Page 34 of Cowboy Dreams

I kissed him under the ear. “My hero. Time to make that mysmarthero.”

Sylvester laughed. “You always have to have the last word, don’t you?” The light in his eyes as he looked at me warmed my insides.

“Nope,” I told him. “That’s you.” And slipped out before he could reply.

Chapter Six

Sylvester

Mybackwasbetterjust about the time Joe had to head back to his job. We had one last evening, though, and I wasn’t going to waste it. Lying on my back still made sense as a safety precaution, but I’d never complain about watching Joe ride my dick, all long lean muscles and straining neck and that farmer’s tan that should’ve been ridiculous but instead turned me the hell on.

He ground down on me as my orgasm hit, clenching so his ass milked every drop of pleasure out of me. When I stopped gasping and clutching his thighs, he jerked himself off over my chest. Three long strokes of his fist and before I could offer to help, he shot spunk all up my neck and onto my lips. I swiped my tongue around, savoring the bitter-salt taste and the way Joe’s cock dribbled in aftershocks as his dilated gaze fixed on my mouth.

Joe’s breathing eased and he leaned forward to kiss me. “Good job, city slicker.”

“You did all the work, cowboy,”

He eased himself up and off, and grabbed a handful of tissues to clean us. I liked knowing he had my spunk up inside him. I’d showed him my test results the third time we hooked up. He just said, “Oh,” and I figured that was that, he wasn’t interested, but a week later he showed me his new ones from a Planned Parenthood over an hour away. “Cheap and safe,” he commented when I mentioned how far he’d gone.

I’d asked, “Are we being exclusive now?”

He’d said, “Better be, if you want me to take your cum.” Which yes, yes indeed, I did. We used condoms sometimes if he wanted easier cleanup, but not otherwise. I grinned at him as he wiped his mess off my neck, then curled himself in at my side.

“You’re sleeping here tonight, right?” I asked, unable to resist pressing a kiss to his hair.

“For sure. That couch is aiming to cripple me up worse’n you are.”

“We should put a spare bed back in one of the rooms, just in case.”

“Or you could not wreck up your spine again. That gets my vote.”

“Mine too.” I pulled the covers higher over us as my sweaty skin cooled.

I was drifting near sleep, and from the deeper louder breaths Joe was blowing in my ear, so was he, when a weird noise jolted me, a horse sounding like an off-key bugle. Joe bolted upright in the bed. “What the fuck?”

The odd neigh came again and Joe scrambled up, hunting for his jeans as I switched on the light. “If someone’s messing with the horses, I’m gonna kill them!”

“Wait for me!” I called futilely as he sprinted off toward the stairs.

I’d been wearing sweats so getting them on was fast, but I didn’t want to take a chance charging down the stairs, so I was thirty feet behind Joe when he burst out the kitchen door and across the yard. Over by the barn, flames lit a patch of grass at the base of the wall and licked up the fresh paint. A heavyset man sprinted away from the fire and tried to climb into the cab of a waiting pick-up. Joe caught up to him and grabbed him by the jacket, hauling him backward.

The man hit the gravel, and the pickup backed up twenty feet. For a second it sat there, engine revving, aimed our way. I shouted, “Joe! Look out for the truck!”

He was fighting with the other man, the two of them hauling on each other and punching, but he managed to swing the guy between him and the pickup. The truck backed farther, squealed in a tight gravel-spraying turn, and drove off toward the road, leaving the second man behind.

The new floodlights we’d put on the barn threw stark shadows, making it hard to see who Joe was beating. I was torn between the fire and the fight. Joe hauled back and landed a punch somewhere in his opponent’s face. The guy fell and scrabbled back on the dirt, reaching under his jacket. Joe kicked him, barefoot heel to the groin. When the man tipped backward, gasping, Joe leaped on him, fumbling at his jacket. A moment later, Joe came up with a gun.

“Shit!” I wanted to call 9-1-1 but had left my phone behind like a fool.Fire. Gun. Fuck!

“You can’t do this,” the guy on the ground said. “I’m an officer of the law. You’re in a shit-ton of trouble.”

Morse. The cop Morse. Oh, hell!

Joe turned to me and held out the gun. “You keep him here. I need to get a hose on that fire.”

“Get your phone and call emergency services!”

“After.” As soon as I had the pistol in my grip, Joe sprinted for the barn.

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