Wild Child (4 page)

CHAPTER SEVEN- Jenna

When we walk into Lucky’s, the only place Cami would agree to have this joint bachelor slash bachelorette venture, my eyes immediately scan the crowd for Rusty.  I’m not sure what the female equivalent of blue balls is, or if there even
is
one, but if there is, I’ve got it!

Since walking out of the shop with the three of them and getting a chaste kiss on the cheek as Rusty opened the car door for me, I’ve been unable to think anything other than his lips on me. And how much I want them on me.  Now
.

I don’t see him at first, so Cami and I make our way to the cluster of tables that Daryl, the manager of Lucky’s, let us push together under the giant banner that reads CONGRATULATIONS, TRICK AND CAMI!  Behind that, in front of the stage, is a curtain I borrowed from the local funeral home. They use it as a partition when the need arises. It’s super-sized, solid black and thick as hell, perfect for what I needed.  It conceals the night’s two main attractions.

I grin when I take in the costumes of the members of the wedding party who have already arrived.  I picked them out specifically so they’d match. 

One of Cami’s bridesmaids is wearing a Playboy bunny get-up.  Her husband is wearing a Hugh Hefner-style smoking jacket, a cravat and a grey wig.  Another girl is wearing a nurse’s costume, one which gives me chills when I look at it because it reminds me of this afternoon.  Her counterpart is wearing a surgeon’s outfit.  There’s also a Pocahontas and Brave couple, a Marilyn and JFK couple, and a Fred and Ginger couple already here.

As Cami gives hugs all around, I turn again to look for Rusty.  This time I spot him. 

And he takes my breath away.

Rusty is gorgeous anyway, but his costume highlights his stellar body.  He’s shirtless, with only a bandana wrapped around his throat and a cowboy hat on his head.  From the waist down, he’s all long, muscular legs, tight jeans and dusty boots.  I’m sure those are his, because I didn’t pick out boots to go with his costume.

He hasn’t noticed me yet, so I can look my fill.  His broad shoulders are tan and muscular.  His chest is wide and well-developed.  And his stomach… God help me, I love that stomach!  It’s trim and ripped, and there’s a thin trail of hair that leads from his navel to the most incredible…appendage.

I smile as I think about it.  Rusty would probably have a stroke if he knew I was calling it an “appendage.”

Suddenly, he turns and his eyes meet mine. It’s almost as though he could feel my attention on him.  He raises one dark brow, no doubt wondering what I’m grinning about. I smile even wider, knowing it will eat at him until he finds out.

I’m not surprised when he grabs his beer and walks toward me.  He’s half way across the bar when he starts to slow down. It seems that he’s just now noticing what I’m wearing.

And I’d say he likes it very much.

I suck in my stomach and hold out my arms before settling my hands on my hips to let him look.  His eyes roam me from my own black cowboy hat, down to my fringed, suede bra, to my bare stomach and on to my chaps, completely open all the way to my boots, but for the frilly little panties I’m wearing underneath.

His mouth drops open the tiniest bit and I feel my heart speed up.  I have no doubt if we were alone, or even in a different venue, Rusty would take me by the hand, lead me to the first semi-private place he could find and bury his body in mine until we both lost the ability to think straight.

It’s what we do. It’s how we affect each other.

And it’s wonderful.

He resumes his walk to me.  Cami passes in front of him and he watches her go, shaking his head at her outfit.  She’s wearing a black leather dominatrix ensemble and Trick is wearing the matching submissive one.  I watch her cross to Trick and I laugh out loud when he turns and sees her.  His jaw goes slack and I’d be willing to bet he got a hard-on instantly.  I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if they use these costumes again. In private.

“So, what's the next surprise in Jenna’s World of Wedding Wonders?”

“You mean the costumes weren’t enough?” I ask. “Don’t you like mine?”  I look up at him from beneath my lashes, purposely coy as I tease the fringe that hangs from my bra.

“I’d be happy to show you what I think of your costume. Later.”

“You would?”

“Mmm,” he purrs, leaning in to kiss my neck.  Chills spread down my arms. 

“Well, since I’m off limits, maybe the other things I’ve got lined up will take your mind off me.  And all the things I’d like for you to do to me in this outfit.” I lean in to Rusty, my lips less than an inch from his and I whisper, “And out of it.”

“You’re evil. Did you know that?  You’ll probably go to hell for doing this to me.”

I run my fingers up his bare chest, to his chin then I trace his bottom lip with my bright red fingernail.  “Come burn with me.”

“You lead the way,” he growls hoarsely, like the heat between us has singed his vocal cords.

I plant my hand on his chest and push. I give him my sauciest grin.  “Maybe later,” I say, taking a step back.  “Or maybe not.”

Rusty’s breath hisses through his gritted teeth and I laugh outright. Who ever thought this would be so much fun?  Torture, for sure. But fun anyway.

CHAPTER EIGHT- Rusty

I never thought it could be so hard to keep my hands off someone.  Of course, I’ve never really tried.  All I can say is that, when I finally get between those long legs of Jenna’s, there’s gonna be an explosion of epic proportions.

And it won’t just be
me
doing the exploding.

As I watch Jenna, I can see invitation in the way she moves. She might as well be shifting against me, close enough for me to touch her.  The things she does with her hips and her hands, the way she bends over with that delicious ass of hers tipped perfectly in my direction—all of it is for me, like she can feel my eyes on her.  Like she
wants
to feel my hands on her. 

I know this because she keeps looking back, making sure I’m watching.  Teasing me.  I’d be willing to bet those ruffled little panties she’s wearing now include a wet spot.  We’re engaged in the ultimate game of cat and mouse, and it’s keeping us both turned on.

I watch her as she backs toward the curtain that’s stretched across the back half of the room. I know there’s a stage back there, but there has to be something else.  It’s a big space she’s got concealed!

“Seems like we’re missing something in here, doesn’t it?” Jenna asks, raising her voice so the rest of the party can hear her.

Shouts go up all around and she smiles, taking a handful of curtain and dragging it along the makeshift line that’s stretched across the room.  Bit by bit, the edge of a thick black and red mattress is revealed.  That’s all I can see because it’s so dark behind the curtain.

With a flourish, Jenna flings back the curtain.  A single spot light flips on, shining down on a dull, black mechanical bull.  The crowd goes nuts.

All I can think about is watching Jenna ride that thing.

“Holy shit, it’s gonna be a long night,” I mutter to myself.

Jenna is grinning from ear to ear.  “All right, now that I’ve got your attention, who’s gonna be the first to ride the bull?  We gotta get some use out of this thing before the operator gets bored and goes home,” she says, gesturing toward the clearly unenthusiastic plaid-clad old man who’s sitting on a stool in the corner, leaning over a small console.  He probably came with the mechanical bull. I think he might be asleep under the wide brim of his enormous hat.  I can’t be sure.  “Come on, ya bunch of pansies!  Who’s gonna pony up and ride it first?”

There’s lots of shouting and whistling and general loud-mouthing, but no one steps forward. I can see several people trying to get Trick to go first, but he’s resisting, content to sit by his hot fiancée.

I hear Jenna’s name above the fray, called once, twice then multiple times.  In a few seconds, everyone is chanting for her to give that bull a ride.

With an exasperated shake of her head, she turns toward the bull.  “Fine.  I’ll show you how it’s done. I just hate to make the rest of you look bad,” she teases with a cocky grin. 

The old man, awake and alert after all, slides off his stool and hobbles over to Jenna to lend her a hand as she climbs up onto the bull.  When she’s seated on its wide, leather back, I see her frown.  “Something else is missing,” she muses loudly, pausing for a second before she shouts, “Music!”

The lights over the stage come on in a burst of color.  Standing with their instruments, and one member sitting behind his drums, are the members of Saltwater Creek, the band I used to play in.  I glance over at Trick.  He’s howling happily, his arms raised into the air. He used to play with us, too.  He looks at me and smiles. I know this probably makes his night that much better.  I return his smile then look back to the stage.

“Something’s still missing,” Jenna yells.  “Oh, I know what it is.  We’re gonna need more bass.” 

Heads start turning toward me and I finally look up at Jenna where she’s sitting atop the bull.  She’s looking right at me, grinning.  She tips her head toward the stage and I look back in that direction.  Everyone in the band is watching me, smiling, and Sam, the bass guitar player, is taking the strap of his guitar off his shoulder.  He walks to the front of the stage and holds it out to me. 

Quitting the band was a tough decision, but it was the right one. Business at the garage started picking up and it was a matter of growing up and facing my responsibilities, laying the groundwork for my future, or playing with the boys. 

Adulthood won out.

But getting a chance to get back up on stage still holds a special lure.  And Jenna knows that.

I can’t hide my smile as I hop up on the platform and take the guitar.  Sam nods at me and I nod back, slipping the leather strap over my shoulder and taking the pick from his outstretched hand.  I lay my palm against the body of the guitar and curl my fingers around the neck, settling in to the feel of the cool metal against my skin. 

I look out at Jenna and her eyes tell me she knows I’m on top of the world right now.  It reminds me of all the things that I love about her that have nothing to do with her body, but with her heart and her soul.  She winks and calls out a question that doubles as a song request.

“Who feels like makin’ love?”

A rowdy bunch, pretty much everyone in the bar yells out in agreement, so I close my eyes and reach back in my memory for the chords to the song.  For a few seconds, everyone quiets and the world fades away as they all wait for me to start picking out the notes.  With the first one, I remember how much I love the feel of the strings under my fingertips. 

After eight beats, the rest of the band jumps in. I open my eyes and look back out at Jenna.  She takes her hat off and gives her head a shake, her dark hair shimmering down her slender back.  When she puts it back on her head, her eyes find mine and she winks at me from under the brim.  I could easily drop my guitar, jump off the stage and spread her out on that bull and eat her like dessert.  But before I can really finish the thought, she reaches down for the leather strap and nods for the bull operator to wind it up.

The rotation starts out slow, like the operator is trying to match the beat of the song. Jenna’s body moves in perfect time with it.  It’s like everything between us and around us is in sync. 

It’s almost painful to watch her ride that damn bull.  Her back arches with each buck of the machine and her hips swivel fluidly, like she’s connected to it.  Her cheeks are flushed, her lips are parted just a little and I can see the tip of her tongue grazing her teeth.  I hope she’s thinking what I’m thinking—that the only thing better than this would be if it was
me
between her legs. 

The operator increases the speed and Jenna’s body shifts and sways in time with it.  All too clearly, I can imagine us in front of a mirror with her moving just like that on top of me.  Up and down on my cock, her thighs clamped around my sides, her creamy body squeezing me.

My jeans get tight.  Real tight.  As the song winds down and the operator slows the bull again, Jenna glances up at me.  The look she gives me says she knows what I’m thinking.  And I mutter again, “Holy shit, it’s gonna be a long night!”

CHAPTER NINE- Jenna

After getting so turned-on by Rusty watching me ride the bull, it’s all I can do to keep my composure for the rest of the night.  I want him so bad I ache with it.

But stay composed I do.  Somehow, I manage to keep it together while cranking up the heat. It’s my mission to make the want as painful for Rusty as it is for me.  And every time I look at him, I know it’s working a little more.  The crotch of his jeans is probably extended to the tensile limit of denim.  I can’t stop the satisfied smirk that comes to my lips as I think of it. 

I glance over at Rusty as he watches another girl ride the bull.  As if sensing my eyes and my thoughts on him, he turns those bright-blues on me.   I wink sassily at him and he raises one eyebrow.

I make myself turn away after that. I’m tempted to go order another shot when I hear the bartender ring the bell that signals last call. I resist the urge because part of my deal with Daryl in him letting us “borrow” Lucky’s tonight was that I’d lock up after closing and then come back bright and early in the morning to meet the truck when it comes to collect the mechanical bull.  The last thing I need is to be shitfaced while trying to secure a bar that isn’t mine.

Less than an hour later, the house lights flash three times in a row and the lights over the stage shut off, my signal to start shooing people out the door.  Luckily, the band stopped playing about an hour ago, so no one cares about the stage anymore. 

When the bar is empty, but for the little old man who operates the mechanical bull, I give him a fifty dollar tip and push him out into the lot, too, flipping the lock behind him so I can make my way around, cutting off lights before I go home.

I find OFF switches for every light in the place except the one over the dance floor, the dance floor that, for tonight, was occupied by a mechanical bull.  I walk behind the bar, searching for a hidden switch.  I look through the small storage and break room in back.  Still no luck.  The only thing I find back there is the radio, which is clearly labeled LEAVE ON, but no other light switches.  I decide to check the other side of the building, somewhere near the stage, hoping I can find the controls there.

As I round the corner back out into the bar, I come to a sudden stop, a gasp bubbling up in my chest.  There’s someone sitting on top of the bull. 

I’m only startled for a few seconds, though.  My pulse speeds up for an entirely different reason when I recognize the figure straddling the machine.

It’s Rusty.  And he’s watching me.

My feet move me slowly across the room toward him.  My heart thumps wildly against my ribs.  My mouth goes completely dry as I take him in. 

The wide brim of his cowboy hat casts a shadow over his face.  But even so, I can feel Rusty’s glittering blue eyes fixed on me. The light pouring down on his shoulders accentuates every ripple of muscle in his arms and bathes his perfectly defined abs in a soft, golden glow.  His big hands are resting on his thighs, motionless.  Chills spread down my arms when I look at those long fingers, remembering all too clearly the pleasure they can bring.

I take a deep breath.  “Bar’s closed, mister,” I say casually as I approach him.

He doesn’t respond immediately.  When he does, I feel a hot flush move through my core.

“Thought I’d grab a slow ride before you locked up.  I missed my chance earlier.”

My stomach twitches at his insinuation.  He’s asking me. Outright.  And he’s perfectly still as he waits for my reply.

Adjusting my trajectory, I veer to the right and walk to the podium that houses the bull controls.  I look down at the console I watched the little old man working earlier.  I glance back at Rusty, knowing that if I turn it on, I’m giving him my answer.

My pause is barely that of a heartbeat before I reach up and flip the red switch up to the ON position.  To hell with resisting him! I’m not the one getting married.

“How slow do you want it?” I ask provocatively, the sultry music from the radio only adding to the intensity of the moment.

“As slow as you can make it,” he replies, a wicked grin twisting his lips. 

I ease the lever up the tiniest bit, just enough that I can barely hear the whir of the machine’s motor turning.  With a groan, the bull moves slightly forward and down, making a leisurely turn on its post.  Rusty doesn’t move but for the motion of his hips as he rides fluidly on the swiveling bull.  When it revolves completely, leaving him facing me again, I see the almost imperceptible tip of his head.  “You coming?”

I don’t answer him. I don’t need to.  I step out from behind the console and I walk toward Rusty, an answer in and of itself.  Anticipation pours through me when I step up onto the thick, black mat and stop at the base of the slow-moving machine.

Without a word, Rusty holds out his hands.  Without a word, I take them.

Effortlessly, he pulls me up onto the bull with him, my back pressed to his chest, his hard body folding in around me.  “Put your hands here,” he whispers in my ear as he leans forward to show me.

I do as he asks, excitement curling in my stomach.  I feel Rusty drag my hair away from my neck just before his lips touch my skin.  My nipples pucker reflexively.

“Do you know how much I wanted to be up here with you tonight?” He pushes his hips against my butt.  I can feel how hard he is, just as hard as I knew he would be.  “Watching you arch your back,” he says, trailing his fingers down my spine, causing me to bow outward.  His hand rises back up to the band of my bra, his fingers easily unsnapping it.  Slowly, he runs his palms up to my neck and then down over my shoulders, not stopping until he brushes my fingertips, pushing off my top.   “I kept imagining how hard your nipples would be if I were touching them while you rode this bull.”

He cups both breasts in his hands and squeezes. My breath hitches in my throat and heat puddles between my legs. 

“I know you were wishing I was up here with you, too.  I could see it in every sway of your hips,” he murmurs against my neck, the fingers of one hand tracing circles around my nipple as his other travels down the center of my stomach.  “And I know that if I could’ve touched you right then, I’d have found these wet,” he whispers, dipping his hand down into my panties and cupping my burning flesh.  “Mmmm, just like this.” 

The lights swirl around me, framed by the pitch black of the empty bar.  I close my eyes, abandoning myself to the moment, to the feel of what Rusty’s doing to me as he slips one finger inside me.

I moan and let my head fall back against his shoulder.  He rolls my nipple between finger and thumb as he thrusts the fingers of his other hand in and out of me.  Long, deep movements, like the rhythm of the bull.

“I knew you’d be dripping.  Watching me watch you.  Wishing you were riding my cock up here on this bull.  Fantasizing about coming for me.  In front of all those people.  I know you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Lazily, he drags his fingers out of me to tease my clit with leisurely swirls.  I move my hips against him, breathless as the familiar tension builds inside me.

I feel Rusty lean away from me before he puts his hands around my waist and lifts, turning me around on the bull to sit facing him, but not straddling him. 

The look on his face is ravenous as he takes off my hat and flings it into the darkness.  “Do you think there’s anyone outside right now, Jenna?  Out there in the dark?  Watching us through the windows?”

His lips crash down on mine before I have time to answer.  His tongue licks along mine as his hands roam over my breasts and my stomach, my back and my hips.  He’s touching me everywhere except the place I need him to touch me most.

When he tears his lips away from mine, he puts his palm between my breasts and pushes gently, urging me to lie back. I relax over the head of the bull, letting the slow, easy movements of the machine set the pace for what’s to come.

Rusty drags his hand down my stomach, not stopping until he reaches the juncture of my widely spread thighs.  I feel him move my panties to one side.  There’s a pause that lasts a lifetime. It’s filled with heat and electricity and wild anticipation.  And then I feel the hot lick of his tongue.  I buck at first, like the imitation bull beneath me might.  But then I relax under his mouth, easing my legs back down over the sides of the machine, opening them wider and giving Rusty full access to my body.  The blood is rushing to my head, making it swim lightly and I feel the tightening of my muscles as Rusty pushes two fingers inside me. In and out, he moves them as his tongue flickers over my sensitive flesh.

“I wonder if someone’s watching me lick you, watching my tongue when I do this,” he says, removing his fingers and replacing them with his tongue.  He works it into me, penetrating me as deeply as he can, his lips pressing against my most sensitive part as he does.  When he moves back up to flick the tiny muscle, sucking it briefly into his mouth, I lose my breath completely.

“Rusty,” I manage to say above the twirling lights and dizzying pleasure.

“I bet every man in this bar was wishing he could have a taste of you tonight, to taste that sweet come pour out of you onto his tongue.  But I’m the only one who gets to taste you. I’m the one who gets to make you come tonight,” he says, the vibration of his words traveling through his lips and stimulating my pulsing flesh.

“Rusty, please.”

“Please what?” he asks.  “Please eat you in front of whoever might be watching? Or please sit you up so you can ride me until your come runs down my cock and onto this bull?”

I can’t
think
with him
saying
these things to me.  I can’t
breathe
with him
doing
these things to me. All I can do is
feel. 
And I feel need—need for Rusty’s body.  Filling me up.  Stretching me tight.  Pushing me to the edge.

And I need it now. 

“Please,” I repeat breathlessly.

Rusty’s hands leave me for a few seconds.  But then he’s winding my legs around his waist, pulling me upright, and slamming me down onto his hard, thick length.

I cry out.  A scream, torn from me. I can’t help it.  Nothing has ever felt more perfect. Or more right. 

Our loud moans of pleasure mingle. I can’t tell the sounds apart. I just know that there’s no better feeling in the world than Rusty, inside me.  All around me.  With me.

His hands are in my hair as he eases me up and down on him, deeper and deeper with each slow buck of the bull.  I shudder against him when he takes my nipple into his mouth and sucks it hard against his tongue.

I knock his hat off and thread my fingers into his hair, holding him to me as he moves my body on his.  “I hope someone’s watching when you come on me, Jenna,” he says hoarsely as he tugs my head back and sinks his blunt teeth into the flesh of my breast.  “I want someone to see my mouth on these nipples. I want someone to see your beautiful body riding my cock.  I want someone to see my fingers biting into this delicious ass.”

Just then, he leans back and flexes his hips, his fingers digging into my back side.  I fall more fully onto him, taking in every long, strong inch.  With that one stroke, I explode into a shower of muted sounds and blurring lights.  My body spasms around his, squeezing it tight, drawing it in.  Rusty grinds his hips into mine before he picks me up and drops me back down onto him, one, two, three times.

Rusty’s body goes rigid beneath me and I open my eyes a crack, just in time to see him throw his head back.  He lets out a growl that tingles along my nerves.  Then I feel the hot pulse of his climax, pouring into me.  I feel it inside me, all around me, as the shudder of his body vibrates through my core.

Still awash with sensation, I collapse against Rusty and we sway gently to the rhythm of the bull.  After several long minutes, with only the sound of our heavy breathing piercing the quiet around us, Rusty lowers his head to meet my eyes.  “Don’t ever take this away from me again,” he says softly. 

“Don’t ever ask me to,” I reply.  As we watch each other, the light shining down on the angles of Rusty’s face and the tenderness pouring out from the depths of his eyes, a swell of emotion overcomes me.  “I love you,” I murmur.

Rusty says nothing.  His eyes search mine as he reaches forward to stroke my cheek with his fingertips.   Finally sliding his hand around to cup the nape of my neck, he pulls me toward him and captures my lips with his own.  The kiss is sweet.  Profound.  Enigmatic.  It says
something.
I’m just not sure
what.