Page 31 of Revelry (Cowgirls Do It Better #2)

Tate

“It’s closed,” I said, as Gertrude began pushing at the doors to the bar.

“Not for me,” she murmured.

“Gertrude,” I warned, not liking the tone of her voice. “What do you mean?” She pressed herself against the door. I heard some metal clinking sounds before she turned to me triumphant.

“Max is totally expecting me. He owes me a favor and said we could visit the bar after hours, no biggie.” She gave me such an innocent smile that I felt guilty for questioning her. Of course she had planned this; she took us on crazy adventures, but they always worked out.

I watched as she pushed open the door to the bar and bowed to me. “After you, sir.”

The way she said sir had my pants tightening.

The whole evening had. Watching her talk with such light and happiness, even about non-fun topics.

The way she bit into her pizza with abandon, and humored Tony.

She was chaotic but she was also a kind, soft soul, and I hadn’t met many people like her.

If anyone. She was special and I didn’t think her ex could sink lower in my estimation.

Not only had he treated her like shit, he didn’t even try to win her back.

If she was mine I’d…

And there was the problem.

I shouldn’t want her to be mine.

Except I kinda did.

I wanted her, that was for sure. I’d spent all evening shamelessly imagining her lips wrapped around my cock, her legs wrapped around my waist and her hands fisting my hair as I feasted on her. I cleared my throat, pushed the images away and stepped into the bar.

It was quiet, dark and surprisingly peaceful. It was nice seeing the place empty and still when normally it was full of noise and people. It was like a secret.

She closed the door and flipped a light switch. The low wall lighting came on, bathing the room in a shadowed hue. The lights flickered gently creating a warm glow and I knew I was in trouble when Gertrude turned to me, a wicked smile on her pink lips.

“Shots?” she asked, skipping behind the bar and assessing the alcohol.

“What have you got, barkeep?” I replied, taking a seat on a barstool.

“How about honey tequila?” She snagged the bottle and pulled out two shot glasses from under the table.

“Aren’t you meant to sip that?”

“Sip, shot, however you like your poison,” she shrugged and poured the glasses out.

She pushed one to me and I held it out. “What are we cheersing to?”

She tapped her lip thoughtfully. “Revelry?”

“Revelry indeed. To revelry,” I said, clinking our glasses together and then swallowing down the sticky, sweet liquor. She kept eye contact with me as she swallowed hers and I found myself falling under her spell even further.

She poured us two more and then came out from behind the bar. “Bull ride?”

“Excuse me?”

She booped my nose and ran off towards the mechanical bull.

“Come on, I’ve gone up against Leo before and managed to hold on longer than him. Hopefully he’s better on actual bulls, for the sake of his limbs,” she muttered as she felt along the base of the machine for the ‘on’ switch.

“I don’t drink and bull ride,” I said, waving my hands.

The bull came to life, and she skipped back over to me, taking my hands in hers. “Come on, Tatey. Live a little.”

The tequila was increasing the hold on the spell she cast over me because as she lightly pulled on my arms, I went willingly. “Show me how it’s done, sugar.”

I hadn’t meant my voice to dip low, but her eyes flashed at me, and she ran her tongue over her lips. I wondered if she tasted of honey from the tequila or berries and cream like before. My tongue snaked out over my own lip, desperate for a taste.

She leapt over the edge of the machine and bounced up onto the bull with a spryness that I enjoyed far too much. The edge of her dress rode up as she gripped the handle with one hand, knuckles white, and raised her other in the air before giving me a nod and a wink.

Tearing my eyes away from her thighs, I flicked the switch.

The bull jerked to life but she held on.

It started slow and her hips rolled into the motion in waves, which was hell on my restraint.

My cock was hard and I couldn’t even hide it.

Her round hips rocked and I couldn’t see anything but her riding me.

It sped up and she clamped her thighs on each side, holding on for dear life as it got faster, spinning and bucking and she was a champ. Eventually, thankfully for my poor dick, she was bucked off and hit the padded wall.

“Gertrude!” I shouted, turning it off and leaping over the padded barrier to get to her. But instead of finding her hurt, she was clutching her stomach and giggling.

“Your turn,” she gasped, wiping tears from her eyes.

I jerked my thumb over my shoulder. “I need another drink before I tackle that big boy.”

“Big boy!” she cried and burst into more giggles. I started laughing with her before helping her up and away from the bull.

She skipped over to the bar, her dress swaying around her thighs and my eyes lingered on the smooth silky skin between her damn cowgirl boots and the hem of her dress. I managed to get my eyes on her face just in time for her to turn around.

“What do you want to drink before you ride?”

“Whiskey.”

She rummaged through the bottles, clanking them together until she found the whiskey and poured us two fingers each.

She came around the bar and stood in front of me, linking our arms and declaring “drink!” I had to duck down given our height difference.

A tiny bit dripped down my chin and she reached out with her finger and snagged the droplet, bringing it to her lips.

“Don’t waste it,” she husked as she slid her finger into her mouth and my tongue grew twenty times heavier. I don’t know how long I stared at her, but she snapped her fingers in front of my face. “Come on, your turn to ride the big boy .”

I followed her back over, wondering what the hell was wrong with me and why everything she did made me think of sex.

“Do you think this is high on the ERP scale?”

I looked the bull over. Other people’s germs on the handle, drawing attention to oneself. I rolled my shoulders. “It’s definitely in the middle of the scale.”

“Good, then together we’ll conquer him. Do you need training from a skilled rider?” she asked, standing next to the bull with her hands on her hips.

I nodded, unable to speak. She showed me where to put my feet and then stood behind me, leaning forward to place my hand on the handle, her breasts brushing against my back. Once I was in position, she stepped back.

“Hold on tight.”

The mechanical bull started slow, as I expected, but I wasn’t prepared for how quickly it sped up and the ferocity of the bucking.

I didn’t last long. It was embarrassing but I enjoyed how quickly she ran to my side when I was thrown.

She stumbled in her boots and fell on top of me, not too gracefully but I didn’t care.

I just wanted her hands on me and was tired of pretending I didn’t.

She had different ideas though and quickly righted herself.

“Oof, sorry. Must be the alcohol.”

She stood up, pulling me with her and patting down her tousled curls. She still held my hand, linking our fingers and I gaped down at my huge hand dwarfing hers, thinking how right they looked together.

“Now what?” I rasped.

“I can kick your ass at pool?”

I scoffed. “You can try.”

She laughed and tugged me over to the pool table and flicked on the overhead light, bathing the table in a soft glow. I watched as she racked the balls, her delicate fingers rearranging them deftly, her teeth sank into her lip in concentration.

I wanted her teeth sinking into my shoulder as I fucked her.

“Shall we make it interesting?” I asked softly.

Her gaze snapped to mine, twinkly in the low light. “I’m listening.”

“Strip pool.”

She pressed a hand to her chest. “Why Tate Wilder, I do believe I’ve officially corrupted you.”

I barked out a laugh at her demure fluttering of lashes.

“I don’t know, Tate.” She chalked up her cue which was tiny, just the perfect size for her. I sized up the others, selecting a longer one for my reach.

“Why not?”

“You have me at a disadvantage,” she huffed, pointing to her dress.

Exactly, my brain answered. “For every single item of clothing you take off, I’ll take off two. How about that?”

She nibbled her lip again. “Okay, deal.”

“Deal,” I repeated.

She swanned over to me, squeezed herself between the pool table and me, her hair brushing my face.

“But Tate, hear me now, you’re going to lose and I can’t wait to see you naked,” she murmured, stroking her nails over my chest and popping open one of my shirt buttons.

She spun and bent forward, pressing her ass into my crotch and began sizing up the break. I leaned forward, our height difference making it easy to cover her body and whispered in her ear, “Sugar, I’ll have you out of that dress so fast, your head will spin.”

I felt her shiver beneath me and fought a groan as I buried my face in her hair. I knew I was playing with fire but where Gertrude was concerned, I would willingly get burned just to touch her once more. The memory of our kisses and her breathy moans as she orgasmed had haunted me.

I didn’t want a memory, I wanted the real thing.

Her arm pulled back and I heard the crack of the balls and watched as they splintered off in all directions and she sank one. I backed off, giving her some room and she turned to me slowly, a devilish look in her eye. “Do I get to pick which items of clothing you lose first?”

I grunted. “If you want.”

“I want your shirt, big boy, then your boots.”

I smirked down at her, maintaining eye contact as I slowly popped open all the buttons and slipped my shirt off my shoulders, tossing it to her. Her eyes roved over my chest, blatantly eyeing me up and my poor cock wept at the sight.