“So, you a rider? Did you ride at today's rodeo?” I asked, and he tilted his head.
“I ride bulls, but I was down for some sponsorship thing today. Didn’t ride. I’m in the WBRP.”
Living the dream then. I tried to pick his face better, but still, I had nothing.
“Congrats,” I said, clinking my nearly empty bottle to his.
“How ‘bout you? Go to see the bull rides today?” I grinned into my drink and nodded. “Yeah, I was there. Some good rides today.” I left it at that. I had nothing to prove. “Where are you from?”
I settled in to listen to the cowboy, whose name was Dylan. He was from Montana. His family owned a horse ranch that bred stock horses up there. He was basically a walking cliche. But he was funny and attentive, and was kind but dismissive to the girls who came up to get his autograph and his attention.
When a loud voice boomed through the room, I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Again. Junior was in the house, and there went the neighborhood. I turned back to Dylan, who was telling me about the time a bull stepped on his head and pushed his helmet into his eye socket. I winced, but we all had stories like that. You didn’t become a bull rider expecting to walk away unscathed. Hell, if you could walk away at all you were lucky.
“Montaigne. Nice to see you, bro.” Suddenly, Junior was there, getting in Dylan’s face worse than the buckle bunnies. I worried that if I looked down, I’d see Junior had a raging hard on. “Stan Wilfred Junior,” he reintroduced himself, even though he was pretending like they were best friends.
Dylan pasted a smile on his face. “Sure, Stan, nice to see you. How’s your Dad?”
I scoffed when Dylan called him Stan, because Junior hated that name. I’d personally hate being called anything as infantile as Junior but hey, the guy wasn’t exactly winning in the IQ department.
Junior’s eyes slid to me and narrowed into slits. “Dad’s fine. Keeping interesting company here. Better conquests around than the Piranha.”
Dylan continued to smile, though there was a hard glint in his eyes. “So she said, but I’m happy enough.”
I raised my lip in Junior’s direction. “See, he’s happy enough. Run along, Stan.” I looked around for Frankie, but he seemed to have disappeared with his own conquest for the night. Fuck, no one to run interference.
“You can do better than some little rodeo whor-” he didn’t get any further because my fist shot out and rammed right into his nose. No one spoke to me like that, especially not this fucking asshole. Junior went down like the sack of shit he was, and his buddies crowded closer. Luckily, Dylan stepped up to my back and they were cowards. They didn’t give a shit about Junior, just his connections. And apparently, Dylan had connections too. Rock meet Hard Place.
Junior climbed to his feet, blood pouring from his nose. “Bitch, say goodbye to your place on the circuit, you fucking cu-” my hands had a mind of their own tonight as I stepped in close and gave him an uppercut to the jaw that sent him down for the count.
Daddy wanted me to be a lady, but he sure as heck taught me how to fight first.
When Junior didn’t get back up, I knew I was in trouble. He was out cold. Dylan eyed his friends. “If someone asks about this, I am going to tell them that you three attacked Tessa here and she was defending herself. We’ll see who's word holds more value, do you get me?”
Junior’s lackeys nodded once and slunk back through the crowd. Dammit, I needed to get out of here.
“I gotta go,” I said quickly over my shoulder, stepping over Junior’s still unconscious body and walking out the side door of the bar. This is why I had Frankie. He kept my rage in check so I didn’t drop legacy dickheads.
The crunch of stones in the parking lot had me looking over my shoulder. Dylan followed along behind me, his brow creased.
“Are you okay?” he asked softly. I looked down at my split knuckles, little rivulets of blood coating the back of my hand.
I wiped it on the back of my jeans, hissing as the broken skin brushed against the denim. I’d soak these in the sink back in the hotel room. “I’m fine. I’ve wanted to hit that fucker for years.” My grin looked a little manic. “Sorry about the drama though. I was enjoying my night up until then.”
Dylan stepped closer, taking my hand into his rough one as he examined my split knuckle. “You might have to wrap them. You got stuff for it?”
I nodded toward my truck. “Yeah, I have a full first aid kit in there.”
Dylan gave me a megawatt smile. “Well that's good, because I just so happen to be an expert at bandaging people up. Let’s go.”
I led the way to my truck and opened the back door. Dylan let out a low whistle. “Nice wheels.”
I grinned at him over my shoulder. “Thanks.” I unclipped the first aid kit and pulled out some gauze and wrapping tape. I held them out to him. I wasn’t too proud to reject the help. Bandaging your own hand was a bitch.
I held still as he cleaned off the skin, spraying some neosporin across it then placing the gauze over gently. He wound the tape around my knuckles. “Flex a bit?” he said softly, and I did. “Not too tight?” He looked down at me, meeting my eyes, and my heart and clit seemed to throb in time.
I shook my head. “Perfect,” I whispered.
Dylan gently laid my hand back in my lap, lifting his fingers to touch my face. He paused. “I’m going to kiss you,” he said softly.
A small smile curled my lips. “Good.”
Then he was there, lifting me onto my backseat and standing between my legs. My truck was pretty high up, so I had to curl down a bit to kiss him back, but damn it was a nice kiss. Perfect pressure. Perfect amount of tongue. The kind of kiss that made you breathless and your heart thud in your chest like a racehorse.
He climbed up to the step, and I scooted further into the interior of the truck. I’d known I would be spending a lot of time in this truck. It would be the one constant in my life, almost like my home. So it was a bit of a mess but it was pretty damn spacious.
He followed me, giving me sipping kisses, until we were both making out in the backseat of my truck like teenagers. My hands slid under his shirt, tracing the hard lines of his abs before traveling upwards, my fingers flicking over his nipples. He groaned and pulled me into his lap so I was straddling him. I rubbed against the hard line of his cock and his hands roamed up the back of my thighs and over my ass.
“Fuck, you are so damn hot,” he moaned, deepening the kiss. I wanted more though. I reached over and slammed the door shut, locking us in the darkness of the back seat. I was damn glad that I had fronted for the extra dark tinting on the windows at this moment.
I unbuttoned his jeans, and pulled out his cock, letting my fingers brush down his length and appreciating his full body shudder. I climbed off and pointed to his pants. “Off.”
He let out a low, sexy chuckle. “So dang bossy.” But he obediently shucked off his jeans, leaving his boxers on for the moment. I unbuttoned my blouse, shrugging it off my shoulders, but left on my cami underneath. Didn’t need to be busted completely naked in the backseat of my truck. Then I lifted my ass and pulled off my shorts, leaving on my lace thong.
When I climbed back onto Dylan’s lap and he ran his hands over the globes of my ass, he made a pained noise. “This is the greatest ass I’ve ever held in my hands,” he murmured low, capturing my mouth in another heated kiss.