Bucked

He watches me as I cry out, skillfully timing his thrusts so the orgasm lasts longer than I ever knew one could, and then ushers another one and another through my body as I pant and scream his name. I stare up at the darkening sky, watching the moon appearing, as he shifts expertly inside me. His body makes me crazy, the raven tattoo on his shoulder looking as mysterious and dangerous as he is.

“Chastity,” he says, “I’m going to come now...I’m going to come inside you.”

And he does, convulsing over me, as his orgasm sends me over the edge to my own, and I come once more, all over his cock as his seed pulses, in jet after jet of pure, liquid desire.

Sixteen

Kanen

I drop Chastity off at her house, and we kiss again. It’s too hard to pull away. This girl tastes like candy, like the best whiskey, like an angel, and the softness of her lips leads directly to the hardness of my cock.

“Call me?” she says, tilting her head to the side.

“Definitely.” I kiss her once more, my thumb caressing her cheek, before letting her go. She smiles, hops out the door, and up the lane. Still grinning, she leans against her front door and holds up the keys to tell me I can leave, but I wait until she closes the door behind her. I did want to spend the night with her, more than anything—but if I had I’d need to leave early. It’s not time yet for us to have that kind of morning. The little kids need me tomorrow and I have to ride tomorrow night. But it’s damned tempting to see her standing there, one leg bent, her shirt still falling off her shoulder.

As much as I tell myself it might be because of the kids or whatever, I’m not sure I trust myself with this girl. I can barely keep myself contained around her, and it’s been a long time since I lost my cool. I don’t want to be wrapped around anyone’s finger, not even if it belongs to a gorgeous dark-haired, sweet-assed Canadian girl.

I made my life to be solitary

for a reason. Precisely because other people can’t be trusted. She’s right that we don’t know each other. Not one lick. We’ve only been hanging out a day, and I already feel like I love her. How is that even possible? It can’t be. Part of me says don’t analyze it, just accept it, but the other part says run, you motherfucker. It’s an illusion. And a dangerous one.

The other part tells me to run to her.

When that cheerleader told me I was good enough to fuck but not for anything more, a certain part of me hardened—and it wasn’t that part that women usually come to me for. My heart hardened to protect itself. If I’m not good enough to be someone’s man, why would I allow them the option to reject me? Since then I just ended up using the girls that came my way. The problem is that things start off just fine, with us both wanting a little fling, but it always ends up that they want me, and I don’t want them. Especially once they find out just how much money is in my pocket. Reality gets the better of me and I leave them while they cry and beg me to reconsider.

I reckon that this experience is more dangerous because it might just be the opposite. She’s just as likely to fall in love for a little while, before she realizes that I’m not the kind of man she’s looking for. Or, she’ll move back to Canada, and I’ll be that cowboy she fucked in Texas. A story to tell herself on cold nights.

Maybe I have the strength to ride this out, for the glorious moment that it could be, and then leave it? Or, who the fuck knows, maybe it’s already over. Just a one-night, beautiful, amazing thing. One and done. And we both look back on it with happiness.

No regrets.

But when I think of that sweet look in those dark eyes, that swath of hair falling down the side of her face as she tilts her head and looks at me so innocently, I know she’s too damned hard to resist.

I just don’t want to fall in too deep.

I rub my forehead with my hand and then put the truck in gear—it’s time to drive off into the Texas night. The stars that tickled my eyes earlier are behind clouds now, and it’s darker than it was before. I guess it might rain.

Seventeen

Kanen

“Are you riding tonight, Kanen?” one of the boys asks me.

“I sure am, champ,” I grin. “I ride every Saturday night. Just about.”

“When I grow up I’m going to ride bulls,” another boy says with conviction in his fluty voice. “And I’m going to stay on his back forever!”

“You know, Damien, I’d like to see that,” I grin. “In fact I’d like to do that, but those bulls are pretty tough and powerful, and if they don’t want you on them, then it’s not easy to persuade them to let you stay there.”

“But you can do it,” Damien says, a pout starting on his face.

“I can do it for a certain amount of time, but you know that the bull is always gonna win. That’s the law of the land.”

“I bet you could stay on forever.” He doesn’t look happy. His face is screwing up, getting ready for some waterworks.

“No way!” says the other boy. “Kanen’s good, but even he says the bull is better!” His tone is scoffing. He shoots a look at me, trying to win my approval.

“Kanen is the Wrecker! He can do anything!” The tenor of little Damien’s voice has gotten even more shrill and upset. I guess I know what it’s like to need something to believe in that badly. I can see where this is going and I reckon I’ll head them off at the pass.