Page 22 of Ride 'Em Hard
I don’t have a stitch on, but it’s so cozy under all these blankets I think twice about getting up. Maybe my beast will come find me. Besides, I have no idea where my original clothes are. Does Doc still have the shirt and blouse I was wearing when I fell into the well? Never mind my shoes. With my ankle and foot taped, I only need one, and heels won’t work with my crutch. That whole escapade feels like it happened so long ago.
I search the massive bed for my T-shirt, wondering how I even got here. The last thing I remember is having a snack, fucking again and then spooning with Chase on the living room couch and feeling his cock get hard against my ass. I was worried he’d want to butt-fuck me. Christ. I chuckle. I can’t even believe I’m thinking about such a thing. Regular fucking, vanilla man-on-top fucking, is a big deal to me, was theonlydeal for me until Chase.
My poor pussy probably doesn’t know what hit her.
I give the room another once-over for my shirt and give up. There’s a faded plaid bathrobe hanging on a hook by a door that I’m guessing leads to the master bathroom.
Shrugging out from under the covers, I see my crutch within arm’s reach next to the bedside table. I smile. Looks like I won’t have to hop.
I melt a little as I wedge the handle under my arm and make my way over to the bathrobe. I left the crutch outside by Angel’s hitching post. I would’ve had a hell of a time managing without it. Chase has taken pretty good care of me, and my wobbly, thoroughly satiated body agrees.
I grin as I slip on his humongous bathrobe. I really have to stop doing this shit. All this goofy smiling is going to be the death of me when I leave, but the soft fabric smells like him and I can’t help it if my body loves Chase. I tie the sash, roll up the sleeves and give into my urge... the hell with it. I take a whiff.
Ahhh. There it is, that warm, leathery, rugged smell I love so much.
Heat rushes between my legs at the thought of his lips, his rough, strong hands on my skin, his cock. I’m fucking helpless.
He’s still on me, too. It’s dirty and nasty that I haven’t showered since we fucked a thousand times, and it turns me on. The smell of our sex has my blood pumping and my nerve endings begging for more. Apparently, my pussy has gotten over her shock because I’m already wet again for him.
Where is my beast? I have to stop saying that too. Chase isn’t mine, I remind myself as I hobble down the long hall toward the lights. I spot my panties on the couch as I pass the scene of our first crime, when he annihilated me and fucked me senseless with his tongue.
His magnificent tongue.
I make my way into one of those gorgeous kitchens you see in the magazines, with all the gadgets chefs love, and come to a full stop. Barefoot, with his jeans slung low, Chase has his back to me. I can finally get a good look at the tats on his shoulders, and the well-defined planes of his back. He’s resting his weight on his left leg, somehow managing to swagger while just pouring himself a beer.
It’s a kick to observe the love god that is Chase West in his natural habitat. And I can see why the camera loves him. There isn’t a bad angle on his body. The man is fucking flawless.
Shifting to get more comfortable, I accidentally bump my crutch against the cabinet beside me, and he turns.
His chiseled jaw, smooth olive skin and shimmery emerald eyes catch me off guard even though I’ve been staring at him since yesterday.
“Have a nice nap?”
His fucking smile disarms me. That smile alone has the capacity to blast away any remnant of a thought.
“Yeah,” I sputter, grinning from ear to ear. “Thanks for bringing in the crutch.”
“You give new life to my robe, sexy girl.” He leers devilishly, stalking closer and wrapping his arms around me like I’m he knows I’m his for the taking. My nose presses against his warm chest, and I smell me mixed with him on his skin. He hasn’t showered either. His hands stroke my back, and I melt into his touch. I can’t fucking help it. The way I feel when I’m around him overrides every rational thought. It’s like I’ve been living in the gray until now.
I’m not being morose, because it’s not like I was in a dark mood and depressed every day. I was content to just get by, day after day in a dulled existence. Never sad, but never happy either.
Now that I’ve experienced what’s on the other side of that gray world, I can’t get enough. It’s like Chase is a key that just opened me up to a world of vivid colors and vibrant vistas that stretch for miles—happiness. It’s going to be hard going back to gray again.
“I’m not done making you mine.” Chase nuzzles into my shoulder and sucks, mesmerizing me by making a trail of open-mouth kisses to my ear. “But my mama raised me right,” he whispers, while my hands travel up his arms, my nerve endings delighting over every hard muscle under my fingers.
He presses his pelvis against me. I can feel how hard he is through his jeans, and Lord have mercy, it’s go time for me again. I can’t bear having fabric between us. I reach for his button, ready to tear those stupid jeans off, but Chase grabs my hand before I get very far. My heart drops.
“I need to feed you something other than my cock.”
I blow out a sigh. “Why?”
“Why?” His chuckle reverberates through his chest. “Fuck.” He flashes a dimple. “You’re like a walking wet dream. But we haven’t eaten anything but crackers all day,” Chase explains, leaning against the counter and taking me with him. “And you need food, to keep your strength up.”
That comment cheers me up. Maybe there’ll be something delicious for dessert. Jesus, I don’t even know my own brain anymore. I sound like such a slut.
“But here’s the deal: we need to go to the store. I don’t have anything in the fridge. If we were at my place in Denver, I’d take you out to dinner, but we don’t have any options out here.”
“Takeout?”And then I take it out and suck on it...That slut has completely taken over me. I don’t want to leave the house, or whatever dream this is. I’m afraid the outside world will break this amazing spell.
