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As you walked out of your trailer, a crisp breeze hit your face. Much to your relief, it cooled you down significantly, the space heater in your trailer running the whole time you were in there getting dressed and doing your makeup. Your sister, also known as your ‘personal stylist’ insisted it was much too cold out for it to not be on. Even when you assured her it was only fifty degrees outside.
Now here she is walking beside you in a giant puffer coat while you try to tune her out and focus on calming yourself down. No matter how many rodeos you went to, how many speeches you gave, how many parades you've rode in, all of it still riddled you with anxiety.
It did not help one bit that everyone in the ‘Riders Only’ prep area was gawking at you. You did stick out like a sore thumb. Decked out in a gorgeous scarlet button up, adorned with detailed black beading along the collar and cuffs and matching chaps over your bootcut jeans. Atop your head sitting a black wide-brimmed cowboy hat.
Though, the most glaring of all would have to be your pearly white sash, dark cursive letters writing out ‘ Canyon County Queen ’.
Nearing what you assume to be the other royalty court, you look extremely overdressed. Silently, you curse your sister for suggesting this outfit.
“ That’s Miss. Amelia County over there, Alexis is her name. Taylor is Miss. Junior -” Your sister starts, whispering in your ear before you wave her away, already stopping in front of the two girls.
Politely, you introduce yourself and your sister, shaking hands with them. Taylor immediately lights up with recognition, giving you a toothy smile as her braces glint in the stadium lights. Alexis is equally as nice, more quiet and reserved compared to her younger counterpart.
It didn't take much waiting near the green utility gate before handlers approach the four of you with horses.
“Is this one mine? Oh thank you- gosh he’s handsome! ” You gush to the man bringing a stunning bay with white markings on his face towards you. You shake his hand ( if being a rodeo queen has taught you anything, it’s how to give a good handshake ) and take the reins from him. He introduces himself as Bill, the man who you had emailed earlier this month when you were looking for a horse to ride this weekend.
“Do you have your phone? Give me your phone, it’s almost call time.” You hear your sister behind you say, already reaching for your back pocket as you spin around to face her.
“Here-” You take it out of your jeans and roll your eyes playfully, “Don’t be bad while I’m away.” You chide and kiss her cheek before slotting your foot in a stirrup and hoisting yourself up on the huge horse with minimal help from the handler.
“His name is Merlot, my daughter’s horse.” Bill explains, rubbing the palm of his hand over the horse’s neck before a younger man comes up and hands you the American flag pole to hold.
“Well, be sure to tell your daughter thank you. She’s a very lucky girl.” You grin down at him before being called over to where the gate opens up to the arena, following Alexis and Taylor.
An older woman with a very professional demeanor greets the three of you before briefly explaining the game plan, arranging by flags with you last to enter. Merlot shifts beneath you, stepping back as Alexis’ horse flicks him in the nose with her tail as you wait for the opening music.
Soon enough, some random rock song plays and you are off, pressing your heels firmly into Merlot’s sides to urge him along with the other horses. You grip the wooden pole and his reins tightly, plastering the biggest smile on your face as he enters an energetic gallop. Your body rocks with the power of his strides, the roar of the decently sized crowd making your body buzz with excitement as he takes you in a circle around the ring.
“And last but not least holding the American flag, Idaho’s very own Canyon County Rodeo Queen! First claiming her title in 2023 and again in 2024, this two time winner hails from Wilson, Wyoming. A skilled barrel racer and coming from a long line of pros, we are lucky to have her as a guest bull riding judge tonight!” The announcer roars through the crackling intercom system. Your palms prickle with the thrill of it all, coming to a stop and facing the audience with Alexis and Taylor on either side of you.
Carefully you transfer the reins to your other hand, waving to the crowd and blowing an air kiss to them as he finishes reading the bio your agent sent. You can feel Merlot’s back legs lock as you sit there half listening to the announcer, his warmth and heavy breath beneath you draws your full attention away from the national anthem. You watch as his ears twitch and you pat his neck reassuringly as Merlot pulls on the reins.
With the anthem done, you take him back through the gate, keeping a smooth trot till you find Bill and the young man with him. They help you dismount, your boots kicking up dust as you land, thanking them again and venturing back to the trailer where you have no doubt your sister is.
-
You do have to admit, without your chaps on it is kinda cold out here. Only a few steps out of your trailer you turn on your heels and sprint back inside, your sister already calling after you. You return with a heavy brown bomber jacket on your shoulders, fixing your hair as the two of you make your way over to the judge’s station.
It’s more modest than you are used to, just a folding table with chairs pressed against the fence on the opposite side of the opening gate. A darker skinned man sits there with a pen in hand, ordering the scoresheets.
“You must be David Acothley. I’m-” You start, extending your hand towards him.
“Miss. Canyon County herself, pleasure to meet you.” He interrupts, taking your hand. His eyes are like warm chocolate, inviting you in as he gestured to the empty seat beside him. You turn back to your sister and bid her goodbye as you sit, taking your stack of the sheets.
“You sure you know what you're doin’?” He asks, handing you a pen.
Internally, you roll your eyes and cringe. Your previous positive thoughts about him disappearing into annoyance.
“Yup.”
And you refuse to make anything but curt small talk with him the rest of the night.
-
“Now up is Wabang’s very own hometown hero, Rhett Abbott! Let's show some love to our local boy!” You hear over the speakers, the crowd quite possibly going crazier than when you were announced. You see a tall man enter the chute, his hair was longer, neutral brown in color. Number eleven was pinned to his back, the paper looking small compared to his wide shoulders.
With a sharp nod, the gate springs open and the massive beast bursts from its containment. Powerful muscles rippled under its dull black coat in an attempt to kick Rhett off. The arena is full of motion, the bull’s thick hooves tearing up the ground.
He’s not keeping his heels up. You think to yourself, pen tapping on the paper. The eight seconds seem to last forever, nearing the end his rhythm is off, already slipping to the left side before his time is up.
His control is way off.
As soon as his body hits the ground you scribble on your sheet.
Fourteen for the bull, sixteen for Rhett.
When you glance over at David’s sheet, seeing that he scored the bull seventeen and Rhett twenty-one, your opinion might not be very popular then. The runner takes the two of your sheets before you can even comprehend and runs it to the announcer’s booth to display it on the board, a total of sixty-eight.
You can hear the crowd’s disappointment echoing through the arena and your eyes flick to the now standing cowboy. His face was turned to the screen, angled towards you. Rhett was quite handsome, you could tell even yards away from him. A strange feeling of warmth and a flutter in your chest took hold of you. So distracted you almost didn’t catch the look of dismay in his face before exiting the arena.
-
Music played over the speakers, the random podunk dive bar you were at was lively with people. Some of the barrel racers took pity and invited you to go drink with them. You jumped at the chance, eager to leave the trailer you had been in for the past two days.
You had never changed so fast, scrubbing off your stage makeup and reapplying a more natural, minimalist look as a few girls stood in your trailer out of the cold. Trading your dressy button up for a branded quarter zip you finally blended in with the rest of them.
You were already recognizing some of the men you judged, unable to recall their names as they slid up next to you to talk to the girls you were with. A few chatted with you, asking how the Canyon Night Rodeo scene was and if they should go next year. You were excited to talk with them, telling them all about qualifying and next year’s dates.
Playing pool with your newfound friends nursing a beer which had long gone warm, you feel a firm tap on your shoulder. Setting down your drink on an empty nearby table, you turn, tipping your hat up to see better.
Above you stands a tall, broad man. You recognized him after a few blinks. Rhett Abbott, Wabang’s Hometown Hero.
“Hey Rhett, finally sick of Cowfish?” Joked the woman standing across the table from you.
“You know it, Sandy. This is a better bar anyways.” He responded, still looking at you with smooth blue eyes. His chin was scruffy, facial hair dark compared to his freckled skin.
“Sure it wasn't cause they kicked ya out?” She ragged, pulling giggles out of the rest of the girls, but he ignored her.
Rhett was crossing his arms, swaying the tiniest bit. Curious, you cocked an eyebrow, wondering if he was drunk. It was like his shoulders were straining against his long sleeve carhartt, the blue sleeves hugging his biceps.
“Hi Rhett, I’m-” You start, trying to make this whole situation less awkward, you could feel your friends staring holes in your back.
“I know who you are.” There was no malice, or really anything in his tone, just calm and steady as if he wasn't tapping his fingers almost nervously against his biceps.
When you got back to the trailer, you were going to pull your hair out. Interrupted again, it was like no one really cared who you were beyond the frills and white sash, even when you were wearing street clothes. You swore your eye twitch as you tried to muster up a smile that probably looked like a grimace.
“What’s with my score?” He asked, just as if he was wondering why the sky was blue.
“Your score? What do you mean?” You laugh, glancing back at the rest of the girls before going back to Rhett. You had scored so many men that you barely even recall who topped the chart and was going out tomorrow night.
“You gave me,” He huffed out a laugh and shook his head, “a fourteen and a sixteen. David told me.”
This time, you did roll your eyes. Why did this David guy have so much beef with you? You didn't even know each other. That’s probably why no guy had stayed longer than to pick your brain on how to get ahead in the sport. Who knows how many guys he told about their less than desirable scores.
“Listen Rhett.” You stated, stepping closer to him and straightening your shoulders, not eye level to him but tall enough so it didn't feel like he was intimidating you. You were close enough to smell him, salty and earthy with a hint of smoke, like he had a cigarette earlier.
“I don't know what David told you, but I only give scores that people deserve. I have no prejudice against you or any other bullrider here. I’m just doing my job.”
“Do you have the qualifications to judge?”
Now that stung. It stung worse than when your childhood horse Oswin kicked you off and you believed for weeks that you broke your ass. Faintly, you could hear the barrel racers talking behind the two of you, the sound of them playing pool long gone. The kind part of you tried to reassure yourself that he was just some poor drunk, to just ignore him.
“Do you know who I am? And don't say ‘Rodeo Queen’ cause that's not my name, buddy.” You snarked, planting your hands firmly on your hips. You await his answer, raising your eyebrows in question as he opens his mouth and shuts it with a click, looking down at his boots.
“ Right . So next time you wanna talk to me about scores, how ‘bout you address me by name and we can be civil.” You turn back to the pool table and grab your beer, taking a long swig and cringing at the warmness of it.
“Just cause you're some legend’s daughter doesn't give you the right to judge hard, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart?
Spinning right back around, your skin burns with animosity. You step up to him again, toe to toe. Even as he stumbles back you step forward again so you are basically nose to nose. Strange electricity crackles between the two of you as you press the lip of your bottle into his chest.
“Okay then, how ‘bout this. Your control is way off , and by the way you hold yourself,” You look him up and down, taking in his stance, and fuck, why does this dickhead have to be hot , “I suspect it has something to do with your core. That’s what's causing you to start slipping off the bull early and why your feet can't stay up.” You practically hiss, refusing to back down without a fight. You didn’t come this far to bow down to a shitty bull rider with an ego.
Then something happens, and you swear you might be hallucinating. In Rhett’s clearly drunken state, you could've sworn the side of his lip twitched up in a smirk. It only lasts a second and you chalk it up to the dim bar light. It still makes an odd ache between your legs, realizing you two had been sharing breath and his eyes were fixed on your lips.
Not wanting to waste a good night on an ignorant man, you step away and call over your shoulder, “And if I remember correctly, you still made qualifiers. So I'll see you tomorrow, Rhett.”
-
And you did see Rhett that next night, it was almost like he made sure of it too.
He just so happened to be right near the entrance gate when you were mounting Merlot for the opening ceremony, chatting with who you assumed to be his friend.
Rhett tipped his hat forward in a greeting, pulling a glare out of you. And now you have to listen to your sister gush about ‘ that mysterious man ’ and how pretty he was right up until you galloped away into the ring.
Pretty fucking annoying . You think to yourself, and stew for the rest of the evening.
You don't dare say a word to David when you join him to judge, now hyper aware of every time he looks over at your paper. Not that you cared at this point, tomorrow you would be driving back to Idaho never to think about Wabang and its residents ever again.
Taking a deep breath as you hear Rhett’s name get called, you bite the inside of your cheek as he slides into the chute. The bull thrashes once, the sharp bang echoing through the arena, not even giving Rhett enough time to tie himself on.
Out of the gate he looks better, maybe he actually listened to all the things you told him last night. He’s stiffer though, which does help him keep his feet by the bull’s shoulders but it interferes with his rhythm. He was too focused on staying upright, causing him to not be able to move with the bull.
The bell sounds and he falls, feet slipping on the dirt as he tries to get away.
He was significantly better than last time, but far from perfect.
Sixteen for the bull, eighteen for Rhett.
Curious, you look over at David’s sheet. A twenty-one and twenty-two, which makes a total of seventy-seven. You don't even bother watching him find out what his score is, you just arrange your papers and get ready for the next guy.
-
You're fiddling with the generator outside your trailer when you hear your name called out behind you. Getting up, you brush the dust off your jeans before turning around and locking eyes with the last person you want to see.
“So you finally figured out my name, huh?” You ask and kneel back down to the generator, praying he leaves. You hear his boots move closer to you, stopping inches away from your crouched form. There was hardly anyone still here, most of them out celebrating or sleeping in their trailers.
“Listen, I wanted to apologize for the way I acted last night. My momma raised me better than that.” Rhett admitted softly, “A couple of us are headed to the bar in a little and I was wonderin’ if you'd join us?”
“Thanks, but I doubt I’m welcome. I reckon David has told everyone how badly I fucked them by now.” You huff, and Rhett’s silence is all you need to hear.
Standing up and turning around, you stumble back with how close Rhett is, narrowly bumping right into his chest. You cross your arms and notice that he’s just in his button up, striped and blue, he looks infuriatingly good.
“Have you also come to question me about your score?” You ask, it's cold enough that your breath creates steam in the nighttime air.
“What? No I- I came here to apologize.” He furrows his brows, shoving his hands in his pockets. His admission to defeat makes you huff in annoyance.
“Really? You're not the tiniest bit curious why I scored you the way I did?” You pressed.
“Okay well maybe I am. But that was an afterthought to the apolo-” Rhett starts, taking off his cowboy hat and running his fingers through his hair. Hair that you wanted to touch, hair that you desired to feel the texture of.
“You were too stiff this time. Yes, your legs were up which earned you some points but it's not all about that.” You interrupt, gesturing to the arena, “Now, because of your vest I couldn't tell if it was mostly in your stomach or back, but-”
“Oh so you're the expert now?” Rhett grumbled, looking to the sky.
“Yes, actually, I kinda am. You have to be more than a pretty face to win a Rodeo Queen title.” That same funny feeling leaped into your throat as you argued with him. And although you were outside, it felt as if the atmosphere was shrinking even though you had all the room in the world to back away.
“I’d like to see you ride a bull then.”
“Oh trust me, I can ride a bull.” You quipped, turning away and walking towards the stairs to your trailer. But before you could climb the first step, a strong hand grabbed you by the elbow and pulled you back. You make a soft umph sound as you hit his chest, and the next thing you know his warm lips crash against yours.
It was a sharp contrast to the cold outside, the heat increasing as you kissed him back, wrapping your hands around the back of his neck and pulling him in. Rhett walks you backwards so your body connects with the side of the trailer, the freezing metal zipping through your decorative button up. The sudden temperature change draws a whine from your chest, only halfway emerged before Rhett swallows it up, his hands pulling your waist in close.
You pull away for just a moment, Rhett now kissing your jaw and nearing your neck, “Inside-” Is all you manage to get out before he’s biting at your neck, his cowboy hat knocked off his head and now resting on the ground.
Pushing him away, you bite your lip. Although your red lipstick said it was smudge proof, it somehow ended up leaving a light sheen of pink smeared over his mouth. He follows you inside, tossing his cowboy hat on the couch as you lock the door.
“Wait, isn't your sister staying here too?” He asks in a hushed voice, as if she could jump out at any moment.
“Yeah, but she’s out.” Is all you can say before crossing the short distance between you two and kissing him again. It doesn't take long to get you both out of clothes, your pearl snaps coming undone easily to reveal your lace balconette bra, your jeans already unzipped by Rhett’s wandering hands by the time you pushed open his own shirt.
You were mesmerized by his bareness, Rhett’s torso perfectly displaying softness and pure muscle. Your stomach flips as you look down to the bulge in his blue jeans. Catching his hands trying to pull your own jeans over the swell of your ass, you take him to the small bedroom, if you could call it that.
You push him to sit on the bed, sheets still messed up from this morning. Stepping back, you push your jeans down, kicking them and your boots behind you. Rhett impulsively reaches out, hooking a finger into your thong before you smack his hand away.
“No touching.” You chide, watching him nod like a big, dumb puppy. His obedience causes the inside of your thighs to tingle, his eyes almost looking sorrowful as you reach behind yourself and unhook your bra, tossing it to join your jeans.
In just socks and panties, you step between his jean-clad thighs, running your fingers through his hair and kissing him. He tentatively touches his fingertips to your sides, so light you could barely feel them. They inched their way up your body before stopping before your breasts, pausing for a moment then swiping his thumbs boldly over the underside of them.
Catching his wrists, you push his hands down and away from you, halting your kisses.
“What did I say about no touching, Rhett?” You firmly scold, watching his eyes widen and his cheeks grow impossibly redder, the flush continuing down to his chest.
“Take off your pants.” You command and let him go, watching as he jumps up and kicks off his boots, nearly tearing off his pants and boxers. His cock slapped against his lower stomach, the thick head a deep purple with the lack of attention. You start to wonder how far you can take this, break down this cowboy you hardly know.
“Get to your knees.” You say simply, watching as Rhett pauses only for a moment before dropping with a soft thud to the linoleum. His nose is basically touching the fabric of your thong, his warm breath fanning over you. Dropping your panties you tangle a fist in his hair and spread your legs a bit, pushing his face closer.
It doesn't take much convincing before his hands are on your thighs, urging them further apart. His tongue parts you with ease, a moan already rattling in your lungs. He laps at you like a man starved, stubble chafing your inner thighs as his brow furrows in concentration.
With his eyes closed you can see a few small freckles marking his eyelids, though you only notice it for a second until he sucks your clit in his mouth, your vision going blurry. It doesn't take long till you are pulling him away by his hair, a string of drool connecting his mouth to you as he parts. You don't even notice how bad your legs are shaking till he loosens his grasp on them.
Your hand cups his jaw, thumb running over his swollen pink lips before you nod to the bed, unable to speak. He clambers up to the bed, his knees popping as he stands. Crawling over his naked body, you straddle his narrow hips and pin his hands above his head, kissing down his neck. You suck a sneaky bruise under his collarbone, feeling him wiggle under you.
Looking up, you try to find something to restrain him with. The only thing nearby is your sweater resting on a pillow, and surely that won't do. Then you remember a certain something hanging from the wall behind you.
Getting up and snatching it from a nail in the wall, you return to your earlier position with your silky white sash in hand. Rhett looks up at his hands as you tie them together with the fabric. And you know your sister will be screaming about it later but you really can't find the mindset to even care right now.
Gently, you trail your manicured fingernails down his wrists and then his biceps, all the way down to his chest and torso till you wrap a hand around his thick cock, smearing the head through your dripping folds. You can feel his breathing quicken as you lean down to whisper in his ear.
“I'll show you how to ride a bull.”
And his gasp when you sink down will forever be one of the sweetest noises you will ever hear. His fists clench as you lower yourself slowly, your nails biting into his ribs. You pant till you're lightheaded, the stretch almost too much. Fully seated, you let your head fall back and a long whine escaped your throat. No matter how many times you blink, it’s still blurry, the ceiling nothing but a flat plane of color.
“God- you’resofuckin’beautiful -” Rhett praises you in one breath, his muscles getting twitchier the longer you wait to move. You grind down on him, his pubic hair just the right amount of friction to rub your swollen clit on.
Lolling your head back up, you bite your lip, raising yourself up a few centimeters before dropping back down, testing the waters. The sting is glorious and you can hardly keep your eyes open. Rhett struggles against the sash, clenching and unclenching his fists as you tentatively ride him. The cursive letters are all wonky, pulled tight against his wrists. You could bet money the tip of his dick was pressing hard against your cervix as you struggled to take him whole.
You can already feel sweat gathering in the pits of your knees, a sheen covering Rhett’s flushed chest as he panted and groaned, begging for more. The drag of his cock filled you to the brim, making you unable to take a breath when you were fully seated. You move your hands to his chest, thumbs brushing over his pink nipples before leaning down and sucking one into your mouth, pinching the other.
“Please darlin’ I- ohh …” Rhett whimpered, skin stretched thin over his chest and showing his ribs and he squirmed under your touch. His pleading tone made your pussy clench, a swell of ecstasy shooting you right in the chest.
You take pity on him, sitting up and quickening your pace as you steady yourself on his chest. The bed rattles under your motion, the mattress squeaking with effort. You can feel his hips canting upwards in an attempt to meet yours.
Slowing, you lean back and plant your hands firmly on his thighs behind you. The new change in position already has you keening, the head of his dick pressing into something that causes stars to burst behind your eyelids. A spot that you could never quite reach with your fingers when you were masturbating, a spot that has you choked up and gasping as you ride him.
Riding him recklessly, you feel a familiar pressure build in your lower half. You steady yourself on one hand, the other massaging your clit to bring you closer and closer. The two of you have locked eyes, half-lidded yes, but all you need to communicate as words die on your tongue. Your cheeks are burning, hair sticking to your forehead while beads of sweat run down your spine.
“Rh-Rhett… I’m gonna- I’m gonna -” You start, lips tingling as you fail to finish your thought. He was already nodding, a fist grasping at the pillow above him and you genuinely thought he was going to shred it.
The balloon inside you pops violently, so much so it has you bordering on dizzy and sick. A wet gush dampens your inner thighs and all of Rhett’s lower stomach, the frantic slapping of his hips on your ass turns increasingly wetter. It takes everything in you to hold yourself upright, gasping for air as your vision tunes in and out.
Catching yourself on his chest as you fall forward, he lifts his thighs and pounds into you like a jackhammer. Faintly you can hear him crying out your name like a prayer, as if it would be the only thing that could save him. His motions grow sloppy till he stops, the feeling of his hot cum pumping into you like a mini orgasm and zapping you back to life.
Your throat was sore from crying out, nose burning from hyperventilation. Placing soft kisses on Rhett’s warm neck, you blindly reach up and somehow untie him. His wrists are red and bordering on raw from struggling. The fabric is wrecked and stretched thin, the letters no longer spelling out your status.
It gets thrown off the bed in exchange for kisses from Rhett. With his hands finally free he cups your breasts and gently tweaks your nipples, smiling against your mouth when you whimper.
“Don't leave for the bar.” You murmur against his plush lips, his cock still inside your cum-filled pussy.
“Wouldn't dream of it.” He mumbles in return, rough hands smoothing down your bare back and making you shiver.
Maybe you will return to Wabang after all.