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Authors: Julie Cummings
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8 SECOND RIDE
A Studs in Spurs Free Read
Cat Johnson
8 Second Ride
Copyright © Cat Johnson, 2009
Cover art by Cat Johnson
ISBN AREFREE00027
This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or business establishments, events or locales is coincidental.
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodies in critical articles and reviews.
And the clock starts…
Chase stood in awe, taking in the towering stone columns on either side of him. His gaze followed them up, up, up to what seemed to him to be a mansion compared to the tiny farmhouse he’d grown up in.
Ms. Jensen—Jenny as she’d requested he call her when she drove them here—cleared her throat.
“Chase? Are you coming in or not?” She stood on the top step, hands planted firmly on her hips, obviously waiting for him to follow.
The house had been impressive enough to draw his attention away from watching her heart-shaped ass sway as she climbed the sprawling front steps, and that was saying something.
“You live here?”
“I sure do.” The woman flashed him a wide smile full of perfect, bright white teeth. She descended the few stairs that separated them and planted one hand on his Rookie of the Year belt buckle. “Now, come on.” She pretty much dragged him up the remainder of the stairs and through a door big enough for him to ride a bull through.
The sound of his boots on the marble floor echoed off the walls of the front hall. He hadn’t seen a place this big or fancy since he’d been to a museum while the tour was in New York City a few months back.
Taking off his hat now that he was indoors—he may not have been raised in a house like this, but he still knew his manners—Chase looked up the massive staircase leading to the open second floor with its many doors. “It’s, um, real nice.”
“Are you gonna talk about my damn house all day, or are you gonna kiss me?” She stepped closer until her chest practically touched his. Her finger traced a path down his shirt, directly toward what he hoped would be her ultimate goal.
There was no decision to be made. Sure as he was standing there, Chase was going to kiss her, and more too, good lord willing. He’d only begun to lower his head toward hers when her manicured fingernails slipped through his hair and she crashed into him for a tongue tangling lip lock.
She pulled away to ask, “Do you have condoms?” Condoms. Plural. And his friends were always picking on him for liking his women a little older. No eighteen-year-old girl would have asked that question in the first thirty seconds they were alone.
Chase grinned. “Yes, ma’am. I do.” When did the circuit come through Texas again? He sure wouldn’t mind a repeat with her when he was in town next.
Looking like the devil had gotten into her, she flashed him another smile full of promise. “Good. Follow me.” As if she could stop him.
She grabbed his hand and led him into a room that would make any man cream in his pants whether there was a female in it or not.
“Holy shit! Is that regulation size?” Chase strode to the most beautiful carved wooden pool table he’d ever laid eyes on.
“Yup.” She stepped closer and gave one of the balls a shove. It clacked off the rails and into a pocket. “You like it?”
“Hell, yeah.” Who wouldn’t?
“Good. Then take off those jeans of yours and let’s give this thing a try, shall we?”
While Chase was still absorbing that order, her hands made short work of her own button and zipper. He managed to get his hands onto his belt buckle, but the sudden appearance of her tiny lace panties and mile long legs capped off with high heels had him staring.
She got tired of waiting for him to do it himself and undid his buckle and jeans for him. That knocked him out of his trance pretty fast. He had to toe his boots off before
A Studs in Spurs Free Read
Cat Johnson
8 Second Ride
Copyright © Cat Johnson, 2009
Cover art by Cat Johnson
ISBN AREFREE00027
This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or business establishments, events or locales is coincidental.
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodies in critical articles and reviews.
And the clock starts…
Chase stood in awe, taking in the towering stone columns on either side of him. His gaze followed them up, up, up to what seemed to him to be a mansion compared to the tiny farmhouse he’d grown up in.
Ms. Jensen—Jenny as she’d requested he call her when she drove them here—cleared her throat.
“Chase? Are you coming in or not?” She stood on the top step, hands planted firmly on her hips, obviously waiting for him to follow.
The house had been impressive enough to draw his attention away from watching her heart-shaped ass sway as she climbed the sprawling front steps, and that was saying something.
“You live here?”
“I sure do.” The woman flashed him a wide smile full of perfect, bright white teeth. She descended the few stairs that separated them and planted one hand on his Rookie of the Year belt buckle. “Now, come on.” She pretty much dragged him up the remainder of the stairs and through a door big enough for him to ride a bull through.
The sound of his boots on the marble floor echoed off the walls of the front hall. He hadn’t seen a place this big or fancy since he’d been to a museum while the tour was in New York City a few months back.
Taking off his hat now that he was indoors—he may not have been raised in a house like this, but he still knew his manners—Chase looked up the massive staircase leading to the open second floor with its many doors. “It’s, um, real nice.”
“Are you gonna talk about my damn house all day, or are you gonna kiss me?” She stepped closer until her chest practically touched his. Her finger traced a path down his shirt, directly toward what he hoped would be her ultimate goal.
There was no decision to be made. Sure as he was standing there, Chase was going to kiss her, and more too, good lord willing. He’d only begun to lower his head toward hers when her manicured fingernails slipped through his hair and she crashed into him for a tongue tangling lip lock.
She pulled away to ask, “Do you have condoms?” Condoms. Plural. And his friends were always picking on him for liking his women a little older. No eighteen-year-old girl would have asked that question in the first thirty seconds they were alone.
Chase grinned. “Yes, ma’am. I do.” When did the circuit come through Texas again? He sure wouldn’t mind a repeat with her when he was in town next.
Looking like the devil had gotten into her, she flashed him another smile full of promise. “Good. Follow me.” As if she could stop him.
She grabbed his hand and led him into a room that would make any man cream in his pants whether there was a female in it or not.
“Holy shit! Is that regulation size?” Chase strode to the most beautiful carved wooden pool table he’d ever laid eyes on.
“Yup.” She stepped closer and gave one of the balls a shove. It clacked off the rails and into a pocket. “You like it?”
“Hell, yeah.” Who wouldn’t?
“Good. Then take off those jeans of yours and let’s give this thing a try, shall we?”
While Chase was still absorbing that order, her hands made short work of her own button and zipper. He managed to get his hands onto his belt buckle, but the sudden appearance of her tiny lace panties and mile long legs capped off with high heels had him staring.
She got tired of waiting for him to do it himself and undid his buckle and jeans for him. That knocked him out of his trance pretty fast. He had to toe his boots off before
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