Once upon a time, there was a little barrel racer named Goldilocks. One bright summer day, she went to ride fence in the back forty. Pretty soon, she came upon a sweet little ranch house, just on the other side of the creek. She hopped down, clomped up on the porch. Three saddles were sitting on the rail, three pairs of chaps were drying on hooks, and three cases of beer (Shiner, Tecate and Fat Tire) sat by the door.
She knocked and, when no one answered, she walked right in, hollering. “Hey, y’all! Anyone home?”
At the big table in the kitchen, there were three bowls of chili. Goldilocks was hungry. She tasted the chili from the first bowl.
“This chili is too hot!” she exclaimed. “That cowboy must be from New Mexico!”
So, she tasted the chili from the second bowl.
“This chili has beans,” she said. “This cowboy must be from Colorado.”
So, she tasted the last bowl of chili.
“Yeehaw! This bowl is just right,” she said happily and she ate it all up.
After she’d eaten the three cowboys’ supper, she decided she was feeling too pooped to pop. So, she wandered into the front room where she saw three easy chairs. Goldilocks sat in the first chair to rest her feet.
“This chair is too big!” she exclaimed. “The whole of the Colorado river could fit in it. No way a Wrangler butt fits in here. This must be a bulldogger from Big Sky Country!”
So she sat in the second chair, wriggling to get her butt in the narrowest leather chair on earth.
“This chair is tiny!” she whined. “This chair is for a bullrider, a pocket cowboy from the Rio Grande!”
So she tried the last chair, low-slung and covered with a Navajo blanket, cushy and soft.
“Ahhh, this chair is just right,” she sighed. But just as she settled down into the chair to rest, it broke into pieces!
Damned skinny roughstock riders!
Goldilocks was very tired by this time, and as mad as a wet hen, so she stomped to the bedroom and kicked off her boots. She lay down in the first bed, but it was too itchy, the feathers from the dreamcatchers tickling her nose. Then she lay in the second bed, but it was smelled of cowhide and sagebrush. Then she lay down in the third bed and it was just right, blankets piled up like the Rockies themselves. Goldilocks fell sound to sleep.
As she was sleeping, the three cowboys came home.
“Someone’s been eating my chili,” growled the Colorado bulldogger.
“Someone’s been eating my chili,” said the New Mexico bronc rider.
“Someone’s been eating my chili and they ate it all up!” cried the Texas bullrider.
Then they stomped to the front room. “Someone’s been sitting in my chair,” growled the bulldogger.
“Someone’s been sitting in my chair,” said bullrider.
“Someone’s been sitting in my chair and they’ve broken it all to pieces,” cried the bronc rider.
They decided to look around some more and when they got upstairs to the bedroom, the Texan growled, “Someone’s been sleeping in my bed.”
“Someone’s been sleeping in my bed, too” said the bronc rider.
“Someone’s been sleeping in my bed and she’s still there!” exclaimed the bulldogger.
Just then, Goldilocks woke up and saw the three cowboys, glaring down at her. One was a big old blond, tanned and grinning. Another was a whipcord thin Navajo, eyes like bright buttons and the third was a Stetson wearing pocket cowboy, who looked tough as leather.
She thought for half a minute about hollering for help, then she noticed how broad the bulldogger’s shoulders were, how taut the bronc rider’s belly was, and how fine the bullrider’s ass was. She licked her lips and said, “How’re we gonna play this, boys!”
The three cowboys looked at her, at each other, then they all smiled.
“Saddle up,” said the bronc rider.
“Just need someone to pull my rope,” said the bullrider.
“Good thing I got you boys to haze for me,” said the bulldogger.
“Not my first rodeo, y’all. Let’s ride.” Goldilocks clapped happily, opened her arms, and went for way more than eight second.
Her horse moved into the barn and she never returned to the ranch house, riding and roping ‘til the end of days with her three cowboys.
And they lived happily ever after.
Fairy tales are important. So are cowboys. Somedays, we need to roll them together to make ourselves a little fantasy, or three.
Calleigh, in my book What She Wants, is losing the fight for her happy ending, and, instead of waiting to get rescued, well, I reckon this princess is rescuing herself. Look and see…
Smiling when Packer shifted closer, Adrian pushed a hand down the length of Packer’s torso, loving the width of the fuzzy chest and the ridged beauty of the most underrated belly in bullriding.
He hummed, wrapping his fingers around Packer’s rising prick and tugging.
“Morning, you. Did you make the coffee?” Adrian asked. He could smell it, acrid and somehow dark brown, as if the smell itself had a color.
“Naw. I been sleepin’.” Still mostly asleep, Packer’s Aussie accent was thick as late-summer pond water.
Adrian raised his head, frowning a little. “Did it have a timer?”
Packer grunted softly, tugged him in closer, hips moving the heavy cock through his fingers.
“Mmm.” He forgot all about the coffee, that velvety skin covering the hardest prick ever making him a little distracted and a lot horny. Adrian started kissing his way down, wanting to give it a fine good morning.
Packer was all for it, too. Adrian could tell. Jesus, he loved the way those tight abs rolled and jerked.
He licked a little at Packer’s belly button, his fingers working the extra skin at the tip of Packer’s cock. He loved that foreskin, found it fascinating. Packer moaned low and arched, bowing up toward him, the sheet falling away. Adrian laughed a little, blowing air on the tip of Packer’s cock before pushing the foreskin back and licking at the head. Salty. Damn.
“Oh, now. That’s pretty.” A camera flash went off, blinding him.
Adrian shot up on the bed, Packer grunting when Adrian’s hand landed hard on his belly. “What the fuck!”
“Oh, don’t stop on my account, boys.”
Oh, fucking hell.
He knew that voice. Adrian looked over and saw Calleigh, his wife, sitting on the chair, a cup of coffee in one hand, a camera in the other.
Packer rose up on both elbows, staring past him. “Well, hullo Calleigh. What brings you to Des Moines?”
One red eyebrow arched, and Calleigh smiled, slow and wicked. “I got tired of waiting at home for someone to give me some attention, honey.”
Adrian was completely speechless. His cock wilted. Packer’s didn’t.
Bright green eyes met his. She was made up — eyes and lips and everything — and she was a fucking wet dream, or would have been if she hadn’t been an evil bitch. “I told you, I’m not waiting for you anymore, Adrian. I’ve been taking pictures for about an hour. If you want me to come along on the road, I’ll clear out the memory card. Otherwise, I’ll take them to Ace. It’s totally up to you.” His mouth opened and closed like a landed fish’s. “Come along?”
“Yes. Twelve years we’ve been together and I’ve never traveled farther than downtown Dallas with you. I’m done. I want in. I want to play, too.”
“Play…” Adrian felt like a parrot. Calleigh wanted to play. She was a hard-working nurse. Lost job or no, he wasn’t sure she knew the meaning of the word play.
“You heard me. I’ll give you time to figure yourself out.” She stood and he saw her, like it was a dream. Jesus, she was in the tiniest little leather skirt and boots up to there and a tiny, lacy top. “I’m going to get some more coffee. If you want,
I’ll buy you both breakfast.”
“Give us half an hour,” Packer said, hands holding Adrian back when he would have gone after her.
“No hurry.” Calleigh turned and walked out, heels clicking on the floor.
Calleigh and Adrian have always had an open marriage. Adrian being on the road all the time has made it easy for them to have separate lives, but neither of them acted on their agreement to see other people until Adrian met fellow Aussie and force of nature, Packer Stevens.
Now Packer and Adrian are always together, and Calleigh is left at home, missing her man. When Calleigh decides she’s not going to let Adrian go without a fight, she comes up with what she thinks is the perfect plan. She hits the spa, and the gym, and sets out to find her inner buckle bunny, intent on getting her bullrider back, and maybe on impressing Packer a little, too. She heads out on the road, ready to fight for her husband.
What Calleigh doesn’t understand is that her plan will be wildly successful, and also the hardest thing she’s ever done in her life. Packer is more than willing to play, but he’s as complicated as Calleigh is emotional. As much as he loves Calleigh and Packer, and the sexy games they play, Adrian has to try to set things right, but can he find a way to give Calleigh what she wants, and make everyone else happy at the same time?
Let me know your favorite fairy tale, and I’ll send one random commenter a signed print copy of What She Wants and a great cowgirl wine glass to enjoy your favorite sip while you’re reading.
Thanks so much for letting me play and I look forward to visiting again.
Much love, y’all.