Page 19 of Rough Ride with the Grumpy Cowboy
My name has always sounded like an enchanting imploration coming from her lips. That, coupled with her sexy moans, is enough to have me moving faster.
Oh, how I wish I’d taken my time that night. I didn’t even get to see her breasts properly—I played with them over her top. Still euphoric though... so full, so plump, perky, and when they hardened...
“Fuck.”
What I’d give to have them in my mouth again? I let myself imagine what they look like—even paler than the rest of her, her areolas a bed for her pink and rosy nipples that contrast to the rest of her breast.
I’d worship them, try to take as much of them into my mouth as I could, before pulling out and biting her nipples, listen to her cry out from the pain before soothing her with my tongue.
A series of groans leave my lips as I increase my tempo, wishing it was her hand wrapped around my dick and not mine. “Yes, please.”
I should have taken her up on her offer to sort me out that night. Maybe now I’d have something more concrete to refer to. I’d have deep-throated her in my car, used her for my pleasure, and listened to her choke on my inches.
I want to fuck her mouth, her pussy—that was so tight and snug around my fingers—make her choke on my cock and cum all over her tits.
“Yes, yes, yes,” I whisper over and over again when I feel my balls tense up.
Unable to hold it in anymore, I let go and come all over the wall and floor of the shower, strings of cum shooting out of my cock until I’m spent and breathing heavily.
I lean back against the wall, and once the post-nut syndrome kicks in, I’m left feeling like shit.
What did I just do?
Quickly, I straighten up and clean myself up, but I’m still semi-hard. I switch to a cold shower, and that’s enough to make me go flaccid.
Ava has more of an effect on me than I thought, and this is another sign to stay the furthest I can away from her. I’m thirty-five years old, for crying out loud, not a freaking teenager, so I need to keep my emotions in check. I cannot allow this to happen again.
7
AVA
I cannot get out of Zane’s cabin fast enough. What the fuck, Ava? What is wrong with you? In my hurry, I end up tripping myself and land ungracefully on my hands and knees on the cobblestones. The pain rushes through me, but it’s nothing compared to my panic, so I barely feel it.
Needing to take a moment to calm down, I sit right there on the cold stones, brushing the tiny pebbles that have stuck to my hands.
How have I managed to royally screw everything up in less than twenty-four hours? This is so embarrassing. Zane must think that I’m crazy. Even I would think so if I woke up to an uninvited guest in my bed.
“I’m so sorry,” I mutter under my breath, a few tears escaping my eyes as I rock myself back and forth, trying to rein in the oncoming panic attack.
It’s been so long since I sleepwalked, so I didn’t think it was going to be an issue here. Most of my issues started after the accident—the terrible eating habits, nightmares, and sleepwalking. I have medicine to curb the sleeping issues and I attend therapy, but I forgot to bring my meds, which is how I ended up in Zane’s bed.
Oh God! I’m never going to be able to face him ever again. Why Zane’s bed though? The main house has dozens of rooms I could have stumbled into, so why did I ignore all of them and end up leaving the house, past the backyard, and into Zane’s cabin? How did I even manage to get in? Do I have ninja skills in my sleep or something?
Zane had every right to be irate and kick me out. When he’s calmed down, I’ll be sure to apologize to him for this and so much more. All I want is to make good with him, but instead I keep screwing up.
When I’m calmer and my hands and legs have stopped shaking, I pick myself up off the ground. The back door is slightly ajar, which is how I must have gotten out. I lock it on my way in, grateful that the ranch is heavily guarded; otherwise I’d have felt so guilty putting the Morgans in danger by leaving the back door open.
My bedroom door is also open, and I quickly let myself in, locking it behind me as if that will change anything. Only now doI realize that I’m barefoot. Did I get into Zane’s bed with these dirty, crusty feet? Oh God, it keeps getting worse.
Filled with dread, I shed my dirty clothes to take a shower. I end up having another meltdown in the bathroom when the reality of what I did hits me again. This was meant to be a vacation for me, a moment to relax, but I’ve been on edge from the moment I arrived, and I keep making things worse for myself and for Zane, who I’m supposed to be winning over.
Once I’ve scrubbed my skin raw and the hot water becomes unbearable, I get out, dry off, change into clean clothes, and crawl into bed. I’m too scared to try and sleep again, so I stay awake and wait for the sun to rise while driving myself crazy with my thoughts.
I have no idea how long I lie here, but I hear the ranch come to life from my crouched position in bed, unmoving, refusing to let myself sleep.
Finally, I hear movement outside my bedroom door, and someone jiggles the door handle trying to get in. A soft knock follows when whoever it is realizes that the door is locked.
“Ava, it’s me. Are you awake?” Ella calls out.
