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“How ‘bout a drink to brighten our spirits? Your treat, Benson. It’s the least you can do.” His rival’s head tips toward the beer booth.
Chance is practically vibrating with fury, which is why his response startles me. “Sure.”
Shock whizzes through my parted lips. “What?”
“Why not? I owe him for always kicking his ass,” he explains.
“Um, okay?” My tongue traces the shell of his ear. “What’re you roping us into? Leave the pissing match to the scoreboard. I’m ready for my spanking.”
“Meet ya over there, Paine. Gotta make a pitstop.” The tension in Chance’s muscles seeps out as he strides off in the opposite direction of my trailer. “I just got a brilliant idea. Hold on tight, Wildflower. It might get bumpy.”
Gemma’s blind faith in me is a secure cinch around my shoulders and waist. “What’re you plotting, Bronc?”
“You’ll see.” I search the camping lot of the rodeo grounds for a specific rig. “Wyatt fucked with you too many times. Now, we’re screwing him over.”
“You’ve lost me.”
Vindication thrums in my veins when I find what I’m looking for. “Just trust me.”
My boots eat the short distance to the dented gooseneck. I know from experience that the dumbass never locks his trailer. Just as suspected, the door swings open without a hitch. I hop inside the living quarters and instantly spot his keys on the counter. Such an idiot.
A quick flip turns the lock, preventing him from entering his own trailer if he chooses to try.
Gemma wiggles to get free, her boots sticking to the grimy floor. “Whose dump is this?”
“Wyatt’s,” I state the obvious.
There’s trash littered across every surface. Dirty laundry is carelessly scattered about. The mattress is bare and stained. This disaster is gross even by my bachelor pad standards.
She cocks out her hip, bumping into a stack of empty pizza boxes. “It smells like sweaty balls in here.”
I squint at her. “How do you know what sweaty balls smell like?”
Her gaze dips to the bulge already throbbing behind my zipper. “I’ve had my nose pressed up against yours a time or two.”
“Very funny.” But accurate. That visual steers me to the bathroom where I try the sink. “Damn.”
“What could possibly be wrong in this mess?”
“His water tank is already empty.” Not a single drop comes out.
“Were you planning to drain it?”
“Absolutely.”
Along with dropping a deuce in the toilet and rubbing my junk on his pillows, but Gemma doesn’t need to witness that. She’s being exposed to enough horrors as it is. I’m afraid the stench of rotten food is getting to her. An alarming twinkle sparkles in her eye and her grin sharpens to reflect it.
“That’s diabolical,” she coos. “This revenge scheme is very sexy.”
And then Gemma is on the move. She drops to her knees, unzips my jeans, and whips out my dick in rapid succession. My brain is tripping over itself as I try to catch up with her impulsive appetite. When she spits on my tip and uses it as lube, I quit trying. The moisture slicks her grip as she begins stroking me. I groan and get lost in the feel of her touch.
In the next downward slide, she slips me into her mouth. A steady throb pulses through cock while she works me over. Our sloppy surroundings disappear, transporting me to a place of comfort. Spots dance in my vision when she pushes me to the back of her throat.
“Hmmmmm,” she mumbles with her mouth full. There’s a smile curling her stretched lips as she withdraws. Her hooded gaze lifts to mine as she suckles my crown. “Let me at those sweaty balls.”
My head hangs low as I chuckle. I hook my arms under hers, immediately hauling her away from the danger zone. “Enough of that.”
She wobbles on her feet while gathering her bearings. “I wasn’t finished yet.”
