Page 55 of Wild Horses

Riders five, six, and seven all put up commendable numbers. I’ve learned so much over the past eight months, like how to judge a race without even looking at the clock. I’ve also perfected the art of making Laramie fall apart on my fingers, tongue, and cock, but those skills aren’t helpful right now.

Discreetly adjusting myself, I push last night’s celebratory orgasm-fest from my mind and focus. It’s time. With bated breath, I watch the countdown clock flash until it hits zero.

The thunder of hooves fills the arena, mixing with the roar of the crowdto create a chaotic, frenzied symphony. Laramie and X move in perfect harmony, twin creatures of impulse and instinct. Together, they round the first barrel, Laramie trusting X with the certainty of someone born to ride.

She’s glorious. Her long brown hair flies behind her, and those same strong thighs that rode me last night hold her trim body just inches off the saddle. Though I only catch flickers of her face, I know it’s a mask of determination and joy.

I think about the second time I ever saw her, wrestling with a five-pound dumbbell, frustration pouring from her as she pushed through the pain. Later, in the hot tub, finding her underwater, my heart jumping into my throat, screaming at me to save her.

But in the end, she saved me. Sure, it was a rough road, but I wouldn’t give up where I am now for anything.

The group around me lets out a collective sigh, followed by a series of exuberant whoops and woos. Laramie’s time flashes on the jumbotron, the fastest of the night so far. I jump to my feet and push through the throngs of people until I reach the cordoned-off area separating the spectators from the athletes.

With all the confidence of a mediocre man who delusionally believes he’s great—thanks for teaching me this one, Dad—I walk past security like I belong there. No one stops me, so I speed up, needing to wrap Laramie in my arms.

I search through the cacophony of horses, competitors, trainers, and more. I clench my teeth and flex my fingers. Laramie could be anywhere back here.

“Excuse me?” I stop a young man wearing a lanyard. “Can you point me toward the cool-down area?” He waves in a general direction, and I take off before he realizes I don’t belong back here, as if my lack of boots and hat plus the bright pink sweatshirt with flowy script doesn’t give me away.

The crowd thins as I move away from the gate, the energyshifting from an urgent pressing to a soft hum. For a second, I worry I missed her somehow, but then, like my guiding beacon, I see her.

Laramie stands next to Xpresso, stroking her mane and whispering to her. No doubt, she’s giving the Boss a treat and praising her for their run. My feet carry me forward until I’m pressing my face into her neck, breathing her in.

“Who’s that sexy rider? I think I’m in love.”

With a laugh, she spins. “War!” Her eyes drop to my chest. “Oh, this one is my favorite so far!” Then she looks at me, a tiny crinkle forming between her eyebrows. “What are you doing back here?”

“Taking a page from your playbook and causing a little trouble.”

Laramie’s dark brown eyes radiate warmth and love as she smiles. “I’m a bad influence on you, Pretty Boy.”

X snorts her agreement, and I reach around Laramie to pat the horse. “Hey Boss, I’m not taking her away till she’s got you all taken care of, I promise.”

“She’s good. Watered and pepperminted. Now, it’s just the waiting game.” Laramie bites her lower lip and focuses on the screen. They’re up to number eleven, and based on the cumulative average speeds, my girl is sitting in third.

“I keep trying not to look, but I can’t seem to stop.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

Laramie snags my hand and guides us until her back is against a nearby wall. She cranes her head, glancing to see if anyone is nearby. People linger in the area, but we’re mostly hidden behind Xpresso and with the wall to our backs.

With a devilish grin, Laramie says, “Be a good boy and distract me.”

I drop my head to her shoulder and groan. “Fuck, Trouble.” My fingers grip her hips, kneading and squeezing themthrough the stiff material of her jeans. When she rises onto her tip-toes and settles her hat on my head, I know what she has in mind.

Despite all the blood rushing to my cock, I’m not looking for my release right now. No, my girl asked for a distraction, and I’m going to give her one. One hand slides up her back to her nape, collaring her. Her muscles instantly relax. As much as Laramie enjoys being in charge, she also drips when I take control.

I tilt her head back and kiss her. Taste her. Devour her. When she’s pliant, I turn her until her cheek presses against the wall. My jaw tics with the need to slide my cock between her thighs, but there’s not enough time. This has to be quick and dirty.

“Does my sweetheart want to ride my fingers? Do you need me to tease this pussy until you come?”

“Yes. Please!”

“Shhh, Laramie. We wouldn’t want to draw a crowd.” I thumb open the button of her jeans, then yank down the fly. Her Wranglers are so damn tight, I can hardly get my hand into them. But where there’s a will…

Working slowly, I tease a finger through her curls and around her clit, loving the way she shivers. I kick her feet wider, giving myself more room to work. That single finger continues its exploration, dipping inside her up to the first knuckle before pulling out. Then I do it again, this time sinking deeper but still toying with her.

She squirms and huffs. “War, we don’t have time?—”

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