by A. D. Ryan
After a few minutes, our bags appeared and Jensen stepped out to collect them while I picked up our carry on and flung it over my shoulder. “Where’s the rental car place?” Jensen asked when he came back to me.
“Oh, it’s just this way,” I said, nodding my head in the right direction.
We found the rental place and Jensen stepped forward to make the arrangements. “Will anyone else be driving the vehicle?” the rental guy asked.
“Yes, my girlfriend will probably be driving, too,” Jensen replied.
“I’ll need her information then, Mr. Davis.”
I stepped forward and reached into my purse for my wallet where I grabbed my license. With one final keystroke, our documents printed, and both Jensen and I signed them before we followed the guy out to our weekend car, a black Audi TT. It was a pretty sweet car.
After doing our walk-around to make sure there was no pre-existing damage to the car, he handed Jensen the keys and wished us a good stay in Calgary.
After loading our bags into the trunk, I grabbed the front of Jensen’s T-shirt and pulled on it until he closed the distance between us. “Come on, let’s go check into the hotel and then maybe head to the grounds and watch the competition before you take me to dinner.”
Jensen’s eyebrows raised in amusement. “Oh, so I’m taking you out to dinner, am I?”
“A girl’s gotta eat,” I said with a shrug.
“I guess you’ve got a point,” he conceded. “You want to drive? You know the city better than I do.”
My eyes widened, my body vibrating with excitement. “Yes!” I snatched the keys from his hand as he raised it. I kissed him quickly and darted to the driver’s side where I slid into the plush leather seats, moaning inappropriately as I allowed the smell of new car to register. “Ohhh, yeah …”
I heard the passenger side door open before Jensen slipped in, chuckling at my pseudo-orgasmic reaction to the sexy car. “You going to start the car?” he teased.
“Mmm,” I hummed contentedly. “Just give me a minute.”
“I’m afraid if I do, you’re going to want to spend the weekend with the car and not with me,” he mock-pouted.
I turned to him with a smile. “Fine. But just know, if it was you in this seat, I’d have given you a minute.”
Jensen leaned over the console until his lips were within inches of mine. “Baby, if it were me in the driver’s seat, we’d be at the hotel already, and I’d be making up for the last couple days.”
My breath shuddered, and I was milliseconds away from pressing my lips to his when he pulled back all of a sudden, leaving me aching to feel his mouth on mine. “You win,” I told him breathlessly, turning back to the steering wheel and putting the key in the ignition.
Having driven in Memphis countless times, the streets of Calgary were easy enough to navigate, and soon we were checked into the Sheraton hotel. It was my hotel of choice when I came to the city because the staff was great and the rooms were a decent price for how luxurious they were.
I slid the key card into the lock and pushed the door open and stepped in with Jensen hot on my trail. We barely made it four feet inside, the door clicking into place, before Jensen had me pressed against the wall, his lips on mine in a fevered kiss that left me breathless. His hands moved up under my T-shirt, palming my breasts and kneading them roughly as I shamelessly thrust my hips toward his.
Apparently there was something about hotel rooms that brought out the horn-dogs in us both.
I moved my hands between us and undid the buckle of his belt before pulling the button of his jeans free and reaching in to stroke his erection. With a forward jerk of his hips, he grunted into my mouth, his teeth gently nipping at my bottom lip before I pulled back panting.
“Did you—?”
Jensen didn’t give me a chance to finish my question as he pulled away from my trembling body, my hand losing contact with him. He unzipped the suitcase and reached into the pocket on the top for a condom before returning to me and reclaiming my lips with his. Deftly, his fingers moved over the waist of my jeans, having them undone in a fraction of a second before he yanked them down my thighs. I frantically stepped out of them, refusing to break our kiss as our tongues twirled and slid over one another.
Jensen had a different plan of attack, however.
Pulling his mouth from mine, he pushed his own jeans down and kicked them off as he removed his shirt. Once he was completely disrobed, he returned his attention to me as I clumsily tugged my own shirt off and struggled with the hooks on my stupid bra. With a chuckle, he kissed me softly, reaching his hands around to relieve me of my efforts, having the bra on the floor in an instant like some kind of pro-bra remover. If it was a sport, he’d come in first every time.
His eyes danced back and forth between mine when he pulled back again, slowly moving down my body and eyeing my breasts. Instead of leaning his face down to my chest, he moved forward, his hard length pressing between us as his hands moved roughly down my body until he was cupping my ass and lifting me swiftly.
I squealed in delight as he raised me to face-level, dipping his head low and pulling my right nipple into his mouth. Weaving my fingers into his hair to hold him in place, my soft moans of pleasure filled the room, and I rocked my hips against him, feeling the tip of his length graze my opening. “Baby,” I panted. Tremors of ecstasy raced through my body every time his tongue flicked my nipple and his erection moved back and forth through my sensitive flesh. “Condom.” At first I wasn’t sure he heard the word, because I was so overcome with bliss that my voice was something resembling a strained whisper.
He nodded against my tit before pulling us away from the wall. “What are you doing?” I asked.
“Taking us to the bed?”
I shook my head. “Mmm mmm,” I said, shaking my head. “Here. I want you to fuck me against the wall.”
He groaned, assumingly at my crass inner porn star coming out to play. His voice dropped to that raspy one he only ever used when he was turned on. “I have to set you down for a sec then.” Slowly, he let me slide to the floor before he tore the condom wrapper open and rolled it down over him. I watched raptly, and let out a tiny, shuddering gasp when he squeezed and slid his hand back up his length.
In a flash, Jensen had me back in his arms, my back pressed against the cool wall while his warm chest was pressed to mine. At a steady pace, Jensen pushed himself inside me as we kept our eyes locked. I fought the urge to let them close as the sensation of him moving in and out consumed me. It took a few thrusts to find our groove in this new, more difficult position, but eventually we did.
Each one of Jensen’s movements pushed me closer to the edge of pure bliss, and I knew I would soon be catapulting to the sweetest heights of rapture. Every muscle in my body tightened, and I swiveled my hips, pushing me further … further … further …
I cried out as Jensen’s own grip on me tightened, his hips jerking in a way that signaled his own release. Wave after wave of euphoria washed over us as we rode out the final swells of our climax until Jensen’s legs began to tremble beneath our weight.
Jensen cursed breathlessly between labored breaths against my shoulder.
With hooded eyelids, I looked at him as he let me slip to the floor. “Mmhmm,” I agreed. “I’m not sure I want to leave the room now. I’m feeling the need to cuddle and maybe have a post-sex nap.”
Jensen leaned forward and kissed the tip of my nose. “And while the idea of curling up with you—completely fucking naked—in that king sized bed you refused to let me fuck you on …” The way he emphasized my earlier words made me shiver with excitement. “I’ve never been to Spruce Meadows, remember? I’d very much like you to show me this part of your life.”
Smiling up at him, I nodded. “And I’d love to share that part of me with you,” I assured him. “Come on, let’s go get cleaned up, and then we’ll head out.”
Chapter 27. The Masters
“Come on, baby. There’s
a Starbucks right there. I don’t do well with change,” Jensen whined, pointing to the third Starbucks we’d passed since leaving the hotel.
I shook my head. “Nope, sorry. You’re in Calgary for the first time, about to go and see the Masters live. So, you’re going to humor me and you’re going to get an extra large double-double from Tim Horton’s.”
Jensen was silent as I turned to him, only to find both eyebrows raised in confusion, almost retreating beneath the crazy brown jungle of hair atop his head. “An extra large whaty-what?”
“Just trust me,” I said, spotting the sign for the restaurant up ahead. I clicked the signal light on and prepared to turn off the road to hit the drive-through. As usual, there was a line-up of about six cars ahead of us and Jensen groaned.
“See, this wouldn’t have happened at Starbucks,” he grumbled.
I couldn’t help but laugh. “And why do you think that is? There’s a line-up here, but not there? Think about that for a minute, will you?”
Thankfully, we weren’t in the line-up for very long before we made it to the speaker-box. I ordered both Jensen and me each an extra-large double-double, and they had our order ready as soon as we reached the window. After thanking the woman at the drive-through, I handed Jensen his coffee, put mine in the cup holder beside me, and pulled away so we could get to the grounds and watch the competition.
Jensen looked perplexed, so I finally asked. “What’s wrong?”
“She didn’t sound anything like a Canadian,” he said, seeming completely serious.
I laughed—loudly. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Well, on TV, they always say Canadians have an accent. Saying things like aboot or eh. But she didn’t.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “Are you stereotyping, Jensen Davis?”
“What?” he asked incredulously. “No! I just had this preconceived notion from the way TV shows and such depict their accent …”
“You’re ridiculous,” I said with a laugh as he took a sip of his coffee.
I waited a moment for the “you’re right” I knew would be coming any second and smirked when the left side of his lip quirked up in a smirk. “This is pretty good,” he said quietly.
“Better than Starbucks?” I inquired. He took another sip, looking contemplative. It was almost like he was trying not to feed my ego by telling me I was right. “Say it,” I told him.
With a sigh, he finally fessed up. “Okay, you were right. This coffee is amazing.”
“Mmm,” I hummed appreciatively as I prepared to tease him. “You were right. I think I like the sound of that.”
Jensen’s laugh was a little off, and soon I was able to differentiate it from his usual laugh; he was getting ready to tease me right back. “I was taught very early on to include those words into my vocabulary—regardless of whether they were true or not.”
With my jaw now agape, I reached over and swatted his upper arm. “You were not!”
“Yes, dear. Whatever you say,” he said through more laughter as he pressed up against the door to escape my playful attack.
“Stop that!” I cried, putting both hands back on the wheel, still giggling. “You think you’re so funny.”
Shrugging, Jensen moved his arm to over the console until his hand rested on my thigh. “Based on your laughter, I’d say you think I’m pretty damn funny, too.”
“Whatever you say, dear,” I mocked, keeping my eyes on the road as I turned one final time and reached our final destination.
I looked over at Jensen. His eyes were wide as he took in everything—and we weren’t even inside the grounds yet. I navigated the parking lot until I finally found a spot, and Jensen was out of the car before I even had it in park.
“Whoa, tiger! Take it easy!” I said as he took me by the hand and led me through the lot. “We’ve got plenty of time to get there.”
Jensen slowed slightly, falling into step with me before apologizing. “Sorry. I just wanted to get good seats.”
I snickered. “You think I don’t have good seats?”
His head snapped toward me. “You’ve got pre-assigned seating?”
“I may have a few connections,” I said flippantly with a little shrug as we walked through the main entrance and onto the grounds. There were thousands of people walking around, horses being led by their riders—some I recognized as my past competitors and others as newbies to the ring.
“Holy shit!” Jensen exclaimed, his grip on my hand tightening and stopping me in my tracks. “Is that Ian Miller?”
Sure enough, Ian Miller was about twenty feet away. He hadn’t competed in years. I still remembered the first time I had seen him compete live. It was back when I was five years old. My grandfather had taken me to Spruce Meadows for the very first time, and it was the year that Ian’s mount of ten years, Big Ben, was being retired. The best part, though? As we were making our way through the crowd, I accidentally bumped into him. I was so flustered and my apology probably wasn’t even understandable as I mumbled and shuffled my feet while looking at the pebbles I was kicking.
He knelt down before me, the reins to Big Ben’s bridle still in his hands as the large gelding stood next to him. He held his free hand out so I could see it and introduced himself as though I didn’t know who he was, and I finally looked up at him. He asked if I rode, and I, very enthusiastically, told him yes. Then he inquired as to whether or not I was having a good time—which I was.
Every trip to the Meadows never measured up to that one, and while I had seen him ride a few times in the years I had gone to the competitions, I never got the opportunity to talk to him again. Which was okay, because I was sure to be just as awkward as I was twenty-one years ago.
“Sure is,” I said to Jensen. “He’s super nice too.”
“You’ve met him?”
I shrugged. “Only once; when I was five.” Encouraging Jensen forward, we made our way past Ian and the crowd that had gathered around him to go and find our seats.
I pulled Jensen down to my left, and he placed his right hand on the top of my knee before sliding it slightly in—just slightly. Sipping our coffee, we waited for the competition to start when a few girls behind us started whispering and giggling.
“No, I don’t think that’s her,” one said.
“Oh, it’s totally her! I’d recognize her anywhere … No! You ask her! I’m not going to!”
Suddenly there was a tap on my shoulder, and I turned around to see two bright-eyed young women in their twenties staring at me. They both looked as though they were holding back squeals of excitement as I looked between them, waiting for one of them to speak. Jensen turned with me, smiling almost proudly as he watched the three of us.
“I’m sorry,” the blond on the left said. “But, are you Madison Landry?”
“I sure am.”
“I knew it!” the brunette exclaimed. “We’re big fans”
When they seemed to be having their own private conversation again, I looked at Jensen, wondering if we should turn around. Maybe all they wanted was confirmation that I was who they thought I was.
Then, the blond one spoke again. “Do you think we could have your autograph? Maybe a picture?”
Smiling, I nodded. “Of course.” They both reached for their bags and started rifling through it for a pen before they grabbed their programs and held them out to me. “Who am I making them out to?”
“I’m Ellie, and this is my best friend, Sarah,” the blond said as I started making out the first program to her.
“So,” Sarah said softly as I started on hers. “Do you think you’ll compete next year? I mean we heard that Halley’s Comet was out of commission for the season due to an injury? Will you both be back? Or will you come back with another mount next season?”
“Um,” I said as I signed my name and handed her the program back. “She’s actually doing much better. I’d like to come back with Halley, but it’ll depend on her training over the next few months.”
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“So, you won’t come back without her?” Ellie interjected as I joined them and Jensen took our picture with her phone.
Honestly, it wasn’t really something I’d ever considered. There were several riders who would compete with a few different mounts—essentially competing against themselves as well as others—but it wasn’t something I ever did. “I don’t know, to be honest,” I confessed, the idea suddenly sounding appealing. Maybe it was the atmosphere, maybe it was having just signed my first two autographs of the season. Whatever it was, I realized that I missed it all. I longed to be in that arena, taking those jumps, feeling the wind on my face, and the adrenaline rushing through my veins as we raced against the clock for the prize.
The girls thanked me before letting Jensen and I turn back around before the competition started. With a sigh as I thought more about rejoining the circuit next season, I lay my head on his shoulder and looped my arm through his as his hand reclaimed its spot on my knee. He must have picked up on what I was thinking because he gave my leg a squeeze and kissed the top of my head.
“I want to come back,” I confessed before he could voice his own thoughts. “To compete.” He didn’t move. “You said you’d support my decision,” I reminded him quietly, tightening my grip on his arm, afraid he’d pull away.
“And I do,” he said softly. “Baby, I want you to be happy, and I know that all of this”—he gestured around us with his free hand—“makes you happy. But maybe we shouldn’t make any decisions until we have a handle on our current dilemma.”
How had I completely forgotten about that? The last few days, it seemed like it was all I could focus on, even when we first arrived in Calgary. But getting caught up in the atmosphere of the sport I loved so much allowed me to momentarily forget. If I turned out to be pregnant, I’d have to put my career on hold for another year or so. “You’re right,” I whispered, turning my attention to the ring just as the first rider was announced.
“Madi—”