despite the light-hearted disapproval Christy had displayed, Graham had also seen a spark of fun in her – something that suggested she didn't mind that Graham was looking at her that way. After all, hadn't she said that he was welcome to make a bid?

  Graham waited for the sound of Christy's tires and her truck's tough old engine to fade out. A short second after the silence settled back in, he turned back to the house and headed for his computer.

  Welcome, Cowboy1. Please enter your bid.

  Chapter Five

  It had been a long and difficult day delivering groceries. The work itself hadn't been so bad, of course; Christy's job didn't really get any harder than lifting two paper bags at once. What made it troublesome was the way people were treating her now. Some seemed so desperate for her to know that they were in support of her auction and her independence that they went overboard. Others barely spoke to her now, flinching as they accidentally brushed up against her, and seeming unwilling to admit her into their homes.

  Slightly rarer were those men with a special kind of shyness. They seemed to want her to know that they were interested, but weren't quite bold enough to state it outright. Some of them were obvious; as Claire had guessed, the new math teacher at the high school had been far more friendly than usual when they bumped into one another outside the store. Others, however, were less predictable.

  Graham Sullivan, for example.

  The look in his eyes had been unmistakable. However gruff Graham had seemed in the past, appearing to want to keep himself to himself, there had been an endearing desperation in his face today. There was an attraction there he couldn't express; he had tried, vainly, to get Christy to stay for a drink.

  Honestly, it had been tempting. The cowboy was handsome, no doubt – but if this auction was going to mean anything, she couldn't start melting into a puddle at the first handsome man who looked in her direction, especially not if she wanted to sell her virginity. This whole thing would rebound on her damned fast if she couldn't keep hold of her purity in order to sell it.

  In any case, she was glad to be making her way home to Claire's. At least there, nobody would-

  Ah.

  She had been about to think that nobody would stare at her, but even before she could get her keys in the door, Claire had pulled it open, fixing her with a deadpan expression of shock that Christy had gotten very familiar with over the past few hours. She saw it on people's faces everywhere. Assuming Claire was kidding, she sighed and slipped her keys into her pocket, trying to make her way past.

  “Yep, I'm auctioning off my virginity, ” she said. “What you've heard is true. ”

  “Okay, ” said Claire, shutting the door and following after her, “but what did you do today? The bidding is at $50, 000. ”

  “What? ”

  The figure hit Christy's chest like a brick, to the point where it really was almost painful. How on earth could the bidding possibly have gone so high? Last she'd checked, it was only a couple of hundred bucks over last night's $15, 000. That amount of money was unthinkable – almost criminal. Was she really that appealing? A mix of confidence and unworthiness settled in the pit of her stomach, and she followed Claire to the computer to see the proof, numb.

  “There, ” said Claire, tapping at the screen. “$50, 000. See? Bid placed by Cowboy1. $50, 000. God, I wish I'd sold mine. ”

  “I just… I don't understand. ”

  “Well, ” said Claire, patting her on the shoulder playfully. “Did you deliver your groceries with your shirt off today? ”

  “Everybody just seemed kind of wary of me, ” she insisted, though she knew that wasn't true across the board. She just didn't think she'd seen anybody today who could drop $50, 000 on a few minutes. Had she? “This must be a mistake. ”

  “Until the last day, the website gives them the option to correct their bid for up to an hour after they place it, ” Claire pointed out. “And besides, what else would they have meant to type? The $5, 000 mark is long gone now. ”

  Claire was right, of course. Barring a really stupid mistake, it seemed that this bid had to be genuine. Somehow, the craziest option was the true one. Christy flopped back into her seat, letting Claire lift the laptop away from both of them. There was no use staring at it, after all. That $50, 000 bid dwarfed all the others; it was unlikely that anybody would improve upon it. Now, the question wasn't which bidder would win – but the identity of that new bidder.


  “What was the name of the bidder again? ” said Christy, voice faint. “Cowboy? ”

  “That's right, ” Claire said. “Cowboy1. How many rich cowboys do we know? ”

  Christy shook her head. They knew plenty – but as to how many of them could afford to spend $50, 000 just like that? Well, she had no idea. In this town, you could certainly tell which families were well off and which were not if you squinted and thought about it, but the intricacies of everybody's finances were well under wraps. Nobody flaunted their income. It was seen as gauche and gaudy behavior. Besides, if everybody knew how wealthy you were, then you'd probably be fending off people's hints that they needed assistance for decades to come.

  That was Blue Mine for you. Normally, Christy was quite fond of the way everybody tried to play their cards close to their chests, but right now it was an obstacle for her. How was she supposed to guess? And if she couldn't guess, then how could she prepare?

  “Oh, ” said Claire, dragging her out of her thoughts. “By the way. The pastor turned up here earlier. ”

  “He did? ” Christy moved to face her, mildly concerned. “He didn't bother you, did he? I'm so sorry. ”

  “He was mostly interested in bothering you, ” Claire assured her, giving her a lopsided smile. “I told him you didn't want to see him, and eventually he left. It's really not a big deal as far as I'm concerned. I just… figured you should know. ”

  Christy sighed, closing her eyes. “Think he'll come back? ”

  “You'll know better than I do. ”

  So far, Pastor Robinson's persistence seemed to be holding up, and that was entirely in character. If Christy knew her father, then he probably would turn up again. That being said, she couldn't honestly say she did know her father any more. The man she'd grown up respecting would never have cheated on Christy's dying mother.

  Claire squeezed her hand, standing up from the couch to head towards the kitchen. “Well, listen. It's totally fine. If he does, I'll just turn him away again. No problem. I'm not worried about it. ”

  “You're the best friend I could possibly ask for, ” Christy told her. It felt like a big departure from the way they usually expressed their love for each other, with fond bantering and sarcastic insults. In that respect, saying this made her feel quite exposed, but Claire leaned to give her forehead a soft kiss as she walked past. Christy smiled, fully aware of how lucky she was.

  Not everybody even had a friend who'd give them a bed to sleep on, especially not for an undisclosed period of time – let alone a friend who'd go to bat for them when their estranged father came to the door. In fact, not everybody had a friend, full stop. Hers was just especially excellent.

  As the night wore on, however, it wasn't Claire she continued to think about, and nor was it Pastor “Can't Take a Hint” Robinson. In fact, it wasn't anybody solid or concrete, because Christy didn't have a name or a face to put to her thoughts. All she had was a fairly bland epithet – Cowboy1.

  What would he look like, Christy wondered? Had they met before?

  Laying in Claire's guest room that night, it was these questions that chased her. Cowboy1 felt like a username that a younger man would chose – someone whose identity was still firmly attached to manual labor and the life of a farm worker. Christy closed her eyes, allowing herself to run away with the fantasy that the winning bidder would be a broad-shouldered, dark-haired and handsome man with strong arms and well-cut cheekbones.

  What then, she wondered?

  Would an attractive man really ever dream of paying $50, 000 for sex? More likely it would be someone who couldn't go out to a bar and get laid for free, but she'd come to terms with that tomorrow. Right now, she was pleasantly carried away on the idea of this mysterious, rich rancher. He'd have rough hands from all that hard work. He'd have a dark tan from the sun.

  Christy's hand slipped beneath the blankets of the bed. She felt vaguely guilty for doing this in Claire's guest bed, but somehow she doubted her friend would mind; Claire was quite open about sex and all related matters, and if this bidder really was as attractive as she was imagining? Well…

  She rubbed herself off in slow, circling motions, eyelids flickering with the fantasy of being held up against the outside wall of a barn, or in an old battered truck. She still couldn't quite imagine what it would be like to be fucked, but trying sent her crazy with desire. All she had was the image of a deep, desperate kiss, and the familiar friction of her own hand underneath the waistband of her panties. In fact, she could almost feel the sun boring down on the back of her neck, and hear the low, gruff chuckle of her mysterious partner's laugh.

  This man would be… stern, yes. He'd be stern and rough, but playful in private. Christy would see a side of him that nobody else had access to.

  She imagined the feeling of the bidder's thick, hard cock against her thigh, and bit down on her lip to keep herself quiet. She didn't know what the future would truly hold, but in this fantasy the bidder was big – so much so that Christy's dream-self questioned whether she'd be able to take it. She could feel herself playing up on the shyness and the vulnerability, because that's what the bidder liked; she was stirred by the performance of that, and how appealing it made her feel.

  He'd be good, this bidder. Cowboy1. It wouldn't be over in a heartbeat. He'd take his time – get his money's worth. Maybe he'd have Christy suck his cock first. She had never done that before, either, but she was already determined to be good at it. Behind her eyelids she saw herself drop to her knees beside the wall of the barn.

  (That barn looked familiar, too. She wondered, briefly, where she was pulling that image from. )

  When she looked up at the older man – maybe 30, 35? – she couldn't make out a lot of his features. Christy had never been very good at conjuring up complicated pictures in her imagination, and the finer details like faces and clothing skewed at best, but there were a couple of recognizable things she could see. Thick, expressive eyebrows. Intense, light eyes. Those eyes were fixed on her now as Christy leaned in to put her mouth on his cock, and-

  That was about where the fantasy had to end. She was forced to acknowledge that this was part of her appeal to all these bidders – the fact that she had never done this before. She didn't know what to expect, or how to imagine what it would feel like, but the heat of the moment was enough to bring her off. Biting down hard on her lip again, Christy began to feel the rush of her orgasm, arching her back high to ride out the sensation.

  It was easier to sleep after that, as though the mystery of the evening no longer mattered. She was going to have to go through with it no matter who it was, after all. She couldn't turn down $50, 000. That really would be a ticket out of this town, and away from all the terrible memories she had here.

  Maybe if she was lucky she'd enjoy it as much as she'd just enjoyed this fantasy. For now, though, she let herself be overcome by sleep.

  After all, she needed to save her energy. The bidding was probably over after that power move – but the auction still wouldn't end for several days, and that was a long time to wait for something this momentous.

  Chapter Six

  The rest of the week had dragged on so long it felt like it might never end. Even so, despite his lack of patience, he did finally get his wish. After Graham's definitive $50, 000 bid, nobody else had anything else to contribute; he had won outright, just as he had intended, and when bidding closed at midnight on Friday, Graham knew that he had won. He would be the one to take Christy Robinson's virginity.

  Why Graham was so nervous about that, he couldn't tell you. It wasn't as though he was a virgin. He had slept with a fair number of other women before, even if the last time had been with his ex-wife a good while ago. It wasn't as though he had forgotten everything he'd ever learned about sex.

  Besides, the only person putting pressure on Graham to be good at this was Graham himself. He was paying to sleep with Christy, after all, not vice versa.

  That pressure he was placing on himself
did feel important, though. This would be Christy's first time, and if Graham hurt her then she'd remember it for the rest of her life; it might even affect her sexual relationships going forward. She was a sweet kid, and that was the last thing Graham wanted.

  Okay – joint last. He was also preoccupied with the unpleasant thought of Christy arriving, seeing that it was Graham who had won the auction, and refusing to go through with it. Although it didn't seem likely, the idea that Christy might think he was a creep was really weighing on him, and the more time he spent thinking about it, the more frustrating it got. Though he had tried to deny himself since the announcement at the town fair, Graham really badly wanted this. He'd spent full nights dreaming of fucking this beautiful young girl now, and it would be such a disappointment for it not to happen; it would be such a hurtful blow to know that Christy thought so little of him.

  Maybe Graham was more afraid of rejection than he had allowed himself to realize. Through all these lonely months, was it really this which had kept him from seeking a new partner – not the lack of time? If so, it was too late now. The meeting had already been set up, and Graham was already at the restaurant. Soon enough, Christy would enter and catch sight of him, and Graham would have to face up to her reaction either way.

  He sipped at his glass of water, lips cold against the ice, and took stock of the other people sitting around him in the restaurant. For now, they didn't know why he was here. As soon as Christy walked in and took a seat with him, however, they'd soon work it out. From that moment on, he was going to have to endure the whispers and the funny looks. He thought he had prepared himself for that, but now that he was surrounded by them, he didn't feel so ready.

  Sometimes he hated this town. He much preferred it to city life, without a doubt; country living was where he belonged, and he'd never try to leave. Without much going on, though, folk really liked to talk, and it was this part which Graham couldn't stand. In his ideal world, everybody would be permitted to go about their business without interruption or judgment. So long as he didn't cause harm, he felt he deserved that. Everybody did.