by T. S. Joyce
Tonight, he was distracted by the noises in the bathroom. The soft hum of a song she was singing, the splashing of the water as, he imagined, she was washing her hair. The moments of silence that followed her turning off the shower. The soft noise the towel made against her skin. He hadn’t ever really appreciated his animal hearing until now.
On the television screen, Brandon was riding Two Shots from a few years ago, but in Quickdraw’s imagination, Annabelle was brushing her wet hair out in the steaming bathroom. Maybe she really was.
Shit, his dick was so hard. He’d pretty much carried a perma-boner between his legs since he’d picked her up from the airport.
“Hey, Quickdraw?”
“Yep?” he asked quick, sitting up and scrambling to turn the TV down.
“Are you ready to take our relationship to the next level?”
What did that mean? She wanted to say yes to his proposition? She wanted to be his lady? She wanted a tattoo of his name across her hip? He was good with any of it. “Hell, yeah.”
“Okay, prepare yourself. You are about to see me without makeup for the first time.”
She threw open the door, and he was struck dumb.
His beautiful goddess werewolf woman stood in the doorway, backlit by the bathroom lights, one hand on her hip, the other on the doorframe, wet hair tumbling down her shoulders, draped in a towel and nothing else.
Water droplets trailed down her collar bones, and her tits pushed against the teal terrycloth fabric.
And her face…her beautiful, natural, bare face was the best part of it all. Her cheeks were pink from the hot shower and her eyes still as bright blue. She had a soft smattering of freckles across her cheeks and nose that had been covered by her makeup.
“Holy shit,” he said on a breath.
Annabelle scrunched up her cute little nose before she put her hands onto her chest and adjusted the top of the towel, but he didn’t want her to be insecure and cover up.
“Can I be honest with you?” Quickdraw asked.
“I would prefer it,” she murmured, dipping her blush toward the wood floors.
“You could never wear another stitch of makeup as long as you lived, and I would still think you’re the most beautiful woman on earth.”
Those flashy blue eyes lifted to his, and a shy, sexy smile curved her full lips. “Really?”
“I don’t blow smoke. I like to say things how they are. Really.”
She bit the corner of her lip and swayed her hips. There was a brush in her hand that he gestured to. “You want me to brush out your hair while we watch rider tape?”
“You would brush out my hair?” she asked, and her voice had wrenched up an octave in the cutest little excited tone he’d ever heard.
“Well, I ain’t ever done it before, but you seem like the type of woman to let me know if I’m being too rough.”
She sashayed to him and then did this cute-as-hell tippy-toe dance that made him laugh. God, how could a woman be this cute and sexy at the same time?
She handed him the brush and sat down on the floor in front of him between his knees. And as he sat there, taking a moment to appreciate just how much she’d opened up and let him in, she angled her face and rested her cheek on his knee for a few seconds before she waited for him to start brushing.
“I think you should wear this outfit tomorrow to the event,” he murmured as he dragged the bristles of the brush down the back of her hair.
She laughed but then immediately groaned and rolled her head back. “That feels so good.”
He was going to make every inch of her body feel good eventually.
“What is rider tape?”
“I research the riders who draw me. Earlier today, when I was gone at the venue, they did the drawings, and Brandon Murphy got me.”
“Was he scared? Did you see him there?”
“He had big bravado and was giving me shit to impress his friends, but I saw something in his eyes. Fear and determination. We’ll see which one wins tomorrow.”
“Do you get nervous before a buck?” she asked softly.
“No. I get prepared. I trust my bull to throw whoever draws me. He doesn’t get nervous, so why should I? It’s work. I keep my body strong to be able to do my job. I stay ready. I leave the nerves up to the riders. You show weakness, they’ll see it and dig into it.”
“How do you not show weakness?”
“You don’t have any weakness in the first place.”
“You can’t have no weaknesses. You’re a man, not a machine.”
“Mmm,” he murmured, brushing her hair in long strokes.
“I’ll tell you one of mine if you share one of yours.”
He wanted to know every single thing about her, so he played. “Okay, what is yours?”
“The future has always terrified me. Ever since I was a kid. Ever since I was turned into a werewolf. I was really sick after Rork bit me. Sick for a long time, and I didn’t change into my wolf for two months. I was too weak. I thought I was going to die. My parents did, too. Doctors couldn’t figure out what was wrong with me and were telling them I was just being dramatic. Like it was all in my mind—the muscle pains, loss of appetite, and the curling in and feeling empty one minute and all filled up with something I didn’t understand the next. It was bad. I think the uncertainty of that time made me dread uncertainty at all times. I wanted to have control and know everything that would happen. I would overthink every single thing that came my way. It was a good thing in my professional life, but not so much in my personal life. I’ve just started trying to loosen my grip on that control over the past couple of years. I try to go with the flow more, but it’s not natural for me.” She arched her head back and grinned up at him. “Now you go. What is your weakness?”
“It’s you,” he said simply and watched the smile fade from her lips.
“I don’t want to be a weakness for you. I want to be a strength.”
Good woman. “And you will be. As soon as I put a stop to Arrow and whoever he is working with. He is a threat to you and the herd. I guess all of you are my weakness. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt.”
“Felt what?”
“Anything but rage.”
“Why are you filled with such anger?” she asked.
Quickdraw grew quiet and chewed the corner of his lip, then ran his hand down his beard. This was a big admission he’d never said out loud to anyone before. “I think my bull was born broken.”
“You don’t seem broken to me.”
She would after he told her how his animal really was. “From my first change, he was angry. Hated people. Hated other bulls. He filled up my head and would take my body when I didn’t want him to, and I had to stay away from people when I was young. I would change and go after them, and I couldn’t stop it from happening. When I’m the bull, I’m only the bull, and he’s a monster. My parents had to move me out to the country. And the more alone I was, the emptier my human side felt, and the angrier my animal side grew. It was power, maybe. He likes the feeling of power. Fighting keeps him steady. I learned that. Bucking keeps him steady. Violence soothes him. So yeah, Annabelle. I’d say I’m pretty broken.” He swallowed hard. “I can’t count how many times I’ve wished to be human.”
Her eyes filled with deep understanding and she rested her cheek against his thigh, stared at the television again. “After I was changed, I wished I was still human, too. It’s why I took Filsa. Why I know what it is, and how it feels.”
Oh, he could tell by her careful tone she had never talked about this with anyone before. “You took it because you like to be in control?”
“I took it when I was a teenager about to go to college because I wanted to be normal. Live in a dorm with a human roommate, get up early for classes, drink coffee in a shop where no one would notice my eyes changing colors or the growl in my throat. Study groups, nights out, finals, the works. I was on it for the entirety of my freshmen year in college.”
�
�And did it work?”
“It put the animal to sleep. But made me sick. And sad. Made me feel empty and alone and like I couldn’t relate to people because I was purposefully taking a drug that made me into something different just to impress people I didn’t really care about. I started taking it because I was afraid of an uncertain future, but I stopped taking it because, with it, I had no future.”
“Jesus,” Quickdraw murmured, setting the brush on the couch cushion beside him. He pulled her back and wrapped his arms around her chest, dropped his lips to her shoulder and just swayed her back and forth. Gently, because she deserved a reward for sharing an important part of her story with him. “Is that why you got protective of the bulls that were poisoned with it last month?”
“Yeah. They’d already chosen their futures. They were doing well in a career they loved, and someone tried to take that from them. And the sickness, the emptiness that comes with using it, can make a shifter so vulnerable. I didn’t want anyone to hurt them when they were vulnerable. I wanted them to be okay.”
“Come here,” he murmured. As much as he wanted to sit here holding her like this, smelling her skin and mango-scented shampoo, she was getting goosebumps on her arms. Now, he didn’t know if it was a chill from talking about things she normally kept private, or if she was cold, but either way, he had to fix it.
She crawled up on the couch. He set a pillow on his lap, lifted a blanket over her, and relaxed back into the couch, his hand on her neck, so he could not only touch her but feel her pulse slow down.
“Will you tell me the things you see from the rider tape?” she asked.
“It’s pretty boring.”
“So? You love what you do. You’re passionate about bucking. Teach me.”
This was the part he’d desperately wanted from his marriage, but Maren had only been interested in the attention, not the reasons behind his drive.
As he sat there and pointed out every time Brandon got off balance and what caused it, every bad habit that cost Brandon those eight second rides, she listened. He could tell because her eyes were trained on the television, and she asked every right question.
And in this moment, with her lying on his lap, all curled up under his blanket beside him, happy to ask the questions he was happy to answer, he did something he swore to himself he would never do again.
He gave his heart to a woman.
Chapter Fourteen
She would never forget tonight, cuddled here with both her boys. It would never happen again, and she was well aware. The future be hanged, though. If all she had was tonight, she was going to soak up every second.
She didn’t know why she’d come out here in a towel when she’d had his comfy T-shirt to dress in after the shower. Probably because the little ho in her figured a towel was easy access—no panties required. Or maybe it had been to watch the transformation on his face when she’d come out of the bathroom.
“What’s the plan?” she asked, sitting up. They’d just watched Brandon’s last buck, and it was frozen on him standing on a gate, his hands up as he yelled in triumph to the crowd. He’d ridden the full eight seconds for the last three events.
“He’s on a streak, and it gives him fuel. Gives him confidence. Tight spins won’t do it. That’s his comfort zone. I’ve gotta rattle him while we’re in the chute. Maybe let him get his hand all settled in the rope and then buck him straight out of the chute so his handlers have to pull him off me and re-set him. I haven’t done that in a couple years. It takes energy, but I’m ready. I’ve conditioned my bull harder than I ever have before. Direction changes are gonna be my best bet. I can get two, maybe three, in eight seconds. Let him get comfortable on the first two bucks and then change. No twisting, he’s ready for that. He expects it. I can tell from the way he positions his body out of the gate. He’s good at guessing a direction. He studies the bulls he rides.”
“What do you think he’s doing right now?” she asked curiously.
“The same thing we are. Researching me. Coming up with a game plan. He may be riding non-shifter bulls that are similar to my bucking style. The riders are going for a million-dollar purse, too.”
A soft snarl rattled her throat as she imagined the rider watching tape on Quickdraw.
“What was that for, Wolf?” he murmured.
“I don’t like anyone thinking they have a chance at eight seconds on your back.”
His smile was slow. “I like your protective streak. I’m the opposite, though. I like them getting cocky about it and then seeing the look of terror on their faces as they eat dirt and have to escape me.”
“Mmmm,” she practically purred. “Are you tired yet? It’s a big day tomorrow.”
He leaned back into the couch cushion and shook his head. “Sleep is a companion I never know the night before a buck.”
“But you have two days of bucking in a row for Battle of the Bulls. You can’t stay up for two days. You shouldn’t buck tired.” Annabelle shoved the covers back and straddled his lap.
The hunger in his eyes gave her such confidence to do whatever she wanted. There was no reserve there, only want.
Quickdraw reached up and plucked the part of the towel she’d tucked to keep it in place. The damp cloth fell around her hips. He wasn’t wearing a shirt so as he drank her in, she ran her palms down his smooth, strong, tattooed chest. God, it felt good to touch him like this again.
“Do you know how much I’ve thought about you since I had you?” he rumbled in a deep, gritty voice.
“Once? Twice?” she asked innocently.
“All day, every day. Every single thing about you drags me in.”
When he wrapped his hand gently around her throat, she moaned and rolled her hips forward. God, he was so sexy.
“You’re mine. You know that right?” he rumbled.
A tremble worked its way up her spine at how good his confident touch felt. And those words…
“I know,” she whispered.
The devil was in his slow grin. “Look at you, leaning in when I have my hand on your throat, holding eye contact. You rare bird. You aren’t scared of me, are you?”
It was her turn to show him the devil in her smile. Annabelle leaned forward, bit his ear softly, and whispered, “Wolves aren’t afraid of much.”
Quickdraw slid his hand to the back of her neck and gripped her hair, angled her face up to his before his lips collided with hers. The taste of him she’d already committed to memory, and now she realized how very much she’d missed it.
His warmth, his power, his touch.
Everything was right in her world.
Everything.
He dragged her hips against him, his sweats failing to hide how hard his erection was. A trill of excitement rushed through her, lifting chills on her skin.
He ran his fingertips up her spine and massaged her back as she rolled against him.
With a soft groan, he yanked the blanket from the couch beside them and wrapped it around her, creating this cocoon of warmth and safety with him.
Only they existed now. Only them.
He had the ability to turn off her loud mind and let her breathe. Let her just exist in pleasure, and to a girl like her, that was worth more than gold.
She lifted up on her knees, and he knew what to do. Quickdraw shoved his sweats down his thighs and gripped her hips as she settled back down onto his dick. He didn’t slide into her yet…not yet… Instead, he let her roll her sex up and down the length of his swollen cock.
“Fuuuuck, I want to be in you,” he uttered. Quickdraw cupped her breast and massaged it hard, plucked at her nipple and then leaned forward, pulled it into his mouth.
Annabelle cried out and arched her head back, closed her eyes to the rest of the world and got lost in the feel of him sucking on her, lapping at her with his tongue, his beard brushing her sensitive skin. He pressed his face between her tits and slowly rubbed his beard against her skin. She gasped, clutched the back of his head. He moved to her
other breast and gave it the same attention, licking, sucking, biting, until she was gripping the back of his hair.
His dick was slick under her movement. The head of his cock was so close to her entrance. She rested her face against his as he sucked…sucked…sucked…slower. It was torture…beautiful agony…
When he reared back, she moved with him. The head of his cock was right there again. Right there. He hesitated on sliding it forward, but she arched her back, ready to take it. She was already so wet with wanting.
His thick shaft slid into her excruciatingly slow. Thighs shaking, Annabelle slid down the entire length of him until she’d taken him to the hilt. And for a moment, they stayed like that, just locked together, that deep, deeeep connection.
And then Quickdraw whispered into her ear, “Good girl, taking all that.” He grabbed her by the hips and eased back, then thrust in. He stayed deep enough that he only came off her clit a tiny space between strokes. Her orgasm built up strong and fast, and after a few strokes more, she cried out his name and melted against him, her body pulsing around his.
“Gooooood,” he rumbled.
And she liked being good. She liked the compliments. Liked him being a big, dominant monster. Liked that he was more powerful than her and she didn’t have to be careful with him.
As she rolled her hips harder against him, he kissed her hard. He pushed his tongue past her lips and matched the rhythm they set with their hips.
“I can still feel you throbbing,” he growled against her mouth.
And suddenly, she was on her back on the floor. Just, one second, she was riding his lap, and the next she was on the floor and Quickdraw was over her with the frame of a silverback gorilla.
As he pumped into her hard, he raised up enough for her to see his abs flex with every stroke. His fist was clenched on the ground beside her, and she wrapped her hand around it to stay steady. She ran her other hand up his barrel chest as his hips worked against hers. When she gripped his neck gently, his eyes lit with burning fire. He sneered and lifted his chin, gave her more room to squeeze.