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“Me? You’re the one who got the horses outta that field.”
“Stop being so modest. You’ve been absolutely incredible, and what you did at The Tavern today…that’s a story I’ll be telling for the rest of my life.”
“And I hope I’ll be there every time you do.”
His words echoed through her head.
She knew he’d meant them.
It was how she felt too.
With the growing realization that she had fallen hopelessly in love, she shifted in his arms, pushed him onto his back, and began kissing her way down his body. As she reached his thick, hard shaft and moved her lips around the tip, she heard a groan and felt his fingers slip into her hair.
He gripped tightly.
She knew he was about to control her. Guide her. Train her to please him.
“One day you’ll be doin’ this while I use a crop on your ass.”
His unexpected, wicked promise sent ripples of excitement through her body, and taking his hardness into her mouth, she began sucking with gusto.
“And while I’m reddenin’ your backside, there’ll be a vibrator against your pussy.” he growled, tightening his grasp
Suddenly his groans grew louder.
“Show me what a good girl you can be…”
His voice had been deep and husky, and she prepared herself for his gushing release. A second passed, then with a guttural groan he exploded, spurting the hot, salty cream against her tongue. She swallowed it down, then greedily licked him until he tugged her head back and released her. Sliding up his body and resting against his chest, she heard his heart pounding so hard it was almost frightening, then he let out a long breath. As she sensed him drifting away, she closed her eyes and melted against him, finally at peace and happy.
* * *
Back at his ranch, sitting in a tattered leather lounger, Big John endlessly replayed the scene with Rick at The Tavern as he swigged down a glass of whiskey. It was like watching a car wreck. He wanted to pull his eyes away from the carnage but he was riveted.
“Dammit to hell,” he suddenly shouted, throwing the glass across the room.
As it hit the wall and smashed into pieces, he pushed himself out of the chair, marched from the house and headed down to his empty paddock. His anger didn’t stem just from the hellacious moment with Rick Campbell and the girls at The Tavern. He’d had a disastrous afternoon.
A short time after he’d left the restaurant, he’d decided to stake out the gates at the show grounds. When the girls left to take their horses home he’d follow, and the moment the opportunity presented itself he’d hijack them. But barely a minute after he’d parked, a burly cowboy wearing a security guard vest approached his truck and ordered him to leave.
“I’ve got your picture right here,” the guard had declared, waving his phone. “You’ve been designated as a threat. Get out of here or I’ll call the sheriff.”
Now staring into his empty field, John knew there was only one thing he could do. He’d have to hit the road and find another group of horses. But he’d be more careful. He’d choose a rural area and cheaper livestock.
His phone rang, startling him.
“Fuck,” he muttered, snatching it up. “Hello?”
“John Foreman?”
“Yeah.”
“John, my name’s Steve. I got your name from a fella at a horse auction who said you might be interested in some decent stock at discounted prices.”
John caught his breath.
A desperate seller.
They were the only kind he dealt with.
