Page 19 of For Cowgirls and Kings

I start rocking on his dick harder, the thick column of it pressing into my aching pussy. I wonder how good it would feel if I would let him actually fuck me.

But even as I wonder, I know I won’t. Not this time. Not like this.

My hips pump wilder, and his chest rises and falls faster and faster with each pass.

“What do good boys do?” I bite his earlobe, pulling the soft skin into my mouth as I ride him harder, the buzz of a climax coiling in my belly. I’m so fucking close, and the thought of how dirty this is pushes me higher.

“Fuck, they make you come. Use my dick, Ms. Mendes.” The use of my teacher name leaves his mouth, filling me with a rush of filthy sparks of lightning—both wrong and right leaving his lips—all sizzling across my skin, racing to my wet pussy. I bite down on his neck, his hair still tightly in my fists. I hate how it sounds coming from him, but also can’t fight how the word fills me with a rush of power.

“Yes, Yes! Fucking come.” His hands push and pull at my hips, helping to push me closer to the edge. “That’s it, I’m your good boy.”

I’m enveloped in a dark tunnel, falling and falling into a pitof depravity. I know I’ll have no hope of escaping, but I can’t for the life of me wish to reach for a life line as I fall.

Present…

Bang.Bang. Bang.

I snap my eyes open. Okay, that wasn’t my hangover pounding in my head. That sounds like someone at my door…

“Dale, your car’s here, so I know you’re home. Please open up.”

“Fuck!” I hiss, looking over at the man still dead asleep next to me. This is actually my worst nightmare.

“Dale, for the love of god!” I sit up, my head spinning and I grip the edge of my nightstand. I look down at my body to see that I’m still fully clothed, my black jeans tangled in purple sheets, and sigh with relief. As I look over at my sleeping companion, I notice he too, is mostly clothed, beside his T-shirt now laying across his face.

It could have been so much worse.

Think happy thoughts Adalene Maria…

Another round of banging begins at the door and I jump out of bed, stumbling towards the front of the house, not bothering to look at myself in the hallway mirror. I don’t want to know how bad I look. Won’t matter anyways, when I’m dead in a matter of minutes.

Yanking the door open, I suck in a sharp breath, and wish with all my might for god to strike me down this instant.

“Fuck, I thought you were dead.” Mateo’s shadow fills the small doorway, and I don’t miss his freshly pressed white shirt, rolled up to his elbows, or the scent of fresh cedar and spice that wafts off him. He pauses, looking down at my current state and raises a brow. “Crazy night?”

I squint my eyes at him, my anger flaring to life. “Yeah, actually. People typically do go out on their birthdays.” His face falls, a guilty look consuming his features, and he shuffles.

“I know, I’m sorry. I remembered at like two this morning, but didn’t figure you’d still be up, so I rushed over here with birthday apology muffins and coffee.”

Something about his words piss me off more. We have never been“apology muffin and coffee”close, so why now? What the fuck does it mean?

To protect myself the only way I know how, I do what I do best.I self-destruct.

“Well, for your information, I was up at two, and would have welcomed a call, seeing as we’re close all of a sudden.” There’s a bite in my words that even I cringe at.

His eyes widen, before narrowing. “Can I come in?” I cross my arms, blocking the doorway. No fucking way.

“Not today.”

“Queen Tut wants to see me.” His voice is quieter now than before, and I don’t miss the hint of a growl. He’s getting pissed—good.

“Not. Today.” I bite out the words, daring him to challenge me.

“So he’s still here then. It’s”—he looks down at his thousand dollar watch—“after noon, Dale. Picked a classy one, like always.”

“How dare you?” I try to contain the rage bubbling in my throat.

“Oh, don’t start being modest now. Get him up, make him leave, and then we’re having muffins and coffee. Friends can talk about one-night stands, right?”