Page 79 of Eight Second Hearts

“What are you doing?” I ask, breathless, my body still quivering from the last release.

“What I said I was gonna do,” he grunts, coming back over and grabbing me around the waist. He flips me over until I’m on the bull properly before he shoves me down onto it chest first.

“Hey,” I grunt when he does it roughly, but he doesn’t respond. He just grabs up a pile of straps and his heavy eyes focus on me. I tense. “Tripp?”

“You trust me, right?” he asks as he loops one of the rope ends around my wrist and threads it under to the other side as he walks. There, he wraps it around my other wrist and pulls it tight, almost too tight.

“I. . . uh. . . maybe,” I admit uncertainly as he threads the rope to my knee and circles it so that I’m trapped in that position.

“Good,” he grunts as he loops it back under the bull and circles my other knee, strapping me down. Once he has me all threaded among the ropes, he pulls, tightening all the ropes.

My fingers flex, testing the strength only to find I can’t move. Not at all. “What exactly are we doin’ here?” I breathe, a little bit panicked at being so immobile.

He runs his hand along my ass and smacks it, making me jump against the bonds. I hear rustling and when I glance back at him, I see him kicking off his boots and his jeans, finally leaving him as nude as I am.

“Well, darlin’,” he says with a flash of a grin. “You’re about to be my bull.” He hits the panel again and twists a knob before coming back over to the bull. “And this time, it won’t be on easy mode.”

My eyes widen as he leaps back up onto the bull behind where I’m strapped, and his hands run down my spine. He strokes through my folds, finding the wetness his words created.

“Well, would you look at that,” he purrs. “Seems someone likes the thought of bein’ ridden rough,” he teases. His cock lines up with my entrance. “Don’t worry, scribbler. I won’t break you too hard.” He slides in. “Unless you ask me to.”

He wraps one fist in my hair as my breath starts to rasp out of me in rough pants. It’s pretty fucking clear what’s about to happen, and though part of me doesn’t know how to feel about it, the other part is eager for it, hungry for it. And fuck, if this isn’t fucking hot. Before the bull even moves, as he sits fully inside me, I’m already leaking around him, making a mess that I know is probably dripping down the sides of the leather.

The beep sounds, and the bull starts to move.

“Always gotta keep one hand in the air,” he groans, and I feel his hand leave my hip. “One hand always on the bull.” His other hand tightens in my hair at the base of my skull. “Hip movements matter.”

I cry out as the bull jerks roughly backward and forward, forcing him to fuck me in chaotic spurts. He uses my hair as his handhold, and being tied down like this, I have absolutely zero control. We jerk around in a circle, back and forth, twist, again. The nip of pain in my hair only adds to the feeling as his hip movements grind him inside me. He rides me just like the bulls, stroking himself with each movement until my eyes practically roll back in my head.

My pussy squeezes him tightly and I squirt around him. “That’s it!” he says, continuing to ride me. “Give me more, baby!”

I cry out as the bull slams downward and he fucks me deep, his pelvis slapping against mine hard. He moans with me, his body tense with the strength it takes to stay on.

The panel beeps and the bull winds down, and he immediately takes over. His hand moves from the air to the small of my back as he leans forward and begins to pound inside me, stroking into me from behind with such violent thrusts, my chest still scraps against the leather, driving me insane as my nipples grow hard.

“You’re the best goddamn ride I’ve ever had,” he groans over me, his fingers digging into my flesh. “Better than any title.”

I gush around him, driving him wild as he draws more and more pleasure from my body. “Oh, god,” I cry, my voice thick with my hunger. “Tripp!”

“You want more, scribbler?” he growls, fucking me hard and fast. “You want me to take all of you?”

I nod frantically against the bull where my head rests. “Please. Please.”

His hand strokes my ass and then presses against it, pushing against the tight muscles there. “You want me to ride this for the next leg?”

“Yes,” I gasp, pulling against the ropes tying me down.

He chuckles. “As you wish, scribbler.”

He pulls from my pussy and presses the head against my ass, pressure immediately building there. I force my body to relax, force myself to take deep breaths despite how much of a livewire I feel. His deep groan as he presses in and pops past the tight ring of muscle nearly does me in, but not nearly as much as the feeling of him stroking gently inside me does. His hands trail along my body, caressing, tracing my scars, helping me relax.

“You feel so good,” he groans as he strokes himself inside me deeper and deeper. “Fuck, you’re so tight.”

My words are far less coherent and sound more like I’m speaking in tongues as I shake against my bonds, desperate to move, to force him faster, but trapped to take what he can give me.

The beep sounds and I tense in anticipation.

“Here we go, baby,” he coos. “Get ready for the ride of your life.”

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