Page 1 of Cowboy

1

It Only Takes Once

Scarlett

If you told me earlier this evening I’d have a hot, hunky silver fox buried to the hilt deep inside me, I’d have told you that you were crazy. Hell, if you told me it would have happened even a month ago, I’d have said never.

However, I’m losing my mind over a man I met only hours ago.

“So, my friends over there. They dared me to come buy you a drink.” He was all charming and nervous-sweet, and I just couldn’t seem to say no. Then again, I’d been on my third beer at the local establishment called The Gin Mill, a place famous for their Vermont beer selection. My friend and I were celebrating my new status.

Single.

Sort of.

I grunt as his hips flex between my spread thighs, and my hands clutch at his broad back. I’d never done anything like this before, and I don’t expect to ever do it again, but there is no denying how I feel at the moment.

Liberated.

Satisfied.

With his lips on my neck, and his thick shaft balls deep, the man over me means freedom and a bit of recklessness. However, I would not be under him without the approval of my friend.

Rita Kaplan had been my college roommate, and her nod at the bar encouraged me to speak up when this sweet-talking stranger asked to buy me a drink.

“I’ll see your hello and raise you a take me to bed, partner.”

Probably not what Rita had expected me to say, but she knew I needed this. I’d had a day a week back—a day of all days—but I am not thinking about that at the moment. With the musky scent of sex between us and sticky skin holding us together, this beautiful male specimen surges into me over and over again.

Bull is his name. Bull Eaton.

Earlier, the Eaton name sounded vaguely familiar, but I quickly dismissed it. In my line of work, the names all run together after a while. Line of work I used to be in, I reminded myself, when we met only hours ago.

Bull is living up to his name in size, girth, and stamina, but he’s also got an anxious charm about him. His midnight blue eyes shifted over to his friends as his large, thick hands slipped into the back pockets of his jeans after he approached me. He rocked on the heels of his boots as he said hello, and his smile did swirly-twirly things to my insides. I did not attribute that sensation to the number of beers I’d drunk, but the slow curl of his lips and the crook at one corner. The silver scruff on his cheeks helped. I’m forty-two, and having a man my age, hitting on me no less, did something for my shattered ego.

And he’s still doing something to me.

“So deep,” he groans. I’ve never been so full in my life. My eyes roll back, and my ankles cross over his solid thighs, heels digging at the firm globes of his backside.

“Sweetheart,” he huffs. The word stammers as he rocks into me, taking me to another world. Our position might be missionary, but nothing perfunctory is happening here other than the stars I’m seeing from the orgasms this man has given me. He’s working on my third, and I just don’t know if I can get there.

As if reading my thoughts, he shifts, dragging himself upward so his hard length rubs at my pleasure point in a new way, and I’m gasping for air again.

“Bull,” I moan.

When he followed me to my rental at the Green Rocks resort, I didn’t know if he’d really take me up on my offer or if he’d just intended to escort me home.

“You cannot go wrong with this swanky man,” Rita had encouraged, and I felt like a heel leaving my friend behind. “Honey, this is the purpose of this night.” I needed to lose myself with someone hot, willing, and available. Rita trusted him, which was good enough for me. I promised her we’d find her a man next time.

Bull’s hand cups my lower cheeks, lifting me to adjust the angle and rub his thickness against my clit better. “Gonna give me another one.” It’s not a question or a warning. It’s a tender command. He’s already been more than generous with me. His fingers. His mouth. He wants this orgasm as much as I do, and I have a strong suspicion Bull Eaton could own my heart and soul if I let myself get carried away.

However, before we even got in his truck, we made an agreement with that first kiss outside The Gin Mill.

“Just one night, sweetheart. That’s all we need to sort ourselves out.”

I needed sorting. God, I needed so much sorting. But for tonight, I only needed Bull.

“I can’t . . . I don’t think . . . I’ve never . . . so many.” I don’t make any sense, and he chuckles even harder as he’s moving me against him, sliding himself in and out of me.