Page 81 of Buckled in Barbwire

“Seems self-explanatory,” I mumble while flipping the power switch.

“Use the remote.”

That gives me pause. “There’s a remote?”

“I paid for an upgrade after my last win. Figured they needed the top of the line to keep my legacy going. It might be one of a kind like me,” he brags.

“Oh, please.” I roll my eyes to the rafters, but grab the device as directed. The handheld version is even simpler to operate. “Hold on tight, husband.”

He rolls up his sleeves and I almost purr. His forearms roped with veins and ink feel like a sight he only allows me to see. “Gonna give me a wild ride?”

My nod is a bobble while he slips his fingers under the strap. “If you can walk straight afterward, I didn’t do an adequate job.”

Brody’s chuckle quakes my knees. “Let me have it.”

And that’s my cue. A tap to the green button rouses Bucky and the machine whirs. I immediately push left to set the bull in motion, simultaneously jabbing at the bucking force. Hoots and hollers spill from my husband as he flings his free arm into the air. He captivates me while I blindly switch directions on him. His butt doesn’t even bump offthe back. This kicks off a personal challenge to dismount him, and fast.

I shove the knobs in every which way. My methods aren’t smooth or systematic or successful. The broody billionaire swivels forward and back, flowing into each motion as if he’s in charge of the controls. A panty-melting smile stretches his mouth to giddy levels. He takes off his hat, whipping it in the air like a lasso. Based on his reactions, this might be the most fun he’s had in ages.

The scent of fantasy slamming into reality smacks me in the face. Gosh, he’s too sexy for his own good. I’d be filming if I had my phone. Drool puddles in my mouth until I almost drown myself. And that’s not the only place that’s wet. Phew. I fan my heated face.

But he’s just getting warmed up. Brody’s hips snap forward as he rides like a pro. He rocks into the disjointed gait, letting a groan slip free. The seductive rhythm gets me frantic. There’s an itch under my skin that needs to be scratched.

Good grief, I’m turned on. I grapple with my composure that’s fraying at the seams. It’s useless against the scene spread in front of me. If this isn’t a preview of how the man fucks, I’m not sure what is. My inner muscles clench in a desperate craving. I squirm and try to focus on the remote, waiting for him to fall off. It only takes seconds for my rapt focus to return to Brody.

His eyes burn into mine as his actions become more obscene, mimicking sex. He’s totally doing this on purpose. I’m suddenly glad he cleared the place out. If other women were watching, I might have to claw their eyeballs out. Lookat me getting possessive. Nobody would blame me while his fluid motions rocket my arousal into orgasmic levels.

I crank up the speed and intensity to the maximum. It does nothing. His body continues to follow the spastic maneuvers. There’s a decent chance he’s attached to the rawhide.

“Is that the best you’ve got?” He grinds into the next buck.

“Cocky cowboy,” I mutter.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re trying to get me off.” He thrusts forward with passion. “You’re gonna have to do better than that, Twinkles.”

My fingers smash at the buttons. I’m exerting myself more than he is. This isn’t even a challenge for him. Bucky spins this way and that, bouncing erratically. The man barely slips from the center. No matter what maneuvers I try, there’s no bucking him off.

I can’t watch much longer or I’ll combust. Brody’s breathing is labored as I slow Bucky to a stop. At least he’s somewhat winded after that performance. I refuse to be the only one panting like a dog in heat.

His grin doubles in size as he puts his hat on, flicking the brim. “Did I win?”

“Does that make me the loser?”

“I’d prefer if we both come out on top,” he rasps. “What’s my prize?”

Would it be too forward if I offered to climb on his lap? Might as well get some use out of this arrangement. The idea holds appeal and I squeeze my legs together. Brody notices as I squirm, his gaze turning molten.

“C’mere, wife.” His finger crooks to beckon me. “And bring the remote.”

I stumble forward to follow his command before I even realize I’m moving. Inflatable padding surrounds the bull and knocks me more off kilter than I already am. My stride is unsteady, wobbly like my intentions, but I arrive at his side unscathed. His stare is famished and I’m about to be plated as his next meal. I shuffle closer, willingly leading myself to slaughter.

Brody pats his thighs. “Get on.”

That’s easy for him to say. Our height difference is bigger than our age gap. He vaulted up there without trying, and didn’t have an extra hurdle to jump. I’d be scrambling over him in a very unladylike fashion. While wearing a dress, I might add. This might’ve been my plan but I don’t want to make it that easy.

Mama June didn’t raise a quitter, though.

I grip the safety strap and bend into a squat. Before I can launch myself upright, Brody cinches an arm around me and hauls my body over his. The abrupt boost stuns me, especially since he plucked me off my booted feet as if I weigh ten pounds. My legs swing in an arch before spreading to prepare for landing. A pleased noise rumbles from him as he gets me situated in the desired position. I’m straddled astride him when I regain my bearings. Just like riding a horse. Backward.

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