Page 8 of Dirty Sweet Cowboy

"I can't…I need to..." She tries to turn around, but there's nowhere for her to go. She's pinned between my body and the bin.

"What do you need, angel?" I ask, letting a hint of growl enter my voice.

She turns her head, looking up at me over her shoulder. Our faces are inches apart. I could kiss her. Could capture that soft mouth with mine, taste her, devour her. Her eyes drop to my lips, then back up, pupils dilated with what can only be desire.

"I don't know," she admits, honest even in her confusion.

The innocence of it hits me like a punch to the gut. She doesn't know. Doesn't fully understand what's happening between us, what I want to do to her. But she feels it. Responds to it instinctively.

"You're testing me, little one," I warn, voice low. The endearment slips out, another claiming. "Standing here, smelling like heaven, looking the way you do."

Her lips part. Pink tongue darts out to wet them. Fuck.

"I'm not…I don't mean to," she whispers, but her body says otherwise. She's leaning back into me, ass nestled against my hard cock, head tilted to expose the slender column of her throat.

She nods, cheeks flushed crimson. And then, so subtly I might have missed it if I weren't watching her so closely, her thighs press together. Seeking friction. Relief.

Holy hell. She's turned on. Wet for me.

"Finish the mixing," I say, not moving an inch. "Then we'll feed Stormy."

She turns back to the task, stirring the feed with renewed focus. But her breathing is uneven, her movements jerky. When she's done, I finally step back, allowing her to pick up the feed bucket.

The small distance between us feels like miles after being pressed together. My cock throbs painfully behind my zipper, demanding attention I can't give it. Not yet.

I watch her walk to Stormy's stall, the slight sway of her hips, the way my shirt hangs off her shoulders. My shirt. Marking her as mine in some primitive way that satisfies something deep and possessive inside me.

She's getting bolder. More comfortable with her power. With what she does to me.

And my control, already paper-thin, is hanging by a thread.

One more lingering touch. One more innocent brush of her body against mine. One more look from those wide hazel eyes, and I'll snap. Take her right here in the barn, hay in her hair, dust on her skin, my name on her lips as I fuck her into oblivion.

It's not a matter of if ianymore.

It’s a matter of when.

seven

. . .

Judy

I'm running again. Always running. Faceless shadows chase me through dark alleys, gaining ground with every step. My lungs burn, legs cramping, but I can't stop. Can't look back. They're getting closer. Hands reaching for me. Voice calling my name. "Judy! Judy, come back. You can't hide forever." But I have to hide. Have to escape. Have to keep running until…until what? Until I find somewhere safe? Someone safe? The shadows are at my heels now, fingers brushing my back. I scream⁠—

And jolt upright in bed, the scream dying in my throat.

My heart pounds so hard I can feel it in my fingertips. Sweat plasters my thin sleep shirt to my skin. For a terrifying moment, I don't know where I am. The darkness is unfamiliar, threatening. Then slowly, reality filters back in. The guest room. Wayne's ranch. Safety.

I draw my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around them, trying to stop the trembling. Just a dream. Just the same nightmare that's followed me since I left. They can't find me here. They don't know where I am.

A soft knock at the door makes me freeze.

"Judy?" Wayne's voice, rough with sleep. "You okay in there?"

I swallow hard, try to find my voice. "Y-yes."

The door cracks open, spilling hallway light into the room. Wayne stands in the doorway, a massive silhouette. He's wearing only pajama pants that hang low on his hips, his chest bare, broad shoulders filling the frame. Even in my post-nightmare haze, my body responds to the sight of him.