Page 7 of Frog

We would have spent the day outside covered in grass and sweat and cum if he didn’t stop kissing me. He tried to shove his tongue down my throat, and my rumbling laughter made him shake in my arms, which were wrapped tight around him. It had to have looked strange if anyone had come upon us. I was completely dressed; he was gloriously naked except for his socks and a very expensive watch.

I finally broke the long, wet kiss and smiled down into his gorgeous eyes, brushing the hair out of his face as I asked him if he still wanted to see me later that night.

“What?”

I shrugged, grinning wide. “We sort of had dessert before dinner, didn’t we?”

“Are you kidding? I want to go there now. I want to eat and lie in bed, and I want you to tie me down when you fuck me next.”

I grunted before I bent and kissed him again, something about the shape of the man’s mouth and the softness and firmness of his lips along with his taste driving me right out of my mind. It really was lucky that there was no one around to see me completely come apart.

“Promise,” he said, breaking the kiss so he could gulp air, “that you’ll meet me at seven. Swear to me.”

“Oh, I swear,” I assured him, tipping his head back with my nose, devouring his throat, nibbling up the side, inhaling his scent and sucking hard.

I was going to leave marks all over him.

“You best put on your clothes.” I chuckled, sliding a hand down the silky skin of his back to the firm round ass. I grabbed a handful of it, and he bucked against me. “Before I break down the door of this here shed, shove you in and fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk.”

“And this is a threat?”

I smiled at him. “Tonight, before you see me, wash up real good, and I’ll show you what I can do with my tongue.”

He had to brace himself before his knees gave out.

I squinted at him. “You like me some already, don’t ya?”

It was cute how he opened his eyes wide and nodded. “Yes, just a little.”

My eyebrows waggling made him groan loudly.

Watching him walk away from me—I had to give him time to return first, as well as get rid of the used condom someplace out of the way—was very nice. The man’s ass, even under dress slacks, was a work of art. When he looked back at me over his shoulder, it was hard to breathe. No one had ever submitted to me so completely and so sweetly in all my life. He was a gift, and it was a damn shame that I wouldn’t be able to keep him.

Later that night, lying on the bed with him in the Willow Tree Inn, I understood how much space there actually was between a bull rider and a neurosurgeon.

He lived in San Francisco. I had no home. He was worth hundreds of thousands, even millions. I had forty-two dollars to my name until I got paid my wages that Friday. Then I would have three hundred and forty-two dollars, enough to get to Kansas by the first week of August for the rodeo in Dodge City.

“That’s what you do? You’re a bull rider?”

“Yessir.” I chuckled, smoothing a hand gently over his hip, drawing him closer.

“So you go all over the country, then.”

“I do,” I answered, letting him push my shoulder down and pin me to the bed before he bent forward.

He stopped, his lips hovering over mine.

“Don’t do that,” I told him, smiling up at him, reaching a hand around the nape of his neck. “Don’t worry about how you look or how you sound or feel bad for wantin’ something—just fuckin’ take it.”

His lips melted over mine, and the kiss was tender and soft before I opened for him and his tongue swept inside my mouth. The hoarse moan made me smile as I rolled him over on his back, wanting to drown myself in him for as long as he’d let me.

“Come see me,” he gasped, breaking the kiss, hands on my face, thumbs sliding over my eyebrows as he stared up at me. “Take my address and cell number, and if you’re ever near California, like in Nevada or New Mexico or—”

“That ain’t close,” I smiled at him.

“It is to me, Weber.”

I squinted down at him. “You don’t have to do nothin’ for—”