Extreme Bull

off his game. Well, it wasn’t going to happen, that’s all.

    Extreme Bull | Catt Ford
    20

    Clay couldn’t tell if he was disappointed or relieved when Jeff never showed up before his ride. It took a herculean effort to get his mind off those lips, slightly chapped, and that kiss, more demanding than he’d ever felt from a girl, and yet… somehow kinda sexy? Maybe because of the differences.
    Shaking off that unwelcome thought, Clay imagined his ride, remembering some of the moves that Under Eight had pulled on Jeff the day before, seeing his own body balanced perfectly on the steer’s back, moving as one. Closing his eyes and retreating to the comfort of the familiar task ahead of him, Clay went through the eight seconds he needed over and over, visualizing himself through a perfect ride.
    Still, when he sat on top of the bull in the chute, feeling the movement of the tough animal between his legs, a thrill with a strangely erotic edge rushed through him. He gave the nod. When the gate was opened and the powerful bull surged forward, the sensual thrill of it all overcame him, and he was lost in the sensation of the bull beneath him and the lips claiming him in the darkness of the stable.
    He never heard the horn. He knew the ride was over when he saw Caleb’s urgent face as the clown ran by the side of the bull, gloved hands signaling him to get off. He bailed, kicking free and landing in the dust after a free fall that seemed to take forever. Hands grabbed him, and Caleb rushed him to the fence, cursing at him for daydreaming in Extreme Bull | Catt Ford
    21

    the ring. Men reached down and grabbed his arms, hauling him up and over.
    Sam was there asking him urgently, “You all right? You didn’t get hurt when you fell, did you? You seem kinda dizzy.”
    “I’m fine,” Clay said as if in a dream. “Score? What’s the score?”
    Sam cocked his head listening for it. “That was some ride. 92.5. I’ve never seen you ride like that—” He stared after Clay in bemusement as the other man turned and walked away as if he were walking on air. “I better get him to the doctor. He musta been knocked on the head.” BJ asked anxiously, “Did he seem concussed to you?
    He’ll be right pissed if he can’t ride tomorrow.”
    “I don’t know what’s happenin’ with him, but I never seen him ride like that before,” Sam said.
    “Jeff better watch out,” BJ chortled.

    “WHO pissed in your beer?”

    Extreme Bull | Catt Ford
    22

    Clay looked up to find BJ standing there, a girl on each arm and a shit-eating grin on his face. “Hey, BJ. Good ride today.”
    BJ snorted. “Coming from the man who’s gonna win it all, thanks. And seeing as you’re racking up the points, why are you crying in your beer?”
    “I’m not,” Clay protested. “I’m just… thinking.”
    “He rides with his brain, not his ass,” BJ told the girls.
    They giggled and nestled closer. “Look, man, you’re not pulling your share of the load. Get up off that bar stool and help a man out.”
    Clay looked over to where a line was forming up for a dance and then shook his head. Jeff hadn’t come to the bar that night, which was probably a wise move. He tossed a bill onto the bar and slid off his stool. “Early night for me, man.
    Have fun.”
    The music started up, and Clay edged around the lines of dancers to the door, grateful for the cooler air outside. The sound of people having fun inside the bar meant nothing to him. He had to figure this thing out, or it would continue to gnaw at him and interfere with his riding. And nothing interfered with his riding.
    He cupped his hand over the end of his cigarette and lit up. He started to walk back to his trailer. He hoped that a walk in the cold air would clear his head. He pulled his collar Extreme Bull | Catt Ford
    23

    up, tugged his hat down against the wind, and dug his hands in his pockets, letting the cigarette dangle between his lips.
    None of it helped.
    All he could think about was the feeling of Jeff’s body against his, the warmth of his lips, the strength in the hands that held him captive for a moment. He couldn’t banish it from his head. There was something about it that haunted him. Just thinking about it made his breath come faster, and he could feel his cock move in his pants, starting to fill out.
    He had to stop this.
    Clay came back to himself with a start when he realized he was standing in front of a trailer. Only problem was, it wasn’t his.
    It