Page 36 of Dirty Cowboys
I stumble forward as he forces me toward the workbench, which he’d been using to cut wood. I brace my hands on the top, needing a release and fast.
“You’re getting fucked by me.”
Before I can reply, he’s behind me, ripping open the button of my jeans and dragging them down just far enough that air hits my bare ass. Walker spits between my cheeks, then his fingers spread the wetness where he needs it to be.
“Fuck,” I choke out, gripping the bench.
“You loved watching them, didn’t you?” he says.
“Yes,” I hiss, as his cock presses against my ass. “Fuck yes.”
His hard thrust rips the breath from my lungs, thenmy head drops and a strangled moan escapes my throat.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” Walker says, both hands gripping my hips like he’s trying to hold back. “Your ass swallows my cock so fucking well.”
I brace harder as his hips slam me into the bench. My cock leaks, and I want to wrap my hand around it to relieve the ache.
“Are you thinking about her watching?” he pants, his breath warm against my neck. “Do you think she would enjoy seeing you like this? Bent over and fucked raw?” Walker lets go of my hip on one side and fists my cock, stroking in time with his thrusts.
“Fuck,” I gasp as my vision blurs. “I’m?—”
His grip tightens. “Then fuckin’ come for me, Nash.”
“Ahh, fuck!” I let out a deep groan as I blow my load. My entire body shakes, and I don’t think I have ever come so hard.
“Do you like what you see, Indie?” Walker asks, his voice deep and husky, and I look over my shoulder.
Indie stands in front of Duke, who has her pulled to his chest. Her eyes are wide as she nods.
“I guess that makes us even now,” Duke says with a wink.
Shit, that asshole knew I was there the entire time.
Chapter Thirteen
Indie
A month has passed since the bad storm, and in that time, we have gotten to know each other. There haven’t been any more masked chases, as Duke said he wanted me to get to know them all first. Since I know it’s them behind the masks, trust now plays a huge part in anything we do. Nash and Walker agreed, so that is what we have been doing. It has been fun with stolen kisses in the barn, or one of them finding me taking pictures for my followers and bending me over the hay bales.
“I should have brought a jacket,” I murmur, wrapping my arms around myself. The sun’s setting earlier, and there’s a chill in the air reminding me fall is almosthere. It is my favorite time of the year, not that I think Marge would be impressed if I asked her for a pumpkin spice latte. Nash dared me to, but I’m not that brave.
“Here,” Walker says, pulling off his jacket and wrapping it around my shoulders.
As we push through the door, I notice how many women are wearing cowboy hats tonight.
“I wish I had a hat,” I say without thinking. But I have one, I just don’t wear it in public—the boots situation was enough of a lesson. “I feel so out of place.”
Before I can say anything else, Nash’s hat is placed on my head, his hands adjusting it to sit right. “There,” he says, stepping back to admire his work.
Conversation in the bar pauses, and I feel people staring. Duke takes my hand and squeezes it, and I expect him to let go, but he doesn’t.
“Hello, strangers,” Marge calls out from behind the bar. “I like your hat, honey.”
Nash chuckles as Duke pulls me toward the bar. Once there, Walker cages me between his body and Duke’s. “Just picking up our order,” Duke tells Marge.
“I’ll go get it for you,” Marge says with a grin, then disappears into the kitchen.
Sarah Beth appears at my side, squeezing between Walker and me, her own hat on her head. “Mind if I steal her for a minute?” she asks, already looping her arm through mine. “Girl talk.”
