I slam the door behind me, pulling my shirt off, wet fabric peeling away sticky, unzipping my belt, the leather whispering through the loops, pulling my dick out of my pants. It’s hard as a rock. Aching and throbbing for her. Still standing up. I stroke it—rough, urgent. Moaning low.. I think about Layla. Her perfect tits, that ass. Her beautiful plump pussy and how it grips my cock just right. I stroke faster, gripping harder until I burst all in my hand—hot spurts, breath ragged, the release sharp but not enough. Future note, jerk off before going on a date with Layla.
Chapter 24
If were keeping score
Layla
“Well you look cute,” Maggie says as I stand next to her and Lanie.
Cole has us all standing behind the fence waiting for our horses for a guided trail ride. The morning air is crisp and warm at the same time, the sun already high, heating the wooden rails under my palms, carrying the sweet scent of fresh hay and horse sweat mixed with pine from the nearby trees. My daisy dukes are short and soft against my thighs, the denim frayed just enough to feel casual-sexy, and my tank top clings lightly, the thin straps slipping a little as I shift. My hair’s in a loose braid down my back, strands already escaping, tickling my neck in the breeze.
“Thanks girl,” I say, smoothing the hem self-consciously. “Oh hi, MeLanie—it’s good to actually meet you. I’m Layla. Maggie has said such nice things about you.”
“Call me Lanie.” She smiles at me, warm, genuine and then gives a lingering look to Maggie, the kind that makes my heart squeeze with happiness for them. Their fingers brush casually, a quiet intimacy that feels so easy and real. They are so cute together it makes me so happy. The way Lanie’s eyes soften when she looks at Maggie, the way Maggie’s shoulders relax just a fraction, it’s the kind of love that doesn’t need to shout. I want that. I want it so badly it aches, a sharp little pang right under my ribs.
“Lanie it is.”
I smile at everyone saying good morning—ranch hands tipping hats, girlfriends in boots and sundresses chatting low. I can tell some of these are girlfriends of the ranch hands. Couples. Is this a couples thing? My stomach flips at the thought.
“Alright. Here is how this is going to go. We will have a buddy system. Maggie you’re with Lanie. Luke you’re with Steph. Tommy is with Ashley. Bryan is with Harper and Layla you’re with me.” He shouts, voice carrying clear and commanding across the yard.
Damn, he sounds good when he’s taking charge, giving out orders. Deep, rough, authoritative in a way that sends heat straight to my core. Yes, please tell me what to do.
I see Cole coming out with Shadow and Buttercup. Shadow is such a beautiful horse—dark bay coat gleaming in the sun, mane braided neat, muscles shifting under his skin like he knows he’s the star. They have the horses already saddled which is nice. I kiss Shadow’s nose—warm velvet against my lips, his breath huffing sweet hay—and hop on, the saddle leather creaking under me, reins soft in my hands. The seat molds to me instantly, familiar now, the stirrups cool against my calves.
“Looks like you’re getting the hang of that,” Cole says, smirking at me from Buttercup’s back.
“I catch on quick,” I smirk back, feeling the familiar thrill of matching his energy, the way his eyes linger on my legs in these shorts for just a second too long.
As we are riding the trail, Cole is riding right beside me, close enough I can smell him, leather, pine, faint sweat from the morning work, that cologne he wears that drives me insane. The trail is shaded in places, dappled sunlight filtering through leaves, the horses’ hooves thudding soft on packed dirt, birds calling overhead. He’s telling me about his childhood, stories of sneaking out to ride at dawn, falling off Shadow’s Mom and laughing through the bruises—saying how Shadow doesn’t normally take with people like he does with me. Which definitely boosts my confidence. My chest swells a little, pride mixing with something warmer.
“A little scared sitting up that high on the horse?” he asks me.
“Not at all. I feel like a queen.” I say, smiling, blushing a little—the heat rising in my cheeks, wind tugging at my hair.
“Yeah, I could see that,” he chuckles—low, rough, the sound vibrating through me.
“Queen of East Tennessee and Seattle riding on noble steed Shadow.” He says in a British accent that doesn’t come out too good which causes us both to laugh. Both of us are blushing. Who is this guy? Cracking jokes. Is this Cole? Cole Marshall is that you? I like this side of him. Give me more of this Cole.
“What’s your middle name?” I blurt.
He chuckles. “That’s deep and random.” He winks—a quick flash of mischief in those blue eyes.
“Hey! You were asking personal questions last night just thinking I’d return the favor.” I charge back, grinning.
“Michael,” he says softly.
“Michael. Cole Michael Marshall.” I repeat, savoring the rhythm of it.
“I like that. That’s a good name.”
“What’s your middle name?” He asks back.
“Lou.” I say. “Layla Lou Park.”
“I thought that was something Maggie just came up with.” He laughs.
“No, she saw it on my driver’s license at the bar.” I say with a chuckle.
