With a shriek, I throw up my arms and drop to the ground in a panic.
Twice in one week, I’m in danger of being trampled to death by a horse in New York City.
Seriously, what are the chances?
98
Chase
I’m chatting with Jason, waiting for our turn, Moonshine shifting its hind legs, waiting contentedly for the excitement to start. Even in large crowds like Madison, Moonshine is placid as the day is long. Frankly, that day that he reared up on his back legs and scared Carla was really unusual for him. You can’t have a skittish calf-roping horse, you know. And Moonshine is one of the best calf-roping horses I’ve ever worked with.
I’m listening to Jason tell me about every sex position him and Becca have done so far when suddenly, a scream splits the air. I jerk off the railing and spin around. There’s Carla on the ground, curled up in a fetal position, and all around her is a herd of wild horses.
“Holy fucking mother shit damn!” I yell, throwing myself onto Moonshine and wheeling him around to face the oncoming stampede of horses. I don’t know who's in charge of moving these horses around, but they oughta be shot. You don’t move a big herd of horses without precautions and barriers in place, for fuck’s sake!
I spur Moonshine’s flanks and, pulling my lasso off the horn of my saddle, begin whipping it over my head.
Zing.
I throw the lasso, squarely snaring Carla around the shoulders and yanking her toward me, which of course means more screaming. Once she’s within grabbing distance, I pull her up and throw her over the front of my saddle where her screams stop with a loud oomph. I wheel Moonshine around so we can start moving with the herd instead of against the grain. It’s safer that way.
Except, oh fuck, they’ve really lost control of the herd because I realize at the last moment that we’re heading right into the arena. The wild horses spill out through the break in the fence and begin galloping around the arena, tails high. The crowds are yelling and stomping their feet and so I yank Carla up in front of me, forcing her to sit side saddle in front of me, and then dammit all if we don’t both start waving at the crowd like a bunch of rodeo princesses.
“They t
hink we’re doing this on purpose, don’t they?” Carla says through her forced grin.
“Yup.”
And, well, if I’m gonna put on a show, it might as well be one I enjoy, right? I pull her up tight against me, nestling her ass against my rapidly hardening cock. Her rhinestone ass is going to be forever burned into my brain. The crowds are on their feet, hooping and hollering and yelling encouragement at us. I had no idea being a rodeo princess was so much, to tell you the truth.
We are slowly moving back toward the exit when Carla wiggles against me, her rhinestone ass doing exactly what she intended.
“Is that all for me, cowboy?” she murmurs.
“Always,” I breathe in her ear. I want to kiss my way down her neck but I stop myself. Just barely. I probably shouldn’t fuck her in front of tens of thousands of cheering fans, right?
No matter how much my cock wants it.
“Come over to my place tonight, and I’ll cook you dinner as a thank you for your help,” she suggests.
“I can’t wait,” I say, helping her slide down the side of Moonshine. She blows me a kiss and then heads toward the judges’ stand. I watch her go, my dick ready to pound a hole through concrete. Damn, I sure hope she’s including more than just food with that offer.
With a groan, I turn back to Jason, who had watched the whole exchange with wide eyes.
“Are you two fucking each other?” he asks as soon as I get back to the corral fencing.
I shrug. “Once,” I say modestly. I’m not normally one to kiss and tell, even if Jason is one of my closest friends.
“Hot damn, I bet she’s real good in the sack,” he says, leering after her.
And that’s when I did something I’ve never done before, but hell if I regret it. ‘Cause I don’t, not one bit. Without another thought, I just pull my arm back and cold cock him, dropping him to the dirt.
“Yeah, she’s pretty good,” I say casually to his writhing form on the ground.
“God, Chase, why’d you do that?” Jason shrieks, holding his hands over his left eye. “Fuck, man!”
“Hope you can still wrestle calves with a black eye,” I say mildly, leaning against the corral fence again. “Oh, and unless you want a matching shiner, I’d suggest not mentioning her abilities in the sack again.”