Quickdraw Slow Burn (Battle of the Bulls #3) - T. S. Joyce Page 0,43

rope and then buck him straight out of the chute so his handlers have to pull him off me and re-set him. I haven’t done that in a couple years. It takes energy, but I’m ready. I’ve conditioned my bull harder than I ever have before. Direction changes are gonna be my best bet. I can get two, maybe three, in eight seconds. Let him get comfortable on the first two bucks and then change. No twisting, he’s ready for that. He expects it. I can tell from the way he positions his body out of the gate. He’s good at guessing a direction. He studies the bulls he rides.”

“What do you think he’s doing right now?” she asked curiously.

“The same thing we are. Researching me. Coming up with a game plan. He may be riding non-shifter bulls that are similar to my bucking style. The riders are going for a million-dollar purse, too.”

A soft snarl rattled her throat as she imagined the rider watching tape on Quickdraw.

“What was that for, Wolf?” he murmured.

“I don’t like anyone thinking they have a chance at eight seconds on your back.”

His smile was slow. “I like your protective streak. I’m the opposite, though. I like them getting cocky about it and then seeing the look of terror on their faces as they eat dirt and have to escape me.”

“Mmmm,” she practically purred. “Are you tired yet? It’s a big day tomorrow.”

He leaned back into the couch cushion and shook his head. “Sleep is a companion I never know the night before a buck.”

“But you have two days of bucking in a row for Battle of the Bulls. You can’t stay up for two days. You shouldn’t buck tired.” Annabelle shoved the covers back and straddled his lap.

The hunger in his eyes gave her such confidence to do whatever she wanted. There was no reserve there, only want.

Quickdraw reached up and plucked the part of the towel she’d tucked to keep it in place. The damp cloth fell around her hips. He wasn’t wearing a shirt so as he drank her in, she ran her palms down his smooth, strong, tattooed chest. God, it felt good to touch him like this again.

“Do you know how much I’ve thought about you since I had you?” he rumbled in a deep, gritty voice.

“Once? Twice?” she asked innocently.

“All day, every day. Every single thing about you drags me in.”

When he wrapped his hand gently around her throat, she moaned and rolled her hips forward. God, he was so sexy.

“You’re mine. You know that right?” he rumbled.

A tremble worked its way up her spine at how good his confident touch felt. And those words…

“I know,” she whispered.

The devil was in his slow grin. “Look at you, leaning in when I have my hand on your throat, holding eye contact. You rare bird. You aren’t scared of me, are you?”

It was her turn to show him the devil in her smile. Annabelle leaned forward, bit his ear softly, and whispered, “Wolves aren’t afraid of much.”

Quickdraw slid his hand to the back of her neck and gripped her hair, angled her face up to his before his lips collided with hers. The taste of him she’d already committed to memory, and now she realized how very much she’d missed it.

His warmth, his power, his touch.

Everything was right in her world.

Everything.

He dragged her hips against him, his sweats failing to hide how hard his erection was. A trill of excitement rushed through her, lifting chills on her skin.

He ran his fingertips up her spine and massaged her back as she rolled against him.

With a soft groan, he yanked the blanket from the couch beside them and wrapped it around her, creating this cocoon of warmth and safety with him.

Only they existed now. Only them.

He had the ability to turn off her loud mind and let her breathe. Let her just exist in pleasure, and to a girl like her, that was worth more than gold.

She lifted up on her knees, and he knew what to do. Quickdraw shoved his sweats down his thighs and gripped her hips as she settled back down onto his dick. He didn’t slide into her yet…not yet… Instead, he let her roll her sex up and down the length of his swollen cock.

“Fuuuuck, I want to be in you,” he uttered. Quickdraw cupped her breast and massaged it hard, plucked at her nipple and then leaned forward, pulled it into his mouth.

Annabelle cried out and arched