Too Hot To Trot (#3, Cowboy Way)

by Becky McGraw

  “This is your first time, so take as long as you need,” he said hoarsely. Or as long as it takes for me to come too fast before I’m even inside of you, he thought, fighting doing just that as his balls tightened. Heather waited a second, then lowered herself another agonizing inch onto his shaft. This was going to take all night. He didn’t have all night. “Let’s get this over with, angel,” he growled, holding her steady. “It may hurt—”

  “Just do it!” she shouted, and Zack’s control shattered. He pistoned his hips upward as he shoved her down on his shaft. Heather moaned, her head fell forward and her hair covered her face. Zack stopped a moment, letting her adjust, fighting the pull of the steady contractions in her inner walls, which were sucking his cock.

  She was so fucking tight, he could only get in halfway. “This will work better with you on your back the first time, angel,” he croaked, as he rolled them. Before he could think about it, Zack lifted her hips and buried himself inside her warmth, which dragged a pained moan from her that he felt all the way to his toes. “I’m sorry, baby…so damned sorry. It won’t be bad next time,” he promised, dragging in heavy breaths.

  “I’m fine,” she whispered, not convincing him at all.

  But they had started this, and he had to finish. Unless she called it off, that’s what he was going to do. There was no easy way. He balanced her weight, slowly pulled back, and then pushed forward until his cock disappeared inside of her. He stopped to let her breathe, and so he could enjoy the steady pulsations of her body which begged him for more.

  Her fists curled into the sheets, her body tensed. “Move, dammit!” she hissed, wiggling her hips against him. She stretched her body to put her toes down, and shoved her hips forward. Zack lowered her feet to the mattress to grab her hips. He was trying to take it slow, but evidently she wanted something else. She wanted movement?

  He could definitely do that, he thought, as he slid out of her, then plunged back inside to her throaty moan. On the next entry she pushed against him, matched the rhythm he set with her hips. Three more plunges, and his eyes fell to the slick bud at the top of her womanhood. He didn’t have the vibrator, but he didn’t need it.

  Zack hooked his thumb there, cupped her mound, and Heather howled her pleasure when he added pressure, and circles in time with his thrusts. Her inner muscles worked faster, clenched harder. His own orgasm crept up on him, then sped toward his head making him dizzy. Their bodies slapped, as he played her body. Finally she let out a high pitched scream, her body tensed, clutched him tighter, and with two more quick thrusts, Zack roared his own release.

  He held her to him, emptied himself into her, then his muscles turned to rubber and he collapsed at her side, breathing hard, his heart pounding in his ears. To his surprise, Heather moved closer to him, threw her leg over his thigh and put her hand on his chest. Zack shifted, to bring her head into the crook of his shoulder and she let out a long shuddering sigh.

  She patted his chest and he felt her smile on his skin. “You were good, cowboy,” she said tiredly, and he smiled.

  He was very glad to hear that, because it told him he hadn’t hurt her. “I don’t need that, angel. I don’t want you to prefer Bob over me, because I’m too much trouble.”

  She kissed his pec, then squeezed him. “Bob has nothing on you, cowboy,” she said with a yawn, before he heard her soft snores.

  Get ready for the ride of your life then, cowboy. And that’s exactly what he’d gotten. On a bull with so many twists and turns he had to hang on for dear life. Heather Morrison was the rankest of rank in bull riding terms. A wild-child man crusher in human terms. But those were the best kind sometimes. In point standings, and in life. They gave you excitement you would not find anywhere else, challenged you to your breaking point and would kick your ass if you took your eye off the ball for one split second. Zack was enjoying the ride, enjoying helping her too.

  He just had to figure out how he was going to hang on until the buzzer and dismount gracefully without getting more than his damned neck broken, or breaking hers.

  Chapter Nine

  How in the hell could she have let it happen? Heather thought, hyperventilating as she shoved the truck into reverse and looked over her shoulder to back out of her spot. Lord help her. Not only had she let herself have sex, she had it with a man she thought was a judgmental asshole not a week ago. And she wanted to again—and again and again.

  It was like since that fence was down, she was now running around like a sex-starved rabbit. During the night, they’d not only used up the two condoms he had, they got into some very creative no-condom-required sex this morning. Heather shivered, her raw and very sore insides turning liquid at the memory.

  She’d told Zack she needed to run errands this morning, but what she really needed was some space to get her head straight. Put some things into perspective. Like the fact that he was now her sole source of income. If Zack Taylor decided to leave tomorrow, she would be fucked in Jello—well-fucked, but up to her now-healed knees in sticky Jello. And he’d be gone.

  She’d be alone again. While that was perfectly fine with her a couple of weeks ago, Heather liked it that way then, now, the thought of it scared her spitless. She’d let herself become dependent on another human being for both emotional and financial support. Something she swore to herself she’d never do. But here she was.

  And even though Zack was sitting on the sofa back at her apartment, she’d already started missing him. Definitely not a good sign. When he actually left, she knew it would be much, much worse, so she had to start preparing herself—detaching from him. The last thing she needed was for her life to fall apart when he left her.

  A trip to the Cowgirl to talk to Leon was in order. She needed to smooth things over with him, because he’d been damned angry when she quit. At least having that backup plan would mean when he left, she would be okay. Maybe Leon would at least give her one day a week, squeeze her in, if he’d hired someone to replace her already. For the last three years, Heather had been a damned good employee, dependable. The patrons at the Cowgirl liked her. She wondered if they’d been asking about her much. If so, that would help her with Leon. He was all about money, and if a dancer brought men there, he’d want to keep them around. Heather knew she did that, but if someone better had come along…she flinched.

  Driving through town, Heather passed the drugstore and whipped a u-turn to go back. Zack needed more whiskey, because he woke up hurting this morning. Last night, he’d taken a pain pill before supper and didn’t want to take more today. She was also going to buy a big box of condoms, because she knew she and Zack were going to have sex again. Lots of it.

  Where the sexy cowboy was concerned, Heather was weak. Now that she knew how good things were with them, how good non-solo sexual pleasure was, she was not going to be able to stop wanting Zack Taylor until he left her apartment. The apartment was too small to avoid him, and she didn’t want to anyway. Heather was going to suck every ounce of pleasure she could out of him before he left her, and enjoy it. Because after he left, she was never letting herself get attached to another man—ever.

  It was too complicated, and opened her up to too much confusion. Right now she was as confused as she’d ever been in her life, and that was saying something. Pulling into a parking spot, she killed the engine and got out. She better buy stronger vitamins too, she thought, as she walked through the automatic doors, because he was going to need them.

  Heather’s plan was to fuck Zack Taylor right out of her system. When he left she wouldn’t miss a thing and she could get on with her life. She’d been just fine before he came along, and she would be fine after he left. So why then did her chest tighten, her heart seize up every time she thought about it?

  Because you’re a fool who has let yourself start to care about a man just because he listened to your secrets and is a good, patient lover. That doesn’t mean he wants anything other than sex from you, or that you deserve more. Zack Taylor is too good for
you. Haley whispered to her, and Heather’s stomach see-sawed as she studied the different boxes of condoms in the pharmacy department.

  “Shut up,” she muttered, balancing the two bottles of whiskey in her right arm to jerk the largest box of magnum-sized condoms from the shelf, the same brand Zack had in his wallet. “I don’t care if he just wants sex—I want it too.”

  “Excuse me?” an older woman asked indignantly from where she stood a few feet away where the adult diapers were stocked.

  Heather’s eyes flew to hers, the woman’s gray brows pinched, along with the rest of her face. Heather took in the cow-patty pile of hair pinned to the top of her head, her long ankle-length blue jean skirt and turtleneck, and realized the old woman was inspecting her just as thoroughly. When she took a deep breath, Heather realized she’d been judged and was about to receive a sermon, so she turned to walk away.

  “Whore,” the woman hissed to Heather’s back, which caused her to stop in her tracks and reverse direction.

  She walked back over to the woman. At least I don’t piss my pants, or have spider webs over my pussy you judgmental old biddy. Heather bit down on the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood, and was quite proud of herself when, instead of engaging, she walked back to the condom rack to snatch down two more jumbo boxes.

  “Tools of the trade, you know,” she said with a theatrical wink. “A whore can’t never be too careful, and since I stay plenty busy, I should probably get enough for a month.” At the woman’s outraged gasp, Heather gave her a smug smile and turned toward the pharmacy counter.

  And you might want to get some personal lubricant to go with that ‘back’ massager you were looking at when I turned around.

  ***

  Zack sat on the sofa searching the internet on his phone for answers. He’d been at it since early that morning when Heather left to run a few errands. Since he didn’t have therapy that day, he didn’t have much else to do. During their talk, Heather had given him lots of clues to research, and what he’d found was disturbing. Unless it was a different Jack Thomas who was in law enforcement, her stepfather was now a juvenile probation officer in Tulsa. If it was him, that meant he had access to plenty of vulnerable young females to molest. He’d downloaded a picture from the website so he could show it to her.

  From all appearances, Heather still had a few months left to file charges against the man for his attempted rape. Twelve years from the date the lewd and lascivious conduct happened with a juvenile in Oklahoma. She was twenty-seven if what Twyla said was correct. Her birthday on December 12th. If the crime happened before March, the time was up now, but if it happened after that, she had until the month it happened to file. Or that was Zack’s interpretation of what he’d read. He wasn’t an attorney, so he would have to call the prosecutor’s office in Tulsa to verify those facts, before he told her.

  Zack was sure the bastard knew about the statute of limitations, and thought he was off the hook. Not if Zack had anything to do with it. But Heather was pretty damned scared of the jackwad, so she may not agree to press charges. He would just have to work hard to convince her. Leaving that man in the position he was in now was not an option, nor was letting him get away with what he’d done to Heather.

  Clearing his search, Zack looked up the phone number for the prosecutor’s office just as his phone chimed in his hand. Glancing at the display, he saw it was Cord Dixon. With a smile, he connected the call. “Hey, buddy,” he said.

  “Hey, Zack, how’re you doing, man? I heard you got hurt and thought I’d call to see how you were doing,” Cord said, his voice sounding a little strained.

  “Not nearly as good as I need to be doing,” Zack replied with a laugh. “That bastard took a pretty good slice out of my riding arm. Better me than Heather though. I had my vest on.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I heard from Lucky. So, when do you think you’ll be back to riding?” Cord asked.

  “I’m doing eight weeks of therapy right now. About halfway there,” Zack hedged. He had no idea when or if he’d be back to riding, but he wasn’t going to tell Cord that. Nobody needed to know that yet. Not until he was damned sure.

  Cord blew out a breath. “Well that’s awesome, but that’ll be too far into the season to ride this year won’t it?”

  “Yeah, I won’t make it back this year, I know that.” Maybe not next year either. Maybe never again. Sickening fear trickled through his body all the way to his toes. His damned career, the career he’d put fifteen years into developing could be gone for good.

  After a moment’s hesitation, Cord asked, “You thought any more about your retirement plan? Moving the herd to a spread of your own?”

  Zack squeezed his fist into a tight ball, well as tight as he could manage, which was only about half-closed. Pain sliced through the muscle, took a ride on a nerve and zipped to his collarbone. He huffed a breath. “I’m holding out on going back. I’m not ready to say I’m done yet. The therapist said just be patient and let him work his magic.” His magic was slow and grueling. Zack wasn’t sold on his optimism or his skills yet.

  “Well, here’s the thing….” Cord started, and the way he said the words tightened the muscles in Zack’s neck. He’d ridden rodeo with Cord Dixon for years, and it was obvious he was winding up to tell him something bad. Cord was a soft-soaper, where his brother was straight and to the point.

  Zack almost wished it was Dean Dixon on the phone with him. “Just spit it out, Cord. What do you want, a bigger cut of the contracts? I know I haven’t been able to help y’all with the bulls lately, and I’m sorry for that. If you’ll use the box for just a lit—”

  “It’s not a bigger cut,” Cord replied, with a groan. “Dean says no amount of money could make our ranch suitable to handle rodeo rough stock. It would cost too much in fencing and manpower. We don’t have electric fencing to hold them. He’s tired of chasing the bulls and broncs to drag them home in the middle of the night, and fixing fence. He’s afraid one of them will get out on the road and hurt someone.”

  Zack’s eyes shot to the ceiling, and he ground his teeth for a moment as his left hand held a death grip on the phone. “Okay, so what does that mean exactly?” he asked.

  “I’m sorry, man. I feel like I’m kicking a dog when he’s down…”

  “Just tell me what I need to do and when, Cord.” Zack swallowed hard trying to temper his frustration and anger.

  This wasn’t Cord’s fault, he reminded himself. It was his own. Zack knew when he put them in charge of managing the herd for him, their ranch wasn’t fenced right. That’s exactly why he was looking for property that had the right setup, instead of committing to buy his daddy’s ranch. It looked like his decision had been made for him now. All roads led to moving the cattle to his family ranch.

  “I need them gone in three weeks. Dean already worked a deal for us to buy an organic beef herd. We have to move them here as soon as the deal closes. Probably in a month or so.”

  “So you need me to move them in three weeks?!?” Zack shouted, vaulting to his feet, his heart beating in his throat. Good God, they could’ve at least given him more notice.

  “I’ll buy you some time—we’ll work things out until you figure something out. Dean isn’t the asshole he was before he married Tina. He’s just frustrated right now, so I’ll talk to her. She’ll talk some sense into him.”

  When it rained, it was only in fifty-gallon drums for Zack. It looked like regardless of whether his arm healed enough to ride or not, he was done with riding, unless he sold the herd. If he sold the stock before they were proven he’d lose his ass along with the monthly income he got from the stock contracts. “I’ll check around and make plans to move them.”

  “I really am sorry, man.”

  So was Zack—sorry he’d bought the herd in the first place. Sorry that he got hurt, sorry that he had one more thing on his plate to deal with at the worst possible time. “It’s fine, Cord. I appreciate y’all taking care of them and handling the con
tracts. No hard feelings. You have to do what’s best for your ranch.”

  “The trailers are parked here, so I’ll ask the owners if you can borrow them. I have a few men who could help move them,” Cord said, sounding very relieved. “Hey! Those guys are rough stock cowboys, so I’ll have no use for them once your herd is moved. Maybe they’ll want to work for you. Austin McBride used to be a bullrider too, so he could help you train them.”

  Move them where? How would he pay those men to work for him?

  Moving them to his family ranch before it was ready would present the same problems for him that Dean had at the Dixon ranch. He’d be chasing bulls and broncs twenty-four-seven. No, he needed to get set up first. That meant spending every last penny he had to install proper fencing before they were delivered. In three fucking weeks.

  If Zack kept the herd, he was going to be all in. No more riding, and if the venture failed he’d be broke. At least if that happened, by buying the family ranch, his daddy would hold his mortgage and would probably cut him some slack, so he wouldn’t end up homeless too. The only bright point in a very dark situation.

  “Let me work some things out and I’ll call you back, okay?” Zack hung up the phone stunned. He just sat there staring at the black television screen for who knew how long, until a key scraped in the front door lock and it opened.

  Heather walked in smiling, her arms loaded down with bags. “Hey cowboy, miss me?” she asked with a laugh as she walked to the kitchen table to set down the bags. She spun back toward him, studied him a second then her smile faded. Walking over to the sofa, she put her hands on her hips. “Someone kill your dog?”

  “Worse,” he muttered, letting out the breath he’d been holding for who knew how long.

  Zack’s arm throbbed, and he rubbed it as he pushed up to stand, before walking to the kitchen to get a glass. He carried the glass to the table, and looked inside the first bag, hoping like hell she’d gotten plenty of whiskey. “Three boxes of condoms?” he asked, his eyes flying to Heather who was still standing by the sofa with her arms folded.