More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
For the readers ready to ditch the horse and ride a ‘stache instead
I’m standing on the sidewalk, waving this girl’s vibrator around like a hot dog vendor at a ballpark. Her wearable vibrator.
“Do they not have toys to play with in this little part of the mountains?”
“As much as I’d love to give you a Ted talk about finding a woman’s clit before I’ve even had a drop of caffeine, alas, I’ve got places to be.”
God bless the mountains and the array of denim-clad, perfect, perky rear ends.
It’s probably no surprise my standards are so skyscraper high, soaring amongst the clouds—set to have my heart turning to ice from living at such an altitude. In my experience, nothing and no one has ever come close to the kind of relationship they have, and I simply refuse to settle for anything less than the person who lets me shine the brightest while being myself.
Single, uncomplicated, and down for no-strings-attached fooling around: that’s the only bio I’m interested in swiping right on.
An arm that extends, muscled, tanned, and deliciously veined beneath a white t-shirt. Holy shit. My mouth gapes, and the words tumble out with no hope of stopping them. “Cock Ring? Is that you?”
A fine ass doesn’t compensate for having the personality of a urine cake.
She thinks I didn’t, or don’t want anything to do with her, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.
I’ve been endlessly fixated on a girl with no name. She has an allure about her which kept me captive ever since a single chance encounter. A flash of a moment between us that lasted all of ten minutes, for fuck’s sake.
Is it worse that I told him he didn’t know the way to a woman’s clit, or that I called him Cock Ring in a busy airport? Or maybe let’s just land on the fact he had to scoop my vibrator off the sidewalk.
Oh dear sweet cherubic cowboy heavens, there’s an entire private tub out here looking out toward the mountains, one of those simple freshwater trough designs. It’s got my name and a hot date with a glass of wine written all over it.
Straight away, I’m confronted by the sight of Beau Heartford, and the motherfucker is shirtless. He’s in those jeans he wears far too well, with his t-shirt tucked into the back of his waistband and cap flipped backward. Is he for real? This feels like a setup. Like I’m a helpless trout being drawn in by a shiny lure floating in the current.
The hormones I had barely managed to rein back in all begin whimpering unanimously when presented with a generous helping of sweaty, hard-working cowboy.
The raspy voice and inquisitive eyes of the woman I’ve been avoiding since she first set foot on this damn ranch appear in the kitchen doorway, looking like she’s undoubtedly going to tear my soul straight from my chest.
I have a crush the size of Jupiter, and bitchy little fluttering wings swarming my stomach every time I catch sight of him.
Now, I fear I’m chronically afflicted by a handsome cowboy, who I absolutely cannot fucking keep thinking about in the way that I have since arriving here. My mind has been in the gutter, and my vibrator has been getting a strenuous workout.
Beau Heartford smells like hard-working cowboy, and horses, and I’m not at all equipped to handle being in close quarters with him while he grunts at me monosyllabically and fidgets with the brim of his cap. It’s endearing, damn him.
Who needs a cowboy to toss their hat on my head… when I can have my own?
There’s a carnival, a multi-color fiesta complete with fireworks, trumpets, and confetti rioting where my stomach should be.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” No, I’m not. Fuck yes, bitch, this man isn’t quite as off-limits as I believed him to be. Thank you, Universe. Hail every Goddess, and let me say my prayers at the altar of whatever anti-cupid’s arrow grants couples their separations.
According to my period tracker, I’m going to be ovulating any minute, and in that case, I probably need to consider how to chain myself to a tree like a werewolf on a full moon.
Here lies Sage Maloney—daughter, sister, friend. Cut down in her prime by a perfect mustache, low-slung jeans concealing all manner of cowboy virility, and an adonis belt coated in a dusting of dark hair.
“I might be a little out of practice now, but in another lifetime, I would have been able to show you the ride of your goddamn life.”
“I said I was a bit out of practice, baby. Not that I didn’t know what I was doing.”
“What are you gonna do? Put me over your knee?” “You’re not a child,” I grunt. “No, I’m not.” Her tongue runs slowly over her bottom lip as she studies me and reads me like a fucking book. “But I am a hot-blooded woman who very much enjoys being treated to a spank or ten by someone who knows how to handle me.”
“Fine. You wanna hear it? You wanna hear me say the words… that my marriage—the one where in the eyes of the public, all but our first child’s name had been picked out—is over. All of it’s done. Except, I’m not free.” My voice is thick with desire and the strain of trying to explain something that I shouldn’t even be saying out loud. “The only thing stopping me from fucking getting my hands on you, Sage, is this ring still stuck on my finger, and my own damn morals that are hanging by a thread. Are you happy? Is that what you want to hear?”
“You captivate me, Sage. You capture me.” Without thinking, I take a lock of hair and rub it between my thumb and forefinger, studying the soft strands beneath my callouses. “I’m a man with a hundred racing thoughts at any given time, and only a scattering of limited words. Somehow, I don’t know how you do it, but you twist that and make it feel like all thought flies out of my head, and there are suddenly words on my tongue.”
“Sage, I can’t stand the fact I’m tangled in this messy carcass of a relationship. I shouldn’t be considering what it might be like to knock on your door night after night, but all I want to do is slip through the dark and seek out your cabin. When it’s far too late, all I can think about is you, and that day I first saw you. It’s infuriating and it’s terrifying because I’m about one second away from throwing caution aside and forgetting myself whenever I’m around you.”
“Here’s to not feeling guilty, for having a pulse, and fucking finally being into someone that isn’t your own fist.”
Apparently, I’m a slut for a cowboy who is potentially very bad for my health.
“I’m certifiably weak for cute girls with tattoos who could ruin my life… and men with mustaches. That’s the reason I didn’t want you to shave yours.”
“Do you watch porn, Beau Heartford?”
“You’re just watching, baby,” I murmur as my fingers trace the soft swell of my inner thighs. “Maybe you’ll let yourself enjoy this. Maybe you’ll wrap your fist around your dick and touch yourself for me. Or, maybe you’ll be a good boy and wait ‘til I’m done, then get yourself off after.”
Oh, this man knows nothing about the inner workings of my hard drive. Tell me to do something? My stubborn streak just rocketed like a shooting star, boldly carrying me to do the opposite.
“I can’t fight this, baby. I’m not supposed to crave you, but I can’t find any more reasons not to.”
“Say the words, Sage. Tell me you don’t want me anywhere near you.”
“Tell me you don’t want to know what my touch feels like.”
“Tell me to stop right now. I’ll walk away.”
“There’s no putting you anywhere but front and center in my mind, baby. Did you think there would be anywhere else for you after taunting me out of my head with that little show of yours? Did you honestly think I’d be left doing anything but fucking my fist non-stop? You’ve got me so goddamn wrapped up in you, I’m out here forgetting any reason why I shouldn’t even look at you.”
“I’ll bet no idiot boy you’ve been with has ever bothered to take care of your pussy like I know you need. Never stroking that spot only your toys get to. None of them bothered to make the effort to get you off perfectly, did they?”
“That’s it, baby. Give me all those dirty little noises.”
“Do you know how impossible it was to avoid thinking of the way you looked on that camera? I’ve spent a whole week, supposed to be discussing horses and livestock, and no matter where I went, I kept getting hard at the memory of your wet cunt swallowing your fingers.”
“You think you could get away with putting on that kind of performance and not face any consequences? You’re going to lie there and take your punishment because I’ve been in agony all week long. Now it’s my turn, baby.”
“I’ve struggled with a head full of impure thoughts about the pretty girl staying in the cabin only fifty paces from my bedroom. I’ve spent the past hour going out of my head worrying about your safety. If it isn’t already clear, you’re on my mind permanently, and I’m about done with denying all the ways I’m needing you.”
“Go on. Use your words, Sage. You do love to run that pretty mouth of yours, don’t you?” “Fuck you.” I pant.
“I think you like being bad,” he murmurs. “I think you like being bad with me.”
“I’m not anyone’s. I’m certainly not yours.” My spine bows as I outright moan. “You say that now, but you will be.”
“Make a mess, come inside me.” She yanks on my hair. “Please. Make a fucking mess of me.”
