Two Shots Down (Battle of the Bulls Book 1)

by T. S. Joyce

  She was on the edge of the bed, her head leaning half off it, exposing her tender throat to his biting kisses again.

  He rolled his hips, and she could feel it—the hard, thick head of his cock right there, pressing against her wet sex. He eased in shallowly, then back out, back in deeper. His teeth were on her neck, and when she turned her head to the side, she could see them in the mirrored closet doors. She watched him as he pushed her knees farther apart and bucked deep into her, filling her, stretching her. She arched her back and groaned at how good it felt, closed her eyes to the world and just existed. Just felt. Just let him drag her body to the top of a roller coaster and then rode with him as he dragged her back down. He slid into her so deep, over and over, so smooth, drawing out every second of satisfaction.

  He was tensing now, every thrust he shook a little, and his grip on her one wrist tightened. His teeth nipped at her neck more, and as she cried out with her release, he captured her words with a kiss. He moaned against her lips as he thrust into her hard and fast. He rammed into her and hesitated, his breath shaking as he pulsed shots of warmth into her, matching her orgasm.

  He rolled into her again…again…dragging out her release…dragging out his. And all the while, he kissed her. His grip changed on her wrist, and then he thread his fingers through hers, held her hand. And with his other hand, he cupped the back of her neck.

  Kiss…kiss…kiss…

  He was adoring her. That’s what he was doing, right? He was showing her care and affection, even after he was finished.

  And when she was exhausted and completely sated, he rolled over and pulled her onto her side against him, rested his chin on top of her head, and every minute or so, he would kiss her there, right on top of her head.

  “I don’t regret anything,” she whispered in the dark.

  He made that rumbling sound but didn’t say anything. Not for a while. At last, he broke the silent petting and said, “Tell me that tomorrow, and I’ll believe you.”

  “Will you stay in here with me?” she asked softly.

  “Do you want me to?” He sounded genuinely surprised.

  “Of course,” she murmured. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt so safe.”

  He huffed a soft breath and held her tighter. “No harm will ever come to you no matter what happens tomorrow.”

  She didn’t know what that meant, so she relaxed against him, determined to enjoy their time together tonight. She’d learned the hard way that no day is to be wasted. And no night should be wasted either.

  So she scratched his back gently, massaged his thick muscles, rubbed his smooth skin, and smiled when his muscles lost all their tension and he sighed a relieved sound.

  “I’ve never done this before,” he whispered.

  “Done what?”

  Two Shots did it again. He kissed the top of her head. “I’ve never stayed.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Two Shots woke with a start in the dark. An alarm was going off, but it wasn’t his. It took him all of three seconds to remember where he was.

  His arms were full of her. Of Cheyenne.

  For the first time the night before a buck, he’d slept like the dead.

  And speaking of the dead, Tarik sat in the chair in the corner, his elbows resting on his knees, staring at his hands, like he didn’t know what they were. Idiot ghost.

  Stupid sonofabitch was gonna haunt her? He should go haunt the girl he was cheating on her with. Two Shots didn’t have much sympathy for Tarik’s plight after he’d found out he was a cheater. He could rot in purgatory for all he cared. Hell, that’s probably why he was stuck in the in-between—unfinished ghost business or something. You feeling the weight of your guilt, Tarik? Well, she don’t need you around to anchor her down anymore.

  As if the ghost could read his thoughts, he looked up at Two Shots and then disappeared.

  The alarm was still going off so he reached over her and hit the snooze button. It was only six-thirty. Damn, she was an early riser. The rodeo didn’t start until later this evening.

  “I’m supposed to wake up Quickdraw,” she murmured sleepily. “He likes to get a warmup buck in before people get to the arena on event days.”

  “He told you that?” Two shots asked in a hoarse, sleep-filled voice.

  “No, I researched and asked around. That mean ol’ cow doesn’t tell me anything.”

  Two Shots chuckled. “I would love to be around to see his face if you ever call him a cow in front of him.”

  “I’ll make sure you’re there then,” she said as she connected a call and then buried her head back against his chest.

  Damn, this girl sure was making his heart beat loud and fast. Even with her dull human senses, she could probably hear it, what with her face all pressed against his torso like this.

  She wasn’t wearing a stitch of clothing, but her skin was covered in goosebumps as though she was cold. He didn’t get cold much, so it was kind of a foreign concept to him, but seeing her skin react to discomfort dredged up a little sliver of protectiveness. He pulled the comforter tight around her, sealing her into a little cocoon with him. His body ran hot, so he would have her warmed up in no time.

  He liked that. He liked the idea that he could make her more comfortable. The confidence that he could take care of her. He really, really liked taking care of her.

  “Hey,” she murmured into the phone.

  She had such a sweet, cute sleepy voice.

  “Get your ass out of bed. I have one of the arena workers opening the doors for you in half an hour.”

  Okay, so she had the mouth of a pirate. Still cute.

  On the other end of the line, Quickdraw rumbled, “I’m getting up.” And then he hung up.

  Jerk. She’d set her alarm to make sure he would get up in time to beat any news reporters to the arena, had set up a way for him to get in, but he didn’t even notice or appreciate her effort. And the saddest part of that? She didn’t even seem to mind. Like she expected that behavior from Quickdraw. Did she expect that behavior from him?

  Her phone lit up, and she frowned as she read the screen. “Quickdraw says ‘you don’t suck’ and ‘what time is lunch.’”

  Two Shots laughed and nuzzled his nose against her neck just to memorize her scent. She smelled different when she was sleepy. Smelled even better somehow.

  “Did you sleep okay?” she asked.

  “Yeah, you put me in a coma, woman. You started massaging my back, and that’s the last thing I remember. I don’t even think I moved.”

  She giggled, and he loved it so much he tickled her ribs. She burst out into more laughter, arching her back and pressing her toes against his shins. God, she was so damn cute. When she settled, her cheeks were all pink and her almond-colored eyes danced with her smile. She didn’t have a stitch of make-up on and, still, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

  “You’re so pretty, Cheyenne.”

  Her eyebrows arched up like she was actually surprised. “Me?”

  “See, that right there makes you even prettier.”

  “What does?” she asked, brushing her fingertip down his jaw.

  “That you don’t even know how pretty you are.”

  “I’ve put on weight since my barrel racing days.”

  “Are you gonna argue with my compliment?”

  “My motto is to argue everything.”

  “Typical woman. Hardheaded, all of you.”

  “But I have. You met me, and I was super skinny—”

  “You were a girl. I had no interest in a girl, Cheyenne.” He slid his hand up the impossibly soft skin of her stomach and cupped the full weight of her tit. He was already hard as a rock. “You grew into one hell of a woman.”

  The smile on her face faded and her eyes went all serious. “I was happier when you met me. Less damaged.”

  “No. You’re happy enough now. You smile a lot.”

  “That’s new. It’s because of you.”

  “Then I
’ll keep making you smile,” he gritted out, sliding his hand between her thighs. “I’ll make you even happier than you were back then, and what will your argument be?”

  “My hair is longer and gets knots in it.”

  He pushed his finger into her and shuddered when she moaned. Against her ear, he whispered, “I like it long. You have perfect curves.” He placed her hand on his boner and rolled his hips against her touch. “I think about you all the time. Like my head don’t want to think on anything else. Your hair shines just right in the sun. Your skin begs my fingers to touch it, you’re so soft. Your Wranglers fit that ass just right. Your smile is different now, okay? I hear you. You’re not so naïve about life. Now you smile over important stuff, not just to show people you’re ‘happy.’ Now a person has to earn a smile from you. Sexy. You’re wiser. You’re caring. You’re so damn good at your job. You’re tough. You can hang with the boys, and you ain’t afraid to eat with me. You watch others and meet needs like no one I’ve ever met. You’re so smart and funny, but most importantly…most importantly…”

  “What?”

  “You don’t see a monster when you look at me. You just see the man.”

  Her smile was so damn pretty in the dim morning light that filtered through the hotel window.

  “To me you were never a monster. You were always just you.”

  He inhaled deeply at how good it felt to hear her say that. She really had forgiven him. Really had put the past behind her, and how many people could say they’ve done that? It was easier to hold onto hurt. The healing was harder, but she’d done it.

  Beautiful girl.

  Special girl.

  Important girl.

  He pushed his finger into her again and let off a rumble at how damn sexy she was. Already wet for him, already writhing against his touch. He pleased her, and she was open about it. Her little moans of ecstasy turned him on even more. His dick was so hard, but he wanted to feel her orgasm against his fingers. Wanted to push her to release and then enjoy every second of it instead of getting lost in how good he felt.

  He slid his fingers in and out of her slowly, slowly, until she pulled at his wrist and begged by whispering his name. Not just his bull name. No. She whispered, “Dalton.”

  Fuuuuuuuck.

  Now he was moving his hips with her because her hand was on his dick. She felt so good, pressing against him as her eyes clouded over and she lost her mind. Her lips parted, and he kissed them, then rested his forehead against hers as he pushed two fingers back inside her. So slick and easy, and he wanted her again. Wanted to bury himself so deep inside of her there wouldn’t be an end to him or a beginning to her. He wanted to claim her. To own her. To make her confident that he would always take care of her needs.

  Her breath was coming in short gasps now, and she rocked her hips faster with the pace he was setting. And when she cried out, he couldn’t help himself. He grabbed his cock and stroked himself as she came. Her body gripped his fingers over and over, and he jerked himself in rhythm to it. She was so. Damn. Sexy.

  The pressure in his cock built fast. He threw the covers off and settled between her legs, stroked faster until he let off a long groan as he came onto her stomach and tits. He painted her as she writhed and arched her back under the streams of white and, fuck it all, he would never forget how sexy she looked right now or how good this felt.

  Her tits heaved with her breathing as she searched his eyes, a drunken smile on her full lips.

  Two Shots felt like the king of everything for drawing a look of awe from Cheyenne like this.

  “Two Shots,” she whispered, dragging the palm of her hand down his abs. “Buck good tonight, stay on my team, stay in the top three, and you can have me again after.”

  Mmmmm. Sexy little briber.

  “Deal.” He leaned down and kissed her, then made his way to the bathroom to get something to clean her up. She didn’t know, but whether he was top three bull, or top forty, she was his. That little gem was another complication of mating with a dominant, possessive-as-hell bull.

  She had a man now.

  She just didn’t realize how deep they were in it yet.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The vision of Two Shots Down on his knees between her thighs, one arm locked by her face, the other stroking his dick as he came all over her had replayed in her mind a hundred times today. She’d never been so comfortable with a man. She’d never been more attracted to one.

  “They’re drawing now,” one of the top cowboy agents, Hal Jinkins, murmured to her. He represented two of them. The agents weren’t needed in regular bull riding, but in bull shifter riding? This world was a little tougher to navigate.

  Two Shots Down was changed along with Quickdraw Slow Burn and Dead of Winter. This was the part that didn’t settle well with her. They were required to be changed into their animals during the drawings to see which cowboys would ride them. She didn’t know how it was done in regular bull riding events, but here? Each changed bull was placed in a pen by itself to avoid those monstrous fights that still happened from time to time when two bulls were pissed and broke down the dang metal gates to get to each other. The cowboys, onlookers, families, judges, and every member of the staff and PBSR were allowed to walk through and size them up like pieces of meat. And worst of all? Fifty tickets were sold for this event for the human crowd to come back behind the chutes and look at them. Currently, there was a trio of women standing in front of Two Shots’ pen, taking a selfie as he paced behind them, blowing breath and obviously pissed. God, he was monstrous compared to those girls.

  “Ten more minutes, and they’ll kick the crowd out,” Hal murmured as if he could read the murder on her face.

  “They aren’t just animals. And I don’t even think they do this in regular bull riding.”

  “Look, I know you have a fondness for them, but they are animals, Cheyenne. And they signed up for this attention. All the extra hoopla happening with them right now? That’s where the extra funds are coming from to pay for their travel and hotels. They need the bullshit like this.” He jerked his chin toward the three blondes who were ooing and ahhing at Two Shots. “Attention means they’re big in the circuit. Means they’re getting paid.” He gave her a sad smile and clapped her on the shoulder. “Hang in there. Them boys are tough as nails and so are you.”

  “Thanks, Hal,” she murmured as he moseyed off toward where the riders were gathered around a scoring judge with his computer out. They were drawing randomly, but there was a tier system. Less experienced riders didn’t get a shot at the big boys. They had to prove themselves on lower ranked bulls before they could be in the top tier drawing for the top ten bulls. But it meant they didn’t get scored as high either unless the bulls they drew had a phenomenal night and made a run at a good buck. It was cut-throat competition for those riders.

  And the ones who did well and got ranked higher? Well, they got their shot at the big scoring bulls, but they also upped their risk. Tarik’s death had been a big lesson to the entire circuit. He probably should’ve never been on a bull with that much power. It was like putting a new driver behind the wheel of a Ferrari. He hadn’t been ready for an engine like Two Shots Down’s.

  Cheyenne chewed on her thumbnail and watched the riders’ reaction to the bulls they were getting. Why was she so nervous? She would be handed a card with all three of her bulls’ riders any minute now. And she would take that information to the boys, as soon as they changed back into their human forms. Her heart was pounding against her sternum. Good gah, would every event be like this for her now? Already, the arena seats on the other side of the chutes were filling up. That would be a lot of eyes on the bulls she cared about.

  Please let them buck well…please let them buck well…

  “I’m gonna find him after the rodeo,” one of the blondes said. “I have plans for him.” Her butt-cheek-revealing-cut-off shorts and a crop top that showed the underside of her tits backed her words. She was long-legged, tan, an
d a platinum blond wearing a bright orange tank top with her tits hanging out. And she was turning heads left and right with the riders.

  “It doesn’t look like he likes you much,” she called out to the girl.

  The girl turned to her with red in her cheeks. “Well, he’s in his animal form. Don’t you know anything about shifters? They’re always angry when they’re Turned.”

  “Changed,” she said languidly. “The correct term is when they’re changed. That one over there looks calm enough around you.” She pointed to Dead of Winter’s massive black and white bull. He was standing by the fence, ears erect, eyes on the girls, looking like a tank. But a calm tank. It was actually weird seeing him quiet like this. He’d been acting strange all day.

  “That one,” she said, gesturing to Two Shots Down, “doesn’t look very fond of any of y’all.”

  “He will after tonight,” the girl said with such an air of confidence, it made Cheyenne want to claw the smile off her bright red lips. She stopped leaning on the fence and straightened her spine. “I think it’s time to go, ladies. Go get your drinks and take a seat. Leave the bulls alone. Let them focus before they buck, huh?”

  “Do you know who my father is?” the girl asked.

  “Don’t know and, frankly, I give less than zero shits who sired you. Your time’s up.”

  “My name is Josephine Conrad.”

  “That’s special. Well, Jo. Can I call you Jo? I’m sure your daddy has reserved you a seat right up front. I’ll tell Mr. Conrad you said ‘good luck’ before he starts announcing tonight’s event.” She cast a quick glance to where the handlers were starting to let the bulls down the alley one by one to change back for the last couple hours before their events. “Better poof-poof, princess. Wouldn’t want you to get trampled by the bull you have plans for.” She smiled brightly.