Ride: A Bad Boy Romance

by Roxie Noir

  “Thanks,” one of the girls says, sounding a little breathless. “You rode real good today.”

  “Thank you,” he says. “I just got lucky.”

  I almost snort. I know he doesn’t think that.

  “Good luck tomorrow!” the girls say, and then walk off, whispering to each other, and Jackson turns to me, pen still in hand. He steps closer, a little too close for being in public.

  “What’d you think, Lula-Mae?” he asks.

  “Mae,” I say, stubbornly.

  “All right, Mae, what’d you think?”

  His hazel eyes are dancing, and he looks so full of himself I can’t help it. I shrug.

  “It was okay,” I say.

  He raises his eyebrows.

  “Just okay?” he says. “And here I thought I did pretty good, not getting thrown off or crushed.”

  “All right, fine,” I say. I can’t look him in the eyes for a moment. “It’s terrifying. I thought my heart was gonna stop every time someone got on a bull, and I spent the whole time forcing myself not to cover my eyes.”

  He chuckles.

  “I’m not cut out for this,” I say, shaking my head.

  “Nah, you’re tough as hell,” he says. “Even if you think you’re not.”

  “I don’t want to watch someone die,” I say.

  “That hardly ever happens,” he says. “Besides, I’ve got luck on my side.”

  “How do you know it’s luck?” I ask.

  “It’s a feeling I got,” he says. “The problem with that is I think the luck I got last night might have run out.”

  “You say that like it’s my problem,” I tease.

  He bends down, gets even closer. Sparks fly up my spine, but I don’t move, even though I feel like everyone who passes by is staring at us.

  “I’ll kiss you right here if I have to, Lula-Mae,” he says, low enough that only I can hear it.

  “What am I, the Blarney Stone?” I ask.

  I can almost feel the heat rolling off of his body, he’s so close. Way, way too close for public.

  “I’d kiss you again even if it got me thrown the rest of this tournament,” he says.

  A middle-aged woman glances at us, and I think she frowns, though maybe I’m inventing things.

  “It can be right here,” he says, leaning down even further. “There’s a mirror maze over that way. There’s a haunted house. There’s an empty field the other side of that fence. There’s your motel room in ten minutes. Just tell me when and where, Lula-Mae.”

  My insides are a quivering mass of nerves and jello, but I stand up straight and look him in the eye.

  “How scary is the haunted house?”

  “You’ve got eight seconds until I kiss you,” he says. He waits a beat. “Seven.”

  “Right here? Seriously?” I ask.

  I don’t know why I’m playing with fire, but I am.

  “Six.”

  I look to the side and bite my lip, my entire brain shouting no and my whole body shouting hell yes.

  “Five.”

  I know for a fact that I could tell him no and he’d leave.

  “Four.”

  Say it, I think. Tell him no.

  “Three.”

  I open my mouth to say no, nothing’s going to happen.

  “Promise me you won’t get caught,” is what comes out.

  Oops.

  “I promise I won’t get caught,” he says, a smile pulling up the corners of his lips.

  “I’m serious,” I say.

  “So am I, Lula-Mae,” he says. “Does that mean your motel room?”

  Heat breaks across my whole body. I think I’m sweating again, because this is dumb and reckless and there’s also no way I’m going back on it now.

  I just nod.

  “I’ll knock on your door in ten minutes,” he says. “Without getting caught.”

  “Okay,” I say. “See you soon.”

  I look at him for another moment, resisting the urge to hold out a hand for a handshake, like we’ve just completed a business transaction. Anything to make it seem like we didn’t just agree to have sex in my room, because unless I’m really misunderstanding something, we did.

  I walk back to the motel, praying I don’t look the mess I feel like. In the room, I turn off some of the lights so that everything looks kind of sexy. I throw my dirty clothes into a bag and shove it into a drawer.

  Ten minutes pass. Fifteen.

  I wonder if I should slip into something more comfortable, even though the only thing I’ve got is an oversized UT Austin shirt that I sleep in.

  Seventeen minutes.

  What if he’s not coming, I think. Maybe he got distracted by doing shots or buckle bunnies or —

  There’s a knock, and I leap for the door, jerking it open.

  Jackson’s standing there, leaning against the frame. He touches the brim of his hat with one hand.

  “Evening, Miss Guthrie,” he says.

  “Get in here,” I hiss, then shut the door as softly as I can behind him.

  He tosses his hat onto the table and then grabs me by the hips. He pushes me against the door and crushes his mouth to mine, hot and needy as he kisses me hard and slow, like he can barely hold himself back.

  “Did anyone see you?” I whisper when we pull apart.

  “Course not,” he says. He kisses me below the ear, and then his lips slide down my neck. “I promised I wouldn’t get caught.”

  We kiss again, and I slide my hands around his head, holding his lips hard against mine. I can already feel his erection through his jeans and mine, and he slowly runs his hands down my body, then hoists me.

  I wrap my legs around his waist and he holds me up against the wall.

  “Still persuasive,” he says.

  My body feels like a river of fire. I’m breathing hard.

  I hook one finger under the top button of his shirt and unbutton it, then unbutton the next two. He’s watching me with a grin on his face.

  Then he picks me up and then drops me on the bed, and he’s on top of me, my legs wrapped around his hard, muscular waist, his clothed erection rubbing up against me.

  “Ain’t you got anything to say?” he asks, his lips against my neck.

  I laugh.

  “Like what? You want me to say we shouldn’t be doing this again?”

  His hands are under my shirt now, sliding up, and I arch my back and take my shirt off.

  “I was looking for, ‘Let’s do it, Jackson.’”

  “I’m not eighteen or drunk,” I say.

  “So you can say better than ‘do it,’” he says, reaching under me and getting my bra off.

  He takes one nipple between his fingers and rolls it softly, holding himself up on one elbow as I moan softly, his eyes intent on me, drinking this in.

  “I jerked off thinking about that night for years,” he says, his voice low, almost a growl.

  “Romantic,” I say, and he smiles.

  “I didn’t say it was,” he says, pressing his lips to the hollow of my throat. “When I thought about it, I wasn’t thinking about taking you to dinner and a movie.”

  He closes his lips over my nipple and swirls his tongue around it fast, and I move my hips against his, his clothed cock sliding against me with delicious friction.

  “What did you think about, then?” I ask.

  He takes his mouth off me.

  “Doin’ it with you,” he says, and kisses the spot between my breasts.

  “That’s my line,” I say.

  He kisses the spot above my belly button and looks up at me, smiling, his hazel eyes practically glowing with lust.

  “Well, sometimes I thought about getting those shorts off of you and eating you out until you came so hard you screamed,” he says.

  Even though I’m half naked, my nipples hard as diamonds, I blush.

  “Sometimes I thought about what your mouth might have felt like on my cock,” he says, kissing the spot below my bellybutton.
>
  He unbuttons and unzips my jeans, then hooks his fingers under the waist. My body is raging with pure desire, and I arch my hips up so he can get my jeans and panties off.

  “And sometimes I thought about taking you up on your offer and barebacking you right there in my truck,” he says.

  Jackson pushes my thighs apart and slides his thumb over my slit.

  “Still wet as hell,” he says.

  Then he flicks his tongue over my clit, and my whole body jerks.

  “Oh!” I say, then clap a hand over my mouth.

  Jackson laughs, but he doesn’t stop. He swirls his tongue around my clit over and over, lapping at it with such perfect precision that in no time at all I’m curling my toes and grabbing fistfuls of the comforter, forcing myself not to grab his head.

  Jesus it feels good, almost mind-blowing. I’ve still got one hand over my mouth and I’m doing my best not to make funny strangled noises, but with every flick of his tongue I feel like another bolt of pleasure shoots through me, sending me sky-high. I moan through my hand, gasping, my back arching.

  Jackson chuckles, his breath hot against me, and then his tongue slows.

  “You can’t shout if we’re gonna keep this a secret,” he murmurs, his lips just barely grazing me as he speaks.

  “Don’t stop,” I command.

  “Don’t shout,” he says, and runs a finger along my slit. “Think you can handle that?”

  No.

  I open my eyes, look around desperately, and grab a pillow. Jackson laughs, and I push it down over my face with both hands just as he pushes two fingers inside of me and crooks them.

  “Oh God,” I shout into the pillow, just as he starts flicking his tongue across my clit again, drawing circles and shapes. Lazy then hurried, slow and then fast until my whole body is shaking like a dam about to burst.

  His fingers move against that spot inside of me in time with his tongue, and every single time I moan out loud, the sound muffled. I want to look down and watch him, but there’s no way I’m taking this pillow off my face.

  “Yes,” I moan, right on the brink of coming. I press the pillow into my face harder.

  He’s got one hand wrapped around my hip and it tightens now, his tongue flicking faster and faster, and then finally I go over the edge like I’ve been hit by a lightning bolt.

  I shout into the pillow. My toes curl and my body goes rigid, but Jackson just keeps going until my whole body jolts with every lick and I reach down to push him off.

  I’m still breathing hard, but I shove the pillow off my face and then he’s on top of me again. I can smell myself on his face and then taste myself as he kisses me slow and hard, and it’s actually kind of sexy. He presses himself to me, his cock right between my legs, and I’m still aching.

  “I didn’t imagine you’d be so noisy,” he murmurs between kisses.

  I’m not, usually, I think.

  “I didn’t imagine we’d be doing it in a motel with paper-thin walls,” I say back, winding my legs around him again.

  “What did you imagine?” he asks.

  I blush.

  “I imagined you’d take your clothes off, for starters,” I say.

  He laughs and pushes himself up, kneeling on the bed, and tears off his shirt revealing a taut, muscled torso, abs for days, a thick scar right over his breastbone, and a horseshoe tattoo that says lucky inside it. Seconds later he’s got his pants off, he’s naked, and there’s something in his hand as he’s on top of me again.

  I reach down and grab his cock, but when I touch it I raise my eyebrows just a hair. For years I’d assumed I mis-remembered how big it was.

  I didn’t.

  Jackson laughs and the laugh turns into a groan as I tighten my fist around him.

  “Don’t look so worried, Lula-Mae,” he says.

  “I’m not worried,” I say.

  I’m a little worried.

  “I’ll make sure you’ve gotta scream into a pillow again,” he whispers. “That was sexy as hell. I could eat you out all day.”

  His cock hardens in my fist, and I can feel my own body respond, aching, almost desperate, my legs locked around him.

  “Or we could move on,” I say, my voice barely a whisper. I want to say something sexy, but I have no idea what and I feel incapable of forming new thoughts.

  “To what?” he asks.

  “Sex?” I say, still blushing.

  He laughs.

  “You’re saying you want my cock inside you,” he says against my neck.

  My face is burning, and I just nod.

  “And you want me to fuck you until you come so hard you’ve gotta scream into a pillow,” he says.

  “Yes,” I whisper.

  One of his hands drifts down between my legs and strokes me there, making my back arch. A whimper escapes my throat.

  “And you’re also saying,” he goes on in his low, rumbling twang, “that you’re so wet for me you can barely stand it anymore.”

  “Right,” I gasp.

  “Good,” he says. “Glad we cleared that up, because I wanna feel what it’s like when you come with me inside you.”

  This is way, way dirtier than anyone’s ever talked to me, but god it’s hot.

  He unwraps the condom in his hand and unrolls it over himself. Then he’s on top of me, kissing me hard, his tongue in my mouth, and the tip of his cock eases into my entrance.

  I make a noise, and Jackson bites my lip and chuckles.

  “Tell me if you need that pillow,” he says, but his eyes have gone half-closed and his breathing speeds up.

  He slides out and pushes in, a little further, and this time I bite my lip but I moan anyway and his fingers dig into my side so hard it almost hurts. He does it again and again, easing inside me by degrees, like I’m delicate and he’s afraid of hurting me.

  “You feel good, Lula-Mae,” he whispers, just before he slides out and thrusts one more time until he’s all the way inside me.

  “Oh hell,” I whisper. I think I’m trembling, because this feels good in a way I had no idea something could feel, and Jackson is biting my ear and I think he might be laughing, just a little.

  “Your dirty talk could use some work,” he says, as he thrusts again, slow and hard.

  This time I just grunt and bite my lip, trying my best to keep quiet even if it’s not working very well. He keeps going and I sink my nails into his shoulders, totally lost to pleasure when suddenly he pulls out. I raise my head but he’s already off the bed, standing and pulling me toward him by the legs as I yelp.

  “What are you—” I start, but as soon as I’m at the edge of the bed he sinks himself into me again and I just moan out loud.

  Jackson leans over, grinning, and slings one of my knees over his shoulder, pushing himself deeper. I gasp.

  “You have got to be quiet,” he says.

  “I’m trying,” I whisper.

  He thrusts again and then again and I clench my jaw and squeeze my eyes shut, determined not to make any noise, but he’s pressing every pleasure button I’ve got and my mind’s not in control anymore. Jackson speeds up and thrusts harder and I arch my back and inhale sharply, then bite my lip.

  “Let me see you come,” he growls.

  I’m unraveling and he keeps speeding up, the edges of my vision going white even as I reach for him, his torso barely in reach of my fingertips.

  “Jackson, I’m gonna come,” I say in a strangled whisper.

  “Good,” he says. “Because I can’t hold out much longer.”

  Then he reaches down and pinches my clit lightly between two fingers and I explode. Jackson claps his rough hand over my mouth as every muscle in my body jerks at once, the dam inside me breaking in long, shuddering wave after wave. Jackson’s still inside me and he’s still hard and then his forehead’s on my collarbone and he’s growling through his teeth, his cock pulsing inside me.

  I grab him by the back of his head and push his face against my chest even as I fight not to scre
am, my whole body shaking. Gradually, it’s over and we’re both gasping for air.

  He takes his hand off my mouth and I release his head. He’s still inside me as he turns his face to the side and starts laughing, his voice low and husky. After a second I join in, even though I have no idea why we’re laughing.

  After a minute he stands and pulls out. He tosses the condom into the bathroom trash and then comes back and flops on his back on my bed, and the force of it makes every spring squeak.

  “Hush,” I say.

  “You do not get to tell me to hush,” he says without even opening his eyes. “Goddamn, Lula-Mae.”

  14

  Jackson

  She scoots up beside me on the bed, her head on my arm as she curls up a little on her side, facing me. I bend my elbow and stroke her shoulder with my fingertips, feeling lazy and warm and sated.

  “You can’t stay,” she says, her voice quiet again.

  “Are you kicking me out of your bed?” I ask, drawing circles on her with my fingers.

  “Not yet,” she says. “But don’t fall asleep.”

  I knew all along I couldn’t sleep with her, but I feel an odd twinge of disappointment as she says it. I usually fall asleep in whatever bed I’m in and it’s fine, but I think I want to sleep here, next to her.

  “You’ve gotta learn to relax, Lula-Mae,” I say.

  “Don’t get into the habit of calling me that, either,” she says. She slides one hand over my chest, her fingers warm and slightly ticklish. “People might start asking questions.”

  I put my hand over hers and turn to face her.

  “You sure do have a lot of requirements for a girl who just woke up the whole state of Oklahoma with her screaming,” I tease.

  She blushes hard, her fair skin going pink.

  “Sorry,” she said.

  “I didn’t mind,” I say. “I took it as a compliment.”

  She gets redder, and I laugh.

  “Don’t worry,” I say. “I’ll sneak out before anyone catches on.”

  If they haven’t already, I think, and my heart skips a beat. With every passing minute, I care less and less what Wayne and Darlene think, but I know Mae is serious, so for her I’ll keep my mouth shut.