Serving Trouble

by Sara Jane Stone

  “So . . .” Shit, he was acting like he’d never spoken to a woman before. And this was Josie.

  Because it was Josie, he had to ask. “Has Travis left you alone?”

  She nodded and her smiled faded. “He hasn’t called, texted, or emailed. And I don’t miss him.”

  “Glad you’re not heartbroken.” Because I’m dying to take you into the barn and watch you ride that damn bull in your little, white dress.

  “Not even close. I’m more upset about the fact that you’re leaving tomorrow. Not just you, I mean. Dominic too.”

  She turned her gaze to the grass at her feet. It was green, which was unusual for this time of year. The fact that they’d had some rain and were still free and clear from forest fire danger had allowed them to build the bonfire.

  “Nice boots,” he said, ready to slam the door on words like “Travis” and “leaving.”

  She lifted her chin. And the look in her green eyes? It spelled mischief. “You mentioned something about riding . . .”

  “The bull.” He nodded to the barn. “It’s in there. Follow me.” And make my fantasy come true.

  He was one beer into the night, so he knew it wasn’t alcohol driving him. He wanted Josie. On the bull, on the cushions surrounding the machine—­it didn’t matter as long as she was in his arms.

  “Sure there won’t be a line?” she asked, walking at his side through the darkness to the mostly empty pole barn that at one time, when his grandfather was alive, had housed cows, goats, and even a llama.

  He shook his head. “I locked it up for the night. I didn’t want a bunch of drunken idiots taking rides and getting hurt. Plus, my dad would be pissed if someone broke it.”

  “You’ll start it off slow so I won’t get hurt?” she asked, her voice low.

  “Yeah,” he said, withdrawing the key from his jeans and slipping it into the locked side door. But he wasn’t sure they were talking about the bull anymore.

  He led the way inside and flipped the light switch. The fluorescent strips overhead illuminated a dusty dirt floor. His grandfather had talked about pouring concrete one day, but they’d never had the money. A collection of boxes and old furniture stood at the far end. The black bull stood in the center of a padded section that filled one corner of the barn. At one point in time, the pads had been red, white, and blue, but they’d faded, losing their all-­American look.

  “It has horns.” Josie moved past him and stepped up onto a firm greyish-­white cushion. “And a face.”

  “That’s real cowhide,” he said, keeping his boots planted in the dirt. If he joined her up there, he’d reach for her. And he wanted to see her ride first. His dick was hard at the thought. Having a hard-­on around Josie should have sent him running toward a cold shower. But not tonight.

  One more night. . .

  He watched as she ran her hand over the black hide, down the bull’s neck to the leather strap that ran down the machine’s side. At the base of the bull’s neck, the strap connected to a handle. Some of the fancy models included a mock saddle. But Big Buck’s bull looked like the real deal. His dad used to brag that this was what cowboys used for training.

  She placed one hand on the handle and the other on the smooth surface covering the machine’s back. Glancing over her shoulder, she raised an eyebrow. “Can I take it for a ride now?”

  Oh hell yeah.

  “Sure.” He headed for the controls, keeping an eye on Josie. She gripped the handle and pulled herself up. It wasn’t a graceful mounting, not even close. But the way her sundress rode up her legs, flashing her white cotton panties beneath—­he was eight seconds away from pulling her off the damn thing before he hit go.

  Turning away, he focused on the controls. He set the speed to slow and then called, “Ready?”

  “Think so,” she said. “Does this look like a good position?”

  He looked up and let out a low groan. Her bare legs held tight to the cowhide, leaving her dress bunched around her hips. And she gripped the handle with both hands. “Yeah,” he managed as he hit the big green button. “You’re good.”

  The machine hummed to life, sounding nothing like the animals the real cowboys risked life and limb to ride. Slowly, it began to pitch forward and back, all the while spinning in a gentle circle. It looked like a bull on tranquilizers—­or a machine designed to seduce.

  Josie slid down to the neck. She took one hand off the handle and reached for the horns. Her upper body pitched forward. The machine tipped back and her panty-­covered bottom glided a few inches in the other direction.

  “Hold on tight with your legs,” he called. “And move your upper body against the movement.”

  “Huh?” She pitched forward again, but this time, she fought to lean back. A few more turns and her body would find the motion.

  But helping her wouldn’t hurt . . .

  Noah climbed up onto the padding. “Would you like a lesson?”

  “You’re going to climb on while this thing is moving?” she said without looking at him. She was focused on her grip and the bull.

  He laughed. “It’s not going that fast, sweetheart.” The pet name slipped out and he saw her eyes widen. But that could have been due to the bull’s motion. “And I’ve had a lot of practice on this thing,” he added.

  “Show me,” she demanded. There was a breathless quality to her usually defiant tone.

  He waited until the side of the bull faced him. Then, he reached for the handle, covering her hand with his, and scrambled on. She fell forward and he probably looked like an ass while he worked to get his leg around the moving machine, but a few seconds later he was settled. His hips pressed up against her backside as the bull’s head reared into the air.

  “Lean back,” he said, wrapping one arm around her waist. His other hand maintained a hold on the handle beside her white-­knuckled grip. “And relax. I’ve got you. The worst that can happen is you fall on your ass.”

  “I’d rather keep my ass and my pride off the ground,” she murmured, letting her back rest against his chest.

  Holding her close, he guided their bodies, pitching them toward the bull’s head when the rear end lowered. He leaned back when it kicked up as if lifting its nonexistent hind legs in the air.

  “You would be one helluva of a sight at a rodeo,” he murmured.

  “Because I didn’t think to wear jeans?” she teased, sounding a lot more relaxed now that they’d found a rhythm.

  “I like your dress, Josie.” His gaze fixed on the back of her neck. Her hair had fallen forward, over her shoulders, during the first few moves. And now her neck was exposed.

  So damn tempting.

  “I thought the boots were a good fit,” she said, talking as if she needed to fill the silence. “For my debut as a cowgirl.”

  “You look like one right now.”

  She rocked back against him. By now, she had to be aware of his dick, hard and begging for action beneath his fly. What the hell was he waiting for? He had the woman he’d dreamed about, knowing he shouldn’t touch her, in his arms.

  One more night. You have one more chance before everything changes.

  “I’m going to kiss you.” Not wanting to let go of her or the strap, he lowered his lips to the nape of her neck. He touched her skin, one brief, soft tease. “Here.”

  “On the bull,” she said as she leaned into him and wiggled her hips.

  No way in hell she missed how much I want her.

  The bull’s head dropped and he pressed his mouth against her neck, kissing, licking, exploring . . .

  She turned her head and offered her lips, her green eyes wide. One look confirmed that she wanted this. Probably not as much as he did, but he’d bet she hadn’t been daydreaming about him in a swimsuit.

  “Josie,” he murmured. His fingers wrapped around her slim waist, holding on tight. Hi
s mouth touched hers. Eight seconds into the kiss that threatened to break his restraint—­he wanted her, now, on the back of a damn bull—­her lips parted and she kissed him back, taking their somewhat innocent lip-­lock straight into hot and heavy.

  She broke away, but his attention, every cell in his body, remained focused on her.

  “Have you ever ridden the bull naked?” she asked.

  “No.” But her low voice made the sound of cowhide against bare butt seem like a brilliant idea.

  “Hmm,” she murmured, glancing down. “Place your hand on my thigh.”

  He released his hold on her waist and followed her instructions. Her skin felt so damn good beneath his palm. He inched upward. “For a better grip.”

  “You’re going to need it,” she said. “I’m letting go.”

  A second later, both of her hands were reaching for the bottom of the material bunched around her hips. Holding tight with his thighs, he withdrew his right hand from the handle and placed it on her other leg.

  She pulled her dress over her head and tossed it forward. One of the thin shoulder straps caught on the bull’s right horn. The dress hung there, spinning around.

  “Looks like the bull’s waving the white flag,” she said.

  Sweetheart, I’m ready and willing to surrender.

  “Lose the bra, Josie,” he said gruffly. “Let’s take this naked bull ride all the way.”

  But she didn’t reach for the back clasp. Instead, she slipped her hand in the handle and looked over her shoulder at him.

  “You’re sure?” she said softly.

  “I want you.” And yeah, he supposed he’d known that he would need to toss that fact out there tonight alongside a few others. “I have for a while. I’ve respected your brother, steering clear, but I want to spend the last few hours before I go with you.”

  “Noah—­” Her eyes widened as if she hadn’t expected this speech.

  But he wasn’t done yet. “You can pull your dress back on and we can just sit here, watch the bull spin, and talk until the sun comes up. But I’d rather take that naked ride.”

  She let go and leaned forward, her fingers deftly working to strip off her bra. “Don’t let me fall.”

  “I won’t.” He slid his hands up her thighs, over her white underwear to her waist while she tossed her bra to the mat.

  “Ah hell, Josie, I want to turn you around and bury my face in your breasts,” he said. And yeah, he heard the raw desire in his voice. “I want to claim every damn inch of you.”

  His hands moved higher, brushing the underside of her breast. He couldn’t resist. He had to touch her. Cupping one full breast in each hand, he ran his fingers over her nipples, offering gentle squeezes. She gasped and leaned back, her hips moving with the bull’s rhythm.

  “I want to taste you, touch you, fuck you right here,” he growled. “I want you so damn much. But—­” He had to tell her. He needed to make it clear. “But I’m still leaving in the morning. Nothing will change that.”

  JOSIE FELT REALITY rush in, fighting for space alongside the tantalizing feeling of Noah’s hands on her breasts, his lips on her neck, his body pressed against hers. And this bull—­the hum and gentle vibration beneath them threatened to push her over the edge. Until he said those words.

  I’m still leaving in the morning. Nothing will change that.

  “I know,” she said simply.

  His hands stilled, no longer tracing circles and exploring her nipples. Oh no, he’s walking away. He’s heading for the honorable path.

  “Is it possible?” she asked, needing to keep him here, mounted on this spinning, bucking machine. “To turn around and face you for the rest of our naked ride?”

  He chuckled. “I don’t know. Might depend on how flexible you are.”

  “I don’t think that’s our problem,” she murmured. Although that might be a little white lie. She wasn’t Gumby. Not even close. “But you still have your clothes on.”

  He released her and she felt his hand moving behind her. A second later, his shirt landed on the faded red section of the surrounding mat. “I can’t get my jeans off on this thing,” he said.

  “How about I turn around and release your zipper?” She drew one knee up and froze. “I might need some help,” she added.

  His hands returned to her waist. “Can you move your leg over the head the next time it dips forward? I’ve got you.”

  She nodded, trusting in his hold. The bull reared and she swung her left leg over the top and . . . slid right off the other side. She landed on her hands and knees.

  “Shit,” he cursed. And then he was beside her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her away from the faded blue into the not-­so-­pure white area. “Before it swings back around,” he added.

  She ended up on top of him, her bare chest against his superman-­sized muscles. “Sorry. I just really wanted to get you out of your pants,” she said, looking down at him.

  “Done.” He gently shifted her onto the mat beside him and reached for the button. She sat up and watched as he stripped off his jeans and boxers. He kicked them aside and unveiled his long, thick cock.

  “I want to take you for a ride,” she said, unable to keep a healthy dose of “oh wow” from her voice. She’d only been with one man before. And even though he’d played football like Noah, he’d clearly been an inch or two shorter on all counts.

  “Josie.” He weaved his fingers through her hair, curled his upper body up off the mat, and crushed his mouth to hers. There was nothing tentative about his kiss this time. He was taking her, claiming her, demanding everything she had to give.

  His other hand slipped beneath her panties, touching her, exploring her.

  “Help me get them off,” she murmured, pulling back from his kiss. “My underwear.”

  “There’s no rush. We can take our time,” he said, but he helped draw her panties down as she brought her legs closer, one knee on either side of his thigh.

  With a few more wiggles and kicks, she won the battle with her panties. She stared down at the amused man beneath her. Noah. The man of her dreams. The guy who always smiled. But this time it was for her.

  She shifted back. Her bare ass rested on his thigh and she wrapped her hand around his cock. She placed her other hand on his abs. “Do you know what it feels like to have a giant machine rocking beneath you, vibrating just a touch but not enough to do more than tease?”

  He let out a low laugh, his eyes darting between her face and her hand, now moving up and down the smooth skin of his erection. She kept her touch light. She didn’t want him to come like this.

  “When what you really want, what you’ve wanted for so damn long, is sitting right behind you?” There, she’d said it. She’d admitted that she’d wanted him too. “And knowing that you only have a few hours before the man you never thought would ever take you on a naked bull ride leaves?”

  His smile faded and he reached his hand up to cup her face. “I know, Josie. Not about the vibrating, but about the wanting.”

  “I’m not waiting, Noah.” She kept her hand wrapped around his cock as she lifted her hips off his leg. She moved forward until she was poised over him, ready to sink onto his oh-­wow length. She sank down, feeling him stretch her open, filling her up.

  “Jesus, Josie,” he hissed. Then he grabbed her hips and tried to lift her off. “We need a condom.”

  “Just pull out,” she said, claiming another inch. She’d expected discomfort, something other than this I-­might-­come-­before-­my-­clit-­even-­rubs-­against-­him feeling. And that had never happened before. “Plus—­”

  “I can’t risk it. I’m leaving,” he said through clenched teeth.

  “—­I’m on the pill.” She rocked her hips back and forth as she’d done on the bull, lifting an inch and feeling him slide out before lowering back down.
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  “You’re sure?” he gasped, his hands holding tight, but no longer trying to stop her.

  “Please, Noah, take me for a ride.”

  Chapter Five

  I’M GOING TO picture her breasts every damn time I close my eyes.

  Noah couldn’t take his eyes off Josie as she placed her hands flat on his chest, arched her lower back, and began to ride him. Her breasts swung forward and he took it as an invitation. Curling his abs, he caught one sweet, tempting nipple with his mouth and began to suck.

  “Oh God, Noah,” she called above him, her words drowning out the sound of the bull still spinning and bucking beside them. Her hips ground into him in earnest—­searching, needing, wanting . . .

  Sweetheart, I’m going to give you a ride you won’t forget.

  He rocked his hips up and off the mat, driving into her. He released her breast, but quickly replaced his lips with his hands. He wanted to see her, watch her face while she came. And he sure as hell wanted to remember this moment.

  “Noah. Oh, Noah,” she screamed. His named echoed in the barn as she moved faster and faster, taking him with her. He was so damn close . . . But he couldn’t, not yet. She had to come first. She had to—­

  “Noah!”

  Her body gripped him, convulsing around him as her hips slowed their needy, desperate motions.

  “Noah,” she said, her voice shifting from a scream to a near whisper. But she kept her head thrown back, her eyes closed. “Oh God, Noah. I love you.”

  No. She couldn’t.

  “Don’t say that, Josie.” Agony rose up to great the pleasure radiating from his very happy dick. But the pleasure won. “Oh fuck . . . you can’t . . .”

  He couldn’t hold back. He thrust up into her and gave in to the blinding, mind-­numbing sensations, the pure contentment that took hold, making the rest of the world fade away for one beautiful, perfect moment.

  And then it came rushing back. Josie Fairmore had said “I love you” while he had his dick buried in her.

  He opened his eyes and looked up at her. God, he’d rip out his heart and hand it to her if he could. But he was leaving. And the place he was going, where they would train him to shoot at ­people instead of paper, to rush into a war he didn’t fully understand—­he couldn’t take her heart there.