She nodded and hugged her trophy.

“Get your stuff and head over there. Double lock the door. I’ll make sure he don’t follow you and cause more trouble. I’ll check on you in the mornin’.”

“Thank you, Cash.”

“No problem, sweets. Just sorry you found out the way you did.”

Channing snuck out of the bar without talking to anyone else from the circuit. She unloaded her three pieces of luggage from Jared’s truck—and liberated his bottle of whiskey.

A six-foot neon sign shaped like a cowboy boot, announcing The Silver Spur Motor Inn, flashed “NO VACANCY”. Luckily she’d already secured a room. She dragged her belongings across the highway and let herself into number 111.

Once locked inside, she panicked. What was she going to do? No way did she want to turn tail and run back to the tiresome life she’d fled.

Served her right for trusting someone. It would’ve been nice, for once in her life, not to have to be so damn self-reliant. Wrong again.

She should leave. Right away. Tonight.

Colby’s words surfaced: Come talk to me before you do anything rash.

The scared part of her wanted to run to Colby right now. Demand to know why he hadn’t told her Jared was married.

But in his own way, Colby had warned her.

Reality check: She doubted this one-stoplight town had a rental car agency or even a bus stop. Nothing she could do about her predicament tonight. She’d deal with it all tomorrow.

A steaming hot shower and three generous slugs of whiskey later, Channing drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

Chapter Two

The woman’s lips left a bright red lipstick trail down Colby’s blood-darkened shaft as she released his cock. “That’s it. Open wider. Like that. Take it all.”

The naked brunette bobbed her head. Her soft, hot mouth worked from the pulsing root to the throbbing tip of his cock. The wet sucking sounds coupled with her happy humming moans ricocheted in the tiny humid bathroom as an erotic echo.

Colby sighed and threaded one hand through her long hair, shivering at the sensation of the baby-soft strands teasing the inside of his thighs.

The pointed tips of her nipples stabbed his knee as her mouth rocked back and forth, making her big tits sway enticingly.

He slid his hands down her face and neck to roll those tightened nubs between his fingertips. Tugging. Pulling. Twisting. Making them harder. Redder. Wishing he hadn’t left those nipple clamps back in Salt Lake. This woman seemed the adventurous type.

She rubbed her slender thighs together, arching into his rougher touch. “More.”

“Yeah, me too.” He shifted his ass forward on the counter and spread his knees. “Play with my balls, baby.” He didn’t call her by name because, frankly, he didn’t remember her name.

He’d hooked up with her outside the Last Chance Saloon after he’d left Channing with Jared. Frustrated, he’d needed someone, anyone, to get him off. As quickly as possible. Sex always cooled his temper. And if he couldn’t be with the one he wanted, he’d be with someone who wanted him, even if for the wrong reasons.

This chick knew the score; one night, no promises, and bragging rights that she’d blown the number two All-Around Cowboy on the Mountain and Plains Circuit. She’d gotten right down to business the minute they’d returned to the motel. Shedding her skintight clothes.

Fondling his buckle as she dropped to her knees, sucking his dick like a starving woman facing an opulent banquet. Hell, he hadn’t even kissed her.

His thoughts traveled to Channing Kinkaid. Jesus. Why was he so obsessed with that little spitfire? She wasn’t even his type. But one kiss from her and his cock had gotten hard as a railroad spike.

For a moment he let himself imagine it was Channing deep-throating him. Channing’s moans of delight reverberating up his shaft. Channing’s sweet-scented hair knotted in his hands. Channing’s wanton tongue lapping the come out of the slit in his cock.

Oh hell yeah.

Then long fingernails scraped across his balls and he inhaled sharply, expecting pain. But the woman expertly rolled his sac, knowing exactly how much pressure to use for maximum pleasure. Never missing a lick or stroke with that marvelous suctioning mouth and wickedly skillful tongue.

Good as it felt, much as he loved a no-strings-attached blowjob, Colby just wanted her to finish him off so he could escape.

“Faster,” he panted. “Suck harder. Yeah, like that. A few more strokes and you know I’m gonna shoot my load. Then Trevor will take care of you. Got yourself a twofer tonight, baby.”

“Mm-hmm.”

The bathroom door opened. She never even lifted her head.

Colby glanced over at a grinning Trevor.

“She ready for me yet?” Trevor asked.

“Close.”

“Hot damn!” Trevor shucked off his Wranglers and T-shirt. His big belt buckle clunked on the tile. Colby didn’t bother to gawk at his friend’s naked form. Threesomes were nothing new.

The crackling of a condom package ripping open sounded beside him.

The woman gyrated her hips and moaned, “Yes. Oh please. Please fuck me. Now. From behind.”

“After Colby comes,” Trevor said. “Don’t want you bitin’ down on anything important. He’s pretty fond of that big cock of his.”

She whimpered. Realizing she wouldn’t get off until Colby did, she switched tactics, moving her mouth and hand in tandem, faster and faster. Saliva ran down the length of his dick and coated his balls.

That was all it took.

Colby threw back his head. “Come on, work those throat muscles and swallow it all. Ah. Shit yeah.”

She gulped noisily. Colby felt her gag reflex kick in, but he was too far gone to care. He held her head tightly, keeping that delectable mouth in place until every last spurt burst from the end of his cock.

Spent, he sagged against the mirror. Breathing hard. “Damn. That was good.”

Colby caressed the woman’s cheek as his dick slipped from between silky smooth lips. By the time he’d opened his eyes, Trevor had already positioned her on the bathmat on all fours.

Her hand was on her dark muff, furiously rubbing her clit. Her sharp white teeth sank into her bottom lip; her eyes were squeezed shut in rapture. She’d tilted her ass in the air for Trevor’s use.

Trevor spread her cheeks wide and rammed into her cunt in one rapid stroke. “Christ, woman,” he growled, “you’re wet. You must really like sucking cock.”

A feminine grunt. “Stop talking and fuck me harder. I’m close to coming.”

“Bossy. I don’t know if I like that.”

“Punish me then. God. Do anything. Just make me come.”

“Maybe this’ll help you along.” Trevor whacked her ass. Four sharp blows on each deeply tanned cheek.

The woman started to climax. Loudly. Shrieking like a wheezing donkey. Thrashing like she was having a seizure.

Colby wondered how much of her reaction was real. Talk about cynical.

Spurred on by her enthusiasm, Trevor fucked her with such ferocity the bathmat skidded sideways across the floor.

Colby watched the scene before him dispassionately. He should be raring to join in. He wasn’t. In fact, his cock had already gone completely limp.

A sad situation at thirty-one; he was sick of trolling for pussy. Same old, same old. A quick fuck and suck, goodbye, then on to the next town.

He was getting old if he’d been fantasizing about fucking the same woman a different way every night, rather than a different woman the same way every night.

Yeah, that one woman superstar in his lurid fantasies was none other than Channing Kinkaid. A temptress with her gold-flecked hazel eyes. A nymph with a riot of brown curls tumbling between her shoulder blades.

A witch’s mouth, lush, ripe, the soft pink of peonies in spring. A curvy little body a man could sink his teeth and his cock into for weeks without surfacing.

Where the hell had that romantic nonsense come from?

Channing wasn’t his. Although, he had been tempted to spill the beans about Jared’s marital status tonight. But he’d decided it wasn’t his place. She’d probably shoot the messenger rather than react how he’d hoped—running to him for protection, comfort and wickedly hot sex.

Right. Ignoring the thrashing twosome, he hopped off the counter and left them alone for the big finish.

In the cramped motel room, Edgard was stretched out on the double bed along the wall. He glanced up from watching the PBR Tour on VERSUS. “Done already?”

“Yeah. You getting in on some action?”

“Maybe later.”

After Colby dressed he sat down on the opposite bed to pull on his boots.

“Where you going?” Edgard asked.

“I know it’s your turn, but I think I’ll sleep in the horse trailer.

‘Night.”

The next morning Channing leaned on the whitewashed split-rail fence and squinted at the fairgrounds.

What was she supposed to do now? Stuck high and dry in nowhere Oklahoma.

A few trucks and horse trailers remained in the parking lot. The arena was deserted. Most rodeo folk had already headed to the next event. Her stomach growled. She glanced at her watch. Noon.

The “Open” sign blinked at the Last Chance Saloon. She shouldered her macramé purse and trotted across the highway. Maybe they served food. Anything would be better than the vending machine selection of stale crackers and peanuts, or drowning her sorrows in chocolate.

Colby had finished loading hay for his horse when he heard voices approaching across the paddock. He snapped the locks on the trailer and leaned back against the metal gate bars to wait to see who was looking for him.

Cash and Trevor came around the rear end of the trailer, bickering like siblings.

“It ain’t my problem,” Cash said. “I’m just glad to see that sumbitch gone.”

“Yeah, but he ain’t gonna be happy she is. She—”

“Who’s gone?” Colby asked.

They both stopped. Trevor gave Cash an uneasy look. “Jared Connelly. He dropped out this morning.”