Free Boots and Bareback: Ugly Stick Saloon, Book 3 by Myla Jackson

stood with her hands fisted on her hips.
    “No.” All four brothers spoke at once.
    “I just want to take you out. Get to know you,” Sean said.
    “I want to date you,” Gabe said.
    “Me too,” Tanner added. “Question is why you won’t go out with any of us?”
    Her hands fell to her sides. Isabella had one good reason for not wanting to go out with them. And it had nothing to do with them, so she shrugged and lied. “I can’t decide which one I like best.”
    Tanner’s frown deepened.
    Gabe stared at her, eyes narrowed, not uttering a word.
    Only Sean whooped. “The rest of you losers can back off. She likes us.”
    “Let her dance.” Jesse stood, pushing his way through his brothers, giving Isabella some space. “This is my last night as a single man. There’s nothing I’d like more than to watch my brothers suffer, fighting over one woman. You don’t know how good it feels that I’m marrying the woman of my dreams and I’ll have her all to myself.” He waved toward Isabella. “Dance. Maybe that will help you decide which one of these boneheads you want.”
    Isabella slipped away from the men and climbed the steps onto the stage, her breath labored. Had her lie been an untruth? Or had it been too close to the truth?
    With the music twisting around the thoughts in her mind, she undulated and swayed her way toward the mechanical horse, choosing to ride to ease her troubled and confused thoughts.
    She switched on the motor, grabbed the fake mane and swung up onto the fiberglass beast.
    As the horse turned and bucked beneath her, Isabella held on, her body moving with the music and the rhythm of the beast. With the men watching, their gazes caressing her from top to bottom, heat rose from her core to spread throughout her body. Moisture pooled in her channel, and each rub against her pussy sent fractured spikes of electricity shooting straight to her center.
    The riding crop found its way between her legs, tapping at the triangle of fabric covering her clit. She wanted to strip naked and ride bareback, her slit rubbing against the leather crop.
    As the song came to an end, she slid off the mechanical horse and fled behind the curtain, so aroused she didn’t know how she’d go on for another dance. And loving every elevated sensation she was feeling.
    She leaned against a beam, her hands trembling so badly she dropped the crop to the floor. Isabella slid her fingers over her bare midriff and down into the tiny swatch of material over her pussy, seeking the bundle of nerves buried between her folds.
    There. She flicked the bud, sending a pulse of shocks straight to her core. Isabella gasped.
    “You all right in here?”
    Isabella yanked her hand free of her costume and spun to face the source of the voice.
    Libby stood with her head poked through the gap in the curtain, a smile curling the corners of her lips. “The guys are getting restless, but if you want I can stall them for another five minutes with drinks.”
    “No. I only need a minute. Then you can start the music.”
    “Will do.” Libby’s head disappeared, then reappeared. “For what it’s worth, you’re doing such a good job, you almost made me come. I want to borrow that thong.” She winked and withdrew, leaving Isabella alone to gather her wits.
    How could she go back out there when all she wanted to do now was to throw her legs open and let each one of the O’Brien men fuck her until she couldn’t stand for a week? Her tummy clenched and a heat washed over her pussy. Had she known stripping would generate such and erotic response, she’d have done it years ago.
    Her nipples were taut little buttons, poking hard at the bikini bra, her gut knotted, her pussy contracted and her knees wobbled.
    On top of all her physical responses, the music started up again.
    Isabella moaned, pressing her hands to her breasts, squeezing hard as another flash of desire rocketed through her. Was this what it felt like to have an