Page 12 of Untamed
A bull rider is the human athlete in the man-versus-beast sport of bull riding. A bull rider must be eighteen years or older to obtain the membership required of each PBR competitor.
Grayer leans forward, twisting the volume on his radio. It’s entertaining and evokes a smile from both of us when the song playing happens to be Pistol Annies “I Feel a Sin Comin’ On.”
Grayer grins slowly, keeping the best of it at bay. He’s studying my every movement. “Are you going to punch my radio?”
I laugh softly, rolling my eyes. He’s perfection and I desperately need this. “No, I actually like Miranda Lambert. Your radio’s safe.” The sky rumbles around us. “Are you sure we’re not gonna be struck by lightning or something?”
His lips twitch. “Nah, we’re safe.”
Jesus, he’s so pretty!
Unsure what he wants from me, I let my eyes drift toward his. Eyes lit with anticipation, his chest is rising and falling a little faster, one hand on the steering wheel still holding the bottle, the other around the back of the seat giving me another invitation.
Sitting on my knees on the bench seat facing him, I let my hands wander up muscular legs to his gold buckle.
Our eyes meet in the low lighting, but he doesn’t say anything. Bringing the bottle to his lips, he takes a drink and then hands it to me. He’s definitely got something about him, something that makes my body buzz and my heart skip and race.
I take it, and bring it to my lips. Intently, he watches me, licking his lips slowly when I wrap my lips around the bottle. After a shot, I hand it back to him and move closer and straddle him on the bench seat. My heart beats like thousands of butterflies swirling around and I think maybe I should move. But then he surprises me and drops his hand to my waist. I have a mind to throw my arm up and ride him like a bull, just to see what his reaction would be, but I don’t.
I take the bottle again, taking another shot. “Hey.”
He holds his eyes steady on mine. The look in his eyes is intoxicating. His tongue darts out, wetting his bottom lip as he takes the bottle. “Hey.” He smiles, like me on his lap is exactly what he had in mind when he asked if I wanted to get out of the rain. Taking another shot for himself, he eyes my necklace and the beads that hold memories, but he doesn’t ask about it. I can tell there’s a spark of interest in it though.
“You look like you’re up to trouble.” He closes his eyes, his words whispered against my skin. He traces his tongue down my neck to my collarbone, slipping a hand under my shirt to my breasts.
My lashes flutter, my vision withheld by the closing of my lids. I imagine my life is different, and in his arms, I can be anything. Behind closed lids, I can pretend this means more than what it does. I know who he is and this kind of thing probably happens to him daily.
“I think I am.” Maybe it’s because he defended me, I’m not sure, but it gives me the confidence I need to push forward. I bring my lips to meet his, and just before our lips touch, the look in his eyes changes. It’s wildfire, spreading through my veins, driving me into him. With heated cheeks and wild beats in my chest, we stare at one another.
He doesn’t speak at first, just runs his eyes over my face before drifting down to my chest, then lingering on my lips. “Are you going to let me kiss you?”
Yes!
I’m surprised he’s asking. Maybe he’s more country boy than I expected. Moving my wet hair to the side, he kisses down my neck, but not my lips. The tingles! I love neck kisses and very few men get them right. Grayer has them down. It’s tender but with the right amount of scrape from the scruff on his jaw.
“I wasn’t aware you wanted to,” I breathe, holding his head to my neck. I seriously never want him to stop.
Sadly, he does, a quick breath blown out against the curve of my neck, raw from his prickly jaw.
Drawing back, he blinks and watches me, like he’s trying to read my mind. God, he’s beautiful. The distinct curve of his lips, the high cheekbones, he could be a damn model. Hell, maybe he is. I don’t know much about him, other than him being a professional bull rider and I have a rule never to get involved with someone prettier than me. I think he’s the exception. “I think you are well aware of the fact that I want to kiss you, Maesyn.”
“Hmmm.” Raising my hand, my fingertips touch his bottom lip. “I don’t think I was aware of that.”
His blue eyes sparkle, a coy smile gracing his lips. He leans in. “Yes, you were.”
And at last his lips touch mine, and I jump a little. Our lips fuse, his hand reaching up to secure my face to his. His tongue glides along my bottom lip, and I open my mouth to accommodate. With his hand in my hair, he kisses me deeper, giving me his tongue.
Suddenly, my fingers are in his hair, knocking his hat aside as our tongues thrash against each other. He holds me against his chest, the rapid beating of his heart against my breasts. His hands move to my hips, his thumbs up under my shirt, caressing the exposed damp skin. His need is palpable, his anxiety, his passion, it’s all there for me to see and I want him. So bad.
A crack of thunder rocks through the sky. Grayer drags his face from mine, his lips moving to my neck, his erection digging into my center in the most delicious way. I have two prominent thoughts. One, he’s an amazing kisser. And two, the monster between his legs is begging to come out.
Reveling in the thrill of this man’s hands on me, I grind against him, just once. He’s so different than the boys around here, and I need more of him. I need more of the pleasure. With the guys I’ve been with, I give, but never receive. And I’ve certainly never reached orgasm with one. Never ever. Regrettably.
He kisses me, devouring my mouth with his, nipping at my lips. Cursing under his breath, he moves his mouth to my neck and gives me those kisses that make my entire body break out in goose bumps. They shiver through me like a cold chill, but the most delicious sensation centers between my legs. His hands work up my thighs, to my hips under my skirt where he angles my pelvis like a pro, guiding me back and forth in quick passes over his rock-hard cock. My breathing is all over the place, from harsh to heavy panting.
Grayer breaks away, just as breathless as me. His hand wedges between us, pushing my back against his steering wheel. My breath comes in shallow pants as he places a hand on my shoulders. When I’m arched away from him, his hand drops to the top of my breast, his left hand remaining on my hip.
My teeth sink into my bottom lip, my face heating. I’m vulnerable. I can’t look at him. His thick hot length strains against his jeans and I drag my pelvis against it, over and over again. He groans softly and the vibration radiates between my legs. Cursing again, he claims my mouth, his right hand dropping to my hip. The sensation shoots straight to my clit, a fiery pleasure ripping through me. The ability to reach an orgasm with him certainly doesn’t take long with the friction of his jeans and the thin fabric of my panties the only barrier between us. Unable to catch my breath, I capture his bottom lip, whimpering and writhing above him but trying not to make too much noise as the most intense orgasm rushes through me. I hug him close, relishing in the warmth. For the first time in my life I had an orgasm at the hands of a man.
