DEFIANT (A WESTERN BAD BOY ROMANCE) (4 page)

"
D
on't stop
, I'm close again!"

Shit. That's the first thing she's said since the bar.

After hurrying to my place, Ms. All-Business basically tore off my clothes, where we dispensed with the niceties and went right at it. Her panties pushed to the side, she instantly began riding my cock.

Talk about urgent—usually I'm the frenzied one.

I don't want to tell her that the way she's working it, I just might…oh God, no. Not already! Here it comes…  I grit my teeth and clench her dress in my fists. Rule number one: ladies first.

"Don't slow down! Don't stop! Just! Keep! Yes, yes!" she pants and wails.

A second later I feel her body shiver and pulse and then she's lying there, catching her breath as I let myself explode.

I remove her soaked panties and then peel her out of dress. She's spread wide open on my silk-sheeted bed.  The lights are turned down low, but even in the dimness I can tell her face is flushed. Her hair is tousled over the pillows—not a sexier sight have I ever beheld.

And yeah, I've done a lot of sightseeing. Lots. A minute later she opens her eyes and props herself up, watching me undress all the way.

"I was worried you weren’t going to make it, cowboy," she licks her lips and grins inexplicably.

What the hell?! Was this girl for real? I’d show her.  

After all that, I was expecting a comment on my ripped physique or something: I mean, all the girls do it. It's predictable, but I like it when they suck up. And it’s certainly better than being told I couldn’t go the distance.

But Ms. All-Business is different. I keep studying her, looking for a way into her psyche.

She giggles.

Enough is enough! I pin her to the bed. I can tell how horny she is by the way she kisses me. Just the thought is getting me hard again. I'm going to absolutely destroy her this time, just to show her who’s boss. She’ll be walking out of her bow-legged when I’m finished with round two.

We get down to it again. She works it even harder this time, and I'm barely hanging on for the ride. When I come to my senses again it's almost too late. I pull myself out in a panic. Damn can she work it!

She sobs, "No! Don't stop!"

“Oh I’m not stopping,” I growl.

I grab her by the ankles and drag her right where I want her. Yeah, I'll give it to her, but it’s going to be administered my way. I'll fuck her so hard she’s raw. This time I'm in complete control, pressing my weight into her sinfully sexy hips. It’s not long before I’m watching her come around my cock. But once again she can only groan and beg me to make her come again. This woman is hungry!!

I can't go any faster, any deeper, any harder. I almost lose it again as she pulses around my cock. I straddle her chest, throbbing, and tell her to fucking stroke it.

I feel dirty the second my pleasure pulses.

She runs a finger up my abs, making me shudder.  Finally! Now she’s got a contented look on her face.

Alright. There it is, the look. That predictable dreamy smile afterwards that lets me know I've shot her off into space. It's all starting to blur together: they're sexy and brazen at first, but by the time it's all over, nothing but faraway gazes and wide innocent eyes. Then I'm the bad one. I made them do it. And she's just a blameless waif with a tender heart who wants me to stay just a little bit longer, see her again next week. Sure, one minute she's letting you finger her under the bar, the next, she's planning the wedding, the honeymoon, the children, the house, and on and on. I know the drill. The nightmare. That's why I'm always ahead of the eight ball. And don't even get me started on falling in love.

Unexpectedly, however, she pats my back and tells me to get off her. I watch her gorgeous body saunter across the floor to the bathroom. Oh my God the way those hips swing is sexy!  It’s no wonder I could hardly hold back.  

She emerges, kneels on the bed, and puts her hair up.  

I can’t help but imagine where this is going. I’m excited for round three. She leans over me, her perfect tits just a few inches from my lips.  She grabs her watch from the nightstand next to me and looks at it.    

“I’ve got to go.”

What? I’m the one who is supposed to be glancing at my watch and saying the good-byes. Did I do something wrong? I mean, sure it’s been a long day...and I am rather tired, but, but the way she was begging me not to stop, and screaming...she was satisfied.  

Right?

The little minx. It’s not like me to feel insecure. But this woman has left me no choice—I’m not going to let her walk out unsatisfied.

“That is not how this works.” I press her back onto the bed. Guess I’ll have to let my tongue do the convincing. She whimpers in protest, but her legs fall open and pretty soon her hands are clutching my shoulders.

That’s right, I win.  She's breathing hard, eyes closed, lost in another world as her body trembles for me.  

Because of me.

Pleasing her like she’s never been pleased, Ms. All-Business moans and rolls over, taking the sheets with her.

"Hey!" I object jokingly. I pause for a moment, tracing my fingers over her curves. This was a night to remember, and I want to tell her so before resuming asshole mode. At least tell her how dead sexy she is. She deserves it. "Hey," I breathe softly, leaning over her and brushing her hair back so I can see her eyes again.

But she's asleep. Just like that.

She didn't even try to cuddle. They all try to cuddle.

Did she just take advantage me? Can they even do that? I roll back over and stare at the ceiling. Yeah, she did—she totally used me! It's hard to stomach, but she was ordering me around like a gigolo, and, boy, was I ever desperate to prove myself. No hiding the ugly truth: she had the advantage the whole fucking time. All I did was try to measure up—and I’m not sure I accomplished even that much.

Oh well…does it even matter? I mean, my cock's happy, so who cares about my ego?

Well, I do.

I walk to the kitchen and get a glass of water. Then I slide back into bed. I'm wide awake as I press close to her body, letting her intoxicate me all over again. Just dead sexy. The only way to describe her.

Forget it, cowboy. Guess you can't win 'em all.

Oh well. At least I'll be the one saying the good-byes in the morning.

M
y phone is ringing
. Slowly and drowsily I begin to wake from a vivid dream.

‘Shit
,’ I think to myself while I gradually regain my bearings, ‘
I'm going to wake Noah
.’ He gets pissed when work calls this early, especially after a late night of filming tacked on to a shift at the coffee house in the morning. I scramble to silence it and bury my face back in the pillow.

But something doesn't feel right—the pillow feels strange…these sheets aren’t mine.

I open my eyes and see unfamiliar drapes.

This isn’t my room.

Where am I?

I just woke up from the deepest sleep I'd had in forever. Too bad it didn't last long enough. I feel so groggy. I almost bury my head back into the soft, warm pillows and go back to sleep. But piece-by-fractured-piece, it all starts to come back.

I'd quit my job, flown to Wyoming...

I wake up all the way with a start. Carefully I roll over and see a stranger gently snoring next to me. It all comes back in a flash.

My head begins to spin.

I just had sex with a complete stranger. Three or four times!

A stranger I met in a bar.

Oh shit.

Not smart, Katie, not smart. That's not something I would have normally done, desperation notwithstanding, and I make sure to scold myself.

Then my phone rings again. I hurry to the bathroom as silently as I can and quietly close the door. "Hello?"

"Good morning, Kathryn. Vince Cullen. Can you start work in a couple hours?"

I almost scream for joy. I got the job! "Of course I can. Thank you!"

"My business partner will show you the ropes when he gets in. A social media presence is our number-one priority before dealing with the public relations angle of the whole Caddis Flats thing. I've had a chance to sleep on our interview from yesterday, and I’m looking forward to working with you, Kathryn. I know you’ll do a great job for us."

"Thank you so much, Mr. Cullen. I appreciate the kind words. And likewise, I know we'll accomplish a lot together. I can't wait to start. Please, call me Katie."

“Will do. Feel free to call me Vince. So I’ll see you at nine?”

“Sure thing, I’ll be there at nine, Vince. Thanks again.”

We hang up and I practically whoop for joy. I got the job! Now all I have to do is get the hell out of here. I open the door and peek through the crack.

The stranger is still asleep in his bed. I creep out of the bathroom. He's turned away from me, and I give his muscled body a passing glance as I pick up my clothes and quickly slip into the one professional dress I packed for this trip.

As I dress I look around. Talk about fancy, just look at this place. I make my over to a big picture window covered in vertical blinds and peer out one of the slats.

Oh my gosh, look at this view! It must have snowed a foot last night--it's beautiful! I don't think I've ever seen anything prettier.

Whoever this cowboy is, he must be
loaded
.

My eyes examine the contents of the room, taking it all in. There's a pair of skis propped against the wall, next to a ski helmet decorated with a Jackson Hole sticker, and a pair of sleek mirrored ski goggles. Clearly expensive oil paintings hang on the walls, all with heavy dark wood frames, of cowboys and horses and big sky Western landscapes. Otherwise, the place is sparse, with some fake-rustic furniture here and there, a bookshelf with hardcover books that were probably bought by the box for decoration.

Yeah, some cowboy.

Judging from his physique and fancy ski condo, I'm sure he's some kind of millionaire or something. Me and my dad went on ski vacations to Wolf Creek, Colorado, every winter when I was a kid, so I know the type: spoiled brat from back East, with a hefty trust fund to burn and plenty of time to hang out in bars wearing ugly flannel shirts and obnoxious hats.

Gross.

"I’m not one to break no hearts..."
Jesus Christ, he really hammed it up last night, and I totally bought his act. Contempt: that's the only correct emotion when it comes to people that outrageously fake.

I look at him and shake my head. Sure, he's ripped and gorgeous. Whatever. I head out of his room and into the hallway carrying my heels in one hand, past more western pictures and fake-rustic shit.

Yeah, obviously a rich kid from back East, playing cowboy and ski bum while he spends his daddy's money in Jackson. They're everywhere in San Francisco, too, except they're all obsessed with the Grateful Dead and Phish and whatever. I bet my stranger is into retarded jam music too: endless repetitive noise must sound great when you're rich and terminally bored because you don't have to work.

I pluck my coat off the floor and take in the kitchen before exiting. It is beautifully appointed, stainless steel everything, hardly looks like it’s ever been used. The guy probably eats out every meal of the day. Why he’d have an extravagant kitchen like this is beyond me.

Oh well. It’s been nice knowing you, cowboy. Happy to make a speedy exit, I put my hat on, adjust my coat one last time, and step outside.

It's a bright, clear, heavenly morning. A picture-perfect winter wonderland. A couple of skiers rush past me to catch the bus to the ski hill. They grin ecstatically and hoot, "Powder day! Woohoo!"

I didn’t know I loved snow so much. I keep gawking at everything. Did I just wake up in a different world? Maybe it's a sign that things really are going to be different from now on.

Plus, I did just have sex for the first time in, like, forever! And I feel
great.
Total relief.

I check my phone’s GPS—well isn’t that convenient: two blocks from my vacation rental—perfect! I push my sunglasses onto my face and smile, despite myself. Who cares if the guy was dumb as bricks? He was still way better in bed than Noah could ever hope to be. And oh my, his member! Hot damn was it huge! I quiver with delight as a flush of lust warms my sex.

I can deal with Noah and my future later. I have a job to concentrate on now, and besides, I won't have to stress about bills with the money that will be coming in.

I
wake
up later than usual to some blaring shit on the radio.

Damnit! Late again! Vince is going to have my ass for sure this time. Usual story: barely have enough time to shower and get my carcass to the office before he gets pissed. Fuck my head is throbbing. A whole week of partying and sleep deprivation is catching up to me, and with another weekend just around the corner there will be nothing left to do but party.

Poor me.

Yeah, life is hard.

“It's a beautiful sunny Friday morning,” the whiskey-soaked voice of the female DJ rasps on one of Jackson's two radio stations. “Another foot of freshness in the mountains for all you skiers and boarders heading up to the Hole this fine day. And for all you party animals just waking up, turn that walk of shame into a stride of pride, with a pair of sunglasses from..."

I spring bolt upright in bed. Speaking of walk of shame, where is that super-hottie from last night?! I better tap her again before work. Not finding her warmth, I stop and listen for noise from the bathroom or kitchen. Nada.

Where did she go?

Total panic. I get out of bed a do a quick search of the place.

Shit is it bright. But no sign of her anywhere.

I return to bed and collapse onto it, depressed. She didn't even say goodbye. No cute note with a phone number, no nothing. Just her smell and a dent on the pillow where her pretty head was lying all night. I feel her side of the bed.

I’ve got a blistering headache.

I guess she got what she wanted? That was cold though, the way she just disappeared.

I'm still trying to figure it out as I shower and get ready. Then I fucking cut myself shaving, thinking about how it felt. Ok, Clif, you have got to get your head on straight. Stop daydreaming about pussy like you're fifteen. You have an important meeting today. Don't mess it up.

After popping a couple of aspirin, I make myself a cup of coffee and some toast and head out.

I marvel at the beautiful new snowfall on my walk to work. Too bad I’m not on the mountain.

Ten minutes later I’m settled into my office chair. My mind is adrift, reliving every second of last night. I think about the way she looked when she was riding my cock, her eyes closed and her little hands pushing against my chest. God, just so amazingly sexy!

It’s like I can almost still smell her, feel her softness. And I can feel the way her whole body clenched when she came that second time, pinned under me.

Damn. I did make her come, right?

Yes yes, of course I made her come. I had to have. She practically skinned my back with her nails. But then why didn't she get all clingy? She looked so innocent at the bar, I almost felt bad for her.

Almost.

Waking me from my reverie, Jacey's voice comes in over my phone’s intercom. "Mr. Jackson, the new hire, Ms. Kathryn Fischer, is here to see you."

"Thanks, Jacey. Send her in." I clear my throat, straighten my tie, and shuffle through the papers on my desk looking for the new hire’s file.

Ah, there it is, right in front. Jacey must have put it on my desk earlier this morning. And then I see it: Ms. All-Business’s photo is
right on the fucking cover sheet
!

Oh man.

I shake my head.

Oh man oh man oh man.

What are the chances of that?? A split second later there's a knock and she's standing eight feet away in the doorway, frozen to the spot.

Totally freaked out.

I can’t help but smirk.

I’m so unprofessional sometimes.

“Morning, Ms. Fischer. Clif Jackson. You can call me Clif.”

Aawkwaard…

“Katie is fine.” She shakes my hand.

We stare at each other.

Katie regains her composure in a split second and sits down. She flashes me a cold, professional smile. I push her file to the edge of the desk and settle back into my chair. I know I'm smirking like an asshole, but I can't help it.

I can't believe I was pining after her a minute ago, feeling used. And I can't wait for her to want it again, so I can ask her to bring a friend. She'll be
pissed
. But she just might. After all, I can smell our chemistry. Just like last night.

Who cares if I missed the powder? Great day already.