Curvy Barrel Racer Takes Bull Rider Cock

The roar of the rodeo crowd was already fading into the heavy dusk when Jess McCade rode out of the arena with third place and a sour taste in her mouth. Dust clung to her skin, mixing with the sharp scent of horse sweat and adrenaline. Her thick thighs ached from gripping the barrel saddle, and her heavy breasts rose and fell beneath the tight plaid shirt that had come half-untucked during the final sharp turn. She could still feel the sting of lost time by a tenth of a second.

She was swinging down from her mare when she felt eyes on her—hot, deliberate eyes. Jess turned and found him leaning against the fence rail like he owned the whole damn state. Colton Reed. Thirty-two years old, built like a goddamn oak, with wide shoulders, narrow hips, and a black Stetson pulled low over stormy gray eyes. His bull-riding vest was still strapped on, dusty and scarred. The man had just ridden a rank bull for eight seconds and walked away grinning like it was nothing. Now that grin was aimed straight at her.

“Damn shame about that pole, darlin’,” he drawled, voice low and rough as gravel under tires. “You were ridin’ like fire until the last turn.”

Jess wiped her brow with the back of her wrist, chest still heaving. “You watchin’ me, cowboy?”

“Hard not to.” His gaze dropped openly to the wide flare of her hips, then lower to where her jeans hugged the generous curve of her ass. “Whole arena was watchin’. I just didn’t pretend I wasn’t.”

The air between them crackled. Jess felt it low in her belly, a hot pulse that had nothing to do with the race. She should have walked away. Instead she found herself stepping closer, boots crunching on dry dirt.

Colton pushed off the rail. “My truck’s parked behind the chutes. Trailer lot’s a long walk after a run like that. I’ll give you a lift.”

She arched a brow. “Just a lift?”

His slow smile was pure sin. “We’ll see.”

The silence inside his big black pickup was thick enough to choke on. Jess sat with her thighs pressed together, the denim seam rubbing against her already slick pussy. Every time Colton shifted gears, the muscles in his forearm flexed under tanned skin. The cab smelled like leather, hay, and man—pure raw male. She kept stealing glances at the heavy bulge outlined against his Wranglers and wondered if the rumors about bull riders were true.

By the time they reached his sleek silver trailer at the far end of the lot, the tension was unbearable. Colton killed the engine. Neither of them moved.

Jess spoke first, voice husky. “You were starin’ at my ass the whole run, weren’t you?”

Colton’s chuckle was dark. “Every damn second. That big, juicy ass bouncing in that saddle… made my cock so hard I could barely walk straight after my ride.”

Jess’s breath caught. She turned toward him, heart hammering. “That so?”