Page 44 of Hollis (The Moore Men #2)

Take a trip to the rodeo in Copper Lake, Wyoming…

Eight Seconds to Ride

Prologue, Shooter Graham

T he announcer’s voice booms over the loudspeaker, rumbling as the crowd goes wild. “Here all the way from Copper Lake, Wyoming, a two-time bareback world champ, coming from a long line of rodeo champions. Give it up for Shooter Graham, ladies and gentlemen!”

This is it.

The arena is booming, the crowd roaring. Energy is so high, every single body in here can feel it. Feel the win about to be mine.

My body is buzzing as I lower myself onto the bronco, making sure everything is just so—wrapping and then re-wrapping the rope around my glove until it feels right, adjusting the placement of my hand’s grip—preparing for them to open the chute.

For it to be my time to shine. This is the last rodeo of the year, the National Finals Rodeo.

What I’ve worked for all season. That buckle, that prize money…

it’s mine. I can feel it. The low vibration coursing through my bloodstream.

The heavy pounding of my heart against my ribs.

The thrum of energy spreading its way through my body—from my head, along my limbs, down to the tips of my toes.

It’s everywhere. I can’t taste it. Taste the victory like a sweet treat on the back of my tongue.

This. Is. It.

“You and me, Miss Ellie,” I murmur to the beast beneath me. She’s anticipating this as much as I am, her body practically vibrating with the need to buck and jump. I’ve ridden her before. She’s feisty, and I fucking love it. “Let’s fucking do this, girl.”

The announcer continues, but honestly, the rest of what he says falls on deaf ears as the bucking chute opens.

Eight seconds… that’s all I have to do—make it eight seconds.

Bronc riding is something I’ve been doing since I was knee high to a grasshopper.

My father was a bareback bronc rider, my grandpa, my uncles. It’s in my veins. The talent.

A score of eighty-five takes the title.

The seconds tick on.

Eight… My bronc bucks, her legs kicking, my body jolting.

Seven… Adrenaline pumps through my blood, making me feel invincible. Making me feel on top of the world.

Six… The high is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before.

Five… She jerks to the left, and I follow.

Four… I’m so close, I can fucking taste it .

Three… two… one, and when the buzzer sounds, I feel fucking good. Like a champion.

I don’t bother waiting for the pick-up man as I jump off the horse.

My chest heaves as I throw my hands in the air, shouting to the audience while they cheer me on.

The crowd in here is wild, their excitement palpable.

Every seat taken. Tens of thousands of people travel from around the world every year to watch this event, find out who the next world champ is, and for the past two years, it’s been me.

And when the guy over the loudspeaker announces a score of eighty-six, I know I’ve just become the world champ for a third year in a row.

Everyone rises from their seats as the arena erupts into cheers. Cameras flash, and reporters surround me as my team closes in. Interviews, photographs, and other general PR shit I hate doing has the next few hours passing by in a blur.

The NFR is held in Las Vegas, which is the perfect place to celebrate a victory like this.

After I finish with the mandatory press to keep my agent off my back, me and a couple of the guys who flew in with me from back home decide to go out.

Picking a place off the strip to avoid massive crowds, we wind up at a small hole-in-the-wall called Juno’s.

The space is dimly lit, music way too loud for small talk, and the best part is that there’re hardly any patrons in here.

My buddy, Copeland, another bronc rider who competed tonight, heads to the bar to get us all a round of drinks while the rest of us set up the pool table.

We’re thrumming from the wins tonight—and it wasn’t just me who won either out of our group.

We toss back drink after drink while we play a couple of rounds of pool, shooting the shit and overall, just being rowdy as hell, the tipsier we all become.

A bunch of cowboys who hardly ever make it out of their small town.

We’re used to causing trouble on tour and leaving the aftermath in the dust on the way to our next stop—which, in this case, would be home.

When we’re working the circuit, we’re like a pack of outlaws on the loose.

When it’s my turn to get the next round, I meander to the bar, waving the bartender over. It’s gotten busier in here since we arrived, but not by much.

“You were great tonight,” someone says, and when I turn my head to the left, my gaze collides with a smoldering set of honey brown eyes attached to a very attractive guy.

“I know,” I reply with a smirk.

The hot stranger with dimples and the dark brown curly hair chuckles, scrubbing a hand over his mouth. “And incredibly modest, I see.”

“What can I say? It’s been quite a night, riding that winning high, you know?”

Just then, the bartender drops off the round of shots I ordered. Taking one off the tray, I hand it to Dimples on my left before grabbing one for myself. Holding it in the air, I toast, “To me, a three-time world fucking champion.”

He laughs, clanking his shot glass to mine before we both toss back the liquor.

Slamming them down on the counter, we hold eye contact for a moment, the air thickening as he practically eye-fucks me, the desire and the want clear as day in his gaze.

I take a single step toward him, closing the distance.

Sandalwood and something delectably rich fill my nostrils as I lean in, mouth right beside his ear as I whisper brazenly, “What do you say you help me celebrate that win?”

He pulls back, eyes smoldering as they take me in.

As they contemplate my offer. I arch a questioning brow as I run my gaze over him once more, shamelessly, a grin tugging on my lips as arousal stirs low in my groin.

In a simple plain black t-shirt, a pair of straight-legged Wranglers, and a black and gray baseball cap that looks well worn, he’s absolutely my type.

Spending time getting to know him a whole lot better wouldn’t be the worst way to celebrate tonight, that’s for damn sure.

Instead of waiting for a verbal response, I turn and make my way toward the bathroom at the back of the bar.

I don’t need to look behind me to see if he’s following me.

I know he is.

With a quick glance toward the pool table, my eyes connect with Cope’s before he drags his gaze behind me. A knowing smirk pulls on his lips as he returns his attention to me, shaking his head. I wink before he’s out of sight.

The chatter of the patrons and the music dulls as soon as we’re behind the closed door of the bathroom.

I let him walk past me into the confined space before locking the door, resting with my back against it.

A flash of what can only be described as nerves passes over his features, but it’s gone just as fast. Stepping closer, he crowds me, our bodies flush and already heated.

He hesitates only for a moment before he flips his baseball cap backward and crashes his mouth into mine.

Full, soft lips are greedy and hungry for me, and when I run the tip of my tongue along the seam, he parts them, letting me slip inside and take from him. Taste him.

His hands come up, cupping my face as his hips press into mine, a thickening erection rubbing against my own. He groans into my mouth, the sound choked and desperate, sending a bolt of arousal down my spine until it nuzzles deep in my balls.

Our lips break apart, and he takes a step back, eyes dark and wild, lips slick and swollen as he watches me.

Fingers going to my belt buckle, I work it open before flicking the button and sliding the zipper down on my jeans.

His eyes drop, tracking the movement, Adam’s apple rolling in his throat as he swallows.

I shove the material down until it bunches on my thighs, pulling myself out and stroking nice and slow while he watches, my dick thick and throbbing in my palm.

It's not unusual for me to hook up on the road, especially after a win like tonight. The guys I find underneath me range from timid to absolutely feral. Dimples is dancing on the line of timid with the coy look he’s giving me.

His eyes scream uncertainty, but the way he drags his tongue along his lips as he watches me contradicts that, telling me just how eager he is for this.

“Well, what are you waiting for, baby?” His gaze jumps, meeting mine as I smirk. “It’s not gonna suck itself.”

He fumbles a bit before dropping to his knees.

Hands coming up to rest on my thighs, he peers up at me, and the look in his eyes has my length hardening to steel.

Even under the shitty fluorescent lighting, his eyes practically shimmer as they watch me, like pools of honey, lashes long and curly, lips so full, I know they’re going to look like a dream wrapped around my dick.

A shaky hand grabs my cock at the base as he flicks his tongue tentatively across the tip. A groan sounds from him before he takes me in his mouth. Just the head at first. He sucks and licks and sucks some more, and I let my head fall against the door, hitting with a loud thud of relief.

“That’s it, baby…” My voice is rumbly, growing desire intertwined with each syllable. “Work that pretty mouth of yours. Take me deeper.”

My hands come up, fingers gripping his head atop his hat as I ease into his mouth a little more. He gags, backing off as he looks up at me, eyes filling with moisture. Such a glorious sight. My pulse races when his cheeks flush and the corner of his lip tilts into a barely there smirk.

As he starts sucking me again, someone tries to open the door. When they realize it’s locked and they can’t get in, they pound their fist. He freezes, trying to pull away, but with the grip I have on the back of his head, I don’t let him.

“Keep going,” I whisper to him before shouting to the person on the other side of the door who just banged on it again, “It’s occupied, asshole! Come back later.”

Returning my attention to the man on his knees, I rock my hips, working more of my cock into his mouth.

Honey-colored eyes stare up at me, watery and bloodshot, as my dick disappears inch by inch into his hot, wet mouth.

Sparks of pleasure swim through my veins watching him struggle to take it all.

His body is stiff like he’s unsure of what he’s doing, despite it being more than clear in his facial expressions and the noises he’s making around my cock that he’s enjoying it.

Hell, maybe the nerves are because it’s me he’s sucking off. It’s clear he knows exactly who I am. Maybe he’s never had this caliber of cock fed to him. Either way, it’s a turn-on, and my body pulses with a salacious type of energy at his abashed presence.

His erection is thick and straining against his light denim jeans—another dead giveaway for his want. I’m dying to see it. “Pull yourself out,” I instruct him on a growl. “Play with it for me.”

Hands leaving my thighs and falling into his lap, he quickly does just that, like he was simply waiting for my permission, letting out the sexiest groan as soon as his hand makes contact.

The faster his fist flies up and down his length, the more he relaxes his jaw enough for me to fuck his face deeper.

It takes no time at all for me to get there, my balls tightening as my body tingles, a warmth spreading and taking over.

“I’m gonna come,” I warn.

He hums, slamming his eyes shut seconds before I spill into his mouth.

A groan rumbles from my chest as I empty every last drop onto his tongue.

Glancing down at his lap, I watch as he works himself over.

I can tell he’s getting close by how jerky his movements are.

Taking my cock out of his mouth, he plants his hand on the tile floor behind him, holding his weight up as he pumps himself, flicking his wrist in a twisting motion on the upstroke.

With his glossy, hooded eyes locked on mine, puffy, red lips parted, he lets out a long, low moan as his dick explodes, thick spurts of cum covering his hand and somehow managing to miss his clothes altogether. Kind of impressive, actually. And hot as fuck.

Chest heaving, he reaches up to grab a paper towel.

Presumably to wipe the mess off his hand, but before he can, I lean down, wrapping my fingers around his wrist and bringing the cum-covered fist up to my mouth.

He watches with wide eyes as I drag the flat of my tongue along his hand, gathering his release and cleaning him off.

His salty flavor is strong and heady, exploding on my taste buds as I make sure to get every last drop, never taking my eyes off him.

“Fuck, that was so hot,” he rasps once I’m done. Standing, we both tuck ourselves back into our jeans, but when my hand reaches for the door, he grabs my arm, spinning me around.

Arching a questioning brow at him, I’m unable to get any words out before his lips crash into mine for the second time tonight.

It’s jerky and messy, his teeth clanking against mine as his tongue thrusts into my mouth.

A groan rumbles in my chest, my spent cock twitching all over again as the hot, slick muscle rolls against mine while the taste of my own release fills my senses.

Making me dizzy and hot all at once. When he pulls back, his cheeks are flushed, and he smiles, looking awkward and uncomfortable.

“Uh, thanks,” he mumbles.

Chuckling, I unlock the door, pulling it open. Meeting his gaze one last time, I nod and smirk. “You too.”

Exiting the restroom, I find my friends right where I left them at the pool table. I watch out of the corner of my eye as the stranger with the dimples who just sucked my dick leaves the bar a moment later, but not before throwing me one last glance over his shoulder.

That was…interesting.