Page 12 of Double Bucked

Every time Riley Ransom fucks me, it’s like it’s the last time.

When the rest of the staff goes home for the night, we rut like animals in the stables.

My nose fills with the sweet scent of horse and hay and Riley’s sweat—that hard, masculine scent—and I tuck into his chest to inhale more of it and stifle my moans.

He has me pinned up against the wooden stable wall. The straps of my dress have fallen down my shoulders, my breasts bouncing in clipped stutters against his chest.

I grip his shoulders and lick the shine from the wiry muscles on his neck. He tastes like salt and grit.

Sex with Riley Ransom is filthy, and I’m obsessed with it.

The only thing that’s clean about me is the bottom of my feet. They haven’t touched the ground. Ransom won’t let them.

Not his princess.

His arms are tucked around my rear, cradling me tight against him. My pleasure builds, fast and hot, until it bursts like a moonflower on a full moon. I cry out as my orgasm hits me, but he doesn’t stop.

I whimper. “Fuck, Ransom…”

“Nuh-uh, princess. I ain’t done with you.”

He pounds me so hard it hurts.

I feel each thrust in my bones. In the roots of my teeth. And I love every second of it.

Because Riley Ransom is the only person in Belleflower who doesn’t treat me like a precious glass figurine.

Ransom treats me like I belong to him.

Over the past six months of sneaking around for quickies in the stables, I’ve become addicted to being his.

His moan is hot against my ear, his breath puffing at my hair. I match his roughness and nuzzle the cloth handkerchief around his neck until I find the heat of bare skin. I sink my teeth in, sucking and pulling the skin there. I squeeze my legs tightly around his hips as he pushes inside of me, as deeply as he can, and finally goes still, emptying himself. I close my eyes, savoring the fullness of his heat.

We catch our breath, panting together, gentle with each other now that our rough passion has burst. I nuzzle my nose to his.

“I like this,” I tell him. I use my fingertips to readjust the blue handkerchief around his neck. “You look like a real cowboy.”

He grunts on a laugh. “Try it on.”

I take his invitation. I unhook the knot and move the bandana to my throat, tying it in the back. “What do you think?”

“You look like a real cowgirl.”

“I am a real cowgirl.”

He tilts his head. The bite I left from earlier is already purpling. “I had to wear something to hide your vampire marks.”

“Aw.” I protrude my bottom lip dramatically. “Poor baby. Where does it hurt?”

“Why, you gonna kiss it better? Or just gonna bite harder?”

I grin widely, showing off my teeth.

Riling up Ransom is my favorite activity. He gives as good as he gets, and nothing turns me on more than the push-and-push of our competitive natures.

But every now and then, I give. Just a little.

I tilt in so our noses touch. “I’m going to miss fucking you in the stables,” I murmur.

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