Get Bucked

by Vale, Lani Lynn

  I rolled my eyes and pinched him on the arm as he buckled on his chaps.

  “Talon is a two-time junior national rodeo champion for the past two years. This is his first year competing in…” I droned on as Talon got settled on the back of his bull.

  Darby finished with his chaps, snatched up his hat, and then hopped over the railing that separated him from the arena.

  For the rest of the night, that was where he’d be.

  He pointed at a Gatorade that was sitting next to me and I handed it to him.

  He took a quick swig and then moseyed out farther into the arena, dirt flying from his spurs as he moved.

  I swallowed hard as I checked out the man’s ass.

  Soon Jim took over as Talon and his bull were set free of the gates, and I was able to watch Darby without worrying about having to actually say something.

  He moved, eyes watchful, as he waited for the kid to be bucked off of the bull.

  Eventually it happened, and Darby moved, drawing the bull’s attention. The other two men, names that I couldn’t recall at that moment in time, moved, too.

  But that wasn’t anything at this point because my eyes were totally and irrevocably glued to only one man.

  Not the bull rider. Not the other two very hot, very single guys. But Darby.

  The bull bucked all the way into the chute, leaving Darby laughing.

  He had a long-sleeved sponsored shirt on, but it was made for a much smaller man so the fabric was skin tight on him.

  And boy, did he look hot as hell in his getup.

  Somebody elbowed me, and I got to work again, announcing first Tad Collins, followed shortly by Shane West.

  Darby’s face was unimpressed, but he was there, ready and waiting, for anything to happen.

  Nothing did.

  The fourth rider was none other than Banks Valentine.

  “Our fourth rider of the night is Banks Valentine.” I paused as the fans went wild. “Banks is currently sitting fat and happy in first place this season, with a lead so great that he technically doesn’t even need to ride tonight to hold it,” I blabbered on, grinning when Darby rolled his eyes. “Banks will be riding Cinnatwist. This is Cinnatwist’s first night tonight, so give him a hand!”

  The crowd did, and I watched as Banks got settled on Cinnatwist’s back.

  Darby tensed as they opened the gate, watching and waiting.

  Jim took over, and I watched as Banks and Cinnatwist came out bucking.

  He didn’t even wait for the gate to open all the way before he started to roll and toss his head back, hoping to buck Banks from his back.

  Banks held on for four-point-two seconds before his hand slipped off of the rope.

  He went flying forward as the bull’s head came up, ramming into Banks’ belly, knocking him straight to the ground.

  Before the bull could so much as trample Banks, Darby was there, pulling Banks out of the way by his boot.

  Banks rolled, face full of pain as he faced upward, but still didn’t get up.

  Darby stepped in front of his brother’s prone form, protecting him.

  And when Cinnatwist came back to rake Banks over a second time, Darby was there, protecting him all over again.

  This time he took Cinnatwist’s head straight to the chest, and Darby went flying eight feet backward into the fence.

  He landed hard, right in a DeWalt Tools sign, hitting so forcefully with the bulk of his body making contact with the metal and wood, it caused it to ring loudly through the stadium.

  Banks rolled up to his hands and knees while the other two bullfighters tried to get Cinnatwist back into the pen, but again, the damn bull gave them a slip and came after Banks a third time.

  Banks was up on his knees at the point that Darby came barreling in from the side and slapped the bull right across the face, turning his attention to him.

  The bull turned his head and charged Darby.

  I was up on my feet before I’d consciously realized that was what I wanted to do.

  Seconds later, I was running down the length of the bleachers and heading to the fence, climbing it.

  “Banks!” I screamed, hoping he would hear me.

  Banks’ head lifted, and he stared at me with unseeing eyes.

  “Come here!” I screamed.

  Banks got up onto his knees, and then further onto his feet.

  He weaved like a drunken college girl wearing heels.

  “Come on!” I screamed.

  My throat burned as I looked behind Banks to see Darby trying to distract the bull.

  Unfortunately, Banks was where the bull would normally head to get out of the arena.

  Meaning that Darby had to distract him until we could get Banks moved.

  And the other two fighters were also helping, one limping badly, and the other one waving his red shirt like a flag.

  All three trying to keep the bull occupied long enough for Banks to get out.

  Finally, the crew was able to open up a different exit for the bull, and Darby took off into the hole they’d opened up in the fencing.

  I looked around just as the paramedics made it to Banks before he collapsed.

  Darby was up and over the fence, running toward Banks before he’d even finished falling to the ground.

  He slid to his knees in the dirt beside his brother, and I saw the raw, stark terror on his face as he got down to his elbows and spoke quietly to his brother.

  Darby loved his family.

  He may have had a falling out with them, but he loved them.

  It was more than obvious to not just me, but to the entire fucking stadium.

  Jim started talking, spouting off random nonsense facts about the Valentine boys and their time in the rodeo circuit.

  And I tuned him out, my eyes staying solidly on Darby.

  Soon after the thought entered my head, Banks pushed away one of the medics and sat up.

  Darby helped him, supporting his back.

  Darby pressed his head to his brother’s and whispered something low in his ear causing Banks to laugh.

  He groaned moments after that, then pushed away the medics again and attempted to stand.

  Darby was up and pulling Banks to his feet in the next second.

  Banks didn’t wobble this time and did manage to get out of the arena on his own.

  I met them all down at the lower entrance and fidgeted nervously with my hands.

  “Darby!” I said as he came around the corner. “Are you okay?”

  His eyes locked with mine, and for a second there, when our eyes met, things changed.

  “I’m okay,” he said.

  Just as I was about to push, Candy, Banks’ wife, came barreling around the corner and nearly barreled into Banks.

  I caught her by the arm and pulled her into my side as I said, “If you hit him with that much force, he’s gonna hit the deck. And we just got him standing.”

  She burst out crying.

  Banks laughed weakly and opened his arms.

  I let Candy go, and they had a moment.

  Darby backed away and headed back into the arena.

  I looked at the list of remaining riders, thankful that there were only two more to go.

  I watched as his tight ass disappeared around the corner and then turned to look at Banks, who was watching his brother go.

  That’s when I chose to say what I had to say.

  “I don’t know what y’all did to him,” I said. “I do know that he’s a good guy. I know that he may appear invincible, but he’s not. And I know that each day that y’all refuse to get over whatever the hell y’all did to him, puts him just that much farther away from coming back to you.”

  Banks opened his mouth to say something, but I ran back up to my area and started with the announcing again once I got the heads up to proceed.

  Darby didn’t look hurt or anything, but I’d seen him hit the fence.
r />   I’d also seen him take at least one hoof to the foot.

  The man was hurting, even if he didn’t want to admit that he was.

  Chapter 11

  If I had a dick, I would definitely have tried to see how many donuts I can stack on it by now.

  -Text from Waylynn to Darby

  Waylynn

  An hour later, Darby was bullshitting with the other bullfighters when I found him.

  I wasn’t going to say that he was hiding from me, but he was definitely not trying to be found, either.

  I walked up to him and smiled at the other two men. Both the other bullfighters that’d been in the arena with him all night.

  “Excuse me,” I said. “But can I steal him away from you for a bit?”

  Kyle and Chris winked. “Sure, you can, darlin’.”

  I smiled weakly and caught hold of Darby’s wrist.

  He followed in my wake all the way to the trailer without saying a word.

  Not even to the three women that offered to have a foursome with him.

  Opening the trailer door, I urged him inside.

  The moment the door closed behind us, he slumped.

  “That’s what I thought,” I said as I took him in. “Off with your clothes. Let me see the damage.”

  Darby grunted out a laugh but didn’t argue.

  That should’ve been the first indication that things were bad.

  As he stripped off his clothes, the bruises started to appear.

  One by one, his clothes came off. And one by one, the bruises made themselves known.

  “Oh fuck,” I said when I saw the long line of a bruise from where the long pipe fence had hit him across the back when he’d been thrown. “Shit.”

  Darby bent down and removed his boots, straining hard to get one off.

  I saw why when he took off his sock.

  “Is it broken?” I asked softly.

  Darby laughed and propped up his foot.

  “I don’t think so,” he admitted. “I wouldn’t be walking on it if it were.”

  I wasn’t so sure of that.

  My dad had walked around with a broken femur for a week. He’d tried to ‘walk it off’ as he’d said, but in the end, it’d only hurt him more and more until he’d admitted defeat and gone to the doctor. Lo and behold, he’d had a hairline fracture and he’d had to be put in a cast for six weeks.

  “Did you get checked out?” I asked, feeling my heart rate speed up a bit at the sheer number of bruises on his body. At least where I could see.

  I sat on the coffee table in front of him, surveying his ribs.

  Those were probably hurting, too.

  I’d seen the bull rub his horn along his left side earlier. And though there was only a rather large red mark from his armpit to his jean waistband, bruises would likely form.

  He hadn’t taken his pants off yet, and I had no doubt in my mind that there would be more underneath them.

  “Pants,” I ordered, staring at the injured foot.

  He sighed and stood up, effectively putting his cock at eye level for me.

  I didn’t pull back like I knew I should, and he didn’t take a step back, either.

  My phone rang on the coffee table, and I distractedly picked it up and answered it without once moving my eyes from his penis.

  The first thing to be removed was his belt. His large belt buckle was quite frankly captivating as the lights above our heads caught the metal as he removed it.

  He slowly worked his jeans down, being careful to keep his underwear in place, just as I said, “Hello?”

  “What’s your ticket number?” Paul all but yelled.

  I frowned. “My ticket number?”

  Paul questioned loudly in my ear, but I couldn’t quite form a coherent thought because all of a sudden, Darby was standing in front of me in nothing but his boxer briefs.

  His jeans were being held out in front of him, effectively hiding his package from my view, but it didn’t matter. I could imagine.

  Oh, boy, could I imagine.

  “Your ticket number, woman!” Paul bellowed.

  I frowned and leaned slightly to the side, my eyes catching on a rather impressive bulge as I removed the ticket stubs from my pants pocket.

  “Umm,” I said, practically ripping my gaze away from Darby. “I have 604 through 614.”

  Paul started to yell, but Darby had sat down in front of me, spreading his legs wide as he looked at me with hooded eyes.

  I yanked my eyes away from where he was sitting, finally realizing that Paul was absolutely losing his shit.

  “What the fuck, Paul?” I asked, sounding annoyed just like I felt. Seriously, Darby and I were having a moment here, and then he had to call and ruin it.

  “You won the RV!” Paul bellowed.

  I blinked, then blinked again.

  “You… I what?” I screeched.

  Darby leaned forward, accidentally dropping his pants in the process, and looked at me with worry-filled eyes.

  “You won the RV!” he repeated for a second time. “You won it! It’s yours!”

  I looked blankly at the walls around me, then at Darby who was still looking quite concerned.

  “I won the RV,” I said, voice monotone. “Are you sure?”

  “The ticket we pulled was 606,” he said. “You won. Holy motherfuckin’ hell, you won!”

  I swallowed hard. “I won… but ummm, isn’t that, wow. Do I have to pay for it?”

  “No.” Paul laughed then. “It’s all yours. They’re going to put the title paperwork in your name. It’s all yours. They even pay the taxes owed. And since I have your employment paperwork, you don’t even have to come down here. All I need is your new address.”

  I rattled it off, then hung up on his laughter.

  Darby’s eyes were wide when he said, “Yours?”

  I nodded once.

  Then the biggest grin I’d ever seen on his face spread wide.

  “Holy fuck!”

  I burst into tears.

  Darby leaned forward and caught my hand up in his.

  “What’s wrong?” He laughed.

  At me.

  The damn man laughed at me.

  “I don’t know how to pull a trailer,” I said. “I’m bad enough with a horse trailer. Which, might I add, was the first ever time doing it just yesterday! How am I supposed to pull this?”

  Darby’s grin was fantastic, and I wanted to kiss it right off of his face.

  “I’ll pull it home for you,” he said.

  “I don’t know how to deal with RVs,” I said. “I mean, there are pop-outs. Buttons. Brakes. Jacks. I don’t even know how to flush the toilet!”

  Darby laughed and pulled me into his arms, hugging me tight.

  And that was when I lost it.

  All the telling myself I should stay away because he was the bad Valentine went right out the window.

  I didn’t care about his many conquests. I didn’t care about how he treated women. I didn’t care that my father might very well shit a brick. I also didn’t care about anything but him in that moment.

  The moment my body landed on top of his and he leaned back, laughing, I decided that I couldn’t do it anymore.

  And when I dipped my face and slammed my mouth down onto his, he apparently didn’t care much, either.

  Because he not only returned the kiss, but he instigated more.

  His hands went to my hair as he held me to him, his mouth practically possessing mine.

  I moaned into his mouth, tasting his tongue as it thrust past my lips and licked upward, curling lightly against my upper lip.

  I inhaled at the move, then gave just as good as I got.

  And when we finally pulled back long moments later, panting and wide-eyed, neither one of us were laughing anymore.

  “Darby…”

  That was the last word that I said as he lurched back toward me. Seconds later
, I was in his arms.

  His hands went opposite directions. One went to my lower back, not quite touching my ass but not quite not touching it either. His other hand went to my neck where he pressed down to urge my face close to his.

  “If you don’t want this,” he said, his hand squeezing my neck when I came up for air. “You need to say so now, because in about a half minute when I get you naked, I’m not gonna want to stop.”

  I resituated myself so that my legs were on either side of his hips, and my pussy was pressed against his very rigid erection.

  “Honestly, Darby,” I said, pressing as close as I could get. “Do you honestly believe that I’ve been spending all this time with you, inviting you to live with me, and giving you so much shit if I didn’t feel something for your ass?”

  His hand moved from my lower back to my ass and squeezed.

  “I can’t say that I haven’t noticed,” he rumbled. “But you know I’m no good, Way. I’m the bad guy in your story. Not the good one.”

  I leaned back as if he’d burned me.

  “Darby August Valentine…” I started.

  His hand squeezed my ass. “Alexander.”

  I frowned. “What?”

  His grin was cute as hell as he said, “My middle name is Alexander. Not August. Alexander. Darby Alexander Valentine. Although, I was born in August. Maybe that’s why you thought it was my middle name.”

  My head tilted to the side. “I knew it was an A name, but I just figured you’d never tell me. Every time someone asks when I’m around you, you always refuse to answer.”

  He shrugged.

  “I always hear that you’re not supposed to give out personal information. Like what if they got my name and my birthday and they illegally started a fraudulent account?” he challenged.

  My lips twitched, but I wouldn’t be deterred.

  “Darby,” I said, cupping his face. “Why do you think you’re the bad guy?”

  His face went blank.

  “Because I am the bad guy, Way,” he told me bluntly. “I’m not a nice person. Nine times out of ten if someone asks me for help, I’m not going to do it. I curse too much. I’ve done drugs. I’ve been arrested. Gone to jail. Stolen from my family. You name it, and I’ve probably done it.”

  I tilted my head to the side and ran my finger over his lower lip.

  “Killed someone?” I asked.