by Claire Adams
“Why didn’t you ever get back into competing?” I asked him curiously. “I mean, you healed up well enough to ride again, didn’t you?”
Larry stared at me for a moment. Then, his mouth twisted into a bitter smile. “It took two years of daily physical therapy to learn how to move the left side of my body again,” he said. “I still have no feeling in my left hand.”
I blinked, gaining a new respect for the man.
“Come on,” he said, turning and stalking deeper into the barn. There was a mechanical bull there in the back of it, and Larry gestured toward it. “George seems to think you’re something special,” he said. “And for that matter, so do you. So why don’t you show me what you can do?”
“I thought riding a real bull was different from riding a mechanical bull,” I said. “If I’m going to be riding a real bull during the competition, don’t I need to practice on one of those?”
“You do,” he agreed. “But I’m not putting you on a real bull without seeing what you can do on a mechanical bull first. The last thing I need is for you to get gored on your first ride. I don’t want to get my truck all bloody taking you to the hospital.”
That was fair enough, I figured.
I hopped on the mechanical bull, and Larry tsked. “Your form is all wrong,” he said. “I can tell you’ve never even ridden bareback on a horse. Jesus, we’ve got a lot to work on.”
“What am I supposed to do?” I snapped, starting to get annoyed at how discouraging he was.
I thought I caught a hint of a smile there, but it disappeared as he stepped forwards. “Sit farther forward, for a start,” he said. “You’re not in a saddle. There’s no reason for you to be back that far. And sit up. Your weight should be in your thighs, not down on your butt like that. Think of when you’re riding a horse, if you were just bouncing on your ass, you’d be in for a pretty unpleasant ride. It’s the same principle here.”
“Like this?” I asked.
“Yeah, something like that,” Larry said, sounding almost disinterested as he went to start the bull.
We only got through a couple bucks at a relatively easy level before Larry shut the thing off with a noise of disgust. “You’re doing it all wrong,” he said, shaking his head and folding his arms across his chest.
With a growl, I got down off the bull, moving off to the side and standing with my arms folded. Larry got up on the bull and nodded at me. “Go on,” he said.
I sneered at him and cranked the dial up so that the bull would be going full speed right from the start. But that didn’t seem to faze Larry, who rode the thing with practiced ease.
“See the difference?” he called.
I scowled, but nodded shortly, watching him. After a few more rotations, I shut off the bull. Larry rode it until it stilled and then looked over at me.
“You’re clinging to the thing,” he said. “Which works when you’re at the bar, I’m sure. But that’s not the way you ride. You’ve got to keep your hand up, like this. You’ll be disqualified if you touch either your leg or the bull during the competition. Trick is to let it relax and move with the bull’s movement. As you drop forward, let your arm go up. As the bull settles back, let your arm come down a bit. Not all the way down, though.”
I nodded stiffly and got back up on the bull. As soon as one arm was up in the air, the thing became a lot more difficult to stay on top of as it bucked and whirled. It wasn’t even going at its highest speed, and I still came flying off, hitting the ground hard in surprise.
“I knew this was a mistake,” Larry muttered under his breath.
I got up, feeling winded. “Come on, that was my first try,” I told him. “Coach me. Quit just giving me negative comments about my performance.”
“Fine,” he said. “Get on.” I did, and he came over and moved my legs. “There,” he said. “Hold on with your legs, not your arms. Keep your toes pointed in. If you dig in with your heels, you’re only going to spur the bull to buck harder.”
I nodded and went for another round, but again, I went flying quickly after Larry started it. He made a frustrated noise and cranked the intensity down even further as I climbed back on the thing. We kept going like that for another hour, until I was bruised and sore — but starting to make some progress.
As I pulled myself up off the floor one more time, Larry finally nodded. “Come on,” he said, gesturing for me to follow him. I did, frowning when I saw the live bull in the pen leading into one of the arenas. Was he really going to have me ride a live bull for the first time after I’d already taken such a beating that day? I wondered. But it appeared that he was.
“Get on,” he said, nodding toward the animal.
I did as he said, not even bothering to question him at that point. I was exhausted, but I wanted to prove that I could do this. I clung to the idea that he wouldn’t have me out there if he didn’t think I could do this. He was reluctant to let me injure myself; that would reflect badly on the new school.
A horn sounded, and a couple guys pulled the gate open in front of us. The bull ran straight out into the ring, bucking in a mostly front-to-back motion rather than whirling like the mechanical bull did.
It was incredible, feeling such a powerful beast in between my legs like that. I struggled to stay on top of him. It was exhilarating, like winning a fight or like-
My train of thought broke as I found myself unexpectedly flying through the air. I’d leaned a little too far forward when the bull went down, and I couldn’t keep hold with my legs as the bull went back onto its hind legs. I rolled through the fall and stayed there in a crouch for a moment. Then, suddenly it clicked: the beast was turning toward me, a look of murder in its eyes. This was no mechanical bull.
I ran as fast as I could toward the edge of the ring, jumping high on the fence and scrambling out of the thing’s reach. The handlers got the thing back under control. I sat there for a long moment, trying to catch my breath, feeling my heart hammering as adrenaline coursed through me.
“You did better than I thought you would,” Larry said from outside the ring, his arms folded across his chest. “That wasn’t anything impressive, of course. You only made it three seconds, and that’s five seconds short of what you need in competition. But I guess it’s a starting point.” He spat off to the side and then turned on his heel, stalking off.
I stared after him and then looked back toward the bull. I was going to need to practice hard if I wanted to bring home the prize money. But as an image of Vanessa swam into my mind’s eye, I knew that the bruises would all be worth it.
Chapter Thirty
Vanessa
I felt restless after spending most of the morning poring over information about how to open an art gallery. I decided to go for a walk around the ranch. If I’m lucky, maybe I’ll even see Trethan. I shook my head. I thought about him a little too often. It wouldn’t be bad if we were actually in a relationship, but we definitely weren’t.
Despite our vague plans to meet up sometime that week, I hadn’t heard from Trethan in four days. I knew he’d started training with Larry, but I didn’t know how that was going. I had sent him a couple messages asking about it, but I hadn’t heard back from him at all. I wanted to know what was going on, but I didn’t know if approaching him on the ranch was the best idea, not when Dad could come across us at any point. And, I didn’t want to seem clingy if Trethan was trying to put space between us.
It was hot outside, and after a little walking, I made my way into one of the barns. It was musty in there, but at least I was out of the sun. I should have worn a hat.
I froze when I saw Trethan was there, in the same barn, filling up the troughs with food for the pigs. He glanced toward me and smiled with half his face, turning toward me.
I gasped as I saw the bruising that stretched from his temple down to his jaw. “What happened?” I asked, striding quickly forwards and reaching toward the purpling mess. I stopped myself before I could touch it, knowing it must hurt a lot.
>
He grimaced. “It’s nothing,” he muttered. “I just did something stupid.”
“You got into a fight,” I said flatly.
“No!” he exclaimed. He frowned at me. “You know I don’t do that anymore.”
“Well, that’s what it looks like,” I said defensively. “And since I haven’t heard from you in a few days, I can only assume that you’ve been trying to hide it from me.”
He sighed. “I’ve been trying to hide the bruising from you,” he admitted, catching my hips and pulling me toward him, until our lower bodies were flush against one another’s. “I didn’t want you to worry. But I haven’t been fighting. I just got thrown off the bull and didn’t land right. I’m fine, though.”
I shook my head. “I’m not sure this is the best idea,” I said uncertainly. “I don’t like the idea of you getting hurt.”
“But think about the gallery,” he said. “If I get the money, you’ll be able to get the loan from the bank and open it, won’t you?”
“Yeah,” I sighed, “but I don’t like the idea of you getting hurt just to get the money for the gallery.”
“It’s not bad,” he said, reaching up and bravely touching the edge of the bruising. “My jaw’s a little sore, I guess, but the rest of it is fine. I used to get worse when I was fighting.” He smiled crookedly at me.
I shook my head. “But-”
“Come on,” he said, cutting me off. He leaned in and kissed me. “See, I can still do that,” he said. “That’s how okay I am with the bruising. Doesn’t hurt to kiss you.”
I gave him a doubtful look, but couldn’t help laughing at the eager look in his eyes. “All right, all right,” I said, leaning in for another kiss. He deepened the kiss this time, nipping at my lower lip and then tonguing away the sharp flare of pain. I moaned and put a hand against his chest, leaning into him.
Trethan hissed and pulled away, pain in his eyes.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, putting my hands on my hips and staring concernedly at him.
He shook his head. “It’s fine,” he said. “You just caught me by surprise, that’s all.”
“Bullshit,” I said succinctly. I shook my head. “If you’re going to hide things from me, I don’t know if we can continue to...” I trailed off, ducking my head in embarrassment. We weren’t in a relationship, after all. I didn’t have any leverage to threaten him with. It was his own prerogative if he wanted to lie and say that there was nothing wrong when there clearly was.
But Trethan responded to my unspoken threat, sighing and shaking his head. “I didn’t want to worry you,” he repeated, reaching up to unbutton his checkered shirt. As he pulled it open, I saw that the dark bruising wasn’t isolated to his face. Instead, there was a patch of green and purple bruising spreading down his ribs as well, plus assorted smaller bruises scattered in other places across his chest and stomach.
I put a hand over my mouth. “Trethan,” I said, horrified.
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” he said.
“But how did it happen?” I asked. “You told me you were getting really good at riding the mechanical bull. I thought you were going to use that to win this thing.”
“I am,” he said tersely. “Riding a real bull is different from riding a mechanical bull, though. Anyway, when I’m at the Roasted Bison and I have a ride, I only go for one or maybe two rides in a night. With Larry, I’m training for an hour or two at a time. It’s only natural that there’s some bruising.” He shrugged. “Like I said, it’s mainly due to my own stupidity. Most of this bruising, I’ve just been exhausted and haven’t fallen the way I was supposed to. That’s all.”
I shook my head. “But you shouldn’t be letting him push you to ride until you’re exhausted,” I protested.
“I’m getting way better,” Trethan argued. “Can we go back to what we were doing?” His fingers trailed along my hip enticingly, but I forced myself to pull away.
“I don’t want to hurt you anymore,” I said, looking at his injuries. I shook my head. “I can’t believe you’re this injured and all you can think of is still sex.”
He groaned. “I’d have to be in a coma to not want to have sex with you,” he said.
I giggled. “Really?”
“Really,” he said, growling. He looked at me with puppy-dog eyes. “Come on, let’s take a tumble in the hay. We’ve never done that before, have we?”
I snorted. “Seriously?”
In answer, Trethan grabbed my hand and tugged me along toward one of the empty stalls at the back of the stables. “Just put down fresh hay in here; we’re getting a new horse sometime tomorrow,” he told me, a wicked gleam in his eye.
I gasped as he tripped my feet out from under me and gently lowered me down to the hay. He settled over me, lightly stroking a hand down my side. I blinked in surprise and looked to the side. “You were expecting this to happen,” I accused him, feeling the wool blanket beneath me rather than the poky hay.
He grinned. “Well, I was expecting to have to ask you to come check out something out here,” he said. “But yeah, I was planning this.” He rocked his hips, and I could feel how hard he already was in his jeans. Admittedly, I was already pretty wet.
Trethan kissed me, his hand coming up under my dress, nails scraping lightly down my sides. He dipped his fingers into the waistband of my panties and pulled them off, setting them off to the side and then sliding his fingers into me. He hummed approvingly as my walls clenched around his digits, needing the intrusion.
I rocked down against his probing. “Please,” I whimpered.
He growled and pulled his hand away, but before I could protest, I realized he was working to undo his belt. He tugged his jeans and boxers down just enough to free his cock, and then, with a grip on my hips below where my dress was rucked up, he tugged me toward him and down onto his length.
He slid fully into me, without giving me a moment to adjust, and my body went slack against the hay. “Oh, fuck,” I said softly.
Trethan grinned down at me and gave another hard thrust, pausing again when he was fully seated inside of me. I wriggled against him, but he held my hips firmly, setting the pace he wanted, teasing me with his rod.
I dissolved into desperate pleas as he reached between us and played with my clit, still giving me hardly any stimulation where I needed it the most. But he only grinned wickedly down at me and reached up to put a hand over my mouth. “Shh,” he breathed into my ear. “Don’t need anyone else hearing that, now do we?”
I blushed brilliantly, realizing exactly how exposed we were. But it lent something to this, the thrill that we might get caught, that someone might overhear us. I trembled with need, moaning beneath Trethan’s hand, unable to quiet myself.
Finally, he seemed to realize that I’d had enough teasing and started to rock his hips in earnest, giving me just what I needed. He moved his hand to the side so that I could breathe and he could brace himself. I had to bite my palm to keep quiet as pleasure built inside of me.
Trethan bit a mark into the side of my neck, and I lost it, the stimulation all too much. I cried out loudly, unable to muffle myself as I shook through my orgasm. Trethan was right behind me, grunting quietly and burying himself to the hilt, pulsing inside of me.
I giggled as I cracked open my eyes. “Well, that ending didn’t make what we were doing obvious to everyone within earshot, did it?”
Trethan chuckled as well and brought up his fingers to trace the mark on the side of my neck. “This won’t make it obvious either, will it?” he asked, a smug note in his voice.
“You didn’t,” I said, suddenly coming back to reality. I groaned. “Dad isn’t the type to ask questions, but you know he’s going to be thinking all of them.”
He looked sheepish at that. “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t really think through that part; I just wanted to...” He trailed off, looking even more sheepish.
“You wanted to…” I prompted. He just shook his head, though, wrapping his ar
ms around me and burying his face in my hair. I absently traced the bruises along his side for a moment. “You promise this isn’t too much for you to handle?” I asked quietly.
“What, you?” he asked, chuckling.
“No,” I said, rolling my eyes. I pulled back so that I could see him. “The bull riding. Training with Larry. I didn’t expect it to be easy, but I don’t want you to get yourself hurt.”
Trethan was silent for a long moment. “Do you trust me?” he finally asked, a strange note in his voice.
“Of course, I trust you,” I said softly. Whatever it was that we had been doing, whatever complicated feelings that I might have for him, I had trusted Trethan back when we were teenagers, and that, at least, had never changed.
“I’m going to be careful,” he said. “But I’m going to win this thing.” He paused. “You know, this is what I wanted to do. What I wanted to be when I grew up. I just never got into it because my dad was so derisive about my chances. Training with Larry, it feels like for the first time in my life, I’m unlocking my potential.”
“Okay,” I said quietly. There was nothing else I could say, no matter how worried I was for him. If he felt like he was doing what he was supposed to with his life, who was I to stop him? I didn’t particularly like it, but we weren’t in the sort of relationship where I could ask him to stop.
Chapter Thirty-One
Trethan
A few weeks after starting to train with Larry, I was doing markedly better. I caught my breath and then spun to look at my latest time. I stared in disbelief for a moment and then gave a whoop and a celebratory fist pump. “I did it!” I cried, hopping down off the fence. “I made it over eight seconds!”
Larry nodded at me, but he didn’t seem nearly as excited.
I groaned. “Look, I know there’s still plenty to work on,” I told him. “My form could still use some work. My form could always use some work. And, it’ll be different when I actually ride into the arena. I’ll have to contend with the crowd, and I’ll have to contend with my nerves. It’s going to be more challenging, and I’m going to have to beat the other competitors, not just beat the clock. But for one second, can’t you just shut up about all of that and tell me that I did a good job?”