Her Cowboy Stud

ISBN Digital: 978-1-61217-279-8
Page Count: 94
Word Count: 20857
Rating: Mature

Trace McGonagall's quiet life on his Houston stud ranch is shaken up when gorgeous Macy Veralta arrives to claim an inheritance left to her in his uncle's will. Trace sees her as just another gold digger, but he also can't resist her curvy body. When she hints at being the perfect submissive to his Dom, he has to have her.

Macy wouldn't have been three months late to claim her inheritance if she'd known Trace was sin in jeans. The cowboy's dominant bearing and the smoldering glint in his eyes send shivers to her toes and stirs images of being bound in his bed and disciplined at his hand. But could Trace's perfect seduction be part of his plan to reclaim her inheritance?


This title contains: explicit language, anal sex and BDSM.

Miniature Rose (94 pages/20857 words)

ISBN: 978-1-61217-279-8 (digital)


Not sure if she dare pet the horse yet, Macy asked, “He’s old?”

“He’s gettin’ up there. But he’s still a damn good stud. Nearly every one of his foals is high-caliber buckin' stock. The mares like him, too.” He stepped behind her, took her hand from the gate, and lifted it to the horse’s nose. “He’s gentle and slow.”

He wasn’t talking about the horse any longer. His drawl stirred hot desire down low in her core, imagining him taking his time with her, pleasing her with patient licks and decadent touches. Her skin tingled where his palm pressed against her hand, guiding her fingers over Spinning Wheel’s soft nose. When the horse turned, he eased her hand across the side of his neck.

Trace stood close, not touching anywhere but her hand. She wanted more. A wave of awareness rushed down her spine. Chills wiggled through her body. As the sun slid below the horizon, the barn darkened around them. Crickets chirruped, welcoming the coming evening.

Trace put his other hand on the gate, corralling Macy with his arms and chest. His hip bumped her backside then pressed closer. His scent seemed different now, more musky, with a little bit of horse tossed in. She inhaled deeply, trying to draw him closer by sheer will.

“He likes a little foreplay, too,” Trace continued, his voice dropping low and seductive.

A tiny sound escaped her lips. This man was irresistible, and she had no desire to resist. “How?” she asked, the question not quite relevant. One by one, her brain cells began snapping off, preparing for the sensual bliss of what was coming next. “What kind of foreplay?”

“Mmm.” Trace took her hand back from petting the horse and ran his palm up her arm. He did the same on the other side. “Touchin’.” His calloused fingers traced her bare shoulders, along the strap of the halter top. “Your skin is so soft.”

Every nerve ending jumped and jittered at his touch. She closed her eyes, fully experiencing the contact. Her core hummed with desire and her nipples pebbled with need.

His palms spread across her bare upper back then down her sides. “You’re so small.” His hands wrapped around her waist, nearly spanning it. “You smell so good…” He pressed his face against her hair and took a deep breath. “Flowers.”

She wished she could tell him the name of her perfume, wished she could say anything. Her thoughts flowed muzzy and thick, like honey. Inside, her muscles heated and her bones melted. When she leaned back slightly, she found him there behind her, his hard chest touching her back.

His hands spread to cover her stomach, warming her through her shirt. She prayed, willed his hands to slide upward, to cup her breasts. Her tight nipples tingled with invitation as her head whirled in anticipation.

He gently turned her to face him, his hands on her shoulders.

The spin disoriented her and she clutched his arms to steady herself. Forcing her lids open, she saw his eyes, dark and dilated, shining with desire. His face so intense, it rattled a spasm through her, centering its heat in her pussy, convulsing her deep inside, sending moisture streaming from between her lips onto her panties. “Kiss me, Trace.”

Copyright © 2018 The Wild Rose Press, Inc. Wilder