CowSex

by Lesley Jones

  “Can’t make promises there, Essex. I’ve seen your knickers, and I know exactly what’s inside them. How beautiful it smells, how delicious it tastes, how pretty it is to look at, and that’s not something a man’s ever gonna stop wanting more of.”

  I stare at him as he drives. I don’t say a word, as I have no words to say. He just told me my pussy is pretty, that it tastes delicious, and that he wants more of it.

  What even is the appropriate response to that?”

  Apparently, fanny flutters, clit chills, and quim quivers are the answer to that mystery of the universe.

  KOA

  WE SHOULDN’T HAVE COME. I shouldn’t have brought her here.

  All heads turn as soon as we walked through the door of Mo’s. Just about every man here, from Callum Reynolds, who I know has only just turned twenty-one, to Vernon Thompson, who I’m pretty confident can’t be a day younger than ninety, make a point to come over, introduce themselves, and talk to Gracie. And of course, Gracie being Gracie, charmed the pants right off them.

  But it’s not them who are bothering me. It’s Lee. Lee Conway, one of my foreman and oldest friends. He currently has his hands on Gracie’s hips and way too close to her ass as they circle the dance floor, and I’m pissed.

  “You want another drink before the game starts or you just gonna sit there burning holes in Conway the rest of the night?”

  Dean’s voice pulls me away from forming a plan to incapacitate Lee for the short term. Nothing too serious, just something that’ll last for tonight. I need him fully functioning and on-site by seven tomorrow morning.

  “Yeah, get me a beer, would ya?”

  “What about Gracie?”

  “She’ll have another wine. The sparkly pinot, I think.”

  “Sure thing. You want me to pull the plug on the jukebox as I pass?”

  I lick my lips and turn my gaze to my other foreman and right-hand man in life and business, Dean Porter.

  “Knock yourself out.”

  He throws his head back and laughs. Shaking his head, he asks, “You sure nothing is going on between the pair of you?”

  “I told you, we barely know each other.”

  “I know what you said, but that’s something different from what your eyes say when you look at her.”

  “Fuck off.”

  “I plan to. Straight to the bar. But then I’ll be back to give you more shit, and just to give you a head’s up, Shannon’s about to walk through that door, so you best prepare yourself for a whole new level of pain once she sees what’s what and gets started.”

  “Great, can’t wait.”

  He chuckles some more while making his way to the bar. I turn my attention back to Gracie on the dance floor. I don’t think the clientele quite knew what to think when we came through the door. At first, all eyes were on me. I’m probably Mo’s most famous customer, well, the other boys from the band and me. We don’t often drop by when we’re all together, but when we do, people notice. We usually end up signing a few autographs and posing for a few pictures, but then the good people of Addison generally leave us alone. It’s been years since I’ve been here, so I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect.

  Not a lot as it turns out.

  One look at Gracie dressed like Punk Rock Tinker Bell, and all eyes and attention were on her.

  She’s wearing a pale, dusky-pink tutu that’s short at the front and longer, almost to the floor at the back. She has on cream-coloured woolly tights with pink hearts over them and a cream-coloured top, which hangs off one shoulder. The whole outfit is joined together by a wide, sparkly gold belt cinched at her waist. Her hair’s hanging long and straight down her back, and on her feet, she has a pair of the sexiest biker boots I’ve ever seen. Big, black, and chunky with metal chains around each ankle and silver studs around each heel.

  Her hands are resting on Lee’s shoulders, and she’s looking up at him and talking as they sway to “What Hurts The Most” by Rascal Flats. I know this song inside and out, must’ve performed it live over a hundred times. It’s a song about a man who loses his woman because he never told her exactly what she meant to him. I run through the lyrics in my head, wanting to crawl out of my own skin with how uncomfortable they make me feel. I drain the last of my beer, wishing it were bourbon instead.

  Lee shifts their positions and takes Gracie’s hand. Instead of them just swaying, he leads her around the small dance floor. He thinks he has moves, I’m thinking all he has is a death wish.

  The song changes. It’s still Rascal Flats, but this one is faster. “Yours if You Want It” starts to play, I set down my bottle, and before I have a chance to overthink the consequences, I move towards Gracie. I don’t even see Lee as I mumble an, “Excuse me for cutting in,” and cut right in.

  She wants a man who can dance? Well, she need look no further.

  Gracie looks kinda shocked as I take her hand and waltz us around before twirling her out and pulling her back in tight and close. I slide my hand down to her ass and pull her hips against mine.

  She doesn’t miss a beat and matches my rhythm and moves right along with me. She smiles, encouraging that one dimple to make an appearance, and that fucking knot in my belly tightens a bit more at the same time as my dick gets hard.

  GRACIE

  F UCK. ME! THE COWBOY HAS moves, and I don’t mean hot and heavy, sweaty in da club, bump and grind kinda moves. I mean, actual, proper old-school kinda moves. The kind you’d expect a cowboy to know. I can’t wipe the smile from my face as he twirls me around and pulls me close to him.

  He doesn’t take his eyes from mine. He smiles a cocky smile but isn’t laughing like I am.

  “You like dancing with Lee, Essex?”

  “Yeah, he’s a good dancer.” A few other couples are up on the tiny dance floor, so he slows us down a little. He nods his head at my response and looks over my shoulder in the direction of where Lee’s sitting at our table.

  “What were you talking about?”

  “England.”

  “What about it?”

  “Just that he’s always wanted to visit.”

  “News to me.”

  Koa’s still eyeing Lee over my shoulder, and I wonder if I should mention that he has asked me out to dinner on Wednesday night. There’s a local place called Fathers that apparently does the best ribs for miles that he’d like to take me to.

  I didn’t exactly say yes, but I didn’t say no, either. Koa had his head between my legs last night and has flirted all day relentlessly. It could mean everything or nothing. I just don’t know.

  I allow myself a quick fantasy involving the pair of them fighting over who’s gonna take me home. It’s an old-fashioned spit-and-sawdust bar brawl, with loud sound effects as punches get thrown, and tables get smashed. The barmaid fires a gun in the air and orders the boys to break it up. Meanwhile, the evil Logan kidnaps me while nobody’s looking. He ties me to the train track, and I can see the smoke of a steam train hurtling—

  “You like this song?” Koa asks into my ear. His voice and hot breath cutting into my fantasy.

  “I’ve never heard it in my life,” I admit.

  “You’ve never heard this song, what about the last one?” He sounds like he doesn’t believe what I’m saying.

  “Nope. Are they yours? Is this you singing?”

  This time he laughs. I Googled his band in the car on the way back from town yesterday. They’re big on the country music scene, huge. Until earlier this year, they held the record for the longest song at number one with a hit called “Will You Take a Walk with Me.’ I haven’t had a chance to listen to it yet, but I’d silently watched a video of him on stage, rocking the double denim with his guitar over his shoulder.

  I’d also read an article that said the band were taking some time out to spend with family but would be back with a new album late next year.

  “Not me, Essex, this is Rascal Flats. You heard of them?”

  I nod this time. “I have but couldn’t
tell you a single one of their songs, though.”

  “That’s okay, I’m reckoning six months should be enough time to convince and educate you about a lot of things.”

  He says the words directly into my ear; his breath is hot against my skin. Goose bumps spread, and my spine and scalp tingle.

  His mouth is still close to my ear when he starts to sing along. The words tell a story of a man offering his scarred and beat-up heart to a girl if she wants it.

  My whole body tightens when the heat of his breath both warms and chills my skin each time he sings that it’s mine if I want it.

  I’m not entirely sure what it is that he’s offering, but I’m pretty positive that if it’s something that belongs to him, then hell yeah, of course I want it.

  His heart maybe?

  I wonder if the words are his way of communicating the way he really feels.

  Has he changed his mind?

  Does he want something more than just a fuck and run?

  The notion is beyond ridiculous. Despite his constant flirting, Koa’s made it clear that he wants nothing but straight-up, no-strings sex, and his heart is definitely not something that’s on offer.

  Six or seven times today, I seriously considered just shagging him out of my system. I know that I declared last night that I wasn’t that kind of girl, but around him, that all goes out the window, and I’m acutely aware that I’m just talking total bollocks to myself.

  I wonder if it’s at all possible to fuck a man like Koa Carmichael out of your system. Probably not, but I bet it’d be fun trying.

  “You wanna dance some more or grab a drink?” he asks quietly while looking down at me.

  The music has changed again, and there’s a proper shit-kicking, yee-haw, boot-stomping tune playing. Maybe in six months, I will have perfected my line dancing moves, but right now, drop me the fuck out.

  “Let’s get a drink please, I’m cream crackered after cutting all them moves at this altitude.”

  He leans back and smiles down at me. “Cream crackered?”

  “Yes, Cowboy. Cream crackered—knackered.”

  He shakes his head and smiles. “Best clue me in, Essex, ’cause I ain’t got a Scooby.” Bats let loose in my belly when he attempts to talk my lingo, and I can’t help grinning at him. His smile softens before he pulls me in and says against my cheek, “I fucking love when you smile so big it makes that one dimple appear. You’ve no idea what it does to me, no fucking idea.”

  I have no air in my lungs and no bones in my body. I just stand there, breathless, loose-limbed, and slack-jawed as I stare at him.

  “I need the toilet,” I blurt. Before he can say any more, I weave my way through the people that are line dancing all around me and follow the signs for the ladies room.

  I use the toilet, wash my hands, and stare at myself in the mirror.

  This needs to stop. I either fuck him and get it out of the way, or I put a lid on the flirting right now.

  I don’t know which it is I’m gonna choose.

  I make my way back to our table, Koa has his back to me, but appears to be talking to a striking, dark-haired woman.

  “And there’s nothing going on?” I hear her ask.

  “Nothing,” he replies. “She helped me shop for my kids’ bedrooms today, so I asked her along tonight so that she wasn’t sitting home alone.”

  That hurts. He told me in the truck that he asked because he enjoyed my company, now he’s saying it’s because he feels sorry for me.

  “Well you looked nice and cosy out on the dance floor,” the woman states.

  “Shan, she’s fucking hot, I’m single and so is she. Horny is what we looked on the dance floor. Horny, but definitely not cosy. Cosy is not something I ever plan on getting with a woman again, and you know this.”

  And there it is. If I had any doubt before about his intentions, I now know them for sure. I just heard them loud and clear.

  My throat feels tight, and I really could cry right now, a combination of hurt and humiliation hitting me, but I manage to pull myself together as Dean appears at the table.

  “There’s a drink here for you, Gracie.”

  “Thank you,” I manage as I take the glass full of sparkling wine he offers. I take a long sip from it, the bubbles going straight to my head.

  Koa turns and looks at me, and I know that he knows that I heard what he just said. He closes his eyes and shakes his head.

  “Gracie.” He says my name very quietly as the woman he was talking to steps around the table towards me.

  “Gracie, good to meet you. I’m Dean’s wife, Shannon.”

  I silently smile and hold my hand out as Koa watches. “Gracie Elliott.”

  “Welcome to Addison Creek.”

  “Thank you, your town’s beautiful.”

  “Yeah, we like it. Not often Koa comes to visit, though, can’t remember the last time he set foot in Mo’s.”

  I’m not sure what to say to that. I wanna be chatty and witty. I want to brush Koa’s words off like they don’t matter, but they do, and now I feel empty inside and have nothing to offer.

  “You play pool, Gracie? I just whopped Mason’s ass so he won’t play me again.”

  “Sure.” I turn with a fake smile and answer Lee. “Lead the way.” I follow him to a back room where two pool tables are set up without a backwards glance at Koa.

  We play pool. We flirt. I know it’s wrong, but I do it anyway. Lee buys me drinks, and I drink them. Three games, four drinks. I manage to win one. I lose two, but it’s the victory that I focus on as everyone else stares and shouts at the two huge flat screens that are situated at opposite sides of the bar.

  The game’s long and tedious. I have no clue what’s going on, and I nearly cause a riot when I suggest to Koa’s mates that what they call soccer is a much more entertaining sport than what they call football.

  He barely says two words to me, other than, “Would you like a drink?” I said yes because I would. I’d like to drink the bar dry and lose myself in a pity party for one, but after a while, I shake it off.

  Shannon comes and sits beside me, asking, “So, I’m guessing you’ve no idea what’s going on with the game?”

  “None whatsoever.”

  “Want me to explain?”

  “No offence, but no, not really,” I tell her honestly.

  “I’m also guessing you heard what Koa said about not getting cosy with anyone?”

  I take a sip of my drink and look at her, she has long, poker straight hair, dark almond-shaped eyes, and a beautiful olive complexion, she reminds me of Pocahontas, well the Disney version at least.

  “I did.”

  “He’s lying.”

  “I don’t care.” I sound like a brat, but after five, or maybe six glasses of sparkling crap, I can find zero fucks to give.

  Shannon shrugs. “None of my business, but I think you do, and whether you want my advice or not, I’m gonna give it. You want him, he’s yours. I watched the way he was looking at you when you danced, and I don’t think I can ever remember him looking at a woman like that, not even his wife.”

  I make a hmmph sort of sound. “Which one?”

  Shannon takes a swig from her beer bottle and looks over the top of it with her dark eyes. They look almost black, and they’re right on me.

  “He tell you about both his wives?”

  “He told me about Danielle, her drinking, and the accident. He explained about them losing their little girl, and about Kai getting in a car with a drunk driver. He also mentioned he had a little girl and that his second wife was a gold digger.”

  “He told you about that, too, Kai I mean?”

  I nod.

  “Okay, I’m just gonna put this out there because, well...one, basically I’m just a nosy bitch and need to know. And second, yeah, I’m kinda a nosy bitch. So, anyway, what exactly is going on between you and Koa? I mean you’ve known him what, a week?”

  My leg starts to bounce. This is all gonna sound s
o mental when I say it aloud. How to explain to a woman I don’t know, how I feel about a man I don’t know.

  “Less than a week. I only got here Thursday night.”

  “And he’s told you all of this? About Danielle, the accident, Kai, and Lucy, but you’re not a couple?”

  “I’d never met the man until he slammed into me and tackled me to his drive on Thursday night.”

  She frowns, confusion written all over her face. “Wait. Wait. Back up a minute there, sister. Koa tackled you to the ground.”

  “Yeah. I’ve rented the cabin for the next six months through an agency, but no one let me know that Koa’s aunt had died and he’d cancelled all future bookings. He’d moved in himself so that he could start doing the place up. So, when I got here, I let myself in, saw the empty pizza boxes and drink bottles, and thought that some hairy arsed homeless mountain man had broken in. I ended up hiding outside and calling the police.”

  I watch Shannon’s mouth open and close a few times. “Hairy arsed mountain man—what—I don’t even know what that means, but it sounds scary.”

  “It was scary. I was terrified, believe me.”

  I then relay the rest of the story of my and Koa’s first encounter.

  “And you stayed there that night?” she asks...well, more like shouts actually..

  “Yeah, probably not my wisest life choice, but the sheriff assured me I’d be safe and Koa offered me a room with a lock on the inside of the door. It was one in the morning, I was jetlagged, and it was snowing.”

  The table we’re sitting at is large and round, Shannon and I are the only ones in our seats, the men are all on the opposite side, standing, talking, and watching the game.

  Koa’s arse is resting on the back of a chair, and I stare at it while explaining to Shannon the events surrounding my arrival in Addison Creek.

  “Holy shit, that’s some introduction.”

  I actually manage a small laugh. “Yeah, it’s different I s’pose.”

  She tilts her bottle towards me, and I tap my glass against it.

  “Welcome to Addison, you’ll have to give me your number, and we’ll get together for lunch.”