Buck Me Cowboy

“No!” comes my scream. “Are you fucking kidding me, Tyler? Get the fuck out! I never want to see you again!” is my furious shriek, and this time he moves towards me as I back away.

“Maisie, when I came here I was a different person,” he rumbles, eyes intent, voice urgent. “You have to believe me. I was injured, and when I saw you, everything changed. Everything. Please believe me.”

But the time for lies is over.

“I don’t even know you, Tyler,” I shake my head, unable to process all that’s been revealed.

“You know me,” he says fiercely. “You know this,” he says, pointing at his head, “this,” he says, indicating his heart, “and this,” he finishes, with a gesture at his crotch.

That throws me over the edge because it sums up everything I’ve lost. My head, heart and body, enslaved to the big man, his to do with what he likes. Oh god, oh god, how did this happen? How did I come to worship the cowboy, only to find out he’s a traitor? But like Pa taught me, never let them see you sweat.

So taking a deep breath, I fix him with my own fierce glare.

“Get. Off. My. Property.” The words come out between clenched teeth, but they’re totally clear.

“Baby, please,” he rasps hoarsely and I lose all control.

“GET THE FUCK OUT! GO BACK TO YOUR MANSION WITH YOUR ASSHOLE BROTHERS, YOU PIECE OF SHIT! GET OUT, GET OUT, GET OUT!” I scream, flying into hysteria, face red and mottled, spitting my words. But I don’t care. The explosion of rage is like the top coming off a pressure cooker, and it actually feels good.

Tyler winces, my words slapping him across the face, making the big man flinch, big body jerking.

But I don’t care. He deserves this. He never told me who he was, making like an innocent. There were so many opportunities. He could have told me while we were eating lunch. Or dinner. Or having sex. Or working the farm. Anytime would have been fine, so what the fuck justifies this betrayal? Oh god, oh god.

And finally, the cowboy gets it. Tyler lifts his head and looks directly into my eyes. I can see misery and chaos swirling in his crystal blues, his mouth half-opening.

But then, a tear finds its way down my cheek, hot and liquid, and that stops him. Oh god. Why do I have to cry in front of him? I want to be as powerful as Wonderwoman, as haughty as Cleopatra. But I’m just me, plain old Maisie, with not a cent to her name nor a friend in the world.

So turning, I hunch my shoulders, hiding my tears.

“Please leave,” come my muffled words, broken and painful.

“Maisie …” the cowboy tries again.

“Just go,” come my words dully.

And finally, his steps retreat. I hear the scuff of boots, the slam of the car door, and then the Range Rover squealing. Strangely, the Morgan boys don’t say anything, merely piling into the vehicle before roaring off in a cloud of dust.

Forcing myself to move, I stumble to the couch, grabbing the arm with white knuckled fingers. Oh god, oh god! But now that I’m alone, the dam bursts. I give in, collapsing onto the cushion, bent over in two with pain.

My chest heaves as I cry uncontrollably, heart shattered into a million pieces. How could I be so stupid? I thought Tyler was my savior, yet all along he was the enemy. I was literally sleeping with the enemy.

And like a sick joke, something warm and oozy trails down my thigh then, slick and wet. Looking down with horror, more of his cum slides down my leg, a reminder of our loving. Oh god, oh god. The semen of the enemy is still inside me, and the realization makes me break down further, keeled over wailing my pain.

But like a dirty girl, I can’t resist. Because the mass of emotions is too confusing, swirling through my head, heart and soul. And like a woman in a trance, I reach down, stroking over the trail of cum and lift my goopy fingers to my lips. Yes, that’s right, I tasted his cum, savoring the sweet and salty, the last remnants of this man, swallowing with hunger and desperation.

Because he’s still my Tyler. He’s still the man I fell in love with, the cowboy who rescued a lonely girl. Except it was all fake. It was a lie the entire time, and I’m the one who was taken. I was the stupid fool who threw herself into a fairytale, thinking there was a happy ending at the bottom of the rainbow.

But there isn’t, at least not for a poor girl like me. So I’ve gotta get out of here. I don’t know where I’m going, but staying here after this disaster is out of the question. There’s the bed where he took my virginity. The couch where we made love. The floor, the kitchen counter, the bedside table, every single place is covered with his spunk and my pussy juices. There are too many bad memories, too many painful recollections. I’ve got to leave.