Bucked: A Steamy Bull Rider Sports Romance

by Jess Bentley

  “So you want to have a picnic?” I ask. It’ll be the second meal we’ve eaten today, but what the heck.

  “I’m up for pretty much anything,” she says, and then suddenly covers her mouth as her eyes open wide. “I mean,” she starts, but doesn’t know how to finish.

  “I think I know just what you mean, Canada,” I say smoothly. “Me too. But I had an idea of a place I wanted to take you, as long as you don’t mind it being out in the country.”

  “Not at all,” she grins, relieved. “I haven’t seen much out of the city yet.”

  “Let me tell ya, there ain’t much like the Texas sky when it’s filled with stars. It’s a beautiful sight.” I let go of her hand, reluctantly, but only after I draw it lightly against the stubble of my jawline. The touch of her skin makes me shiver inside. I can’t wait until I have her alone.

  “So we’re going to eat something?” she asks.

  “I had one of my staff make up a little picnic for us in case you were up for it,” I say, then suddenly I realize that I went a little too far. Too much information. Does Canada need to know that I have staff? Probably not at this point. I don’t want to give the impression she’s struck gold, though I can’t imagine at the same time she’s digging for it. She’s too good for that.

  “Oh,” she says. “That sounds lovely.” Her hands go back into her lap, and she sits demurely, making me want nothing more than to slip my hand between her legs and rub that sweet little pussy of hers until she groans and throws her head back like she did in that restaurant. I’ve never been with a woman who looked at the same time like she didn’t need it but would enjoy it so much. “Should we turn the radio on?” she says.

  “Yeah, I hope you like country music,” I say. “That’s pretty much all we get around here.”

  “That sounds fine with me.” She turns her dark shining eyes my way. “My dad used to listen to it up north. It’s one of the reasons I wanted to come to Texas, because it always somehow seemed like a magical place to be. Somehow a home away from home.”

  “I guess it is. Sometimes,” I grin. But magical?

  Apart from the vast starry sky and the millions of gallons of oil under the ground, I’m not sure there’s anything magical about this place. Unless it’s a kind of dark magic. Because the whole time I’ve been here, I’ve felt that we left the magic behind somewhere. Lost it in the drive for more and more money. Yeah, sure, I like my money, but do I chase it? Not one bit. What I want to find in this world can’t really be bought with money. Now don’t get me wrong, I know my money can do a lot of good, and that’s why I built the place for the kids, and staffed it with the best people that money could attract, but aside from that, money doesn’t buy happiness.

  A few minutes with this incredibly beautiful woman on the other side of a bench seat, though, that could.

  I pull onto the highway, and we’re plunged into the near sunset. I want to make sure that I show Canada the Texas sunset and the stars, and the rolling hills of the countryside. We drive along in silence apart from the sound of Hank Williams crooning on the crackly radio. It doesn’t feel one bit awkward to me at least. Canada’s checking out all the sights, just like I want her to, seeing the land that is part of me, even as it tried to eject me. Or its people did. Texas herself always seemed pretty kind to me, the dirt welcoming. Not prejudiced.

  And that’s what I want to share with Chastity, that vision of this place, untainted by the rednecks and children of the rednecks who didn’t have time for me until we struck oil on my mother’s property just out of town.

  Hard to explain to a girl from up north what things were like for me, and probably unnecessary. Just show her the good side, and keep her away from the bad. If that’s possible.

  “Listen Kent,” says Andrea, “I don’t know if I’m ready.”

  “Ready for what?” I pull her close behind the bleachers, and kiss her red-lipsticked mouth. “You sure seem ready,” I say. She always had, ever since I laid eyes on her at the start of the year. The head cheerleader at all the football games, Andie was the girl all the boys beat it to, talked about, fantasized about taking to the prom.

  “But I’m only seventeen,” she pouted. “And I shouldn’t be with someone like you anyway.”

  I pulled away from her. She had to be kidding. “Someone like me?”

  “You know what I mean, Kent,” she says, wheedling. “My papa would never allow it anyway, for us to be together.”

  “Who says we need to be together?” I mutter. “You think you’re good enough for me?” My bravado was all I had, aside from my new good looks, and I intended to use it for all it was worth. “Really?” I laugh harshly.

  “Don’t be like that,” she says, tickling the soft new chest hairs that sprout out from my plaid shirt. “You know I didn’t mean it that way.”

  “How am I supposed to know that?” I ask her. I mutter, “Stupid bitch.”

  “What did you call me?” she asks, petulant.

  “Why do you call me Kent?” I’m sick of this. “My name is Kanen.”

  “I thought Kent was your name.” She’s confused.

  “It was, but my real name is Kanen.” I’m done trying to fit in with these hicks. “You can call me that from now on. But only when you’re talking about me because I think we’re done here.” I start to walk away from her, but she catches my arm.

  “Don’t be like that, baby,” she says. “You know how I feel about that sexy butt of yours. But you’ve got to understand how things are.”

  “Whatever,” I say. Something in me wants to punch people, or cry. I can do neither at this moment. I just shake her off, and tell her to go back to her squad. I don’t need the lust or the pity of any girl, even if she is the head cheerleader. That’s just not how I work. I’m on my own now, and I can support myself. I don’t have to make anyone happy.

  When I hit oil on Mama’s property, it was a stroke of luck, but it couldn’t have happened at a worse time.

  Mama was dying of cancer when we found that black gold. Stage 4, it was untreatable, and mostly just because we hadn’t had any of the money we’d need to fight it. Not that she would have won the fight for certain in any event, but she would have had a chance if I’d only done the jobs around the house she asked me to do a little earlier. Done the digging that led to the money. Then it might have still been treatable.

  I can picture it like it was yesterday, doing that long put-off work for Mama when I first noticed it, the ground leaking a little bit of shiny blackness. And a little bit more. And more, until eventually they drilled and it was practically a geyser. It was way in the back of her property, where nobody ever went, and when we confirmed what it was, it was clear that we—well, I—would be set for life from then on. All from an ignored piece of land. Sometimes riches lie in the most nondescript places.

  “Kanen,” she says to me very solemnly, looking at me with those faded, rheumy eyes that stood out in her newly gaunt, pale face. “You be a good boy with that oil money now. You promise me you won’t do anything sinful with it.”

  Nothing sinful? Amazing. This coming from a cheap prostitute. How can a sane person even take her words seriously? But she was my mama, and I know she had been trying to support the family in the only way she could after dad left. I guess her ass was her only asset, and she sold it as many times as she could, to whatever takers came along so that we could occasionally have food in the cupboard and I could buy used running shoes for track. By the time she got addicted, which wasn’t long, she wasn’t exactly supporting us, anymore, just her habit. So for her to tell me not to do anything sinful with the money... well that was rich.

  The only rich thing about her.

  We pull down a rocky drive just as the sun is taking on the golden hue that means that the day is coming to an end. The place I’m taking her is very special to me. It’s the place I used to come to when everything was overwhelming. I was there the day after Mama died and the boys in the school made fun of me. They were le
d by Dillon, which was Dilly’s grown-up name. I used to love calling him by his kid name, even though part of me empathized with the desire to become something different. But what I wanted him to become was Dill Pickle, Dill Doe, whatever was the most convenient insult at the time, because that was what he was.

  I can feel my mouth twisting up a little, caught in the memory, and a moment later, Chastity’s hand is in mine. It pulls me back into the present. I don’t know how to describe the atmosphere in the car at this moment, but it is somehow...soft. Her hand is soft, it holds mine softly, in the soft light.

  I want to pull over and take her in my arms, and softly brush her hair out of her eyes. What the hell, I will.

  I stop the car and she looks at me for a moment in concern. “We’re stopping here?” she says.

  “Just for a moment, Chastity,” I tell her, taking her hand in mine. It’s trembling.

  She unbuckles her seat belt, and it slithers back around her, while I undo mine. I move close to her, and put a finger under her chin. We’re so close, we’re nearly kissing already, but I’m enjoying the feeling of the electricity that we had felt in our hands and now is moving to between our lips, playing between us in the softly closing distance. It’s part of the energy of the universe, and it tells me that I’m in the right place.

  Staring at my mouth, she moves almost imperceptibly forward, toward me, and I can’t stay still anymore. Our lips meet, our tongues twine together, and my hand tangles in her dark hair. It’s magic, this feeling—it’s almost too strong. We kiss softly, then quick, and everything in between: hard, slow, gentle, hurried, lingering. We’re feeling every millisecond of our contact and we kiss until I nearly pass out from the sheer sensation of finally letting myself kiss those wicked lips.

  We try to pull away, but a couple little pecks, quick, questioning, answering, softly end the moment, and we lean our foreheads together, nearly panting.

  “Kanen,” she breathes.

  “Yeah, Chastity,” I say. I almost feel like that seventeen-year-old boy I used to be again, full of excitement and lusty innocence. The boy who thought everything was possible.

  “That was... amazing,” she says. She blushes. “I’ve never been kissed like that before.”

  “You should be kissed like that every day, Chas,” I answer. “You should be kissed like that every hour. You deserve it. And you deserve much more than that.”

  “Like what?” she says quietly, after a moment, her eyes darting to meet mine and then breaking away. How can she even question?

  “You deserve to be made love to, and fucked, wildly, and passionately, over and over, until you’re begging for mercy, or begging for more,” I say.

  “Kanen!” She giggles and hits me gently on the arm. “Shame on you,” she says but her eyes are shining, her lips pursed.

  “Well, I always tell the truth, Chastity,” I say. “I can’t tell a lie about something as important as this. It just wouldn’t be right.”

  She stares ahead for a moment. “I have to catch my breath,” she says, leaning back in her seat. “And then we have a picnic to go on.”

  “We do. Buckle up,” I say, and we head down the road to a special, top-secret spot.

  Fifteen

  Chastity

  After the kiss, I’m not so sure about anything anymore. All I want is for Kanen to take me in his arms, lay me down on the grass, and... and... do that thing that makes babies. I look at the window, trying to catch my breath and let my blood settle. It feels like it’s burning through my veins, after that incredible, earth-stopping kiss.

  He stops the car again and I look at him, wondering if he wants to kiss me again, but he reaches across me this time and opens my door.

  “All right, Canada, here’s the spot,” he grins. “Come on out and see.”

  He jumps out to the side of the truck and pulls a basket and an old but clean-looking blanket out of the truck bed, and beckons me down a little path that’s almost indiscernible from the road.

  “Don’t worry, it’s safe,” he smiles, taking my hand. “Come on now, don’t be bashful,” he grins.

  “I’m not!” I protest, knowing full well I can be shy as anything around someone so gorgeous and confident as he is. He’s just charming enough that I’m able to make conversation with him, but he’s the kind of guy I would hope would notice me, not the kind that usually does. And that still makes me nervous. He pushes the branches out of my way, until we get to a little clearing, and I realize that a small lake opens up in front of us, glowing in the warm, evening light. He spreads the blanket and we sit and look out, the sunset dancing purple and red on the calm water.

  “You sure nobody’s going to kick us out of here?” I say. “It’s a gorgeous place. “It’s not public land, is it?”

  “Nope, I know the owner,” he smiles. “He doesn’t mind me kicking around here from time to time. Nobody else ever really comes around here.”

  “Wow. Cool. I love it,” I say, smiling at him. “Thanks for showing this to me. It’s beautiful.”

  “I’m glad you think so,” he says, and softly kisses my cheek again. I’m almost overwhelmed with the desire to pull him closer, to pull him on top of me. To pull him out of his jeans and... Get a hold of yourself, Chastity, I tell myself.

  “How did you find this place?” I ask, standing up and looking out at the water. I can feel his eyes roam over my body, over my rear end.

  “I’ve been coming here almost ever since I could drive,” he says. “I needed a place to get away from all my hassles, and I stumbled across this lake, and have been returning ever since.”

  “I can see why,” I say, turning around and sitting beside him. “It’s just beautiful. It’s breathtaking.” I can see that my words truly please him, but I’m not sure why they do so much. It must be a very important place for him.

  “You hungry, Chastity?” he asks me, after a moment of staring out at the water.

  “Well, yeah, I guess I am.” I wonder what he’s brought. Something tells me it might be just as incredible as this sunset view.

  “I’m not sure exactly what it is, but he usually does a pretty good job at making some pretty tasty things.” The smile that flashes across his face is mischievous. “I’m not so great in the kitchen myself. I think my biggest achievement was learning how to boil water.” We giggle, and he opens the basket. There’s champagne, Dom Perignon. Two glass flutes. Some silverware, and heavy linen napkins. But when the food comes out, Kanen exclaims, “Steak and potato salad! All right.”

  “Those are some fancy drinks to be having with potato salad,” I say, and he smiles as he pours me some.

  “You ever had it? Dom Perignon?” The French sounds extra charming with his Texas drawl.

  “Nope,” I say.

  “You’re gonna love it. I don’t go out for too many expensive things, but this is something that tickled my fancy. It’s almost like drinking air. See what you think.”

  I bring the glass up, and the little bubbles that spring from it tickle the insides of my nose. When I sip, the bubbles dance over my tongue in a delicious flash of flavor and sensation.

  “What do you think?” Kanen asks, looking me in the eye. His face has softened a bit now, and I feel like he’s relaxing with me.

  “It’s almost as good as that kiss you gave me,” I find the courage to say.

  “Well I’m going to have to give that champagne some more competition.” He takes my glass and sets it down, and before long I’m in his arms, breathing him in, our lips finding each other quickly and we kiss. His mouth is soft, his tongue tantalizing me, and the taste of expensive champagne suffuses the kiss.

  It amazes me how different the experience of being with Kanen is to being with Jeffrey. Not that I’m comparing them, because that would be crazy. How could I compare someone who I met when I was a teenager to someone who is a full-grown man? But there’s more than just the age difference. Kanen is a different kind of man—not just than my husband was—but he’s a dif
ferent man altogether than anyone I’ve ever come across. The way he holds me tightly, protectively, his arms strong, no-nonsense, his kisses confident, aware, responsive. It’s a sensation I’ve never experienced, and one that I am afraid I was a little too overconfident about resisting.

  As I feel my body respond more and more, I know I’m playing with fire. There’s absolutely no way I can get out of this; it just feels too good. How could I have known how amazing it would be to be with him? How can I blame myself for enjoying the best experience in my life, I wonder, as his tongue teases me, he nibbles on my neck, and his hand slides up my torso to cup my breast. I shiver as he runs his thumb over my nipple, and at the same time bites my lower lip gently.

  Before I know it, we lie down, the champagne forgotten, and I feel his body pressing against mine. I’m almost scared to touch him, but too aroused not to. My hand slides down his back and presses his jean-clad buttock. He’s firm, supple, and strong, and I pull him against me, just like I’ve been fantasizing about ever since I first saw him. I can feel his hard length pressing against my thigh and I can’t deny it—he’s bigger than anyone I’ve ever come across, or more than that, bigger than anyone I’ve ever heard of. That’s another thing that scares me about Kanen. Can I accommodate a massive cock like his? It’s gotta be at least nine inches pressing against me. And it’s ready, and demanding.

  But I have to admit that I really want to try to take him in. My body wants him, and it feels amazing. I’m lengthening and widening deliciously, and I can feel that I’m getting soaking wet.

  “Chastity,” he murmurs into my neck. “You’re so goddamned sexy. You’re driving me crazy.”

  “Oh, Kanen,” I reply, “Should we really be doing this?” I falter. “We barely even know each other.”