Ride Me Dirty: A Cowboy Romance Read online

  Everything is going fine, I tell myself. Colton doesn't know you watched him this afternoon, so next opportunity you get you can just tell him that you're sorry about being inappropriate last night, and then you can act normal around him again.

  I tilt my head back, exhaling hard. I thought my summer would be boring.

  Just as I turn back to the door, I hear footsteps outside.

  Colton walks in. He shuts the door behind him, and then strolls the ten feet to where I'm standing until he's a foot in front of me.

  "We ought to make sure no one is watching," he says, his voice low and quiet.

  My face flushes with embarrassment.

  "Watching?" I say, as if I don't know what he's talking about though I'm pretty sure my bright red face gives me away.

  He moves closer, and I take a step back against the work bench.

  "I wouldn't want anyone seeing me have this private moment," he rumbles.

  Fuck. Fuck. He knows I was there this afternoon.

  "I'm sorry," I whisper. "I didn't mean to, I heard something and thought it was... an animal or something."

  That doesn't explain why I didn't leave when I realized it was him, naked in the river.

  He leans in until his face is inches from mine, my back against the work bench.

  "But you saw it was me, and you stayed and watched?" he asks.

  I'm so embarrassed I can hardly breathe.

  "I'm sorry," I say.

  "You watched me jerk off in the middle of the forest and you didn't leave?"

  "I—"

  Colton puts one finger to my lips, the shush gesture.

  "It's good that you didn't tell anyone," he says, his voice still low and quiet. "You could get me fired."

  I don't know how to respond, his finger still on my lips.

  "You stayed because you liked it," he says.

  It's not a question. It's a statement, and it's true. His fist slowly stroking his massive cock is all I've been able to think about, all afternoon.

  I don't move. I can hardly breathe. Colton True, my biggest crush ever, the guy who — unbeknownst to him — is everything I've ever fantasized about, knows I liked watching him jerk off.

  "You can tell me, Emmy," he says, a slight smile coming into his eyes.

  My heart might beat clear out of my chest. I think anyone passing by outside the tack room can probably hear it shaking the little wooden building.

  I meet his eyes, two clear pools of blue, searching my own.

  Just admit it, I think. Maybe it won't be so bad.

  Slowly, I nod.

  "Yes," I whisper.

  His finger leaves my lips, and he trails slowly down my chin, down my neck, to the hollow of my throat. There's a look so intense, so magnetic in his blue eyes that I can't do anything but stand there, utterly in his thrall.

  Now I'm leaning backward against the work bench, Colton towering over me, his finger still moving down my body, my heart beating harder and harder. He slides it down the front of my plaid shirt, right between my breasts.

  I close my eyes as a shiver runs down my spine. I feel like I've been struck by lightning, as my body responds powerfully, harder than anything I've ever felt before.

  I think I'm trembling.

  "You like this, too," he says.

  It's not a question either. I nod again.

  It occurs to me that maybe I don't need to apologize for last night, because even though he's barely touching me this is so much more intense than asking him to put me to bed.

  "Emmy Winchester," he whispers, his finger still moving downward, past my sternum to my navel. "I'm not the gentleman you think I am."

  I bite my lip. I don't know how to tell him that that's just fine with me, that I don't think I want a gentleman. That when I think about what I want him to do to me, it's never gentle.

  "I'm not sure I like gentlemen," I whisper back, breathing hard.

  Colton looks at me for a long, long moment.

  Suddenly, he grabs me by the wrists and spins me around. He pulls my arms behind me, and holds them together, and now I'm facing away from him, slightly bent over the workbench, my face a few feet from the rough wooden wall of the tack shed.

  He pulls back on my arms, hard enough that I feel it but it doesn't hurt, just enough to let me know that right now, I'm helpless.

  He's in control here, totally in charge, and the thought sends a bolt of fire through my core, my panties soaked through almost instantly.

  Colton pushes my legs apart with his knee, my arms still behind my back, and I lean further forward. Then he presses himself against me and I can feel his massive erection pressing right against my heat.

  I close my eyes and hold my breath. All I can think is please, please, please over and over again as he leans in, the heat of his body against mine.

  Then I feel his lips against my ear.

  "Just say the word and I'll stop," he growls. "But I think you like this, too, darlin'. I think you're more than the sweet, innocent girl you tell people you are."

  He's right. I really, really like this, and I want more. I want it so bad I feel like I'm melting.

  "Don't stop," I say, my voice barely a whisper. "Please don't stop."

  I don't even know what it is that I don't want him to stop, I just think that if he lets me go and walks away, I might shatter.

  He holds my wrists tighter with one huge, strong hand, and with the other he pulls apart the snaps on the front of my flannel shirt until it's open to my waist. Then he pulls at one bra strap until my nipple is exposed, and he pinches it in his hand, his lips still against my ear.

  I bite my lip, afraid I'll moan.

  "Still want more?" he growls, pinching harder.

  My body's responding like it never has before. I have a vague idea that I should feel threatened, like I'm in danger, but I don't.

  Instead, I'm too horny to think straight.

  "Yes," I gasp.

  I try to move, arching my back against his throbbing erection. I hate that there are jeans between us, these layers of clothing, because I'm aching for him to be inside me in a way I didn't even know I could ache.

  He chuckles and takes his hand from my nipple, sliding it over my ass, squeezing before he pushes it between my legs. My body jerks as strokes the denim right over my clit, a jolt moving through me.

  "You're wound like a spring," he murmurs into my ear, stroking me again in the the same spot. "And I think you're about to soak through your jeans, darlin'."

  His hand leaves the spot between my legs, and I finally exhale.

  "Colton," I whisper. I can barely think, but I want to beg him to undress me, push me over the workbench, take me hard.

  Instead, there are footsteps right outside the door and men's voices. Colton releases me and steps back, easily.

  "Get decent," he murmurs, his heat leaving my back.

  I hastily fix my bra and re-snap my shirt as the door to the tack shed opens, light pouring in.

  "Jeez, another busted harness?" Foster's voice says.

  Colton laughs, his voice deep and friendly.

  "You know these city types," he says.

  Foster hangs it on the wall, and I straighten the bridle I left, pretending that I was just hanging it too. Then I turn, hoping that my face doesn't betray everything that just happened, and walk for the door.

  Colton gestures toward the door, polite as can be.

  "Ladies first," he says as I walk through.

  Gentleman my ass, I think.

  Chapter Eight

  Colton

  Well, I'm going to get fired.

  Touching Emmy like that, in the tack shed? Talking to her that way, telling her what I really want?

  I'm fired. I'm worse than fired — if they find out, once Annabelle and Tom are through with me, I'll never work in the state again. I'll have to move to Colorado or something, and I don't like Colorado very much.

  The second I'm out of the tack shed, I exhale hard, walking away, ho
ping that my jeans hide my raging erection. I only met Emmy again yesterday, and already I can't control myself around the girl.

  Something primal inside me just responds to her, something that demands I make her mine, have her submit. I've never felt like this before, this all-consuming need for a girl. Not even close.

  And never this fast.

  I go through the motions of work that day, half thinking about Emmy against the work bench, how I nearly came in my pants when she whispered yes.

  Half wondering if I should start making calls to ranches in Colorado or Montana, seeing if they need ranch hands. Whatever job I could get next wouldn't be near as good as this one, but at least it would be work.

  I don't get fired, at least not that afternoon. Later that night, after dark, I'm sitting on the small front porch of my cabin and looking out at the silhouette of the mountains against the stars. I've got a mug of chamomile tea on the table next to me — I'd rather it be whiskey, but I can't risk doing anything wrong right now.

  Particularly given... you know.

  After a while I realize there's a shadow crossing the field between my cabin and the main house. Most ranch hands stay in the dormitory, which is exactly what it sounds like, but as the ranch manager I get my very own, albeit tiny, place. It's one bedroom, a nearly-primitive bathroom, and the stove only has two burners, but I'm used to not needing much.

  Having my own place at all is a step up from what I'm used to.

  The shadow gets closer, and my heart squeezes in my chest when I realize who it is.

  It's Emmy. It gets cold at night, and she's wearing a jacket that's a little too big for her, her hands shoved in the pockets. I sip my tea slowly and watch her approach until she's at the bottom step, looking up at me.

  She comes onto the porch and leans against the railing.

  "Some of the hands are going into town and hitting the bars," she says, tilting her head slightly to one side. "You wanna come?"

  Her hair spills over the shoulder of the too-big jacket, lit only by moonlight. It's just her and me. There's no one else around.

  "You're going?" I ask, even though I know that's not why she's here.

  Emmy plays with her hair a little, nervously. Good. She should be nervous.

  "I might," she says, softly. "But I don't particularly want to."

  "Are they waiting on you?"

  "No," she says. Her fingers play with the ends of her hair, and then she looks at me again, her eyes wide with a combination of nerves and pure lust. "I told them go to on without me, actually."

  I stand, towering over her, and put one arm against the porch support, over her head. She swallows, her delicate throat muscles moving in the dark.

  "Emmy," I growl. "What are you doing here?"

  She takes a deep breath, her eyes searching mine.

  "Today, in the shed..." she whispers. "You said..."

  I can tell she's nervous. I can see her pulse racing in her neck, her face flushing even in the moonlight.

  "I don't mind," she says quickly. "You were right about everything, and I came here to see if... we could..."

  The way she keeps trailing off is maddening and alluring, all at once. Like she can't say I want you to fuck me hard, Colton, but she's thinking it. There's something wildly sexy about her shyness, her reluctance to put words to what she wants.

  But she didn't see who I really am — what I really want — and run screaming.

  I take her jaw in one hand. She's so small, so delicate, but her eyes are utterly trusting as she looks up at me.

  "You wanted to see if I'd finish what I started," I growl quietly.

  She nods.

  Say no, I think. Say no, turn her away, and keep your job and your life intact.

  That's what I'd do if I were smart.

  "You need to make me a promise, darlin'," I go on.

  "What?" she whispers.

  "That you don't tell a single soul about this," I say. "Your parents would fire me in the blink of an eye."

  She looks like she's about to argue, but her eyes slide away, like she knows I'm right.

  "I won't tell," she promises.

  "Good," I say, and crush my mouth against hers.

  I push her back against the post, still on my front porch, and I pin her there with my hips against hers, one hand already under her shirt, one hand in her hair, pulling her head back slightly.

  She makes a quiet noise into my mouth, and I press her harder, pushing my tongue into her mouth like I'm claiming her. Emmy scrabbles against my chest with one hand, her fingers fumbling at my jacket and shirt as I grind my rock-hard erection against her sweet, delicious heat.

  We probably look like teenagers making out. I don't care. I move my lips from hers, along her chin, to the white column of her neck, and I force myself to bite her gently so I don't leave a mark.

  I want to. God do I want to leave a mark. I want to see her tomorrow morning at breakfast, the spot on her neck proclaiming to the whole world that I've been there.

  But I don't. I back up, look into her eyes clouded with lust and with something else, too, and I growl at her.

  "Get into my bedroom," I say.

  Chapter Nine

  Emmeline

  Colton doesn't have to tell me twice. In a heartbeat, I'm through his front door, pulse racing, panting for breath. It's a tiny cabin so the bedroom is right there, a big four-poster bed with a wrought iron frame.

  He shuts the door behind us and grabs me from behind. In seconds, my jacket is off, my shirt undone, my bra unhooked. Colton grabs me by the hips so tightly I think he might leave bruises and he grinds his thick, hard cock against my ass slowly, so slowly I swear I can feel every inch of it sliding along me.

  I'm dripping wet.

  "I knew you were watching me today," he whispers in my ear. "That entire show was for your benefit, darlin'."

  It... was?

  "Oh," I whisper, unable to think of anything else to say.

  "I thought it might scare off a sweet, innocent thing like you," he goes on.

  "Guess not," I say, my eyelids fluttering shut as he pulls me against him, even harder.

  Now he's unbuttoning my jeans, sliding his hand in roughly. I whimper. His other hand goes to my hair and pulls my head back against his shoulder so I can barely move, even though I'm still on my feet.

  "Fuck, you're wet," he says, sounding satisfied. He pulls my hair a little harder. "It almost seems like you're enjoying this, Emmy."

  "I am," I say, and his fingers starts moving around my clit, rubbing and stroking it slowly, teasing me.

  "You know what I was thinking about while you were watching?" he goes on, fingers still circling slowly, my body tense, under his control. "I was thinking about pushing you against that rock, your legs wrapped around me, and fucking you until you came so hard you screamed my name."

  With that he slides two fingers inside me, and I moan out loud.

  Then, for the first time, he pauses.

  Shit.

  "Are you a virgin?" he murmurs.

  I take a deep breath.

  "Technically," I say.

  His fingers keep moving, more slowly, more gently.

  "It's not a big deal," I go on, still squirming under his touch. "I grew up riding horses, and I've done... other stuff, just not that. Not yet."

  "I shouldn't be your first," he growls into my ear, though he doesn't move his hand.

  "Colton," I whisper, and his hand tightens in my hair, his fingers suddenly pushing deeper, harder.

  "It should be someone careful, gentle, someone who'll treat you delicately," he goes on.

  He crooks his fingers inside me and strokes the sensitive wall of my pussy, and I nearly go weak in the knees.

  "I don't want that," I whimper. "I want you."

  "Say it again."

  I take a deep breath.

  "I want you," I say, my voice a little stronger now.

  He takes his hand away, and there's one moment of disappointm
ent, but then he pushes me toward his bed, pushing me down onto my back, climbing between my legs, my knees around his hips.

  In one quick motion, my shirt and bra are over my head and around my wrists, and Colton does something that renders my hands immobile, both held together in one of his massive ones.

  Then he reaches down. He unbuckles his belt, sliding it out of his jeans, the motion so masterful, sexy, and fucking perfect that I forget to breathe.

  Colton ties me to the headboard, using my own shirt as handcuffs, and now I'm half-naked on his bed, panting for breath. Totally under his control.

  He doesn't say anything, just bites my collarbone before he moves his mouth to my breasts. He sucks hard at one nipple and then the other, so hard I think he might leave marks, but it feels so completely divine that I don't care.

  Before I know it, his mouth is on my belly, then my hips, and he's pulling my jeans off and throwing them on the floor, one thigh in each powerful hand. He spreads my legs forcefully, his fingers like vices, and I'm utterly open to him. Completely vulnerable, totally exposed.

  Colton puts his lips around my clit and sucks. It's like going from zero to sixty instantly, and I moan out loud, my back arching, my hips bucking as I pull at my makeshift restraints.

  He doesn't stop, just sucks harder, flicking his tongue across the sensitive button as he does. I feel like a bomb is ticking down inside me, something I didn't even know was there until this moment.

  "Colton," I whisper. "Fuck, Colton, that feels so—"

  He stops, suddenly moving his tongue slowly, from my clit to my soaking wet lips, like he's relishing me. His tongue slides between my lips again, almost inside, and I squirm again. I'm desperate to get him inside me again, any part — I don't care.

  Then he's on my clit again, lapping at me slowly, steadily, just below the threshold to make me come. Like he somehow knows exactly how to work my body, and I exhale, shuddering.

  "Fuck," I whimper, the only word in my vocabulary right now.

  One hand releases my thigh and then his fingers are on my slit, stroking my wetness. I hold my breath, praying, and then he slides them inside and I make a pure, animal grunt as he crooks them again, stroking me in exactly the right spot.