by Sable Hunter
The massive arena was deafeningly silent. “Toro! Toro!” she cried, the words flowing over Bull like electric sparks.
From his vantage point right over her shoulder, he could see exactly what she saw. When the massive animal began to charge toward her, his heart rose in his throat. He’d been around these animals enough to know how it felt when one turned on you. As a bull rider himself, he’d been on the receiving end of angry hooves and horns. When one of those monsters looked you in the eye, there was no way a person could be unaffected.
“Fuck, baby,” he whispered as he mentally placed himself in her position. Time seemed to slow down as the nearly one ton bull came hurdling across the ring at full speed.
And yet she didn’t move.
She didn’t flinch.
How in God’s name?
He held his breath, his heart almost stopped beating.
She was about to be killed.
But at the last possible second, she whipped to the side, her blood red cape fluttering behind her. The bull burst through the barrier of the veil and seemed surprised when it came away with nothing. A cheer went up from the crowd and as Bull looked around the arena, he noticed that not everyone was applauding.
“That was the Quiebro move, she turned sideways at the last moment to let the beast pass in the hollow of her back,” Jose muttered. There was no doubt of his great love for the sport, for the old man spoke of what was going on in almost reverent terms. “Full of passion and mythos, there is nothing like this. More than just a battle of wills, this is sublimated lovemaking.”
“I think I’d prefer a little different type of lovemaking,” Bull mumbled tersely. He vowed in his heart if he ever got his hands on this woman again, he’d let her know what he thought of this foolishness. Swallowing hard, Bull’s heart still pounded as he watched her work. Her every movement was poetic, a seemingly sacred dance of life and death. Despite his reservations, he couldn’t deny one thing. The woman was good at what she did – very, very good.
“Ole! Toro!” Isabella cried as the bull passed by so close she could almost hear his heart pounding in time with her own. The hoof beats on the ground called to her, the flecks of gold sand landing on her boots were like tiny whispers. She got so lost in the beauty of the sounds, only the roar of the crowd awakened her before the bull came charging back.
In moments like this, she felt so close to her father. She could share his love for the unearthly beauty of the battle and the power of facing a foe most would run from. “Come, toro. I will not harm you, let’s show these people how we can dance.” She flashed the cape, bidding him to return. “That’s it. Submit to me.” She reached out and ran a hand over his neck as he galloped by. The animal huffed and pawed, whirling around for a second charge. Isabella moved the cape in a graceful Veronica arc over the bull’s back and down in front of its face. Its horns lifted the bright serge, throwing it in the air like the sail of a boat. She knew to keep one part of the cape closer to the animal than to herself. To the bull, the cape was part of her, he would charge what was nearest, so she could keep her body safe and out of reach of the sharp horns.
“Good God, this is insane,” Bull muttered. “She doesn’t even try to get out of the way.”
“La Diosa knows what she is doing.” Jose threw his fist in the air. “Ole! The beast moves with such majesty!”
Bull was sweating, watching the girl perform this deadly ballet. “I think the girl is the one who has her moves down.” Once more the animal charged and once more she sidestepped at the last minute. “Has she ever been…hurt?”
Jose scoffed. “A scratch here and there is all I’ve ever heard tell. The matadors all abstain from drinking or drugs so their blood will clot faster.”
The old man’s admission was little comfort to Bull. “Since she doesn’t kill the bull, how does it end?”
“Watch. La Diosa has her own special guardian angel.”
As much as he would’ve liked to, Bull couldn’t look away. “Shit, she laid the cape down.” To the gasp of the crowd, this time La Diosa didn’t wait on the bull, she went to him. Not running. Not charging. Just a slow, graceful walk toward the heaving animal, her hand outstretched in supplication. Bull couldn’t hear what she said, but the low, dulcet tones of her voice would’ve had him doing whatever she bade.
Isabella offered up a prayer. This was the test. Everything that had come before was merely a preamble to this moment. “Come, Toro. I will not hurt you. From this day forward, you will live away from the bullring. You will not be called upon to sacrifice yourself. Place your head in my hand and let’s leave this arena together.”
The bull shuffled on its feet.
Bull could read the uncertainty in the animal’s movements.
This was no pet, no tame creature. This bull was as wild or wilder than any he’d ever climbed upon. And he’d been on their back, not looking them in the eye. He knew that in one pivotal moment, the bull could charge, gore the woman and toss her into the air like a ragdoll.
Still, she persisted – moving steadily forward, placing her life in the hands of fate, to whatever benevolence the deity could offer.
“Please, God,” he prayed.
“Por favor, Dios,” she prayed.
As if in a dream, Benedict Carson Redford, saw the unexpected. To all extents and purposes, he witnessed a miracle. As the crowd stood to its feet, La Diosa laid her hand on the bull’s head and he watched it bow in what could be nothing less than submission. She caressed the massive forehead, then processed to move down the bull’s side, trailing her fingers along the black, sweaty hide. In an amazing move, Bull would never recommend to anyone, she walked behind the beast and around to the other side. He could see her lips moving beneath her mask and he knew he’d give a thousand dollars to know what she whispered to her former foe.
As she returned to the front of the animal, trumpets began to blow and she did another amazing and foolhardy act. La Diosa turned her back to the animal and raised her arm in triumph.
The crowd went wild.
Only then was she joined on the field by the assistants and the lucky bull was herded back to the pen, his life saved. He would live and fight no more.
La Diosa made her exit from the ring, showered by roses being thrown by her many admirers. Bull had no rose to throw, but he sure as hell intended to find her if he could.
“Sir, it was a pleasure.” He turned to shake Jose Mercedes’ hand. To Bull’s surprise, the man was gone and there was no sign of him anywhere. It was as if he’d simply vanished.
“Oh, well.” He couldn’t worry about that now, he had to go meet a goddess.
…“Gracias, Senor.” Isabella signed another program, shaking the short, rotund man’s hand as he gushed about her performance.
“Gracias, Senorita.” She signed another program for a young woman who told her she wished she could be as brave.
And another.
And on – and on.
As grateful as she was for her acceptance, she wasn’t in this for notoriety. Isabella much preferred her time with the bulls than signing autographs and meeting fans. But this was the critical juncture, here is where she could use her kind words and gentle spirit to change people’s minds about the blood sport. Taking up her father’s banner to change the world of bullfighting was not done all at once, it was done one person at a time.
Isabella didn’t have to check to know the line was unbelievably long. She’d be here forever. Still, she smiled and spoke to each person. Most were strangers, but some were casually acquainted with Isabella Cortez and to those folks she kept her head down, making sure they didn’t gaze into her eyes behind the mask. She did her best to be…different. Different hair styles than she normally wore, more makeup. Isabella even endeavored to change her voice, making it a bit huskier, and more modulated.
Living in two worlds was a challenge.
Hearing a bit of shouting, Isabella glanced up – and when she did, her eyes collided with a familiar
face. She couldn’t help the smile that came so naturally to her lips. “Benedict,” she breathed. Her cowboy had found her.
Isabella hadn’t allowed herself to formulate a plan concerning him, she’d only followed her heart’s dictates to see him again. She raised her hand in welcome. But her happy moment suddenly went to hell in a handbasket.
“La Diosa!” A man’s harsh shout rose above the din and a couple of people screamed.
In the line, impatiently waiting his turn to approach her, Bull reacted to the commotion, whipping around. To his horror, he spied a man step out of the queue and lunge toward his beauty with an object in his hand. Bull didn’t have to plan his next move – he just moved. Throwing himself on the much slighter individual, he flattened him, knocking whatever was in his hand to the ground. Amid screams, cries, and shouts, Bull struggled with the idiot. “Be still, jerk!” he growled as he hauled the creep to his feet. Most of the crowd scattered, causing a small stampede of people all running for the exit.
Isabella watched in horror. Everything was a blur. She’d seen the young man with shaggy hair and a goatee pull something from his jacket and point it straight at her. Other people saw him too and they began to yell and flee. A greater fear than she’d ever felt in the bullring overwhelmed her. Like a deer in the headlights, she froze. Isabella tried to get her feet to move, tried to force her body to obey her and dive to the ground – but nothing worked. What seemed like the passing of hours was only a fraction of a second; her heartbeat pounded in her ears as she waited for a bullet to take her down. But to her absolute shock and amazement, the American cowboy fulfilled every girlish dream she’d ever harbored. Just like in one of the television shows or movies she watched over and over, he took control, tackled the man and saved her.
Her hero.
Bull contained the assailant, holding his hands behind his back, keeping the struggling man still by forcing his arms behind him tightly enough to cause pain. “Somebody call 9-1-1! Where’s security?” he bellowed. To his surprise, no one came running to his aide.
“Fuera del camino, Gringo!” A deep voice sounded in his ear and Bull felt what he assumed to be the hard, cold tip of a gun sink into his ribs.
“I don’t speak Spanish, hombre,” he said, softly.
“Put your hands up or die, cowboy,” the same voice said. “Better, American? Comprende?”
“Got it.” Dammit! He lifted his hands, releasing the bastard who wanted to harm his beauty. Every muscle tensed and he bristled with anger, glancing back over his shoulder to see who was threatening him. But what he saw instead was La Diosa making her way through the crowd toward him. “No!”
“I help you, Senor!” A small man came forward, followed by two or three more. The lady bullfighter’s fans were coming to her rescue.
Faced by more opposition than they bargained for, the duo fled. Bull was almost sure it was the same men who’d jumped him the night of the festival. “You’re not getting away with this!” He was about to take off after them when he felt a touch on his shoulder.
“Let them go, Benedict. Let them go.” Isabella picked up the weapon from the ground.
“Hell, no! They tried to kill you!”
“No, it was just a paint gun.” She held out the object, then tossed it to the ground. “Harmless.” At his confused expression, she tugged on his hand. “Please. Come with me. I will explain.”
Amid the chaos, Bull allowed the object of his desire to grasp his hand and move toward an exit. He went with her, but his eyes were constantly scanning the crowd. “Damn, I need a gun.” He had a collection of forty firearms at home, and here he was without one when he really needed it.
“You’d just get into trouble. I couldn’t allow that. Hurry!”
The grasp of her small hand felt just right and if she but knew it, Bull would follow her to the ends of the earth.
Darting into a storage room, she was relieved to see it had two entrances, so there was an escape route, if need be. She leaned against the wall, trying to catch her breath. Indirect sunlight came through a small window and she could see him plainly. Isabella had never been more aware of a man before. Benedict was so big, so powerful. Even here, away from the danger, he seemed to use his body as a shield, standing close enough she could feel his heat. Her body reacted, tingling at the prospect of touching him. “Thank you for saving me.”
“Don’t thank me, yet.” Bull couldn’t keep from touching her, not if his life depended on it. Grasping her hands in his, he held them over her head. “You were magnificent and you scared the fuck out of me.” He bent his head and kissed a path from her cheek to her neck. “I don’t know whether to kiss you or spank your ass for putting yourself in such danger.”
“Kiss me now, spank me later,” she whispered. Isabella couldn’t resist her teasing remark. Just gazing at his face and hearing the concern in his voice shattered any resolve to withhold herself from him into a million fiery particles.
Hearing the green light in her voice, he captured her mouth. The heat she gave off scorched him. As soon as their lips touched, her passion erupted like an exploding volcano, her lips drinking greedily from his as if she were quenching a raging thirst.
“My God,” Bull groaned as he dragged his mouth from hers so he could search her beautiful face. Even obstructed by the damn mask, he thought she was exquisite. He was stunned. “You want me?”
“More than air,” she whispered and he responded by catching her mouth again, sending her spiraling back to the point of no control with only the touch of his lips.
Bull couldn’t fathom her reaction to him. He’d never experienced this white-hot passion with anyone before, it surged through his blood and sparked across his skin.
“I need you, Benedict.”
“God, I need you too, baby.” His hands were all over her, tangling in her hair, then tugging at her mask.
“No, leave it on,” she cautioned him. “Please.”
Bull snarled but moved on, pushing the vest she wore from her shoulders and tugging at the buttons on her blouse. While his fingers were busy, so were hers, tearing open his shirt and letting her palms graze the golden mat of hair on his chest in fascination. His mouth trailed the graceful arch of her throat and as he unveiled the upper swells of her breast, his lips moved down to nuzzle the creamy mounds. Gone were any doubts about his ability to perform, he’d never been harder in his life. “I wish we were somewhere else, somewhere so I could lay you down on a soft bed instead of taking you up against a hard wall.” In awe, Bull let his eyes rake over her.
“I don’t care, Benedict. I don’t want to wait.” Her eyes were closed, her whole body shaking with overwhelming sensation as she reached up and tugged the cups of her bra down. When she did, her breasts popped up and she bowed her back, offering them to him.
“Are you real?” he whispered, not understanding how he’d passed through the gates of heaven without realizing.
“Touch me and see.”
Bull was on fire, every nerve throbbing, every muscle bunched. His own arousal was on overload, he had no more control than she did. When she held out her hands for him, he moved against her gladly. Immediately her arms wrapped around him and her fingers wove through his hair.
Their lips ate at one another with hunger and she felt the raspy pleasure of his hair-roughened chest caressing the aching tips of her breasts. Between them, she could feel his powerful arousal rubbing against her and she pressed closer to him, aching to open the cradle of her thighs and welcome him inside. “Oh, please, Benedict, I can’t wait.”
“My God, you’re a wild little thing. You’re as fearless in bed as you are in the bullring, aren’t you?” Bending his head, he took one swollen nipple into his mouth and sucked hard. And when he did, wild wasn’t a word that even applied anymore. The woman in his arms flared up in a blaze of glory. Her hands slid up and raked at his hair, clutching a handful hard enough to sting, and letting out the sexiest cry he’d ever heard.
Isabella was
shaking, his hands on her body were so mind-blowingly pleasurable that she could feel no shame, no doubts. All she could process was elation, this was what lovemaking should be like, this was what she’d dreamed about. When Benedict’s lips left her breast, she tried to draw him back.
“No, I need this,” he whispered, going to his knees. Yes, he was taking a risk. According to his wife, he wasn’t good at this – but by damn, he was going to give it a shot. If desperate craving could make a difference, he was up to the task. In a few moments, he had her bare, her clothes laid gently to one side.
Standing nude in the storage room with a relative stranger, where anyone could enter at any moment, should have filled Isabella with apprehension. Instead, she was mesmerized by the sight of her big cowboy kneeling in front of her. “Benedict?” she asked a question that needed no answer.
“Open for me, goddess.”
Placing a hand behind one of her knees, he lifted it onto his shoulder and buried his mouth between her thighs. “Oh, my God! Dios!” Isabella cried out at the exquisite sensations. “Oh, please, please, don’t ever stop,” she begged, clutching his hair in abject ecstasy. Gasping. Writhing. Panting. She surrendered to the delight of Benedict Carson kissing and licking her pussy, tonguing her clitoris, sucking on the small pearl until she was mindless with pleasure. “Now, Benedict, now! Please! I must have you inside me!”
Bull was on fire. This beautiful woman was responding to him just like he’d dreamed the right one would. How had this happened? How had fortune smiled down on him out of the blue? Rising to his feet, he felt unsteady, but he wanted to give his goddess what she asked of him. Even as he felt in his back pocket, he cursed. “I don’t have a condom.”
“I’m safe,” Isabella whispered. “I’m on the pill and I have been with no one…”
“I’m clean. I haven’t been with anyone either, not in a long time. God, I want you.” Bull captured her mouth in a desperate kiss while he dealt with his belt and zipper. His hands weren’t the only ones who pulled at his clothing. This amazing creature from his dreams was also helping him free his cock. When she wrapped her fingers around his girth, Bull shuddered. “It’s been so long, so long.” He hoped to high heaven he could last. If he didn’t succeed in giving this woman pleasure, he’d die.
