Rough Rider Read online

  “Cheers.”

  “And what exactly are we cheersing?”

  I shrug. “To trouble.”

  She grins. “To bad decisions.”

  I chuckle. “That what I am?”

  “Oh, most certainly,” she whispers before she winks and knocks back her shot. Mine follows, and then there’s two more coming out of nowhere.

  “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

  She winks. “I thought it was trouble?”

  “Trouble it is then,” I growl quietly, knocking back another shot. The music changes to a slower number — Dolly Parton’s “Head Over High Heels.” My hand slides over her waist, right across the top of her jeans. Shit, I don’t even think before it moves on its own, but it’s like I can’t fucking stand going another second and not touching her. I half expected her to slap me, but the hit never comes. She only swallows thickly, her cheeks blooming pink as that bottom lip of hers catches between her teeth.

  My hand just keeps on sliding, until I’ve scooped her right against me.

  “And we’ll just keep calling you bad decisions, now won’t we?” she whispers.

  “Darlin’, you can go ahead and call me whatever you want,” I growl.

  Mitch throws us two more tequilas, and those go down even easier. At some point, there’s two more, and then two more after that. We’re dancing to Johnny Cash at some point. She’s laughing and spinning in my arms, and goddamn if it ain’t the most amazing sound I’ve ever heard.

  At some point she decides she wants to see the stars, and then we’re out the door and tumbling into the night. I pull her to me, cupping her chin as I move in, and when she moans softly, I go ahead and crush my lips to hers.

  …I was right. She tastes like the sweetest kiss in the world.

  She moans into me, her body arching into mine. My hand’s barely left her waist since the second it landed there. But now, it slides down to cup that sweet little apple ass through her jeans. I groan into her, pulling her up into me, her legs going right around my waist as we stumble across the back parking lot towards my pickup.

  The tailgate slams down, I slam her against that, and then all bets are off. Clothes rip away like they’re made of paper, and I’m pushing her up into the back of the truck bed, my mouth all over her as her moans drip through my ears. She cries out when I hook her legs over my shoulders and kiss and bite my way down her thighs. And when I pull those soaked little panties to the side and drag my tongue over her slick, sweet, pretty little pussy, she moans into the night sky.

  I growl into her, shoving those panties out of the way as I push my tongue deeper. I wrap my lips around her aching clit, batting it with my tongue as she writhes and moans for me, her fingers clawing at my arms. She yanks my hat off and puts it on her own head, grinning down at me before I swirl my tongue around her clit and make her scream all over again.

  She comes hard and fast against my mouth, her sweet honey coating my tongue and dripping down my chin as I groan into her. My cock is hard enough to drive nails as I kick my jeans away, sliding up between her legs. Her small hands wrap around me, and her jaw drops, her eyes going wide in the moonlight as she coos softly.

  “Oh fuck,” she moans, stroking my big cock and panting as I spread her legs around my waist. I ease in, teasing her tight little cunt with my throbbing, pulsing cock — adrenaline and tequila roaring through my veins as the need to claim her, and make her all mine thunders through my head.

  “This way,” she gasps suddenly, biting her lip mischievously at me as she pulls away and flips over. She gets on her knees, wriggling that tight little ass at me and turning to wink at me over her shoulder.

  Challenge heard.

  I line up, sliding my swollen head up and down her tight lips, leaking precum all over her pussy as I groan. My muscles coil, my hands tighten on her ass, and slowly, I push inside.

  She cries out, arching her back and whimpering in pleasure as I slide my fat cock all the way inside — pushing deeper and deeper until every single thick inch of me is buried in that tight, velvety little pink heaven between her legs. Her sweet little pussy grips me like nothing I’ve ever even imagined, squeezing me like she’s trying to milk the cum right out of me.

  Greedy girl.

  I pull back, groaning at the feel of her lips just teasing and kissing at my head before I drive all the way back inside. My gorgeous, fire-haired little slice of trouble moans wildly, pushing back to meet my thrusts, clawing at the bed of the truck under us as we start to flat-out fuck.

  Hard. Fast. Wetly — our bodies crashing together again and again. I watch my glistening, throbbing cock drive deep inside that hot little cunt of hers, my hands gripping her ass tight as I give her every inch again and again. I pull back, growling as I slap her pert little ass, making her scream in pleasure and hiss at me to do it again.

  And who am I to say no to a lady?

  I slap that ass again, and again, fucking her hard and deep and fast — I fuck her like there’s a primal urge in me to claim her. To empty my fucking balls inside of her and breed her like she’s the last woman on earth.

  At some point, she screams, the orgasm rippling through her, her whole body arching as it slams through her. I grit my teeth, holding on for dear life.

  …Cause I’m not done with her yet, that’s for damn sure.

  I pull her down with me as I ease back, so that she’s straddling me as I lay back on truck bed. She moans, arching her back and rolling her hips, making that tight little pussy slide up and down on my rock-hard cock. She turns, keeping me buried to the hilt inside of her as she spins on top of me until she’s facing me.

  She starts slowly, just rolling her hips and teasing me. Her hands slide up her body, cupping her own breasts and toying with her pale, pink nipples. She rides me, easing that tight little pussy up and down every inch of my big dick, my cum boiling in my balls. My hands grip her hips as she bounces on me, that wild red hair cascading down her shoulders with my hat still perched on her head.

  My sexy little cowgirl, riding my thick cock like she can’t get enough of it

  “Bounce on that cock, darlin’,” I growl, my hands tightening on her sides, my hips raising up to thrust deep inside. She cries out, riding harder, and faster, that slick little cunt dripping all over my balls as she rides me.

  “Ride that fat cock, baby girl,” I hiss. “Ride me like a good girl, and then I want to feel you come again for me. I want you to come all over that big dick, cowgirl. I want you ride that cock until that pretty little pussy drips your sweet girl cum all over me. I want you dripping off my balls when I fuckin’ empty them inside of you. I want you screaming for more when I give you every drop of my cum.”

  My hand slaps her ass. Once, twice, three times, and suddenly, it’s like pulling a trigger.

  Trouble explodes on top of me. She throws her head back, my hat toppling off of her as her wild red hair blazes out around her gorgeous face like fire as she screams into the sky. I groan, feeling her slick, tight velvety little cunt grip me tighter than ever. And it’s all it takes to send me over the edge.

  I roar, driving up into her as my balls pull tight. Thick, hot ropes of my cum jet into her, my whole world melting around me as I just keep thrusting and keep coming. She moans around me, riding me right through both of our orgasms until she collapses on top of me.

  “I knew you were a bad idea,” she murmurs, her lips brushing mine, those sharp green eyes blazing into my gray ones.

  “You had trouble written all over you, darlin,” I growl, just before our lips crash together again.

  At some point, we pass out, and when I open my eyes, it’s just barely dawn over the horizon. The parking lot of Mitch’s dive bar is empty, the two of us wrapped up in a blanket and in each other in the back of my truck. She stirs, blinking awake as she turns and grimaces at the light.

  “I have to go.”

  Fuck.

  I’m a big boy, and this ain’t my first one-night rodeo. But damn does he
aring those words suddenly cut deep. Because I don’t want her to leave. Not fucking ever. I want her right here, her legs around my waist and her head resting on my chest, always.

  But, I know what this is, and I know why it can’t be what I want it to be.

  …Besides, it’s morning. And I’ve got a busy day. Meth-lab robberies have a way of taking up your whole goddamn day, you know.

  “Still not gonna tell me your name, huh?”

  She grins, biting her lip as she yanks her jeans on and shakes her head.

  “Isn’t it more fun without it?”

  No.

  She dresses, and my mood sours more with every piece of clothing she puts back on — with every part of that gorgeous little body she covers back up.

  “Thanks, cowboy,” she whispers. Her look hardens for a second, her eyes blazing right into mine. Her lips open, like she’s going to say something — like she’s going to say “just kidding, I’ll stay forever.” But I know that shit’s all in my head. And her lips close again without saying anything anyways.

  “Thanks,” she whispers again, kissing me fiercely before she plops my hat back on my head, knocking the brim down so it covers my eyes.

  I lift it, gritting my teeth as I watch her slide off the back of my truck. She turns, winks at me, and then she’s gone, off across the abandoned parking lot to the shit-heap beater of an old Buick parked across the way. The engine turns over, her tires kick up dirt, and then she’s gone.

  I dress sullenly and get into the cab of my truck. I unlock the box under the driver’s seat and pull the double Berettas out. I do a quick check of the clip and safeties before tucking them into my belt. I open the glove compartment and yank out my ski mask.

  I check the time.

  It’s almost time. I’ve got a little bit of a drive ahead of me, which is good because I’m definitely nursing a hangover from all those fucking tequila shots. Coffee I can get on the way. And then, it’s payday.

  Billy-Ray Coleman’s been muscling in on Sugar County with his meth business. I don’t actually give much of a shit about the politics of crime, so this isn’t about Sugar County being Lawson Banner’s territory when it comes to crime. No, this is about doing my homework and figuring out that Billy-Ray’s been keeping most of his profit at his main cook-house, guarded by a bunch of twitchy tweaker meth cooks.

  Like I said, today is payday.

  I crank the engine, step on the gas, and pull out of the parking lot. Shit, I can still taste her on my tongue. I can still feel her on my skin and under my fingertips.

  But I growl, shaking that away. No, now it’s time to go collect my million bucks.

  …Even if I’m pretty damn sure I’d give every cent of it up to get my hands on her again.

  Yeah, I knew she was trouble the second I saw her. But like I said — I fuckin’ like trouble.

  Shit, I might just love trouble.

  Shame I’ll never see her again.

  Chapter 3

  Chastity

  Present

  My heart jumps into my throat, and something cold shivers through me. I whirl, trying to keep the panic down as I scan the area, like I’m somehow missing the entire car. The meth lab is in an old warehouse in this shit-hole area next to a coal-processing plant. My eyes land on the spot where I know I left the car, and when I see the broken glass littering the broken pavement, my heart sinks.

  …Of all the fucking days to get your car stolen? Yep, this would be the worst. The absolute worst. Fear roars through me, and I’m whirling, trying to figure out what the fuck I’m going to do now with a shotgun, a bag full of stolen drug money, and no car, when the sound of shooting erupts out of the meth lab behind me. I whirl, bringing my own gun up, my pulse racing through me.

  There’s the sound of yelling and then an engine roaring to life. Suddenly, a pickup truck I know all too well comes roaring around the side of the warehouse. It barrels right for me, and I swear as he comes to a skidding stop next to me, kicking up gravel and dust.

  I’m still coughing dust and swearing like a sailor as his deep, rough voice melts through my ears.

  “Get in.”

  I blink, looking up and half expecting to find a gun in my face. I mean, it’d only serve me right at this point. But there’s no gun, just those deep, piercing gray eyes of his looking right at me through the open passenger side window.

  “What?”

  He sighs, reaching across and shoving the door open. “Get in the fucking truck, sweetheart.”

  My eyes narrow, my hands tightening on both the gun and the bag.

  “No.”

  He rolls his eyes. “Get your sweet ass in the car.”

  “Or what?”

  There’s the sound of shouting behind us from the meth lab.

  “Well, the extremely pissed off meth cooks with guns we just ripped off might be a good fucking motivator.”

  I hesitate, and he swears. “Or how about this? You want me to motivate you with this?”

  He nods at the gun tucked into his belt.

  “You gonna pull your gun out on me, cowboy?”

  His face breaks into that hungry grin again. “All you gotta say is please, darlin’.”

  A shot rings out, and we both duck, whirling to see the meth cooks coming charging around the corner, guns in hand.

  Where the fuck did they even have those?

  “Now or never, sweetheart,” he growls. His hand reached out, and his eyes locked on mine. “Get in.”

  Screw it.

  I don’t know him, and this may be a trap. But I know damn well that staying here without a getaway car is going to mean getting shot by the drug dealers I just stole from. And when I put it that way, going with the hot, sexy cowboy stranger just seems like the best choice possible.

  “Fine,” I hiss. I heft the bag into the truck, and I’m just about to jump in myself when suddenly, two things happen.

  The first is a bullet suddenly shatters the back window of the pickup truck. I scream, whirling at the sound of it. But that’s when the second thing happens. And the second thing is the feel of cold metal clicking around my wrist. I whirl back, and when I see the handcuffs attaching my wrist to his wrists, my jaw drops.

  “Are you a fucking cop?!”

  “Goddamnit!” he roars, yanking his head over his shoulder, grabbing the gun out of his jeans, and firing off a few rounds at the meth cooks.

  “Are you fucking—”

  “No!” he snaps, his face livid.

  “Handcuffs?!”

  “They were for the bag!” he yells, his face as pale and as shocked as mine. “You fuckin jerked your wrist in the way!”

  I stare at him. “Wait, the—” my jaw drops as it click into place. “Wait, you were going to handcuff yourself to the bag of money?”

  “Sure was,” he hisses.

  More shots ring out, and I scream, moving to duck before I remember that I’m fucking handcuffed to him — my arm jerking as I try to squat out of the way.

  “Get the fuck in the truck, now, sweetheart!” he roars.

  “I can’t believe you fucking handcuffed me!”

  “I can’t believe we’re still fucking talking about this! Get in!”

  I swear as I throw my shotgun into the truck cab, jump in, and slam the door shut.

  “Keys. Now!”

  He turns, when suddenly, more gunfire erupts out from the side of meth lab. Bullets pepper the back of the truck, and he swears as his side mirror explodes. He stomps on the gas, the truck lurching as we kick up gravel and go barreling out of the parking lot. I throw my head back and hoot a laugh, the adrenaline junkie in me screaming for more as we roar away from the danger.

  My pulse thunders in my ears, and every bit of my skin is tingling. God, doing this is almost better than sex. Almost. And for better or for worse, even if I might have to end up splitting it with him, I’ve got the money, and I’m in one piece.

  …It takes me another full minute to realize my stranger is still sw
earing a mile a minute.

  I turn to him, raising a brow. “Calm down, cowboy, we made it. Now where’s the key to these fucking things, so we can—”

  “Back there.”

  The smile drops from my face.

  “What?”

  He growls, his jaw clenching as he turns to glare at me. “The keys are back there.”

  I blink, the truck roaring down the back road as my pulse roars in my veins.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I dropped the fucking keys,” he hisses. “Which means—”

  “We’re stuck together,” I finish, my voice hollow as I slowly drop my gaze to where our wrists are locked together.

  I’m handcuffed to the man I lost all control with last night. The man who was supposed to be a one-time thing. A memory.

  Fuck.

  Slowly, I realize he’s chuckling next to me, and I turn my glare to him to see him smirking right at me.

  “Still want me to pull my gun out, sweetheart?”

  Well now what?

  Chapter 4

  Shepherd

  Shame I’ll never see her again.

  Right. Never see her again until ten fucking minutes ago when I crashed through the door to Billy-Ray’s meth lab to find my little slice of trouble standing there with a goddamn shotgun pointed at my chest.

  Mask or not, I’d know those eyes anywhere. Add the fact that she was wearing the same damn shirt and jeans from the night before — the same clothes I yanked the fuck off of her, I might add — and yeah, I knew who the hell she was.

  The same little trouble currently handcuffed to my fucking wrist as I roar the truck down one country road after the other. She’s right, I was going for the money. The handcuffs I had just in case shit went sideways and I had to use them on any of Billy-Ray’s cooks during the heist. But when I saw her sling that bag full of cash onto the seat next to me, I just went for it.

  Then the bullets started flying, she whirled just as I clamped those handcuffs down, and now here we are — the world’s most reluctant Bonnie and Clyde.