The Riding Master

by Alexandrea Weis

  She kicked her head back. “Because I thought you were an asshole.”

  He rubbed his hand up and down the crotch of her underwear, making her moan against him. “Do you still feel that way?”

  “Of course not.”

  Smiling up at her, he slowly lowered her panties to her ankles. “Are you sure?” He then dramatically dropped her underwear to the floor.

  “I’m positive,” she giggled.

  “Good, now turn over.”

  Trent eased the zipper down her back and peeled the dress from her body. Then, he unhooked her bra and threw it to the floor.

  Rayne was about to flip back over when he held her. “No, stay this way.” He pushed her knees beneath her, raising her hips from the bed. “I’ve dreamed of riding you from behind,” he murmured, tracing his fingers along her wet folds.

  His fingers dipped ever so gently into her and she backed her hips into his hand, wanting him to go deeper. Slowly, he withdrew and then pushed inside her, driving apart her flesh. With his thumb flicking her nub, and his fingers stimulating her from the inside, Trent began to slowly, rhythmically bring her to climax.

  Rayne groaned as her loins exploded with heat. She rocked against his hand as her coming orgasm pooled in her gut. Waves of excitement shut off her mind from everything around her. She swore she heard Frank barking, could make out Trent’s rapid breathing, but all noises sounded so far away. When the need of her release began to consume her, Rayne pushed harder against Trent’s hand.

  “Yes,” she cried out.

  “That’s it, baby, let go.”

  Just as he spoke the words, an unrelenting surge of energy burst forth from her groin and her entire being shuddered. When the last traces of her orgasm were dying away, Trent flipped her over on her back.

  “God, I want you.” He climbed on top of her. Snatching up the condom package, he eagerly ripped it open.

  Catching her breath, Rayne watched with interest as he slipped on the condom, fascinated at how quickly he did it.

  Trent laughed at her expression. “Haven’t you ever watched a man put on a condom before?”

  She looked up at him, wide-eyed. “No. You’re my first.”

  He kneeled between her legs. “Next time you can do it for me.”

  Lifting her hips to him, Trent spread her folds wide apart. Rayne wrapped her legs about his waist, entreating him to enter her. Trent leaned over, kissed her lips, and then slowly drove all the way into her with one forceful thrust. When he pulled out, he groaned against her cheek before diving back into her moist flesh.

  Rayne held on to his shoulders as he rammed into her again, then a tendril of disappointment snaked through her when her body did not respond. There was no dizzying sensations, no urgent need. Perhaps there was something wrong with her. Maybe she was one of those women not able to orgasm during sex. As the sounds of his exertions filled the bedroom, Rayne waited for him to climax. But just as she hoped he was almost done, Trent stopped.

  “You’re not enjoying this, are you?”

  “No. I am.”

  He sat up slightly. “Rayne, you need to tell me if this isn’t working for you.”

  “I told you, I’m one of those women who just aren’t any good at sex.”

  He placed her on her side. “We’ll try it another way.”

  “Trent, it’s all right.”

  Spooning against her, he gently caressed her back. “Do you trust me?”

  She nodded her head.

  “Then we will do it in every position until we find one that excites you.”

  He tucked her knees into her chest. “There is nothing wrong with you. We just have to experiment a little.”

  He kneeled behind her, and when he entered her, Rayne instantly felt something very different. A tantalizing tingle began in her lower body, and when he pushed into her once more, the tingle turned into a consuming ache.

  “Is this better?” he mumbled in her ear.

  She dug her claws into his hips.

  He kissed her ear. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  His thrusting became more insistent. The faster he pushed into her, the more desperate she became.

  “Harder, Trent, do it harder.”

  Balling up the sheets in her hands, her body vibrated as his hips slapped loudly against her. Rayne grabbed the pillow in front of her as the fire in her gut spread throughout her limbs. She moaned, overcome with desire, desperately wanting him to drive harder into her. Her muscles twitched as she lost all sense of her surroundings. Rayne lowered her head into the pillow, bit down hard, and when she could not stand it any longer, she screamed.

  Trent was grunting behind her when she bucked against him. He held her close as he drove into her one more time, and then he cried out her name before he went still.

  Curled into her back, she could feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest. She could not believe what they had just shared.

  So that’s what everyone keeps raving about.

  He kissed her back. “I think you’re getting the hang of this.”

  She rolled over to him. “It was so much better the other way.”

  “We just had to find what worked for you. Foster never wanted to try different positions?”

  The mention of her ex-husband’s name made her snort with resentment. “With Foster there was only one position for sex, and that was only after he had downed a few drinks. It was never good with him.”

  “Sex is supposed to be fun and bring you pleasure, Rayne. I want you to enjoy being with me.”

  She marveled at his practical approach to something she had always seen as mysterious and forbidden. All during her marriage, Rayne had grown used to sex being what she was supposed to do and not something she enjoyed. Now here was a man showing her a whole new world, where the joy in her heart matched the intensity of the physical relationship.

  As her mind jumped ahead to Trent’s expertise in bed, she began to speculate about his other lovers. How many had there been? And where did she stack up? Carefully considering how to broach the subject, she leaned back from him, intent on learning more.

  “I guess I must seem pretty inexperienced compared to the other women you’ve been with.”

  He stretched out next to her. “What makes you think that?”

  “You just know so much.” She hesitated before asking, “Have you had a lot of lovers?”

  He sat up and removed the condom. “Would it matter if I have?”

  “No, but it makes me wonder what you could possibly see in me?”

  He dropped the condom to the floor. “You need to start seeing your assets, Rayne. You’re a very unique and—”

  The ringing of her house phone interrupted him.

  “Do you need to get that?”

  She pointed to an answering machine on her dresser. “The machine will get it.” As the machine answered the call, she turned back to him. “You were saying something about my assets?”

  “Rayne? Are you home?” a thundering voice rang out from the machine.

  Rayne bolted up in the bed. “Oh, shit!”

  “What?” Trent implored.

  “I’m at the hospital with Estelle,” the man on the answering machine went on. “She phoned me last night, claiming she couldn’t find you. She fell and hit her head. Rayne, you need to come to Texas Health Presbyterian in Dallas on Walnut Hill Lane. We’re in the emergency room. I hope you get this. I’m going to call Southland Stables and see if you’re there. I’ve got my cell. Call me.”

  Rayne sat motionless in the bed as the message came to an end and the machine clicked off.

  Trent clasped her arm. “Rayne, what is it?”

  She kicked her legs over the side of her brass bed. “It’s my mother. I have to go to the hospital.” She stood from the bed and went to the bathroom door.

  “But who was that on your machine?”

  “That was my ex-husband.” She gestured to the mess Frank had left in the bathroom. “Shit, I need to shower in
the other bathroom.”

  Trent came up to her. “Take a shower and I will clean up Frank’s mess.” He grabbed a blue fuzzy robe hanging on a hook just inside the bathroom door. Wiping a few shards of toilet paper from the robe, he draped it about her shoulders. “Go on. We need to get to your mother.”

  She fastened the robe around her waist. “We?”

  “I’m going with you,” he stated, moving back into the bedroom.

  “Presbyterian Hospital is almost an hour away, and you have to get to the stables, and…this isn’t your problem, Trent.”

  “It is my problem, Rayne. I told you I’m not going anywhere.” He collected his jeans and briefs from the floor. “You’d better go get ready.”

  As Trent was pulling on his pants, she went up to his side and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.” Before he could reply, she dashed through the door and down the hall to the guest bathroom.

  When she closed the bathroom door, she leaned back against it and wiped a tear from her cheek. For the first time in years, Rayne no longer felt alone.

  Chapter 12

  Trent careened his dark blue BMW through the scant early morning Sunday traffic on I-35 toward the hospital. When his car entered the road to the mammoth complex that made up Texas Health Presbyterian, Rayne’s stomach started to churn.

  She flashed back to her previous hospital visits with her mother and how uncomfortable they had been. Estelle had often been drugged, her speech had sometimes been slurred, but the worst was when she had witnessed her mother suffering through the delirium of alcohol withdrawal. Estelle’s screams, curses, and cries for her sister, Jaime, still haunted Rayne.

  “You all right?” Trent pulled into a parking spot outside of the emergency room.

  “I’ve just gone through this with her so many times before that I….”

  “This time it will be different.”

  She turned to him. “How?”

  He switched off the ignition. “Because I’m here.”

  Leaning over in her seat, she kissed his cheek. “In case I get too pissed off later, thank you for coming with me.”

  He reached for his car door. “We’d better get in there.”

  Entering a double set of glass doors, they found a round reception desk located in the center of a modest-sized waiting area decorated with peaceful ocean prints, comfy chairs, and a coffee and tea service to the side of the room.

  After a brief conversation with the reception staff, Rayne and Trent were escorted by an aide dressed in blue scrubs through the two white doors marked Exam Area. A short walk down a white-tiled hall brought them to the door of Exam Room 6.

  Queasy and feeling drained, Rayne stepped inside. The first thing that hit her was the antiseptic smelling air, and then she heard her mother’s grating voice.

  “Who in the hell is it now? They’ve already drained all the goddamned blood I got. How much more do they need?”

  “Just calm down, Estelle,” a man impatiently pleaded.

  Rayne quickly spotted the owner of that voice, adding to her discomfort.

  The attractive older man was standing by the foot of the hospital bed with his arms folded over his chest, looking grim, as usual. His thick gray hair was gently tossed about his head, and his angular face, pointed chin, and smooth brow were exactly the same as she remembered. Rayne had hoped in the few months since they had last seen each other that he would have aged, but Foster Greer could never afford to grow older. He had always maintained an active lifestyle, adhered to a healthy diet, and avoided all alcohol and drugs—probably to keep up with his younger wives. She eyed his pressed blue slacks, starched white dress shirt, and polished black leather shoes, and recalled his propensity for always looking his best. Despite any emergency, Foster would take the time to make sure his clothes were just right before heading out the door. When he turned his blue, dictatorial eyes to Rayne, a deluge of unhappy memories engulfed her.

  “Rayne.” Foster approached her side and cordially kissed her cheek.

  When he saw Trent, Foster stiffened with surprise. He held out his hand to Trent. “I’m Foster Greer.”

  Trent took his hand. “Trent Newbury.”

  “Are you Rayne’s boyfriend?”

  “He’s just a friend, Foster,” Rayne jumped in. “We ride together at the stables.”

  Foster’s blue eyes contracted into two discerning slits as they appraised Trent. “Just asking, Rayne.”

  She ignored him. “Why did she call you? She knows my—”

  “Is that her?” Estelle croaked from the hospital bed.

  Rayne veered her eyes to the corner of the exam room. Next to a large window covered with green and white-checked curtains was a raised hospital bed, and lying in the bed, the white sheets tossed about her tiny figure, was her mother.

  It always shocked Rayne whenever she saw Estelle. She was instantly reminded of her sister. Jaime had inherited their mother’s blue eyes, petite figure, and creamy white skin, whereas Rayne had always favored her father in looks and eye color. The only thing she had gotten from their mother was her frizzy, honey-blonde hair. As Estelle’s heart-shaped mouth turned downward, Rayne was reminded of how the woman’s delicate, almost fragile features had stirred the protective instincts of every man she had ever known. As far back as Rayne could remember, Estelle Masterson had used her exquisite beauty to get exactly what she wanted from the opposite sex.

  “Where in the hell have you been?” Estelle pointed a bony finger at her daughter. “I called your cell phone a dozen times. I even tried your house and that damn stable you love so much.”

  “I was out last night and turned off my phone,” Rayne asserted, standing a few feet away from the bed.

  A white bandage was covering her mother’s right forehead, making her steely blue eyes appear even colder. Despite her condition, Rayne noticed that her mother still had found time to apply lipstick, rouge, mascara, and carefully style her short, curly blonde hair. Her aquamarine silk dress had not a drop of blood on it, while her black low-heeled pumps were sitting neatly on the floor next to her bed.

  “Why did you turn off your phone? I had no way to get you. Thank God Foster was home. I’d be dead without him.”

  “Estelle, don’t be so dramatic,” Foster chided as he came up to Rayne’s side and gave her shoulder an encouraging pat. “You only bumped your head…you weren’t dying.” He looked over at Rayne. “I phoned Brian Rancor, the administrator here. You remember Brian.”

  Rayne nodded. “Yes, Brian from your Saturday golf game.”

  “He contacted the ER and had her seen right away. I left you a message as soon as we got here.”

  Uncomfortable with his touch, Rayne edged away from Foster’s hand. “Mother, what happened?”

  “I tripped on those stupid slippers you bought for me last Christmas.” Estelle played with the bandage on her forehead. “I told you they were too big!”

  “Estelle, please,” Foster begged, gesturing for her to lower her voice. “You don’t have to shout.”

  Rayne pleadingly cast her eyes to her ex-husband. “What really happened?”

  Foster grudgingly shrugged. “Do you need to ask?”

  Rayne sighed and shifted her gaze to her mother. “How much did you have to drink, Mother?”

  “Oh, so you think I did this because I was drunk,” Estelle’s aggravating, raspy voice echoed about the exam room. “It was those damned slippers, I told you.”

  “I need to go.” Foster took Rayne’s elbow. “Walk me out,” he whispered.

  “Mother, I’m going to have a word with Foster.”

  “You two are going to talk about me behind my back. I get it.” Spotting Trent close to the room door, Estelle paused and then stared at him. “Who’s he?”

  Rayne gave Trent a beseeching glance.

  “Trent Newbury.” Trent smiled radiantly as he neared the hospital bed. “I ride horses with Rayne at Southland Stables.”

  Estelle regarded him with a speck of skepticism
in her blue eyes. “Are you gay?”

  Rayne spun around. “Mother!”

  “What?” Estelle shrugged her thin shoulders. “Aren’t all men who ride horses gay? You told me so, Raynie.”

  “Well, I’m not gay,” Trent assured her, his smile still intact.

  Estelle did not appear convinced. “What are you doing with my daughter?”

  Foster turned Rayne toward the door. “Let’s leave them.”

  “What happened?” she questioned as soon as they were in the ER hallway.

  Foster’s eyes glided over Rayne’s snug jeans, white T-shirt, and damp hair. “It was a little after three in the morning when she phoned the house, frantic because she was bleeding all over the place and didn’t remember falling. By the time I got to her, she was still pretty drunk, and I knew she was going to need to be seen by someone.”

  Rayne gripped the white railing along the hallway wall, choking back her shame. “Thank you for bringing her here. I’m just sorry you had to deal with her.”

  “Your mother always did drive me nuts, Rayne, but I knew if she was calling me, it had to be pretty bad.” He pointed to the exam room door. “Were you with him last night?”

  A swift kick of suspicion hit Rayne’s gut. “Does that matter?”

  He shook his head, appearing frustrated. “I know things didn’t end on a high note with us, but don’t shut me out completely. I’m still here for you.”

  Rayne forced a half-smile across her lips, wanting to appease him. She had no desire to remain cordial, but she did need him to continue paying for Bob and his upkeep.

  “I appreciate that, Foster.”

  He glanced about the bustling ER hallway. “Look, the ER doctor wants to keep her, but I told him she won’t stay. There’s something wrong with her blood work. I didn’t get the whole story, but they wanted to wait to talk to you.”

  Rayne rested her shoulder on the wall. “It’s probably the drinking catching up with her. The last time she was in rehab they told her to quit or she would start having problems.”

  “Yeah, I remember. It was right around our eighth anniversary.”