Rodeo Heat

by Desiree Holt

  “Don’t you worry about a thing.” She grinned. “I’ve got it all in hand.”

  He laughed. “I’d say so.”

  She soaped his erection from root to tip and up again then massaged lather into the heavy sac between his thighs. She covered his legs from hip to ankle and nudged him to turn around and went to work on his back, beginning with his shoulders and working her way down.

  When she reached the cleft of his buttocks and slid her soapy fingers into it, his muscles tightened in response.

  “You know what that does to me,” he reminded her.

  “Exactly.” And she continued massaging the gel into his flesh, probing the tight ring of his anus, penetrating it with just the tip of her finger.

  By the time she’d finished lathering his entire body and rinsing him off, she knew he was hotter than a match and ready to flare. Just the way she wanted him.

  She didn’t even dry them off, just stepped into the bubbling water of the hot tub and held out her hand to him. She wet her lips with the tip of her tongue as she swept her gaze over every powerful masculine inch of him. Tonight, she was in control and she would relish every minute of it.

  When they were submerged to their shoulders, facing each other, she scooted between his wide-spread legs, running her hands over his muscular thighs. With a teasing touch, she caressed the soft skin between them, cupping his balls and rolling them in her fingers.

  “Don’t move,” she told him. “This is my show.”

  His muscles tightened with sexual tension and heat flared in his eyes. From the first day they’d met, the fire between them had never lessened. She hadn’t thought it was possible for their sexual activities to get better, but he was always inventive, always thinking of new ways to bring her to climax. Tonight, it was her turn to pleasure him.

  She wrapped the fingers of her other hand around his stiff shaft and moved both hands in coordinated rhythm, feeling him pulse in her grip.

  “Would you like to touch me?” she asked, an impish tone in her voice.

  “You know damn well I would,” he growled.

  “All right. You may play with my nipples.”

  She hitched even closer to give him easier access to her, to pull and tug on her hardened tips, heat flashing in his eyes as she slid the hand toying with his balls even lower. With the water up to her chin, she eased her fingers into the crevice of his ass and searched for the puckered skin of his anus. She’d discovered how much he loved this, although he’d been embarrassed to admit it the first time they’d experimented. Now, sometimes, she even made him beg for it. But not tonight. Tonight, it was all about him.

  The muscles of his buttocks clenched when she probed at him with a fingertip and his breath hissed between his teeth.

  “Holy God,” he growled. “You’re driving me crazy.”

  “That’s the idea.”

  He rocked back and forth on the dual stimulation, the rapid movement of her hand on his cock and the sensation of the finger she eased slowly into his ass. He sucked in his breath when she rubbed the sensitive tissues, exploring deeper and deeper, adjusting her position to allow her the greatest access to his rectum. The water bubbled softly around them and the blend of aromas floated in the room, creating an erotic cocoon that stimulated their senses.

  She increased the pace of her hand, up and down his shaft while she plowed his ass with her slender finger fucking in time to her movements. When he tightened his fingers on her nipples, squeezing them hard, she knew he was close. She pushed her finger deeper inside him to find that spot that drove him over the edge, his body tensing in response.

  “Now,” she whispered.

  His balls tightened against her thighs and his cock pulsed in her hand.

  “Happy anniversary, sweetheart,” she murmured. “Let it go. Come for me now.”

  He exploded, the muscles in his neck cording, his head thrown back, and beneath the scented bubbles his semen jetted over and over onto her stroking hand and fingers.

  “Grace!” he yelled. “Grace… Grace… Grace!”

  * * * *

  “Grace. Damn it, Grace, do you hear me?”

  Grace shook her head, hearing Melanie’s voice rather than her sexy cowboy’s. He wasn’t the one calling her name. Where had he gone?

  “Can you hear me, Grace?” Melanie demanded. “Are you all right? You’ve been standing here staring into space as if you were in another world. What is the matter with you?”

  Heat flooded Grace’s face. The poster had thrown her into an erotic daydream right there in broad daylight, blanking out everything else. How long had she been standing lost like this? What had people going back and forth in the hallway thought of her?

  Without thinking, she lifted her hand and touched the pin, feeling it warm against her skin. Maybe that woman had been right about it. Was that a good thing or a bad one?

  “Sorry.” She let out a breath. “I guess my mind just wandered for a minute.”

  Melanie looked at the poster on the wall and once again at Grace. A slow smile tilted the corners of her mouth. “Well, no wonder. Want to meet him in person? Or at least the closest thing to him?”

  Grace adjusted her hat and hitched her purse strap up on her shoulder. “I’m fine, Mel. Just fine. I don’t need to meet anyone. Let’s go.”

  But Melanie just kept grinning at her. “Now, that’s where you’re wrong. We didn’t come here so you could hide in your usual corner. Let’s go see if we can get you laid somewhere except in your mind.”

  “Wait. Wait. Are you crazy? I just—”

  Melanie had a grip on Grace’s arm like a vise and was practically dragging her into the huge barn that had been converted into the modern version of a chuck wagon for the rodeo contestants and workers.

  “Uh-huh. Right. Forget it. I know the right cowboy is just waiting in here for you.”

  Oh, shit. I am in such big trouble.

  Chapter Two

  The big room seemed even noisier than usual, a raucous babble of voices and laughter and shouts as people recognized and greeted each other. This was opening night, so there were more people in here than usual. The long picnic tables were jammed with riders and workers catching a quick snack before returning to business, and family and friends spending a few minutes with them. No one was dressed yet for the evening’s events. The rodeo would open at seven, just a couple of hours from now, and there was a lot to do before then. For everyone.

  Ben Lowell leaned against a wall cradling the Styrofoam coffee cup and let his gaze travel over the gathering of people. Many of them he knew—fellow competitors, rodeo workers, ranch hands bringing the stock specially raised for rodeo competition or delivering horses newly trained for their events. Ben had ridden those ‘special’ bulls for years and had the scars to prove it. His cutting horse, a big Appaloosa named Hotshot, had come from one of the largest ranches in Texas whose trailers were parked all over the lots here at the rodeo grounds.

  And, of course, there were the usual buckle bunnies, the rodeo groupies who chased after every competitor. They were easily recognizable in their glitzy western wear, heavy makeup and blatant sexual smiles. Ben had been doing this for what seemed like forever, racking up an impressive list of wins. Lately, however, he’d been feeling much older than his thirty-two years. He’d shared more time with the ever-present buckle bunnies than he wanted to admit, so much so he couldn’t even remember names anymore. At some point, they’d lost their appeal for him, and didn’t that just shock the shit out of him. He was ready for a change in his life, but he had no idea what that would be.

  He sipped his coffee, not really focusing on anyone or anything, when she came into the room and he almost dropped his cup. The first thing he wondered was what she was doing here. She certainly didn’t look like a rodeo hound, although the same couldn’t be said of the woman with her. No, this one had a freshness about her, almost an invisible glow. Her clothes were obviously new, probably purchased for her outing. Even the hat sitting
atop her chin-length warm brown hair had probably come from one of the vendors here.

  He knew the woman she was with. Everyone knew Melanie Keyes—most of them more intimately than Ben. Oh, she’d put it out there in Fort Worth one night, letting him know she was available, but she hadn’t even made his cock tingle. Since then, whenever they’d run into each other, she’d given him a look that would make ice feel warm.

  Now, Melanie was waving at everyone as she made her way through the room, tugging the newbie behind her. When they were close enough for him to get a better look, Ben realized the woman was not as young as he’d first thought. Her face was a curious mixture of innocence and maturity, as if she’d seen a lot of life but hadn’t really lived it. Not a hard look, though, he told himself. Not at all.

  The new clothes were little disguise for a lush figure with ripe curves. Curves a man could hold on to.

  This is a woman I could sink into and stay forever.

  Now, where the hell had that come from? He wasn’t scoping out the scene for another casual fuck. Far from it. He’d made up his mind to hang up his bedroom spurs for a while, figuring there was something wrong with him when none of the women fawning over him turned him on.

  But this woman. Jesus! He was swamped by a desire to strip her naked, suck her breasts, taste every inch of her skin before licking her essence from what he was sure was a delicious pussy. Then he’d plunge himself into her heat and fuck her until neither of them knew their names. Or cared. What would she think if a stranger came up to her and said, “Pardon me, ma’am but I’d dearly love to fuck your brains out”?

  Watching her, his mind took a little side trip.

  * * * *

  “I wanted you the minute I saw you.” His hand shook slightly as he cupped her chin.

  She lowered her eyelids, her lashes sweeping across her cheeks. “I wanted you even before I saw you.” Then she clapped a hand across her mouth, as if the words had escaped the leash she had on them.

  He grinned. ”Before you saw me? That’s a neat trick. Care to explain it to me?”

  She shook her head. “Maybe later,” she said in a soft voice.

  He tilted her face up, forcing her to eye him. “You look so delicious my mouth’s watering. I have to taste you.”

  He brushed his lips against the softness of her mouth, the brief contact shooting arrows of desire through him that startled him. It had been a long time since a woman aroused him so easily and quickly. Or even interested him. He nibbled at her lower lip, scraping his teeth lightly against the velvety skin.

  He used the tip of his tongue to trace the seam of her lips. When they parted slightly, he thrust his tongue inside, reveling in the flavor of her. Would her pussy taste as sweet? As delectable? Yes—he was sure of it. While he drank of her, he tugged at the snaps of her western-cut shirt, pulling the fabric apart to expose full, creamy breasts enclosed in pale-lilac silk and lace. With an effort he tore his mouth from hers and lowered his head to lick the upper slope of her breasts. Holding them in the palm of his hands he brushed his thumbs across nipples already hard and swollen.

  She moaned, and it was all he could do not to rip off the rest of her clothes and spread her legs…

  * * * *

  Ben jerked his hand as hot coffee sloshed over his fingers. Shaking off the liquid, he cursed his mental ramblings, His cock hardened and swelled to the point where he had to turn away before someone noticed what was happening to him. Cowboys were a randy, rowdy bunch who loved to make raunchy comments.

  He wondered what in the hell this woman was doing with Melanie. She didn’t look as if they had one thing in common. He was damn sure she wasn’t on the prowl.

  They paused two tables away from where he was standing. Melanie threw her arms around Ross Lattimer and hugged him enthusiastically. Ross collected buckle bunnies like some people collected pennies and it seemed as though he had a standing relationship with this one.

  The brunette stood slightly to the side, at least as much as she could in the narrow aisles, obviously trying to distance herself from her friend’s actions. She was fingering a pin on her blouse as she scanned the room, appearing as though she’d rather be any place else but here.

  Ben had no idea what impelled him, but he tossed his coffee cup in the trash barrel and worked his way over to the table.

  The noise in the room was loud and distracting. Grace wanted to clap her hands over her ears, or else find a quiet place to hide, but Melanie was dragging her along like a car on a towrope.

  “There he is,” she trilled, waving her other hand. “Ross! Hey, sweetie, here I am.”

  They finally made it through the crowded aisles to a lean, weathered man with light-brown hair peeking out from the edges of his hat. Blue eyes looked at Melanie as if they wanted to devour her and thin lips turned up in a welcoming smile.

  “Hey, Mel. About time you got here.”

  “Ross, this is my friend, Grace Delaney.” She tugged Grace closer to her side. “This is her first rodeo. Give her a big old smack, why don’t you?”

  Grace took a step back. She wanted to give Melanie a smack of a different kind. “That’s okay. I think a handshake will do. Nice to meet you, Ross.”

  “Oh, sweetie, come on.” Melanie pulled on her again. “Unbend a little.” She winked. “Ross is a great kisser.”

  “Maybe the lady’s not into kissing strangers.”

  The voice was warm and deep, with a gravelly sound as if it wasn’t used much. Grace turned and stared at the man next to her, nearly bumping into him and trying not to gape. The clean male scent of him made her dizzy.

  The black work shirt outlined his tall and lean body and matched the onyx of his eyes, bracketed by tiny lines. The faded jeans molded to his lean hips and muscular thighs. The black Stetson on his head was almost the same color as his raven-dark hair that hung below the collar of his shirt.

  Ohmigod, she thought. It’s my cowboy. Was it the pin again, playing tricks with her mind? With a few brush strokes, he could be a dead ringer for the cowboy in the poster. Or in her book. The last scene she’d read came flooding back to her. Heat rushed straight to her core, dampening her panties with moisture and making all her nerve synapses fire at once. Was her sudden addiction to erotic romances turning her into a slut? Remembering the daydream she’d lapsed into in the corridor, she dropped her gaze, hoping he didn’t notice the heat creeping up her face. My God, even Joe Delaney hadn’t affected her that way.

  The cowboy nodded at the man seated at the end of the bench, deliberately ignoring Melanie. “How are you, Ross?”

  “Doing a damn sight better than I was a few minutes ago, now that this ray of sunshine is shining in my life again.” He smacked Melanie on the butt then pulled her onto his lap. “Mel, you know Ben Lowell, don’t you?”

  Grace watched Melanie’s face close up.

  “We’ve met.” She turned again to Ross, who was nuzzling her neck. “Careful, sugar. We’re in a public place.” She clamped her hand on her hat to hold it in place as Ross continued to nibble at her.

  Grace saw the cold, hard look Ben Lowell gave Melanie and wondered what that was all about. Meanwhile her friend was playing kissy-face with Ross and she herself was getting weak-kneed over a man she’d just met. She’d known this was a bad idea to begin with and wanted out of there now.

  “Listen.” She hoped she didn’t sound as desperate as she felt. “Why don’t I wander around the vendor booths some more while you and Ross get reacquainted? Just give me my ticket and I’ll meet you in the arena.”

  A warm hand closed over her elbow, sending tingles of sensation rippling along her flesh. “Why don’t I buy you a cup of coffee while Melanie and Ross do their thing?”

  “Oh, that sounds terrific, if you’re sure you don’t mind.” Melanie’s enthusiasm was hard to miss.

  Grace had already figured out this was more than a chance for her to meet someone. Melanie wanted to play games with Ross and set herself up for later. She dug in
to her purse and extracted a piece of pasteboard from her wallet, holding it out to Grace. “Here’s your ticket. We’ll catch up in the arena.”

  Ben palmed the ticket before Grace could grab it. “Great idea.”

  “But—” Grace had a feeling things were spinning out of her control.

  “And Ben?” Melanie gave him a hard look. “You be real nice to my friend. You hear me? I know you’ve got manners hidden in there somewhere.”

  Grace chewed her bottom lip, trying to think of a way out of this that wouldn’t be too awkward, even while her secret inner self was yelling, Go with him, stupid.

  “That’s okay.” She would have backed away if the aisle between the tables hadn’t been so jammed. “Just give me the ticket. I can keep myself busy.”

  But Ben Lowell was already steering her in another direction and suddenly she found herself moving along with him as if it were the most natural thing in the world. They found a picnic table in a far corner of the room that was surprisingly nearly empty and he settled her on the bench.

  “I know I said coffee,” he told her, “but the stuff they serve here isn’t much good except as a varnish remover. How about a cold drink? Or a beer?”

  Grace wet her lips nervously. “A cold drink would be fine. Anything. I’m not choosy.”

  She watched him walk up to one of the food counters with a loose, swivel-hipped walk she’d seen on cowboys on television and in the movies. Unconsciously she rubbed the pin, which seemed to heat her skin right through her shirt, wondering if the woman had been right and it was directing the course of her life. Melanie had hit the nail on the head about one thing. That course definitely needed changing.

  “Here you go.” Ben set two tall cups of soda on the table then sat down across from her.

  “Thank you.” She forced herself to look up at him. “We haven’t actually been introduced.” She held out her hand. “I’m Grace Delaney.”