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I write hot gay cowboy stories. Rough Rider came out earlier this month. A hard-assed cowboy, Rand Mata likes his rides rough. But then he finds he has a tender spot for local journalist, Fallon O'Shea. Only problem, Fallon wants the dangerous ride Rand is known for.
Rough Rider by Taylor McKay
Only the climax of sex rivals the climax of bull riding. But Rand Mata isn’t interested in buckle bunnies. He’d rather rope and tie up a cowboy. Rand won’t be satisfied with anyone less than a sub, one that likes to fight back before he gives in.
Fallon O’Shea has a soft voice and a beautiful face. He wants a wild cowboy to rein him in—a rough rider. But Rand isn’t sure Fallon knows what he’s asking for. Rand wants to dominate Fallon, wants to give him more than an eight second ride, but sometimes wanting can be dangerous.
Adult Excerpt
Adrenaline coursed through his veins. His heart pounded and his nerves sizzled like live wires. Tornado snorted, pivoted and slammed against the guard rails of the bucking chute. Rand straddled the top of the fence, fastened his glove and ensured a snug fit of his protective vest. Tan and white leather chaps protected his thighs. His cowboy hat hung on the post. For his ride, he wore a helmet and face mask.
“Ready?”
He nodded to the cowboys circling him. Slowly, careful not to agitate the bull while in the shoot, Rand held the fence rails and slid onto the mammoth bull. His thighs molded to the sides of the beast and his buttocks settled into the sway of the bull’s back. Rand slid his gloved hand beneath the braided rope and cinched it tight. He stretched and curled his fingers until he had a sure grip. The din of the crowd faded. The voices of the cowboys around him became a lulling hum as he mentally prepared for the most dangers eight seconds in sports. With a nod, the bucking shoot opened and Tornado stormed into the arena.
Rand focused intently on the twists and spins of the bull. His fluid body absorbed the impact and rolled with bucks and rears. Each second felt like an eternity. Leaning back and keeping his knees bent and hugging the belly of the beast, he found his rhythm. Hoping for style points, he spurred the bull. Tornado grunted, kicked back and flew into the air. Rand and bull were momentarily vertical. Then Tornado twisted hard right and Rand stuck the landing. Like flying, the endorphins from a good ride rushed through his system. His heart pounded with the crushing pattern of hooves hitting the hard dirt. The blast of the horn sent heat rushing through him. Fuck yeah!
The pickup man raced alongside the bull. His horse fearlessly approached the bull as Rand loosened the rope and slid from the still bucking Tornado. Clowns distracted the bull and maneuvered him out of the arena. Rand dropped to the ground and waved to the crowd. Cameras flashed but Rand searched for one face. He scanned along the perimeter fencing but didn’t see Fallon. Shit.
He jogged across the arena and launched over the fence. Cowboys slapped him on the back. Rand tugged off his helmet, combed his fingers through his short damp hair and plopped his cowboy hat on his head. He felt fantastic. His skin tingled and energy coursed through him with the same intensity of Tornado in that last spin. And now Rand wanted to see Fallon. He wanted to see all of Fallon.
A moment later the announcer broadcasted his score to the arena. Ninety-two. Rand jumped from the rail and charged into the arena. He waved his hat at the fans. He was in first place.
He jogged back to the rails. “Hey, has anyone seen that photographer with the ponytail?”
“You looking to become a celebrity,” one of the cowboys drawled. “You’d think you had enough love and adoration.” A group of buckle bunnies squealed and waved from the rail. Daisy Dukes and bikini tops didn’t do anything for him.
“Fuck you. I want a photo of tonight’s ride if I end up with the championship buckle.”
“Willy’s pumped and ready to give you a run for the money.” The next rider was in the chute.
“Shit. Gotta go.” He scrambled over the fence. Rand had a few superstitions. Accept for the ex-bastard, he never watched other riders.
Damn, Rand was primed and his cock was bucking against the fly of his jeans. Bull riding and sex. Sex and bull riding. He couldn’t enjoy one without the other. For months all he’d wanted was his hand. Fallon wasn’t the typical rough cowboy Rand went for. He was clean-cut, fit…and pretty. His skin was smooth and his lips had looked so damn soft.
But where the fuck was he? Rand hadn’t mistaken the invitation. They weren’t having drinks. They were going to fuck. No expectations, just rough and wild sex.
This week Demanding Romance will be giving away a couple of downloads. Trix by AJ Hardcourt and Julian Dane also Pumping Iron by AJ Hardcourt. Any comment on any post will put you into the drawing. Leave your contact email in your post, or if you'd like to keep your email private, email demandingRomance@hotmail.com.
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