Rodeo Riders

by Vonna Harper

  “You’re shaking.” He drew her against him.

  Back up. Stay in control.

  But she could feel his heat, his strength, his cock. “I guess I am.” Determined to regain control, she dug her toes into the excuse for carpet. “Sorry about that.”

  “Memory lane?”

  “’Fraid so. Fortunately, it’s nothing I can’t live with.”

  “Maybe.”

  When he relaxed his grip, she told herself he’d done his good deed for the traumatized barrel racer with the pinned-together leg bones. That was before he wrapped his arms around her back and brought her against his chest, before her own arms found their way around him.

  He smelled of the cowboy way of life. He might not be in rodeo regalia, but the impact was there. This was a man who made his living much as those who’d settled this land had. He was in tune with the environment and understood the vital role horses and other livestock had once played. His ancestors had hunted with bows and arrows and fought their enemies with knives and spears. They’d prayed to the sun, moon, rivers, bears and eagles.

  And tonight a great, great grandson of those proud and resourceful people was holding her.

  “Do you want me to leave?” His breath heated the top of her head.

  “No.”

  “Because if I stay…”

  Just like that. No fumbling, no awkward discussion of her limits.

  “I want you to,” she whispered.

  He leaned back, putting space between their upper bodies but keeping the pelvis-to-pelvis contact. “I’d like to see your leg.”

  Taken aback, she could only stare. She’d been so sure sex was on his mind—just like it was with her. “It, ah, isn’t the most beautiful thing in the world. The scars are going to fade some more, but I’m afraid my days as a runway model are over.”

  Instead of responding to her lame attempt at humor, he unfastened the snap on her jeans, then stopped with his fingers on her zipper as if he had every right in the world to do so. “Not many people have seen this, have they?”

  Trying not to tremble, she shook her head.

  “Any men?”

  None of your damn business! “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Look, my life is none of your—”

  “Yes, it is. An animal I own altered that life. I need to see the full extent of that alteration.”

  Oh. Well, in that case… “Maybe I should have sent you the bill.”

  “I tried to pay it but was told your insurance covered everything.”

  In other words, he’d been willing to assume financial responsibility for something that wasn’t his fault because it had been determined the boards Rampage had shattered weren’t securely nailed.

  His fingers still rested over her navel, warm life seeping through denim to heat her flesh. “I, ah, I just shaved my legs.”

  Apparently taking her lame comment as approval, he pulled down on the zipper tab. The jeans were snug, and they remained in place, but he’d exposed her practical panties. Truth was, she loved the feel of a hip-hugging bikini, but hours in the saddle or behind the wheel weren’t compatible with tight underwear, not that she’d ever tell him that.

  His mood unreadable, he tugged on her jeans until they clung to her thighs, then told her to sit down.

  She pushed aside the curtain and slumped onto the end of her bed. Then while he finished the disrobing, she stared at the creases around her waist. Only when he placed the jeans on the floor did she realize he didn’t have to strip her in order to see her leg.

  Kneeling before her, he placed her foot on his thigh and began running his hands over her leg. Her tibia had been shattered in two places and tendons torn. Surgical pins now anchored the compromised bone, the pins’ positions identified by small round scars. His fingers lingered there.

  “Are you still doing physical therapy?”

  “No. Thank goodness that’s behind me. By the end of a day, it sometimes aches, but much of the time, I don’t think about it.”

  He ran his knuckle over her shin, prompting her to grind her buttocks into the bed. “About the break, at least.”

  What do you mean by that? “Are you satisfied?” It took all she had to remain sitting instead of collapsing onto the bed. The instant the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them. Satisfied couldn’t be further from how she felt.

  Instead of answering, he rocked back and looked at her. He rested his hands on her knees, holding her in place, letting her know how easily he could spread her legs.

  “It could have been worse. At least Rampage didn’t gore you.”

  He does in my nightmares. “No, he didn’t. Cougar…”

  “Do you want me to leave?”

  “No,” she blurted. “No. Do you want to?”

  “No. Jordan, if I stay here, you understand what’s going to happen, don’t you?”

  “Yes I do.”

  “And you’re all right with it?”

  She licked her lips. “It’s what I want.”

  He stood, work-honed muscles effortlessly bringing him to his feet. His legs pressed against hers. She had to place her arms behind her and look up in order to see him. How could this man she’d known nearly all her life be so intimidating, so overwhelming?

  Because he is.

  He took hold of her shirt and tugged the halves apart. The snaps gave way. She knew what he was looking at: practical white bra designed to minimize the jiggling caused by a galloping horse. He pulled the shirt away from her breasts and as far off her shoulders as the fabric would stretch. She could have finished the job, but she continued to let her arms support her while he gazed at her newly exposed flesh. Pinpoints of energy flickered over her throat, breasts, belly. Beneath the clothing waited a woman too long denied her sexuality. Nothing else mattered.

  “You’re beautiful,” he muttered. “When you started changing from a child to a woman, every time I looked at you, it hit me anew.”

  “You never said anything.”

  His mouth curled upward, and he rested his hand at the back of her neck. “We hardly ever spoke to each other, did we?”

  “No, we didn’t.”

  “Because you were the boss’s daughter.”

  “No.” When she shook her head, his hand shared in the journey. “That wasn’t it. At least I never felt that way.”

  “Then what?” He leaned closer, brought his mouth dangerously close to hers. His hold on her neck tightened.

  “You intimidated me! All right. You intimidated me.” Just as you’re doing now.

  “Did you think I was going to scalp you?”

  “Don’t go there! Maybe it was your name.” Thinking had gotten so hard. She couldn’t find the words for what she needed to say. “Cougar. A predatory animal.”

  He started tracing the top of her bra with the side of his thumb. Each step of its journey resonated through her. Beyond caring about the consequences, she spread her legs and welcomed him in. He pressed his knee against her crotch, the touch saying everything.

  His mouth turned up. “My mother wanted me to have a white-bread name, something she thought would make it easier for me to fit in when and if I moved away.”

  His family and various relatives and friends lived in a sparsely populated section of the Eastern Oregon county, in what she’d always thought of as an informal reservation. The children attended the small district school, but for the most part, whites and Natives stuck with their own kind. His relatives and friends wouldn’t think twice about a black-eyed, black-haired boy named Cougar but that boy wouldn’t spend his entire life in that closed-in world.

  “I’m glad she didn’t win. Your name is right for you.”

  “Even if it intimidated you?”

  I still am—only maybe what I feel now has everything to do with my being a woma
n and you a man.

  Chapter Three

  She loved the sound of snaps popping. Even more rewarding was the sight of his dark chest once she’d finished unsnapping his shirt. She was still trying to wrap her mind around the reality of what she’d just done, but she wasted no time running her tongue over his flesh. A bold and hungry creature had taken control of her.

  Apparently, Cougar had no objection to being treated like her personal boy toy because as she bathed his silken yet hard flesh, he explored her arms with calloused fingertips. She’d taken a few seconds to shuck off her shirt and unhook her bra. The loose garment still covered her breasts, frustrating her and hopefully tantalizing him.

  These moments of exploration were about foreplay, nothing else. She’d think later, question later, maybe regret later.

  Embracing her decision, she clamped her knees around his legs and wondered if she could keep him there forever.

  Maybe not. One moment she was sitting upright. The next he’d pushed her back on the bed and was looming over her. Much as she wanted to say something, anything, she couldn’t.

  Her legs still hung over the edge. Because he continued to stand within the shelter of her knees, she could have told herself she had some control over what was happening, but she didn’t want that. She wanted to be used, worshipped, fucked.

  There. The single word that says it all.

  Her pussy heated. Moisture built from deep inside, softening and preparing her.

  “My panties,” she whispered. “Get rid of them.”

  Grabbing the elastic, he tugged them off, the effort made easy because she arched upward and lifted her ass off the mattress. Still only half believing what was happening, she reached for her bra straps. Shaking his head, he pressed her arms onto the bed. His gaze warned her not to move. Lips numb and swollen, she nodded.

  He closed his fingers over the straps and guided them out to her shoulders, then the lifting of her arms. He took what seemed like forever to uncover her breasts. The bra landed on the top of the rest of her clothes. Folding his arms across his chest, he stared down at her.

  Naked. Exposed. Ready.

  By contrast, he still had on his boots and jeans.

  “You’re making me crazy!” she gasped.

  “Not nearly as crazy as you’ve made me for years.”

  “What?”

  “You think I’ve never wanted to do this?”

  She reached up, then her arms fell back onto the bed. Inch by maddening inch, he unfolded his arms and let them dangle by his sides. She ground her knees against his legs. The effort earned her a chuckle.

  “All right. All right.” She licked her lips and tried again. “Are you waiting for me to say I’ve wanted to have sex with you?”

  “Only if you mean it.”

  “Yes. Damn it, yes!”

  “Why?”

  “Why wouldn’t I?” Her belly clenched. It took every bit of self-control not to offer her core to him like some mare in heat. “You have a killer body. Strong, rugged, masculine.”

  “That’s the only reason?”

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

  Bothered by his pensive tone, she tried to concentrate on his expression. Maybe he knew what she was doing and had no intention of letting her succeed. And maybe he’d grown weary of talking. Eyes half-closed, he pressed down on her mons. His other hand sought and found her slit.

  “You’re wet.”

  “Yes.”

  If he’d asked permission, she would have granted him full access. Instead, he claimed her as if he had every right to all of her. His work-roughened finger slid in and along the wall of her vagina. She fought to stay silent, but a long, low groan rolled out of her. Tilting her pelvis upward, she rolled her head to the side.

  He made her opening his playground, sliding in and out repeatedly. She clutched the coverlet. Sweat coated her throat and the small of her back. The muscles had been stripped from her legs. Her lower body became so weak, she couldn’t move.

  Drifting in a sea created by her need for sex, she was slow to comprehend that he was no longer finger fucking her. She clutched the hand still pressing on her mons. “So fast. So damn fast.”

  “You don’t want this?”

  “Yes, damn it. I do.”

  “So do I.”

  On the tail of his admission, he took hold of her hips and pulled her closer. Robbed of his fingers on her sex, she started to sit up. “Don’t play games. Don’t tease me.”

  “I don’t intend to.” His strong fingers pressed her back onto the bed. “But I’ve wanted to do this for a long time. It’s going to happen—my way.”

  My way.

  An image of being tied and at his mercy flooded her mind. She, who barely tolerated being indoors and who had nearly lost her mind while in the hospital, reveled in the thought of being his to do with what he wanted. He’d rule her world and body, keep her teetering on the brink. She would do whatever he commanded of her. Her reward would be a forced-upon-her climax, and she’d worship him for it.

  His mouth on a breast pulled her back to the reality of a cramped enclosure. He sucked, licked, circled, nibbled her swollen nub and bathed her until her breast became as wet and warm as her pussy.

  Her now ignored pussy.

  “Take off your clothes.” Given his greater strength and control, her command was laughable. “I want to see you. All of you.”

  “A warning.” He shifted his attention back to her pussy. This time his fingers seemed to care only about her clit and the space between her openings, making her whimper. “Once I’m naked, sex is going to come quick.”

  “Sounds—sounds good to me.”

  A fingernail feathered over her clit, forcing a shiver. She took hold of his wrist. Her cheeks were on fire. Her thigh muscles had melted.

  “No more foreplay?”

  “Cougar! Damn it, do me!”

  By way of response, he slid his hands under her buttocks and leveraged her upward. He slumped down so he was on his haunches, his mouth close, so close to her core.

  His breath! Warm. Alive. Skittering over her and further heating the fluids that had leaked out of her.

  “Please, please.”

  “This is it?” He blew his breath on her. “Your world doesn’t go beyond this?”

  “No. No. Oh God, please.”

  “You feel whole?”

  Whole? “Cougar, please get out of those clothes.”

  He cocked his head. For so long she squirmed under his scrutiny, he studied her from the top of her head all the way down to her toes. His gaze lingered on her blatantly displayed sex, but although she felt more exposed than she ever had, she didn’t close her legs. He’d touched her everywhere, left his breath on every inch. Need lashed her, but she clamped down on her plea for his cock and waited him out.

  Displaying more of the grace that rendered her mute, he stood, bracing one hand on her belly as he did. The other swiped her inner thighs, making her jump. Not taking his gaze off her, he unfastened his jeans. Then he sat beside her and removed his boots. Once again he ran his fingers over her, this time his knuckles dragging along her pussy. She cried out in need. In want.

  Through a haze, she recorded the last of his undressing. Then he positioned himself between her legs and lowered himself onto his knees. She tried to sit up, only to be flattened against the bed again.

  “Stay there,” he ordered. “This time, it’s my show.”

  This time.

  The thought that he might deny her release caused her to dig her nails into his forearms. If she hurt him, he gave no indication. Yet again he explored her breasts, drawing circles around them, taking hold of her nipples and drawing them up. Embracing and fighting the sensations, she caressed his hips with her legs.

  Just as s
he entertained thoughts of surging up and closing her teeth around his nubs, he gripped her pelvis and tugged, pulling her so far off the bed that only his body kept her from sliding to the floor.

  His cock held her in place, pressed against her core, insisting on being granted entrance. “Wait,” she gasped as he thrust toward her. “Wait. I’ll—let me—” Thinking to draw her heated flesh away from her opening, she tried to slide her hands between their bodies.

  “No.” Gripping her wrists with so much strength that he cut off her circulation, he held them in the air. “Not yet.”

  “I can’t—don’t make me beg.”

  “I have—I have to…”

  He was gone. Scrambling away from her on his knees, reaching for his jeans, pulling out his wallet, opening it, extracting a condom.

  How could she have forgotten something so essential! Berating herself, she watched him slide it over a cock so large and hard and hot, she wasn’t sure the protection was up to the task. Then he was back where he belonged—between her legs.

  Her inner thighs ached, making her acknowledge how long she’d been spread like this. The air in here was stuffy. She could hear the livestock, indistinct mostly male voices, truck tires crunching over gravel. Those sounds were part of her world, and yet, tonight, they meant little. Cougar was everything.

  This time he had no trouble finding her entrance. This time he slid home with the first thrust.

  How did this happen? Why am I having sex with this man?

  Her questions died under the pure and basic sensation of having her channel filled. Again he slid his hands under her buttocks and lifted. Instead of holding him in place with her legs, she kept them splayed. Her restless fingers found his forearms, and she held on, her sweating palms recording muscle, bone, hair, veins.

  Eyes locked on her face, he thrust, pulled back, thrust again. She quickly learned his rhythm, making it possible for her to match him attack for attack. The bed rocked under her, prompting her to wonder—briefly—if the vehicle itself might be in motion. It didn’t matter. Onlookers could draw their own conclusions.