Serve Me

Her tongue was sharp, and her words were dirty, and her body would shake shimmy, and rock just as hard as mine in the bed. Sex with her was primal, like two animals stalking each other in heat. Chelsea knew what she wanted, she knew how to get it, and she let her body take control in order to see it through to the end.

A knock at my trailer door ripped me from my thoughts, and all I could do was groan before I leaned myself back into the couch. Some fucking reporter was still trying to get some statement from me, and my mind automatically went back to the reporter with the blonde hair and the blue eyes. Damn it, she looked just like Chelsea, and something told me that’s exactly who was banging down my door. The knock started soft, but it slowly grew in volume, and I knew that if I really wanted to be left alone, I’d have to get up and answer it.

“Just a sec!” I called out.

I heaved myself up from the couch, and I winced before a pressure descended between my legs. My pelvis was aching, and my bulging dick was straining against my chaps, and I figured I needed to go ahead and remove them if I was going to situate myself before throwing my trailer door open to someone. I ripped my chaps off as I ran through different things I could say to the woman, and I jammed my hands down into my pants and pulled my chub up against my body before I sighed in relief.

But then, the knocking became harder and more persistent.

“Jesus-... can y’all hold on a second!?”

I was gonna play nice, but this knocking was getting on my nerves. I heard the muffled sounds of the stadium roaring, and it was probably some other person who’d been thrown from a bull or something. See, there are three kinds of noises a stadium watching bull riding competitions makes: there’s the winner’s cheer, the “oh!” sound of someone falling off, and the shocked gasp when someone is about to get hurt.

I’d heard the winner’s cheer and the shocked gasp, but the sound the crowd was making now told me someone was falling off their bull.

And then, that damn knock turned right into a fucking police fist bang, and I’d had it with whoever was at my door.

“Now, I told you very nicely to hold on, and all you got to give me in return is-”

I ripped my door open and felt the breath leave my lungs. It was like someone had slapped me right across the face with a baseball bat full of nails. I clenched my jaw, and my fist bared down on the handle of the trailer, and as I studied the honey blonde hair and big, blue eyes in front of me, my mind suddenly went blank.

It’s wasn’t a reporter, and it wasn’t a fan. It wasn’t the bull inspector or a student, and it wasn’t even an assistant offering me another chance to ride for the crowd.

It was Chelsea.

Chelsea fucking August.

“Hey there, slugger,” she smirked.

And all I could do was stare.

Chapter 4: Chelsea

The shock on his face was evident, and I really couldn’t blame him. The butterflies were flying so hard through my stomach I thought I was gonna heave all over him, but when I saw the advertisement for the rodeo, I just knew he would be here. Some of the advertisements showcased the fact he was riding, but some of them were just handouts, and before I even knew he was riding I just knew I had to come.

I had to see him again.

I stared at him for a long time, and I couldn’t help but notice how wonderful age looked on him: his dark brown hair held the very first hints of gray at his temples, and his green eyes still sparkled with that independence I never could figure out how to wrangle. He had been impressive on the back of that bull, and I knew when he trotted off behind the stadium that I had to find him.

I had to talk to him.

“Come on in, Chelsea,” he said lowly.

He stepped aside, and I brushed passed him, and I couldn’t help but relish in the warmth his body temporarily provided. I eyed the couch and decided I’d sit there, hoping that maybe he’d sit down beside me. But when he shut the trailer door and turned around, all he did was stand on the steps.

The silence hung heavy in the air, impregnated with so many unanswered questions, and I knew I owed him answers to things he probably was asking himself many times over the years. What I did to him in college was wrong, but I knew if I would’ve told him about the job in Paris he would’ve figured out a way to make me stay. A guy like him didn’t belong in a city like Paris, and a woman like me didn’t belong in a town like this, and I knew I’d never get him to understand that. I knew he’d try to talk me into staying, into being by his side and working in one of the boutiques in town. Maybe he would’ve encouraged me to open a shop of my own and sell my own fashion line for the rest of my life, but I wanted something else.

Something bigger.

Something more…

I knew if I told him about the offer, he’d talk me out of it; and I knew that if he tried to talk me out of it, that I would let him.

I knew I’d give up my dreams for him, and I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t do that to myself like my mother had.

I eyed him carefully and watched him look at me. He’d always been a good-looking boy, but what was now in front of me was a burly, handsome man. The stubble on his cheek burned the inside of my thighs, and his sea foam eyes raged with the confusion he was probably feeling. He was a lanky boy in college, but riding bulls and raising his own animals etched his body well, and his broad shoulders now held a rigid and chiseled chest that my fingertips wanted to sink into. His hips were strong, and his legs were taut, and I felt my entire body begin to shiver on the couch.

My god, he’d filled out his body well, and it took all the energy I could muster not to stare.