“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I reach out to stroke Loki’s mane. “I don’t want to hurt him.” I know I’m not light, and if I had to guess, I’d say Wes is six-six and two hundred and fifty pounds of pure muscle. “Won’t that be too much weight for him if we both ride him?”
“Don’t worry, Loki will be able to handle it.” Before I can think of another excuse for why it’s a bad idea for both of us to ride together, Wes places his hands on my waist and lifts me like I weigh nothing. “Grab the horn and slide your leg over the horse's back.”
Doing as I’m told, I grab the saddle horn and swing my leg over the horse’s back, knowing without a doubt it’s the least graceful thing I’ve ever done. The only thing that makes it better is thatWes’s hands linger on my backside as he gives me a boost onto the horse. It’s the first time a guy has ever touched me there.
Pathetic, I know. I’m a twenty-two-year-old virgin. While other girls my age at college were running around, experimenting with everything, I spent my time studying in my dorm room or at the library. Not one kegger, not one toga party, not even a peck on the lips.
“Oof.” I let out a grunt—something else to add to my list of graceful moves today. This time, it’s not my fault. This time, it’s from Wes’s large body swinging up onto the horse behind me.
“Sorry about that.” Wes shifts in the saddle, trying to put a little space between us without any success.
“It’s okay. It will only be for a little while.” I lean back and wiggle my hips, trying to get comfortable, when something very hard and very big pokes me in the backside.
Oh my, he’s hard. Wes is hard, and the proof is literally poking me in the butt.
I should scoot forward and give him a little more room, but the damn little cowgirl devil on my shoulder convinces me to stay put. I wait for the little cowgirl angel on my other shoulder to tell me it’s a sin to enjoy his discomfort and to take advantage of it, but she doesn’t say a word. Instead, it feels like they are both cheering me on.
“Sit still.” Wes’s large hand fans out across my stomach, halting my movements. He flicks the reins in his other hand, telling Lokito giddy-up. I try to sit still as he sets the horse off at a gentle gallop, but with each step, Wes’s hardness bumps against me, sending a throbbing pulse between my legs. I grip the saddle horn tighter, biting my lip to keep from moaning at the contact. “Fuck.” Wes groans, pulling on the reins, to stop the horse once we reach a secluded spot near the creek.
For a big guy, Wes moves pretty fast, sliding off the horse and reaching out to help me down. “Thanks.” I squeeze my legs together to ease the ache, only to make it worse.
Luckily, Wes doesn’t notice my discomfort as he tends to Loki, leading him to the creek for some water. After he’s finished taking care of Loki, Wes ties the reins to a low-hanging branch and opens the saddle bags.
“I had the cook make us lunch. It’s nothing fancy, just cold meat sandwiches, chips, and water.” He turns around, carrying a blanket he’s suspiciously holding in front of himself and a lunch cooler. “I thought we could have a picnic.” I try not to look at the huge bulge in his jeans as he places the blanket on the ground. Once he has the blanket situated the way he wants it, he sits down, reaching his hand out to me. “Take a seat.” With his large hand in mine, I sit down next to him, feeling even more intimate than when we were in the saddle together.
We sit in silence as he passes out our lunch. I take a couple of bites of the roast beef sandwich, which just happens to be my favorite, but my stomach is in knots, so I can’t eat. “Hmm, good,” I say, needing to break the silence.
“What brought you to the Wild Vista Ranch?” Wes takes a big bite of his sandwich, then waits for me to answer.
“Honestly, the owners, Carl and Lucinda Davis, were the only ones who called me for an interview. No one else wanted me straight out of college, with no real-world experience.” I shrug, acting like it was no big deal, even though I was only a few weeks away from having to sell everything and live out of my Jeep if the Davises hadn’t hired me.
He sets his sandwich on top of the lunch cooler and tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. “I’m glad they called you.”
I’m not sure who made the next move, but the next thing I know, I’m straddling Wes’s lap, knocking his cowboy hat off as I run my fingers through his hair and pull him closer, our lips crashing together.
My hips press down, grinding into him, like some wanton creature searching for release. But it’s not enough—I need more force, more pressure. “Please.” I moan into his mouth.
Already sensing my body’s distress, Wes wraps his arms around my waist and rolls me under him, notching his hard bulge between my thighs and pressing down hard, making me gasp.
“Is that what you needed?” He pulls his hips back for a brief second before pressing down and grinding his hardness on me. He repeats the move over and over again until our bodies are covered in sweat and on the verge of exploding.
“Yes. Yes. Yes.” I chant, digging my fingernails into his shoulders and arching my back. I’ve never felt anything this amazing before. Certainly never when I’ve tried to release the pressure myself at night under the darkness of the covers, thinking about this man.
“That’s it, Cheyenne, let it go. Stop fighting it.”
Is that what I’m doing, fighting it?
I sink back into the picnic blanket, letting my mind go blank as intense pleasure washes over me. My body trembles with release, soaking my panties and jeans. With a grunt, Wes presses his hips against me harder than ever as he buries his face into my neck, his body trembling as badly as mine.
We lie like that for a few minutes, his ragged breathing finally beginning to even out. “Sorry, Cheyenne. I shouldn’t have forced myself on you like that.” He shifts his body, rolling off me, leaving me feeling alone and vulnerable.
“It’s okay. I wanted it too.” I can’t stop the words from spilling out of my mouth.
“You deserve better.” He stands, shifting his body away from me, but not before I notice a large wet spot on the front of his jeans.
He came in his pants just like I did.
He untucks his shirt, trying to hide the evidence of our little tryst, and starts packing up what’s left of our lunch.