I’m some ditz,” Kim said. She bit me on the back of the neck, a warning. Light. Playful. “You think I’m the friendliest, dumbest wrangler yet. You don’t think I’m strong enough—” Another bite, this time falling on my shoulder and sinking deeper. A shock of pain rippled through my already sore muscle. I tried not to wince. Simultaneously, her hands tugged harder at my breasts, kneading the skin sharply. “But I can hurt you. Much more than she did—whoever it was, the little bitch that broke your heart.”
“Lisa,” I said.
“Fuck ’em,” she said. “How’s this for the surprise of a lifetime?”
I meant to yell. I meant to ask her who she was for coming up on me like this, and that we could get fired for this. I surprised myself altogether by saying, instead, “Let me.”
“Let you what?” Kim laughed. “Always the gentleman, huh, feel like you have to reciprocate? This is just a tease, cowboy. I want you to spend the rest of the afternoon thinking about me. Riding in your saddle, rocking back and forth, thinking about my body hiding under all these clothes. I want you to be so wet you’re trembling and you can’t wait for dinner to be over so you can find me in the cabin. Or the hot tub. Or the pasture. We can fuck in all three places, I don’t mind.” With that, Kim was gone.
True to her words, I did suffer on the long ride back from Prairie Star. I forced myself to ride at the end of the line, so far behind Kim that I could not even hear the chipper twang of her vowels. I struck up a conversation with the Miami men about the scene in Florida. Yet I still felt a light, ghostly touch of her hands on my breasts, and my lips, dry and chapped, twitched to kiss her sweetly while I unfastened her belt and let the Wyoming wind tickle her bare ass as my hands busied themselves in her wet cunt.
I would have to take her by surprise. She was waiting for me, I would bet on it, and so I’d have to one-up her. When we got back to the ring, I hurried through my work. Kim lingered, taking questions about the week’s routine and scheduling private lessons. A good wrangler could make at least a grand extra per week giving lessons. I was sure Kim normally earned at least that. I grinned and made myself work faster, sore muscles and all. Kim was right: I could really use a soak in the Jacuzzi. But first I had a lesson of my own to teach her.
I was waiting behind the door of the tack room when she walked in with her saddle. It was a dank, dark room with cobwebs and a boarded-up window. The saddles and bridles hung on the wall in neat rows. I had made sure to put everything away well. In the corner opposite me, a model was set up of saddle, blankets, and gear bags in case any of the new wranglers needed a refresher. Kim stood studying the wall of pegs, searching for a space for her saddle. I’d hidden the free slot on the bottom, making sure she’d linger in front of me for several seconds.
Kim placed her saddle in the slot I’d left. I readied myself, old blanket in hand. As she straightened, I sprang forward, throwing the blanket over her head and pulling the extra fabric taut. I shut the door, certain no one would return to the barn until after lunch. An hour would be more than enough time to return the favor Kim had done me on the morning ride. Kim’s body had tensed. I wasn’t sure if she was playing along or if the nervousness was real. “Keep quiet,” I said, making my voice low. “I don’t want any screams or foolishness. You yap, I cut your hair lock by perfect lock. Or worse.” That was a bluff—no knives in here, only the riding crop I had placed by the demo saddle in case I wanted to use it. I led her toward the saddle now.
She was light. I hoisted her up onto the saddle, letting the blanket fall as I did so. I used the cord from one of the saddlebag sets to tie her hands behind her back to the pommel. Thank goddess for western saddles. She watched me, a nervous smile of
“Lisa,” I said.
“Fuck ’em,” she said. “How’s this for the surprise of a lifetime?”
I meant to yell. I meant to ask her who she was for coming up on me like this, and that we could get fired for this. I surprised myself altogether by saying, instead, “Let me.”
“Let you what?” Kim laughed. “Always the gentleman, huh, feel like you have to reciprocate? This is just a tease, cowboy. I want you to spend the rest of the afternoon thinking about me. Riding in your saddle, rocking back and forth, thinking about my body hiding under all these clothes. I want you to be so wet you’re trembling and you can’t wait for dinner to be over so you can find me in the cabin. Or the hot tub. Or the pasture. We can fuck in all three places, I don’t mind.” With that, Kim was gone.
True to her words, I did suffer on the long ride back from Prairie Star. I forced myself to ride at the end of the line, so far behind Kim that I could not even hear the chipper twang of her vowels. I struck up a conversation with the Miami men about the scene in Florida. Yet I still felt a light, ghostly touch of her hands on my breasts, and my lips, dry and chapped, twitched to kiss her sweetly while I unfastened her belt and let the Wyoming wind tickle her bare ass as my hands busied themselves in her wet cunt.
I would have to take her by surprise. She was waiting for me, I would bet on it, and so I’d have to one-up her. When we got back to the ring, I hurried through my work. Kim lingered, taking questions about the week’s routine and scheduling private lessons. A good wrangler could make at least a grand extra per week giving lessons. I was sure Kim normally earned at least that. I grinned and made myself work faster, sore muscles and all. Kim was right: I could really use a soak in the Jacuzzi. But first I had a lesson of my own to teach her.
I was waiting behind the door of the tack room when she walked in with her saddle. It was a dank, dark room with cobwebs and a boarded-up window. The saddles and bridles hung on the wall in neat rows. I had made sure to put everything away well. In the corner opposite me, a model was set up of saddle, blankets, and gear bags in case any of the new wranglers needed a refresher. Kim stood studying the wall of pegs, searching for a space for her saddle. I’d hidden the free slot on the bottom, making sure she’d linger in front of me for several seconds.
Kim placed her saddle in the slot I’d left. I readied myself, old blanket in hand. As she straightened, I sprang forward, throwing the blanket over her head and pulling the extra fabric taut. I shut the door, certain no one would return to the barn until after lunch. An hour would be more than enough time to return the favor Kim had done me on the morning ride. Kim’s body had tensed. I wasn’t sure if she was playing along or if the nervousness was real. “Keep quiet,” I said, making my voice low. “I don’t want any screams or foolishness. You yap, I cut your hair lock by perfect lock. Or worse.” That was a bluff—no knives in here, only the riding crop I had placed by the demo saddle in case I wanted to use it. I led her toward the saddle now.
She was light. I hoisted her up onto the saddle, letting the blanket fall as I did so. I used the cord from one of the saddlebag sets to tie her hands behind her back to the pommel. Thank goddess for western saddles. She watched me, a nervous smile of
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