by Mona Cox
He struggles to his feet, glaring at me as he moved. “God almighty, Chase, you could warn a guy before you punch him.”
“Yeah, but that’d take away the element of surprise,” I point out logically.
He glares at me, one-eyed, for a long moment, the roar of the crowds filling the silence. Someone must be getting some real points out in the arena right now, but I’m ignoring it for now. I hold Jason’s gaze as he stares at me.
“You’re serious about her, aren’t you?” he finally breathes, a grin breaking out across his face. “Hot diggity dog, my best friend done fallen in love with a girl!” He laughs heartily, and I consider blackening his other eye just ‘cause…but finally decide to let it go.
For now.
Any more mention of Carla’s fine assets, and all bets are off.
50
Carla
I stalk around my apartment, searching high and low for something to feed Chase. I mean, I’m a grown adult so I should have something that I can cook, right?
I dig through the cupboards, pulling random boxes of food out and setting them on the floor.
Becca, who’s come along for my cooking adventure as moral support, wrinkles her nose in disgust. “So, I think Jason and I are becoming a thing,” she says out of the blue, as I pull more boxed food out.
What the hell was I thinking, buying pasta in a box? Like I’d ever eat any of this. How many times did I go drunk shopping, anyway?
“He’s so sexy,” she continues, sighing happily. She obviously doesn’t need any encouragement to keep going. “Can you believe it – we’ve already started talking about having kids. I want two, but he wants three. You think that’d ruin my ass too much if I had three kids?” She turns around and around in the kitchen, trying to see her own ass. I roll my eyes as I start pulling canned food out. Maybe I’ll have more luck with that.
I stare down at the can in my hand. Canned potatoes? What the hell do you use canned potatoes for? Most of this doesn’t even look familiar, and I start to wonder…what if this isn’t even my food? What if I inherited it from the previous tenant, and just never opened the cupboards to find out?
That is entirely possible.
“Where would you live?” I murmur, staring at the food surrounding me, trying to recall if I’d actually bought all of this stuff. Maybe I had. The few times I remember going grocery shopping, I’d been about four margaritas to the wind, and just sure that this time, I’d learn how to cook. I’m never that stupid when I’m sober.
Except tonight, apparently. It’s amazing what hormones and gratefulness will do for a girl. Who promises a home-cooked meal as a thank-you gift, anyway? I sounded like a lead character out of a 50s sitcom.
“I don’t know,” Becca says, frowning. “We haven’t talked about that part yet. I don’t want to leave the firm, but really, what does a cowboy do in New York?”
“Huh,” I say, because that’s all the brain power I can devote to the question, as I’m busy trying to find a pan. Or a pot. Or a something to cook in, really.
“What's the difference between a pot and a pan?” I ask, searching through my cupboards for anything that resembles a cooking thingy. I’ll take just about anything at this point.
“I don’t know,” Becca says with a shrug. “Hold on, is that…boxed potatoes?” she asks, picking up the offending Betty Crocker box between forefinger and thumb. “I think they use dried powdered cheese in these things.”
“Yeah?” I ask, pulling my head back out of the cupboard to look at the box in her hand. “Huh. I don’t know. I remember that one; I bought it once when I was starving, but then it had all these directions on the back side that looked complicated, so…” I shrug.
She opens the top tentatively and then draws back in disgust. “Carla, this smells awful!” she yelps, and shoves it under my nose.
Of course.
I can’t just take her word for it, no I have to—
I start coughing hard. “Oh god,” I exclaim, “get that thing out of my face! It smells like rotten shit!”
“Rotten?” she says with a grin. “As opposed to the fresh kind?”
“Yes, exactly! Go take that outside and throw it in the dumpster. I can’t cook that for Chase. I’m a bad enough cook without starting off with rotten food.”
She shrugs and heads out the front door. Now that’s a best friend – someone who is willing to carry your rotten food to the dumpster for you.
I stick my head back in the cupboard and look around.
Oh god! I recoil in horror.
I have potatoes that are so old, they’re growing these giant white thingies out of them. I didn’t even know potatoes did that, but damn if the bag didn’t look like some kind of alien life form. Totally creeped out, I slam the cupboard shut and then sit back against the wood with a heavy sigh. The chances of me becoming Betty Crocker in the next five minutes are pretty minute, right?
So, why even try? Why not…?
I grin to myself. I had a much better plan for dinner than boxed potatoes—something I am guaranteed to be good at it.
I scramble off the floor and head to the bedroom.
51
Chase
Jason pulls my cell phone out of his saddle bag. “C’mon,” he coaxes me, “just take a quick look. I promise, it won’t bite.”
I shift from foot to foot, anxious to go find what Carla has cooked up for us, but dammit, I’m feeling guilty about punching the guy, so...
“Alright,” I say reluctantly.
Jason had forced me to buy a smartphone two days ago at an AT&T store, saying that no billionaire should be carrying around a flip phone. It was all I could do to keep from rolling my eyes. Like that sort of thing mattered.
But, he promised that it’d do everything except rope a calf for me, so I’d reluctantly agreed to it … and then promptly ignored it for two days. Apparently, it’s reckoning time.
“Now, right here, I need you to put in your email address.” I dutifully type it in, hitting about three wrong keys for every right one, and cursing a blue streak a mile wide at the damn thing. I can already tell that I’m gonna hate the thing.
I went to hand it back to Jason and he stops me. “Tap that box, and then type in your password to your email.”
With a glare, I take the phone back and finally get through the whole password, practically turning the air black with my frustration. It damn well better not take 17 tries every time I want to do something on the thing.
“Good,” Jason says, praising me like I’m seven. The bastard thing makes me feel seven, really. “Now look at all of these emails that have stacked up while you’ve been here in New York. Like,” he says, the excitement in his voice increasing, “look at this one. They’re wanting someone to work at the Barclay’s Arena in Brooklyn. They’re wanting to do a long-term act – someone to be in the rodeo every weekend. Chase, you can lasso almost everything – you have more skill than ten other cowboys put together. I bet you’d really woo them with that trick of yours, standing bareback on Moonshine while he gallops. I don’t know of anyone else who can do that.”
I pull the phone out of his hands and start reading the ad. It’s true—I’m a billionaire. I’m set for life. I could never go to work again, and have enough money to keep my great-grandkids happy.
But…what is the fun in that? I love horses; I love performing in front of a crowd, and I love the thrill of winning. Learning to do dangerous tricks and performing them flawlessly every time in front of a roaring crowd?
What isn’t to love about that idea?
I grin up at Jason. “Alright, I guess I forgive you for forcing me to buy this damn thing,” I say. I hit the off button and slide it into my back pocket. “Now can I go eat whatever Carla’s cooking me?”
“Sure, sure,” he says with a grin, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “I wouldn’t dare to get between you and Carla twice in one day,” and touches his eye dramatically.
“See ya,” I say, ignorin
g his little jab at me, and leave him to drive the truck back to the hotel. Me? I just want some of Carla's cooking.
I pay the taxi cab driver an exorbitant amount money as I slide out of the cab and head up to the apartment. I ring the bell for 2B and wait for her to buzz me in. Such a difference from Texas, I tell you what. I’m not used to so many damn locks everywhere.
The buzzer went off and I head up the stairs two at a time. I hardly even notice my surroundings; there could be paintings of naked chicks on the wall, and I wouldn’t even notice.
Okay, maybe I’d notice that.
But truly, all I want right now is…Carla.
I hear footsteps and look up to see Becca heading toward me.
“Have a good night!” Becca says with a giant grin as she passes me on the stairs.
“Thanks,” I say, tipping my hat as we pass. That huge smile had me wondering, though. It was like she knew something I didn’t...
I knock on 2B. I hear the deadbolt slide back and then...
Oh Lordy.
Carla is standing there in a black teddy with only a shelf bra serving as the cups, leaving her delicious nipples exposed to the air.
I stare and thank God almighty, she just stands there and lets me. I’m not sure I can tear my eyes away long enough to keep from walking into a wall. The pink tits are cute and begging for my tongue and my fingertips and my teeth and…
“I have no idea how to cook,” she finally says, and I’ll admit, I only hear her in some distant part of my mind. Like, I hear her, but didn’t really hear her, if you know what I mean. “I thought I’d let you eat me out for dinner instead.”
She turns away from the front door and walks a few steps away from me, which is when I realize that the teddy is actually a thong in back.
Fuck yes.
I spring through the door and slam it behind me.
Oh yes siree bob.
52
Carla
I take his hand and, without saying a word more, lead him toward my living room. We step inside and he wastes no time; closing the distance between us, he places his hands on my hips and pushes me back until my legs are against the edge of the bed. I fall on the mattress, looking expectantly as he loosens his tie and climbs on top of the bed.
“C’mere,” I whisper, grabbing his tie and pulling him into me. He crushes his mouth against mine, his hands finding their way to my waist. I close my eyes as we kiss, our tongues wrestling against one another as he explores my body.
Remembering how I missed the chance of seeing his naked body last time, I take both my hands to the collar of his shirt, decided to undress him as soon as possible. I undo the knot on his tie and pull it out, throwing it to the side; then, I start unbuttoning his shirt, my fingers moving from button to button at a hurried pace. The moment I feel the hem of his pants, I untuck his open shirt and push it down his arms.
My eyes widen as I open them up, taking in the sight of Chase’s naked chest. His pectorals look like they were designed to bench press the Empire State Building, and his abs are eight perfect squares of raw muscle separated by deep lines carved straight into his flesh. Christ, I didn’t know cowboys were this ripped! But, then again, Chase isn’t just a cowboy, is he? He’s so much more than a simple label.
“Like what you see, uh?” he asks me, noticing the look of surprise (or lust) in my eyes.
“I do… I like it a lot,” I tell him, craning my neck and pressing my mouth on his naked skin. Moving fast, he tangles his fingers in my hair and then yanks, forcing me throw my head back.
“My turn,” he grins, and places his free hand on my right shoulder. He pushes the strap of my dress down my arm, baring the cup of my black lace bra, and then does the same on my other shoulder. I start breathing hard as, now using both hands, he tugs on my dress until it’s all bunched up around my waist. But he doesn’t stop there; kneeling on the mattress, he grabs at the fabric of my dress and pulls it down my legs. Once he’s done, he just throws it to the side, a flicker of something dark and vicious in his eyes as he takes in the sight of my half-naked body.
“Guess you like what you see too…” I whisper, smiling as I notice his eyes roaming down from my cleavage to my flat stomach ... and then further down.
“I do. And I want to do more than just look,” he shoots back, leaning into me. His lips find their way into mine once more, and we kiss in complete abandonment. I feel the naked skin of his chest against mine, and it feels so amazing it almost hurts; thank God the last time we were together wasn’t the last one.
“So, it’s time for dinner,” he whispers, pulling back from me and looking into my eyes. I still can’t believe I asked him if he didn’t mind eating me out, but now he’s going through with it. His lips go down to my neck, and then he takes them to the valley between my tits. Sliding one hand between my body and the mattress, he finds the clasp of my bra and pulls it free. I moan slightly as I feel the cups drooping over my tits, my nipples hardening as the fabric becomes loose.
Yanking on it, Chase just pulls the bra out and throws it off the bed. Using both of his hands, he squeezes my breasts eagerly, my flesh molding to his fingers as he does it. “I can’t believe I didn’t taste your tits last time,” he tells me with a grin, pinching my right nipple between his thumb and index finger. I arch my back and let out another moan, the pressure he’s applying on my nipple sending a message of pain straight to my brain, except, by the time it gets there, it has already turned into raw pleasure. Chase really knows his way around a woman’s body; that much is for sure.
“Well, I’m right here, cowboy,” I tease him, biting on my lower lip and looking into his eyes. He doesn’t reply; he just leans into me with parted lips, and wraps them around the nipple he was pinching. He sucks it inside his mouth, using his tongue to lap it, and I become so wet that having my thong suddenly becomes uncomfortable.
Reading my mind, Chase takes one hand and flattens it between my thighs, his palm pressed tight against the fabric of my drenched thong. Pressing and rubbing, he works my pussy until I’m lifting my hips from the mattress, swaying them from side to side as electric sparks fly from my pussy and travel up my spine.
Finally letting go of my nipples, he starts kissing me in a downward line, going over my stomach. But, when he gets to the patch of skin where an un-tanned line shows, he stops. He lifts his head, looks up at me with a sly grin, and then goes to his knees.
He reaches for the abandoned tie on the side of the mattress and, taking it in his hands, he straightens it out.
“Your hands,” he tells me, and the tone in his voice leaves no room for disobedience. He wants my hands, and he shall have it. I extend them toward him, wrist on wrist, but he shakes his head. “No, behind your back,” he orders me, kneeling by my side. Rolling to the side, my back turned to him, I place my hands together right over my ass.
“That’s it,” he grins, lacing my wrists with his tie and tying them in place. I test his knot, trying to break free, but it’s useless; I’m not going anywhere unless he unties me. He rolls to my back then, my hands under my body, and he starts kissing the skin between my tits once more. He brushes his lips down my naked skin, and he only stops when his white teeth are touching the fabric of my thong. Pulling on it with his teeth, he slides it down my legs and takes it off. With his eyes locked on mine, he grabs the thong and takes it to his face; pressing it against his mouth, he takes a deep breath and then flashes me his rugged cowboy smile.
“Dinner smells delicious,” he tells me, positioning himself between my legs and lying on his stomach. He starts by kissing my inner thighs, but this time he doesn’t fool around; he goes straight for the kill. Wrapping his lips around my clit, he nibbles at it softly, tracing the contour of my aching pussy with his index finger.
I’m moaning now, arching my back as my body burns with anticipation. I need him to—fuck! He slides his finger inside my pussy with one sudden movement, driving it straight to my G-spot. He leaves it for a few seconds, and t
hen slides one more finger inside of me. Still lapping at my clit with his tongue, he starts fingering, his rhythm a feverish one right from the start. I want to grab his hair, to force his head down and thrust my pussy against his mouth; but my hands are tied, and that quite literally. It’s frustrating as hell but, on the other hand, it’s also exhilarating. He’s in control right now, and all I can do is submit.
Still, he knows what I need when I need it. And so, wasting no time, he opens his mouth wide and starts sucking and licking while he fingers me, destroying me with his fingers and his mouth. He does it mercilessly; licking my fluids and hitting my G-spot each time he buries his fingers deep inside of me.
It doesn’t take more than a minute; my body tenses up, a pleasant warmness climbing from my pussy to my brain, and I just explode. I grind my teeth so harshly I might break my jaw, breathing hard as spasms of utter ecstasy take over every single muscle in my body.
He keeps on licking and fingering me while I come, and he does it until another orgasm starts showing up on the crest of the first one. I explode again, two orgasms raging inside of me at the same time. Yeah, hun, multiple orgasms are a thing. I’m one of these women that thought they were a myth, but here’s the proof.
Sighing loudly, I open my eyes as Chase slides his fingers out of me, lifting his head at the same time. I look into his eyes as he goes up to his knees, my fluids glistening on the skin around his mouth.
He swings his legs out of the bed and, going up to his feet, grins.
“Come here, Carla,” he orders me, and I somehow manage to roll out of the bed. I’m standing up when he places his hands on my shoulders. “No, on your knees.” The sound of his voice acts like a spell, and that’s all it takes for my knees to buckle. They touch the ground quickly, and I just kneel there, looking up at him while my heart pounds against my ribcage.
