Unridden: A Studs in Spurs novel (2 page)

His friend cleared his throat. “Uh, Slade?”

“Yeah?” Slade kept his gaze on the rider getting settled on the bull.

“I got something for ya’.”

Frowning at the interruption, Slade turned toward Mustang, and was confronted by a lacy pair of red panties dangling from his friend’s forefinger.

“Jesus, Mustang!” Slade grabbed the embarrassing garment and stuffed it inside his vest as he glanced around for any television cameras that might have caught Mustang’s incredible lack of good judgment. “Where the hell did you get these?”

“From that hot number who was giving us the eye from the stands earlier.”

Slade raised a brow and, good and distracted now, was barely aware of the gate opening as the next and final match-up of the night began. “You mean the one with the tits?”

A huge kid-on-Christmas-morning grin lit Mustang’s face. “Yup. That’s the one.”

Slade blew out a long slow breath. He noticed the rider in the arena get a face full of dirt a full two seconds before the buzzer. His win now secure, he could concentrate on other things. “She got a friend?”

“She does, but the word is that her friend is currently passed out in their car after decorating the floor of the ladies’ room with some regurgitated, bourbon-soaked french fries.” Slade cringed at that too vivid description. “But no sweat, I am perfectly willing to share ‘cause that’s the kind of guy I am.”

Slade rolled his eyes at Mustang’s false generosity. The two of them shared women more often than not. “She’s cool with that? You know…both of us?”

“Oh, yeah. In fact, she’s really into it. Or at least that’s the impression I got when she asked if me and my tall, dark, and handsome friend—which I guess meant you—wanted to make a cowgirl sandwich with her after the competition was over.” Mustang grinned wider, if possible.

“A cowgirl sandwich? She did not seriously say that.”

“Hell yeah, she did.”

Slade ran the tip of his tongue slowly over his teeth in anticipation. “All right then. Let me go collect my paycheck and I’ll meet you in the trailer.”

“The trailer.” Mustang shook his head and snorted out a loud puff of air. “I can’t believe all the hotels nearby were sold out for that college homecoming game except for one that you refuse to stay in because it costs too much. Whoever is in charge of choosing the dates and locations for this series should check things like that out. We end up sleeping in that trailer too damn much for my liking.”

Even though Slade was walking away with a damn nice paycheck for tonight’s win, there was no way he would willingly spend three hundred and fifty bucks for a bed for one night, especially when Mustang had a perfectly nice trailer. Besides, they were both always one ride away from an injury that could take them out of competition for months, if not forever. It was smart not to squander money on things like three-hundred-and-fifty-dollar-a-night hotel rooms. A bed was a bed. Who cared if it was in a trailer or some fancy hotel?

There was one other reason Slade preferred to not sleep in a hotel. “I like staying in the trailer. It’s always easier to get women to leave right away after we’re done with them. They tend to hang around too long if the hotel room is too nice.”

Rolling his eyes, Mustang pushed his cowboy hat back with one finger. “You are the biggest commitment-phobe I’ve ever seen. Just ‘cause they stay the night doesn’t mean you have to marry them. Besides, I happen to really like morning sex, something I don’t get to enjoy lately with you kicking them out the minute you’re done.”

“Whatever,” Slade grumbled. “I’ll meet you in the trailer in a few.”

“Yeah, yeah. See you in the trailer.”

With that, Mustang left to retrieve the makings for their sandwich, leaving Slade with visions of the pleasures that were to come. He pivoted on the heel of one boot and headed to smile big for the cameras and get his even bigger check.

Tucking the red panties deeper beneath his vest, he gave the quickest interview of his life to the reporter, smiled, and then accepted the giant cardboard check as the flashbulbs clicked around him. The press done, he grabbed his rope from the railing, stowed it in his gear bag with the rest of his stuff, and whistled the entire way to the trailer and the well-endowed hot number that awaited him there.

It was good to know that in this world of deception the girl from the arena hadn’t done any false advertising when she’d strutted in wearing painted-on blue jeans and a shirt that left nothing to the imagination. When Slade swung open the door of the trailer, he came face to face with a gorgeous, heart-shaped, naked ass decorated with a butterfly tattoo and stuck right up in the air in front of him.

The girl didn’t waste any time. He liked that in a lay.

The owner of the artful ass was currently on the bed on her knees, tits swaying as she rocked over Mustang, whose cock was already buried in her throat. She held it with both fists and struggled to take in the whole thing. There was a reason the man was called Mustang, and it had nothing to do with the model of car.

With a grin at his friend, Slade slammed and locked the door. He dropped his gear bag on the floor and began stripping out of his chaps. It didn’t take long to fling off his vest, shirt, boots, and jeans. Soon, still wearing his hat, he knelt on the bed behind the girl.

Mustang flipped him a strip of condoms and Slade caught it one handed. He tore into the foil with his teeth and rolled one on, more for disease prevention than fear of pregnancy, though he didn’t want to have to deal with a possible paternity lawsuit now that his career had taken off.

Hell, if he never saw this woman again, that would be fine with him. They’d enjoy tonight and then he and Mustang would take off tomorrow for the next city in the lineup of competitions. But Slade was sure they’d leave this little cowgirl with some damn good memories after they’d gone.

One dip of a finger inside her told Slade she was more than ready for him. Anchoring her with a hand on each shapely hip, he plunged inside with one good, hard thrust.

The adrenaline of the ride never dissipated right away. He was keyed up and usually hard enough to cut diamonds after each and every competition Thankfully, there were always plenty of women waiting in the wings to help him out.

Slade pounded into the girl, not worrying about technique or much anything else besides his goal, which was to release the tension built up inside him so he could relax and sink deep into the mellow feeling his body succumbed to after the adrenaline rush subsided.

Focused on the butterfly inked just above the crack of the jiggling ass in front of him, Slade increased his speed until he heard Mustang draw in a hiss of a breath. “Watch the teeth, darlin’. That there is precious cargo in your mouth.”

Slade couldn’t control his laugh at his friend’s comment. “I’ll be done in a sec, Mustang. Then she’s all yours.”

There was no reason to prolong it. He wasn’t really into this tonight, except for the release it would provide him. Closing his eyes, Slade’s hands tightened on… Damn, he didn’t even know her name. That fact made no difference.

With his eyes shut, Slade could forget she was just another random woman he’d never see again. It didn’t matter that he didn’t know her name, or that tomorrow morning he’d wake up alone in the trailer with nothing but Mustang’s snoring to disturb him and be grateful for that because the last thing he wanted was to see this faceless, nameless woman again. Not that there would be fear of seeing her again. Tomorrow they’d be in another town.

He plunged in one last time, held deep, and came with quick, powerful spurts.

After one final shudder, Slade pulled out. He dealt with the condom and then flung himself into the chair right next to the largest bed in the crowded trailer. Through heavily lidded eyes, he watched the rest of the show.

Mustang tore open a condom for himself before saying, “Hop on up here, darlin’, and see if you can handle the ride.”

“I can handle it. Don’t you worry.” Eyes watery from being nearly gagged by Mustang, the girl looked relieved and slightly wobbly as she climbed on top of Mustang. Then she had to struggle to lower herself onto him and her relief disappeared.

“I’m not worried, darlin’. You just take it slow. Ooo wee, that feels good.” Hands on her waist pressing her down onto his cock, Mustang leaned back and grinned at the girl as she labored to accommodate him. “A little further. Ah. There you go. How’s that feel?”

“Good.” Her voice sounded breathy. “Real good.”

The cowgirl hadn’t lied. She could handle Mustang and from the looks of her, she was enjoying it.

Slade shook his head and smiled as he listened to it all from his chair. It always amused him that, unlike himself, Mustang was a talker during sex, and he continuously reassured and encouraged the girls with compliments and comments.

Mustang’s running sex dialogue probably came from years of having to convince females that his enormous dick would indeed fit inside them if they’d just let him give it a try. Slade was no slouch in the size area himself, but even he had to admit that Mustang deserved his nickname. The man was hung like a horse.

Slade had been there to witness Mustang’s powers of verbal persuasion on more than a few occasions. “Just let me put the tip in, darlin’. That’s all. I swear,” Mustang would coo to the usually doubtful and frightened looking female.

Of course, Mustang would inevitably end up getting his way, even with the most uncertain women and the tightest places.

The one virgin they’d encountered hadn’t been immune to Mustang’s silver tongue either. It had taken all night, but the
just the tip, darlin’
argument had eventually led to her being a virgin no more, and since she’d been extra frightened of Mustang’s girth, Slade had been the first to ride that filly. Kind of like the warm-up jockey before Mustang hopped on for the big race.

He couldn’t complain. Mustang was good at sharing. Slade always benefited from his powers of persuasion, but there were times when the things that Mustang said to the women they shared were such bullshit, Slade had to cover his mouth to hide his smile.

This proved to be one of those times. Slade nearly laughed out loud now when Mustang said, “I’ll remember this night forever, darlin’.”

Absently, Slade wondered if Mustang had gotten her name before shoving his dick in her mouth the moment he’d gotten her into the trailer. Not that it really mattered.

Damn. What was up with him tonight? He usually didn’t feel so cold about the women they entertained. They were nearing the end of the season. That was probably it. He and Mustang could both use a rest for a few months, not that Mustang seemed to be feeling the same way. He looked like a kid who’d just robbed the candy store as he bounced the cowgirl on his dick.

Slade enjoyed a few more minutes of watching her jostling tits and jiggling ass cheeks before Mustang came with a shout and a curse, after which the girl flopped over to lie panting on the bed, looking like she’d gotten more than she bargained for when she offered a cowgirl sandwich to two adrenaline-fueled bull riders.

After catching Slade’s eye and obviously seeing the weary look on his face, Mustang said, “Don’t you think you’d better go see to your friend, darlin’? I’m worried about her. I’ve see people get mighty sick, die even, from alcohol poisoning.”

Her eyes opened wide and her face paled. “Oh my God! Do you think she might be…”

“I’m no doctor. I’m just saying there ain’t no telling what can happen. I know I’d want to check if it was Slade there alone in a car possibly choking to death on his own vomit.”

At that colorful scenario, she flew off the bed to search the trailer for her clothes.

Slade realized she wouldn’t find her panties since Mustang had given them to him back in the arena. Nude except for his once white socks and black cowboy hat, Slade rose with some effort and no modesty to retrieve her undies from amid the pile of the clothes he’d dropped near the door.

Barely making eye contact, she took them back from him with a mumbled, “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Pulling on his own underwear, Slade watched as she threw her clothes back on. She looked as anxious to get out of there as he was for her to leave now that he was done with her. That realization made him feel strangely sad for both of them.

When the door finally closed behind her, leaving him and Mustang alone, Slade let out a sigh and collapsed back into the chair.

Mustang shot him an unhappy look. “What’s up with you tonight?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you acting like you could barely muster the energy to fuck an incredibly hot chick.”

Slade shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s just not as fun as it used to be.”

Mustang frowned and stared at him as if Slade had grown dick antlers. “Fucking isn’t as fun as it used to be?”

Slade considered that for a second. “Maybe that’s the problem. It’s just fucking.”

Mustang looked horrified. “So what are you saying, Slade? You want to find a girl, get married, buy a house with a white picket fence, and settle down in a nice, boring, safe job? Do you know how much sex married men get from their wives? Next to none, that’s how much. Ask Jorge. He’ll tell you.”

A wife, a real job, and a house with a white picket fence? No. Definitely not. A nice farm and a steady girlfriend to go home to between competitions? That didn’t sound so bad. Maybe.

Slade kept his surmising to himself. “No, that’s not what I’m saying. But it gets old. A different girl each night. Not even knowing their names.”

“You may not know their names, but I do.” After pulling on his boxers, Mustang sat forward on the bed and braced his forearms on his knees as he ticked off a list of data for Slade. “She said her name was Brandi, spelled with an ‘i’. Just from knowing her for one night I am betting she dots that ‘i’ with a heart when she writes it. She just graduated from the local community college. Her brother is in the Army in Iraq right now. Her mother thinks cowboys are nothing but trouble, which is most likely why she was here tonight with us. Oh, and she doesn’t make a peep when she comes, but she shakes like a leaf stuck in the windshield wiper of a truck speeding down the highway.”