Cowboy Crush

by Liz Talley

  “Will this be removable? The new owners may need every stall,” she asked.

  Cal breathed hard after lifting the second bag of ready-mix cement. “We can get it out. No worries.”

  “Good,” she said, eyeing the pregnant cat who peeked into the barn. The tabby darted green eyes left then right before gingerly stepping inside. A few seconds later, the cat leaped onto a stack of wood. For a heavily pregnant cat she was graceful.

  “Why you selling this place, anyway?” Wyatt asked, lugging the bucket of water over to his brother. The lanky kid had hair that flopped into his face. Cal handed him a bandanna, inclining his head toward the sweaty mess.

  “Because I don’t live here.” Maggie slid a little closer to the cat, hoping it might accept her presence better if she didn’t look at it.

  “But it would be a good place to live,” Wyatt said, securing the bandanna and starting the slow pour into the dusty cement Cal had poured into the hole. “I’d love it out here.”

  “It’s nice,” Maggie agreed, taking a few more steps. The cat stayed put but looked wary. “But I’m not the kind of gal to live on a ranch.”

  “Oh, a city girl, huh?” Wyatt said, watching his brother’s hand for the stop motion. “Hannah’s like that. I mean, she wants to go to college in Houston. Says she’s tired of staring at the same ol’ people. Me? I’m happy here. I mean, I’m going to college and all, but I like living in a small town. Coyote Creek’s kinda boring, but it’s nice. Right, Cal?”

  Cal shrugged.

  Wyatt looked up. “You’re going to move back here, aren’t you? I mean, when you quit riding and stuff.”

  Cal looked up. “I don’t know. Never thought about it.”

  Maggie could hear the aggravation in his voice. The man didn’t want to talk about his future. But the future weighed heavy on her mind. She needed to get a plan together for a consulting business, but first she’d have to sell the ranch. If she had to get a job in between she would.

  Should she stay in Philly or move to where her mother and aunt lived? It sounded lonely. But she’d find somebody. At least a roommate or something. She didn’t have a lot of friends. So many of her college roommates had already married or advanced in their careers. They’d moved on. Her job at Edelman Enterprises had kept her in a pickle as far as making friends. She didn’t necessarily have seniority over everyone, but she’d had Bud’s ear and respect. She’d been like the teacher’s pet. Or Bud’s mole. No one trusted her enough to invite her for drinks or chat her up at the cooler.

  “You should come back here. You’re not too old to start a new job or something,” Wyatt said, grabbing the shovel and patting down the slimy-looking mixture.

  “Thanks, kid,” Cal said, catching Maggie’s eye.

  Maggie smiled. “He’s right. You’re not that old.”

  Cal sighed. “You two are bustin’ my balls over this.”

  “I’m doing no such thing,” Maggie said, stifling her smile. “I’m merely stressing that you’re not old. I almost bought you Geritol the other day, but then I thought, he’s not even forty years old yet.”

  Cal gave her a flat look. “Thanks, Mags.”

  Wyatt grinned. “You two are good together.”

  And that statement made her feel like she’d tipped over the summit of a roller coaster and plunged down. Because they weren’t supposed to be a couple. Not really.

  Cal glanced up, his gaze meeting hers. Something flashed between them. Maybe it was an acceptance. Or maybe it was a desire for things to be different. For them to be more than a right now. A start to something that would last longer than a month more. Maybe it was acknowledgment of what they shared in spite of their preset rules of engagement. Or maybe Maggie had started wanting him to feel the way she felt.

  Thing was, she wasn’t sure exactly how she felt.

  The future was a tricky thing and that old saying about the best laid plan of mice and men echoed in her mind.

  “Help me unwrap the barrel and then I’ll show you how to tie the rope. There are a couple of ways to do it. Some cowboys prefer it tight. Others don’t like the idea of getting stuck and unable to dismount.”

  “Think I’ll go with tight. I’ve been watching Chris Henry and he said it gives better results.”

  “Every cowboy has to decide for himself, but what you will do is wear a helmet. Mom will have a shit fit if you don’t. And you don’t want to see that,” Cal said.

  Maggie moved a little closer to the cat. It flinched and then leaped from the pile onto the barn floor, jetting out the open door quick as lightning. “Dang it.”

  Cal laughed. “Did you say ‘dang it’?”

  “Yes. I want to get that cat to trust me. She’s stubborn as you are.”

  “Takes time,” Cal remarked, walking over to the tarp and unhooking the bungee cords covering it. “But I like the way you talk Texan.”

  “When in Coyote Creek...” Maggie started for the open door, following the wary feline. “I’m going to leave you boys to talk rodeo. I have to clean up some paint rollers and then fix something to eat. Wyatt, did you have supper?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Mom and I went by the Barbwire Grill before we went to the Co-op. I’m good.”

  Yes, ma’am. So she was that old now. Or maybe ma’am was Wyatt’s natural response. She’d noted Texans, young or old, were abnormally respectful of women. She’d been yes, ma’am’d and no, ma’am’d to death. “Then I’ll say good night.”

  “I’ll be in later,” Cal said, giving her a wink.

  He said it so easily. Like it was a given they were together. That they had something more than mere hot sex.

  Misleading.

  Her heart tore a little at the thought of this fabricated life they’d built over the past several weeks. Which was not good.

  She glanced back at Cal’s head bent next to his brother as they tamped and double-checked the position of the pole, and her insides went soft.

  In spite of herself, she was falling for a cowboy.

  And it would lead nowhere.

  11

  CAL LEANED BACK against the headboard. “Baby, you were made for wearing cowboy boots.”

  Maggie’s smile had the devil in it. She walked back and forth, strutting in her new boots, wearing nothing but a lacy bra and thong panties. Every fantasy a man could ever have sashayed in front of him.

  She grabbed his cowboy hat off the bedpost and jabbed it on her head. “There. Now I’m a real cowgirl.”

  “Damn, girl. Come over here and let me see what kinda cowgirl you are.” Cal leaned up and reached for her, but she scooted away.

  “Oh, no, bull rider. I’m here for the lessons.”

  He gave her a slow smile. “Oh, are you? Well, thing is, I expect payment up front.”

  She turned and stuck her hands on her hip bones. “That doesn’t seem fair. I’ve always demanded service rendered before I open my checkbook.”

  “Is that right?” he asked, reaching for his belt buckle.

  Wyatt had left an hour ago, and Cal had come inside to find Maggie eating popcorn and drinking wine. A weird combination, but he’d joined her. One bottle led to tequila after she said she’d never done tequila shots. Like he could let her leave Texas without shooting authentic Mexican tequila. They’d both gotten a little sloppy and then turned on when he brought up giving her private lessons on riding a bull.

  “Mmm-hmm. I must stand firm on these negotiations,” she said, sliding her gaze down to the zipper he was in the process of lowering.

  “Speaking of firm,” he said, shucking his worn Levi’s and tossing them toward the old rocker in the corner. He was left clad in his tented boxers and a pair of black socks. He looked like a turned-on nerd. But whatever. He couldn’t think about what he was or wasn’t wearing when Maggie pranced around, bouncing in all the right places.

  “Now that’s a look,” she said, eyeing the erection standing tall beneath the material.

  “No, that’s good preparation. The firs
t thing you want to do is rosin up your hands. Here, use this.” He tossed her the lube she’d left sitting on the nightstand. Not that she’d needed it yet. He made damn sure she didn’t need any lubricant in bed.

  “This isn’t rosin.”

  “Well, darling, you aren’t going to be holding on to a scratchy rope now, are you?”

  Maggie smiled and flipped the cap open. “But my bull doesn’t look ready to ride.”

  Cal glanced down at his cock saluting her. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Take those boxers off. The socks, too.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Those words again. You Texans love to call everyone ma’am.”

  Cal grinned and slid his boxers off. Socks joined them on the floor. Then he stacked some pillows behind his head and lay back. “Minding one’s manners around here is a necessity. Not doing so can land a kid an ass whuppin’, so we learn early.”

  Maggie squirted some lube in her hand and strolled over. “Mmm-hmm. We’ll talk about manners later. Right now your role is to teach me how to hang on to a big, throbbing...uh, bull.”

  He would have laughed, but she chose that moment to wrap her slick fingers around his...bull. “Sweet mother of—”

  “Am I doing it right?” she asked, looking innocent and wicked at the same time. She started moving her hand up and down. “I guess I should find a good spot to hang on. Here? Or right here?”

  He gritted his teeth so he wouldn’t come right there in her hand. The slick lube combined with the friction felt ten times more pleasurable than a normal hand job. “You’re doing fine,” he managed.

  “Good. I want to learn how a real cowgirl does it.”

  “You’re doing damn fine,” he managed. He closed his eyes and spent a few seconds enjoying her ministrations. Because they were good. Her hands on his body, the way her breath ratcheted and the feel of her bared thigh on his arm made him feel out of control.

  His Maggie knew what she was about.

  That thought startled him. He’d never thought of a woman in those terms. And he shouldn’t now because Maggie didn’t belong to him or Texas. She’d wear the boots for a while. She’d ride the cowboy for a while. Then she’d go back to Philly, set the boots in the back of her closet to collect dust. And he’d be “that one time when I owned a ranch for two months” memory in the back of her mind.

  For some reason the thought of her forgetting him bothered him.

  He caught her hand, tossing out any serious thoughts. Time for Miss Maggie to get her ride on. “Your hands are ready. Let’s go over some basics.”

  “Okay.”

  “First you’ll need the right equipment.” He eyed her lush breasts, the dark areolas visible through the silver lace. “Never mind, I can see you’ve got the equipment.”

  Her giggle made her breasts bounce slightly. Another good reason to make her laugh. Jiggly parts.

  “Now, let’s talk about mounting up. The bull will be in the chute, ready to go. You need to be wary of climbing on. There are things that could go wrong. The bull could get aggravated and...blow his load.”

  “Really?” Maggie asked.

  “I’m struggling with the analogy,” he said, caressing her hip. She slapped his hand away with a look of warning. Role play. Right. “In actuality the bull is pissed off. Me? I’m just turned the hell on.”

  “So let’s try this,” she said, sliding her panties off, presenting him with her rounded ass.

  He groaned at the lush sight.

  “What?” she asked. She turned around and his eyes zeroed in on the trimmed strip of hair covering the sweetest of prizes. Better than a gold buckle. He gripped the bed so he wouldn’t touch her.

  “This is torture,” he croaked.

  “Should I go ahead and mount?”

  “Yes. Please.” She set her knee on the bed, opening her thighs enough so he could see the puffed lips of her sex. He dug his fingers into the mattress harder.

  “Does it help to touch the bull?” she asked, swinging one leg over him so she straddled his thighs. She still wore the boots and hat. Her breasts spilled over the lace of her bra and her firm thighs on either side, pubis thrust toward him, was the hottest thing he’d ever seen. Seriously. Hottest thing ever.

  “Uh, usually not. But in this case...”

  She trailed a soothing hand down his chest and abs. “Good boy.”

  Cal managed a choked laugh. “You’re killing me.”

  “Next, I grab the rope, right?”

  “Uh, there’s no rope, baby.”

  “So let’s pretend.” She clasped his cock and eased toward it. Maneuvering the tip, she brushed her clitoris. “Oh, yes, that’s nice.”

  Understatement.

  Her head dropped back, the cowboy hat nearly coming off. Her brown hair tumbled down her back as she moved her hips, using the head of his cock to circle her clit. Wicked hot heat singed him.

  Her breath came hard. “Is this okay? Am I doing it right? ’Cause it feels right. It feels so good.”

  “You’re doing fine,” he said, reaching up to clasp her hips. He wanted inside her, but he loved watching her pleasure herself.

  “Just a sec,” she said, shimmying over to snatch something from the table. She held the condom package up. “You almost forgot about this.”

  Shit. He never forgot a condom, not even when drunk. Maggie had swept him away so completely he wasn’t himself.

  She made quick work of getting him sheathed. “There. I’m sure it’s important that the bull is always protected. Animal welfare and all that.” Clasping the base of his cock, she lifted herself and sank down on him.

  Cal groaned at both the unexpected move and the sheer pleasure of being enveloped by her tightness.

  “I’m on,” she trilled, her grin triumphant and naughty. “Instruct me.”

  He didn’t want to play anymore. He wanted to fuck. But he always finished what he started, so he lifted his hips. “Let’s make sure you’re on good.”

  She squealed a little and then closed her eyes. “Oh, I’m on good. Very good.”

  “Okay, now what you have to realize is the bull has a mind of his own and his goal is to get you off.”

  “That’s my goal, too,” she teased.

  Cal grinned. “And so you try to anticipate his moves so you can stay on.”

  “So I can get off,” she joked.

  “Okay, cowgirl, hold on.” He bucked his hips, moving to the left, then to the right. “Now you try and stay on. And it might help if you move with the bull.”

  Maggie nodded and moved her hips, riding him. She paused only a moment to reach behind her back and release her gorgeous breasts from the bra that held them captive. They were full, rounded, perfectly tipped orbs of some kind of something he didn’t have words for because he was too busy feeling the tight, beautifulness that was Maggie. But he could damn sure appreciate perfection. He thrust, grinding his hips, pretending he was a bull so his cowgirl could get her ride on. Her breasts bounced, her delicious brown waves swayed and her face was screwed in concentration.

  Then she leaned forward, placing each hand on either side of his head. Her breasts fell against his chin and she lifted one foot and planted it beside his hip. Then she started moving, lifting her body and sinking down onto his cock. He filled his mouth with one of her nipples, sucking hard, nipping with his teeth. She groaned and increased her speed, her lips brushing his jaw with small, sweet kisses. She bit his earlobe and whispered, “You don’t seem like you’re interested in bucking me off anymore.”

  He released her breast so it slapped his chest. “If bulls were ridden like this, I’m sure they wouldn’t be interested in getting free, either. You’re amazing,” he said, his balls tightening as the pressure built. He was close to exploding...but Maggie hadn’t come yet. And he was a Texas gentleman so he pushed her upright so she sat astride him again, and gently parted the folds of her sex, finding the bud of her clitoris. Wetting his thumb with her slickness, he began slow, stea
dy circles.

  “Oh,” she said, her head falling back. “That’s so good.”

  “So come for me, baby. I want to watch you ride me and come.” He increased the tempo, loving the sight of her so open to him. She was pink, lush and so very feminine—a visual feast any red-blooded man could appreciate.

  Only took a few seconds before he felt her tighten, the muscles inside her pulling at his cock as she found her release.

  “Oh, oh, oh,” she said, her eyes closed, her mouth open. But the trembling of her hips paired with the contractions sent him over the edge. He clasped her hips, moving her, and came in a hot torrent of wonderfulness. Maggie went limp and collapsed on his torso.

  Cal kept moving until he was empty and then he fell still, savoring the feel of her body covering his. He wound his arms around her, dropping a kiss on her sweaty cheek. “You’re a good student.”

  She laughed. “I held on...and got off.”

  “Mmm-hmm. And you can ride me anytime.”

  “Bet you say that to all the girls,” she said against his neck, dropping a kiss against the scruff he’d neglected to shave that morning because they’d spent too much time in the shower. His hunger for her was insatiable, like nothing he’d ever experienced. He didn’t understand why he felt this way, why he wanted to breathe her in twenty-four hours a day. And it wasn’t just sex. It was eating cereal with her, working beside her as she painted, cleaned, dug up flower beds. For the first time in forever, his feet didn’t itch...and even worse, he didn’t hunger for the dust of the arena, the smell of sweat or the cold beer waiting at the end of each night.

  And that scared him down to the marrow in his bones.

  Because he didn’t feel hungry anymore.

  Because he’d started wondering what it might be like to let the life he’d led slip away, fade behind him.

  Because, for the first time in his life, he wondered what it would be like to sink into a recliner and watch the game, plant some tomatoes and watch them grow, and make a mortgage payment and not worry about what bull he drew or practicing or reserving a hotel room in Dallas.