Ride Em Cowboy (Roosters 8)

Ride 'em Cowboy (Roosters 8)
Anne Kane
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2018 Anne Kane

Fiona wasn’t really in the market for a lover or a partner or some guy to give her a sappy, sweet, happily ever after. Been there, done that, got the scars to prove it. She didn’t believe in any of that romance novel type crap. All she needed was a nice quick fuck to take the edge off.

Okay, maybe not so quick. She was wound pretty tight. It could take a while. She’d be happy spending a few hours trying out different positions and options. According to the Kama Sutra there were over sixty-four sexual positions, and she’d only tried about a dozen of them, tops. Lots of fun still waiting in those pages.

She didn’t want any strings attached, though. She hated it when the guy felt he had to pretend to care about her just to get into her panties. She planned to be long gone before it was time to discuss breakfast options.

She wasn’t some weak-kneed virgin with stars in her eyes. She knew the score. She’d been married at the tender age of seventeen and the term “hell on Earth” didn’t begin to describe it. Sure he said he cared, but his brand of caring had left her so gun-shy she refused to attend any and all weddings, let alone participate in one in any way. At twenty-two, she was done trusting anyone else with her happiness or well-being.

She still bore the scars from her last tiff with the hubby, and the bill from a month spent in the hospital recuperating. The doctor said he could maybe do something about the scars, make them less visible, but she figured, why bother? She’d earned them, and at the current interest rate on the loan she’d had to take out to pay the hospital bill, she’d still be paying for them a decade from now.

She picked a bar four towns over for her evening’s activities. No chance she might run into the guy at church the next day. She attended church every single Sunday, rain or shine. Not sure why. Not sure if she still believe in God and heaven, but she sure as shit didn’t want to go back to hell.

Again, been there, done that.

The flashing neon sign over the door claimed the beer was cold and the band was hot. She felt the corner of her lips curl up in a smile. Now that sounded like exactly the kind of place where she’d find what she was looking for.

She pulled her old Chevy truck into the parking lot and undid the top four buttons on her blue-checked shirt. She had decent boobs, and the frilly black bra she’d bought last week showed the cleavage off nicely. She was wearing jeans and cowboy boots, and she’d spent a goodly amount of time on her makeup.

She knew she looked good. Not office-type good, but I-want-to-get-laid good. The blue shirt showed off her eyes, and the jeans showed off her ass. She had to suppress a giggle at the thought of her co-workers. Her day job was as a receptionist at a church and her boss, Reverend Mac, would have a heart attack if he saw her in this outfit.

If she didn’t get laid tonight it wouldn’t be for lack of trying.

The sound of a motorcycle approaching at Mach One had her turning her head. Sure enough, a Harley the size of a small tugboat roared into the lot and the rider did some fancy maneuvering to bring it to a stop without standing it on the handlebars. The guy was either showing off for someone she couldn’t quite see, or he needed a cold beer worse than she needed to get laid.

That piqued her curiosity. She needed to get laid pretty bad.

She’d made the mistake of thinking she could get along without a man but it turned out that adult toys only went so far toward satisfying her carnal cravings. Nothing felt quite as good as a hot, hard cock ramming into her pussy, and it needed to have a man attached to it for optimum sensual sensation.

Yup, she needed a man, and a mouthwatering specimen was currently disentangling himself from the Harley. He shrugged out of the well-worn leather jacket, draping it across the handlebars, and she restrained the urge to drool. His tight shirt outlined a muscular chest before it tucked into a nice pair of jeans covered by leather chaps. No, wait. As she watched the rider unbuckled the chaps and stuffed them into the saddlebags. That maneuver required him to turn his back on her and bend over ever so slightly.

Damn, those jeans looked good on him! She stared at that ass like a dumbstruck teenager until the man straightened up and plucked a worn cowboy hat from under the cargo netting on the back of the seat. Jamming the hat onto his head, he sauntered over to the entrance. When he disappeared through the door, she picked her jaw up off the floorboards and took a deep breath. She could just imagine how gorgeous he’d look once she managed to entice him out of the remainder of his clothing.

Taking a quick peek in the rearview mirror, she fluffed up her hair and opened the truck door. Operation Get Some Action was officially a go...