Ride Me, Cowboys_A Reverse Harem Forbidden Romance

by Alexa B. James

  “Know what you want?” Amber asked innocently as her fingers reached my cock. She stroked its length, bringing it to life under the table.

  “You better knock that off,” I said, grabbing her wrist.

  “You don’t like it?” I couldn’t tell if she was being cute or if she really didn’t know.

  “Sure I like it,” I said. “But don’t start something you can’t finish.”

  “Oh, you mean like you did in the car?”

  I had to give her that one. I smiled a little and released her wrist. “Just know you’re going to get it later.”

  “Get what?” she asked, her eyes widening.

  “Something you’re not ready for,” I said. “Now knock it off and let’s enjoy our dinner.”

  We managed to make pleasant conversation through the meal, which wasn’t easy for me. Luckily, Amber had no problem filling the silences. I never did understand why they needed to be filled, but women liked to complain when they went on too long. I was glad Amber wasn’t like that. She didn’t seem to expect much at all, just an occasional nod or a few muttered words.

  After we ate, we headed back towards the car. Amber clung to my arm, huddling against me every time a gust of wind blew along the street. She wanted to stop and take a picture on the square next to a cowboy boot statue, which she sent to her friend back in New York. All the time, thoughts of that place lingered in the back of my mind.

  All this hiding and sneaking around, all this trouble, and we didn’t even know Amber was staying. For all we knew, she’d go back to New York in a month with a story to tell her friends about how she’d gotten fucked by three cowboys at once. That was a lot of risk we were taking for a woman, even a damn fine one.

  But I had to admit that if the tables had been turned, if I had to give up the ranch to stay with her, I didn’t think I could do it. The ranch was my history, my roots, part of my soul. If New York was like that for her, we had no right to ask her to stay here. I wouldn’t want to live in New York, that was for damn sure.

  Back in the T-Bird, Amber needed to stop to use the restroom halfway home, so we pulled in to a stop. I filled the tank before heading in. Amber was standing at the counter, a magazine open in her hands.

  “Ready?” I asked.

  “Uh, sure,” she said, slipping the magazine under some others like she didn’t want me to see it. She confirmed my suspicions by taking my arm and pulling me towards the door. I let her lead me out, figuring she’d open up when she was ready.

  I could tell something was eating her up as we drove, though. She shifted this way and that in her seat, flipping through the dial on the radio looking for songs, crossing and uncrossing her feet.

  Finally I set my hand on her knee, figuring a steadying hand might work as well on her as one of the horses. “Everything all right?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” she said, then dropped her head back and sighed. “No. I don’t know.” She turned down the radio and sighed again.

  “Anything I can help you with?”

  “I saw my mom,” she said. “In a magazine back there. It was saying her impulsive decisions might cost her re-election.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “My mom is the least impulsive person in the universe,” Amber burst out. “I mean, seriously, she asks her advisors before buying milk.”

  “That so?”

  “But I guess because she married your dad, now her opponents are saying she’s impulsive. That people won’t trust her anymore. You know her people would have thought about it first. So how come she still did it, even if they advised against it? I mean, I know they’d say they’re in love, and I’m sure Senator Westling is very loveable, though honestly, I’ve never seen that side of him. But it would be so much easier if they’d just…you know…get an annulment.”

  “You’re worried about people finding out about us and it hurting your mom?”

  “Well, yeah,” she said, turning at an angle to face me. “Aren’t you? I mean, of course I am. If marrying your dad could cost her the election, what would finding out about us do?”

  “You don’t have to stay,” I told her. “I know you love your home, and if it’s too risky, then you should do what you need to do. Even if that means leaving now.”

  “No,” she said. “I already told my mom I’m staying until New Year’s, like we originally planned.”

  “I know,” I said. “And I’m not saying you can’t stay. But if you’re leaving then anyway, maybe you ought to go ahead and leave now.”

  14

  Amber

  I tried not to let Waylon’s words sting, but they did. I knew, though, that he was right. I couldn’t ask them for anything when I wasn’t willing to give it myself. They had already offered me everything I could ever want—a relationship with all three of them. And I’d told them I wanted one, too. But how could they really let down their guards and offer a commitment when I couldn’t offer the same in return?

  No wonder Waylon was bitter. He must feel like I was stringing them along, though I hadn’t meant to. In some way, I’d already rejected them by not saying I’d stay from the very start. They’d offered me the world, and I’d said I’d think about it.

  But how could I say yes? I could barely make it to the end of the driveway without almost drowning myself in a puddle. My life was a parade of parties, designer clothes, and boring political photo shoots. That was what I knew. It was what I was good at. I wasn’t good at ranching. And I wasn’t about to sit around on my ass all day and let them wait on me, no matter how many times they called me Princess.

  When we got back to the ranch, Waylon pulled the car into the shop and parked. I’d been buried in my thoughts for most of the ride, and I still hadn’t come to a decision. I wanted to stay for obvious reasons. But how practical was that?

  My mother had definitely won. I was being all practical and responsible and shit, just like she wanted.

  I’d almost reached the door when an arm circled my waist. “Where do you think you’re going?” Waylon growled in my ear. His body was hard as steel against my back, and a tremor ran through my body at the heat radiating off him.

  “Inside?” I squeaked.

  “Aren’t you forgetting something?” His stubble rasped against my ear, and a shiver ran through me. He must have been having totally different thoughts from me on the drive.

  “Am I?” I asked.

  “I promised you something when we got here,” he said. “I never forget a promise.”

  “I might have,” I said, gulping as he lifted me off my feet and carried me back to the car. “What exactly did you promise?”

  “You wanted to touch yourself,” he growled, opening the door and setting me inside.

  I leaned back on my elbows and looked up at him with a smirk. “You might want to know your brother did some touching last night. Is that allowed?”

  “Did he, now?” Waylon asked, the corner of his mouth quirking up in an ironic smile.

  “Yes, he did.”

  Waylon leaned over me, his fists resting on the edges of the seat. “Did you like it?” he purred. “Did he make you come?”

  I shook my hair back and me his gaze squarely. “As a matter of fact, he did.”

  Waylon’s eyes locked on mine, his face so close he could have kissed me, his lips only a breath away. He slid a hand between my thighs and pressed hard against me. My body responded, heat blooming at his touch. “Did he shove his fat fingers so deep inside your tight little cunt you felt like you were getting fucked?”

  I sucked in a breath, shaky with longing. His words could make me instantly squirm, and by the smirk on his face, he knew it.

  “Maybe,” I whispered, grinding against his fingers.

  “I know he didn’t fuck you,” Waylon said. “I would have heard you screaming.”

  A shudder of trepidation ran through me. Every time I thought I had to get fucked right now, something reminded me of just how impossibly big they were. And how impossibly virginal I w
as. But I’d gotten on birth control so I could do this. Somehow, we’d figure it out. It had to be possible.

  “Now,” Waylon said, slipping his hand from between my legs and stroking my hair back. “I’m not sure that you were a good girl in Cheyenne. I don’t know if you’ve earned your relief.”

  “I don’t think you’re looking for a good girl,” I said. “Don’t you need a bad girl to do the things you want to do?”

  Waylon scoffed. “You’re no bad girl.”

  I lifted my head from the seat and nipped at his chin, letting my teeth scrape over his skin. “So make me bad.”

  Lust blazed in his stormy eyes, and for a second, uncertainty fluttered in my belly. But he pulled back, retreating from the car. I started to sit up, but he grabbed my knees and pulled me across the seat until my ass was at the edge. He stood outside the car, watching me with hooded eyes. “Take off your clothes.”

  “Right here?”

  He raised his eyebrows expectantly.

  I gulped, a shiver running through me when I met his hard eyes. His jaw was set, his mouth a grim line. But I wasn’t going to be intimidated. I sat up and peeled off my shirt. Watching his face carefully, I unhooked my bra and drew it off as I had in the doctor’s office. This time, I relished the moment for different reasons. His eyes fell on my breasts, his lids dropping further as he swallowed. His nostrils flared slightly as he inhaled, but he didn’t move to touch me.

  I leaned back on my hands, letting my hair fall over my shoulders as he took me in. My heart was hammering, but I didn’t want to cover up. I was captivated by how captivated he was, staring at me like a hungry tiger that might pounce at any moment.

  “Your jeans,” he said flatly.

  I opened my mouth to say something coy, but his hard expression stopped me. Reaching down, I unbuttoned my jeans and slid them down.

  “All the way,” Waylon said.

  I pulled off my shoes and the jeans, finally feeling exposed in that big shop with Waylon looming over me. A dart of fear made my heartbeat speed faster. “Are you going to…?” I asked.

  “No, you’re going to,” Waylon said, crouching at my knees. He drew my legs apart and inhaled sharply. “Now touch yourself.”

  “Show me how,” I said, my thighs quivering. His eyes were riveted on my pussy, but I had lost courage. What if he didn’t like what he saw? What if I didn’t do it right? I suddenly wanted to run away and hide. I tried to close my legs but he gripped my knees, spreading them wide.

  “Touch yourself,” he growled.

  “Help me?” I whispered.

  “Do it, or I’ll do it for you,” he said. “And you should be warmed up for that.”

  Gingerly, I slid my hand down my belly, over my mound. My skin was warm, and I was already spread open from the way Waylon was holding me. I ran my fingertip across my clit, which throbbed in answer. I always used my finger vibe, so I wasn’t used to doing this with my bare hand.

  “Wet your finger,” Waylon said.

  I lifted my trembling fingers to my mouth and slid them inside, then brought them back down to my pussy. I wished I could see what Waylon was seeing, make sure everything looked okay. But the only thing I could do was push up on one elbow and watch my fingers work over my clit. Waylon watched, too, his hooded eyes fixed on my fingers as they moved.

  I imagined how hard he was inside his pants, and warmth rushed between my legs. My fingers were suddenly wet and slippery as I slid them towards my entrance, then back up to my clit.

  Waylon’s breath came short and hard so I could feel it brush over my wet flesh. Releasing my knees, he slid his hands up my thighs, and I quaked with anticipation. Bracing the outside of his hands on my inner thighs, he spread me as wide as I could get. He used his thumbs to spread open my lips, and I whimpered, aching for him to take over.

  “Please,” I gasped. “Touch me.”

  He licked his lips and stretched me open further. “Are you wet?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I gasped.

  “How wet?”

  “Wet,” I whispered, sliding my finger back and forth across my swollen clit.

  “Can I feel?”

  I sighed in relief. “Yes.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Where are your manners, Princess?”

  I whimpered with desire, barely holding back from screaming. “Yes, please.”

  He covered my hand with his own, his strong finger taking control of mine, sliding it across my clit and down through the folds. A moan escaped me, but I wanted to feel his finger so bad I thought I’d cry. I tried to pull away, but he held tight to my hand, sliding my finger back to my clit, and then in one quick motion, sinking it deep inside me. I cried out and fell back on the seat as he trust it in once, twice, and again.

  This time, he let me pull free. I gripped his wrist, panicked that he was going to stop. His finger swirled around my opening, his eyes teasing. “What do you want, Princess?” he asked. “Tell me.”

  “Fuck me,” I gasped.

  He arched an eyebrow. “Don’t get greedy.”

  I lifted my hips, bracing my feet on the bottom of the doorframe. I didn’t care if I was shoving my pussy right in his face. I remembered his tongue pummeling me, and my opening throbbed with longing. “I want you inside me,” I begged.

  “Trust me, you’re not ready for that,” he said, his finger flicking across my throbbing clit.

  “Then your finger,” I pleaded. “Put it in. Please, Waylon.”

  “I like my name on your lips,” he said, driving his finger deep inside me.

  I cried out, arching up. He pushed my knees further apart, watching his finger driving deep into me with quick, hard thrusts.

  Just when I was about to explode, he withdrew his finger.

  “Don’t stop,” I gasped.

  “Are you ready for two?”

  “Two what?”

  “Two fingers,” he said, wiggling his fingers at me. His middle finger was glistening with wetness. He twined his middle finger and ring finger together and lowered them back to my opening. With his free hand, he spread my lips open, then eased his two fingers in. They stretched me wide, and I gasped with pleasure. “It feels so big,” I moaned as he drew them out and then thrust them deeper.

  “Just wait until I get my cock inside you,” he said.

  His fingers drove in faster and faster, until I was crying out for release. Raising his free hand to his lips, he lifted his eyebrows and wet his thumb between his lips. He popped it out and circled it on my clit as his fingers drove to their depths. As he massaged my clit, his two fingers slicked in and out at a frantic pace. Suddenly, he drove them so deep into me that I gasped and arched up. With his fingers driven to the hilt inside me, he gently pinched my clit between his thumb and finger, slowly increasing the pressure. “Come for me, Princess,” he growled, his dark eyes commanding.

  He squeezed, and I came with a cry, my flesh tightening around his fingers. Waves of pleasure rocked through my whole body as he kept the pressure on my clit until I could hardly hold back from screaming. My legs tried to clamp shut but he pushed them apart with his arms, watching as I came helplessly undone.

  At last, I went limp, shudders still wracking my body at intervals.

  “Christ, your pussy’s tight,” he growled, wiggling his fingers inside me. “We’re going to split you wide open.”

  A pulse rocked through my whole body, and I shuddered with pleasure. “I can’t wait,” I panted.

  Waylon slowly slid his fingers out and dipped them into his mouth, watching me as he slid them out. “Now, wasn’t that better than a quick finger job in a parking lot?” he asked.

  “Don’t gloat,” I said, but I was too spent to put any conviction into my words.

  Waylon stood and tipped his cowboy hat back a notch. “I only gloat when I’ve earned the right to.”

  “In that case, gloat away,” I sighed.

  He chuckled and pushed his hat down on his head. “I trust you can manage to dress you
rself,” he said, then turned and strutted off towards the door, his cowboy boots sending echoes through the shop.

  “Cocky bastard,” I muttered. But to be fair, I wasn’t actually sure that I could dress myself. Not yet, anyway. My brain had completely deserted my limp, blissful body.

  15

  Holden

  Amber seemed happy after her trip into town with Waylon, so I figured things must have gone good. They’d worked out whatever quarrel they had, and finally seemed at peace with each other. But my brother still eyed her like a rattler that was going to strike at any moment.

  “What’s all that about?” I asked one evening when we settled in next to the fire after dinner. Amber and Sawyer were cleaning up the dishes, her quiet giggle filling the house with an edge of giddiness. It had been way too long since I’d seen my brothers happy or even hopeful, like starting over was possible.

  “Best not to get used to it,” Waylon said, frowning at me as if he’d read my thoughts.

  “What are you getting at?” I asked.

  “She’s not staying,” Waylon said. “Don’t forget, she was only here for three months. It’s December, Holden.”

  Shit, where had the time gone? He was right. Amber’s time with us was almost up. The thought turned my stomach. Was this all the relationship we’d get? It had seemed so promising, a hint of spring even as we hurtled towards the dead of winter.

  “She won’t just pick up and leave us,” I said. My voice sounded flat and dead, though, the way it had when we’d found out Maria had done just that.

  “Don’t get your hopes up,” Waylon said, watching me too closely. He’d probably guessed that I already had my hopes up way too high. I couldn’t help it. I’d always been a sucker when it came to women. You’d think I’d have learned after Maria, but I hadn’t. I’d fallen for Amber hook, line, and sinker.

  She came bouncing into the room and dropped onto the couch beside me, snuggling against my chest as Sawyer settled on her other side. “We should watch a movie tonight,” she said.

  She smelled like dish soap, but as I dipped my nose to her hair, I caught the familiar scent of Amber, a warm smell like brown sugar. I inhaled her, squeezing her against my side. How could this be happening all over again? She hadn’t pitted us against each other. She didn’t hide her feelings for the rest of us while she was with one of us. All the ugliness of Maria was absent in Amber. She was perfect in my eyes.