Rodeo Riders by Vonna Harper Read Free Book Online Page B

can’t!”
    “What?”
    “Move. You’re pressing on…”
    How could that be when she felt weightless? But by concentrating, she felt his effort throughout her. His cock slid against her rear wall. Although she loved the sensation, she needed more.
    When she tried to draw away, he refused to release her nipples. She continued to pull, oblivious to any discomfort or perhaps driven by it. Finally he let her go, and she straightened, fingers still digging into him, his cock deep and true.
    Then she stood with her knees bent and her toes digging into the hay. His cock slipped out. Empty and hating the sensation, she turned so her back was to him. With a hand around his cock, she knelt. Her body again swallowed him.
    Mine.
    He took hold of her waist and lifted her a little. She reveled in the feel of his tip just inside her and the danger of losing him. Then he pulled her down, placed his feet on the floor and tensed. She held herself in place as he pounded into her. Her blouse fell back, revealing her breasts. With one hand, she feathered his balls. The other claimed a breast.
    Pressure on her back made her wonder if he was trying to push her off him. Then she realized he wanted her to lean forward again. She did, taking in a few more precious inches of him, joining them, feeling his hot bulk. She managed a crude rhythm that brought her down just as he strained upward. Her cheeks burned, heat rolling down her neck to ignite her breasts. Hunger gnawed at her, and she ground her knuckles against her breast.
    Fuck him, fuck him. Eat him.
    “Not—not going to work.”
    She tried to look over her shoulder at him.
    “I still can’t—move enough.”
    She nearly told him she’d happily fuck his brains out and all he had to do was lie there and enjoy the ride, but just as she couldn’t stay still, obviously neither could he.
    Before she could guess what he had in mind, he pushed, forcing her up and off him and leaving her pussy empty. He stood, grabbed her around the waist and positioned her on the bale much as he’d been. On her back, she stared up at him.
    “There. Now we’ll do it my way.”
    What did she care? As long as he silenced the terrible ache, he could do anything he wanted. His expression unreadable, he placed his hands at the backs of her knees and lifted her legs into the air. He crouched over her, aimed, housed himself. He leaned closer, loomed over her, trapped her under him. She felt small and helpless, desirable, wild.
    This wasn’t simply sex. He repeatedly came at her as if determined to pound her into submission. She fed off his strength. Lifting her right leg as high as she could allowed him to close in on her even more, to spread a hand over her throat.
    No fear. Nothing except the thundering in her temple, her melting, flowing cunt, crying out, raking her nails over his arm.
    Every thrust threatened to knock her off her perch. As he drew back for yet another attack, she sucked in a breath and silently pleaded with him to hurry, hurry!
    The pace quickened, giving her no time to prepare for the next assault. Movement and hunger flowed together. On fire, she grasped his shoulders. She strained for his mouth. He answered her plea by crushing his lips against hers, attacking, not kissing. Much as she craved the savage union, her neck couldn’t handle the strain, and she let her head fall back down, whimpering.
    A deeper moan rolled out of him. Straightening slightly, he kept her open and exposed. He rode her like a strong, young cowboy with endless energy. The long, stressful day flowed out of her, and she became an animal, a bronc fighting for freedom.
    Only she didn’t want to be free.
    Much as she tried, her fingers only brushed his belly, but she kept after him. Touching and tantalizing him, like spurs rolled over a bronc’s sides, propelling him onto another level. He came at her, came over and over again, branding her. Flames consumed her, scorched her, shook her as she’d never been