Free Cowgirl's Rough Ride by Julianne Reyer Page B

him. He sat stone-still and didn’t say a
word, like she didn’t exist. Feeling self conscious, desperately wanting a
reaction, any reaction, she scooted closer and gently placed her hand on his
arm.
    He remained still. “You don’t want
to do that,” he growled.
    “Why not?” She asked, hurt and
confused.
    “Like I told you before, it’ll be
rough and it’ll hurt. You don’t want me fucking you in the bunghole, so let it
go. I’m not the kind of man you’re looking for.” He didn’t look at her and it
drove her crazy. She wanted to see his eyes, to get a glance into his thoughts.
His hat hung low over his face, only giving her the profile of his rough jaw
and hawk nose.
    “You must have known me a long time
to be judgin’ exactly what I want.” Frustrated, she crossed her arms and turned
her back to him. “What kinda man are you, then?”
    “The man who kills people for
money,” he said flatly.
    “Have you always killed for money?”
She asked, turning to see his reaction, her eyebrows raised.
    He shifted in his seat and looked
down at his boots. “No,” he finally said.
    “I think you used to be a good
man,” she said, and regretted it as soon the words left her lips.
    He turned to her, his gray eyes
wide with rage.
    “Do you now? And what does a farm
girl think about a man,” he shouted, grabbing her arm and throwing her to the
ground. “--who doesn’t care what you think?”
    He snatched one of her wrists and
twisted it behind her, turning her over, forcing her face against the dirt. He
was rough, painfully pinning her hand against her back, his fingers digging
into her skin.
    His anger scared her, but it was
exciting. She never wanted a boring husband who was only interested in making
babies. Her desire was to be fucked without reserve by a real man.
    She felt wetness between her legs
as he held her to the ground. With one hand, he yanked her pants down to her
knees, exposing her naked ass to the night air. She blushed, closing her eyes. The
rough, dry soil scratched her cheek but she panted with anticipation.
    “So, girl, you think you want
this?” He asked, kneeling behind her. She could feel his heat, as he pressed
his body against her rear.
    “Yeah,” she mumbled into the dirt.
    “Do ya?” He raised his voice,
jerking her arm and sending a shock of fire burning up her shoulder.
    “Yes!” Jane shrieked, her
exhalation scattering a plume of dust in front of her face.
    “Dumb girl doesn’t know what she
wants. But I’ll learn ya.” His hand came down with unbelievable power. The slap
shocked her, stinging like a burning brand sizzling on her skin. She squealed
and twisted against his restraint. But he held her in an iron grip. His hand
came down again on the same spot, making her tremble in agony.
    As his hand mercilessly hammered
down, a fire burning on her rear, she felt a warmth of pleasure spread from her
crotch.
    “This ain’t some girl’s dream of
roses and kisses. The road’s hard. The wild’s unforgiving.”
    He hit her with an even and
constant rhythm. She whimpered and squirmed, conflicted between the urge to
escape and the desire that wetted her pussy lips. The tender skin of her ass
was raw. And each slap renewed the shockwave of pain with increased intensity.
    “When you face a man with a gun,
you don’t flinch. You don’t think about it.” He said, his breathing heavy. “You
just shoot!” He shouted, each word emphasized by slap.
    He stopped suddenly and she let out
her breath, whimpering. A light breeze cooled her naked, burning skin. Sweat
stuck hair and dirt against her face but she ignored it, relishing the cool
relief.
    “You saw,” she said, her voice sounded
winded. “I shot a man.”
    Bill spat. “And you think that
makes you a killer,” he growled. “You don’t know your ass from a bucket of
water.”
    She heard his belt jingle, then
felt his bare skin against her ass. His hardness pressed against her asshole
and she gasped. She clenched