My Cowboy By Tinkerbelle Leonhardt Novels & Stories

Not a real one, but someone doing a horrible impersonation of one. Ellie thought he'd said something earlier about it being silly that wolves were riding horses, so she didn't believe a word he said. She just tried to smile while Shelby asked another question. "Was he a rodeo cowboy or a cattle moving cowboy?" "He was a real cowboy," Blade said, emphasizing the word "real" which still didn't answer the question. Then, he leaned in way too close to Ellie and asked, "Do you know what I'm good at ropin'?"

VOLUME SIX: A COWBOY AND HIS SWEET SPOT Carter's ass bounced on the hard seat of his banged-up pickup truck as he drove across the state line into Wyoming. Man, he was tired, and his butt hurt. Riding fourteen hours on the back of a horse was much more comfortable than six on the worn-out seat in the truck.

Specially in our small town. "Mmmm, ok. But don't say I warned you. I got horrible sight." I say as I grunt, complaining and hoping to get my way out of this. Lexie lives out on one of the biggest ranches here. Her dad owns a lot of cattle, she learned to shoot a gun when she was just ten herself. She can even do it while riding her stallion Picarus. I love that horse. He's a big cuddler. Dylan and Steven set the targets far away in different distances. They run back and line up side by side. I'm not even sure if Troy knows how to shoot a gun. They all grab a gun of their own.

We’re all over the drama with her, none of us care for her. I shut my laptop slowly, almost reverently, and push up from the table. I find Colton outside by the fence, tossing feed to the horses. He’s wearing one of his many flannel shirts, sleeves rolled up, the kind that smells like cedarwood and sun. I lean against the post, watching him work. “Hey, cowboy.” He turns, brushing hair from his brow. “Hey, city girl.” I grin. “Got some news.” “Better be good,” he says, walking toward me with that lazy swagger I’ve come to love. “I just spent an hour fixing the damn chicken coop.”

“Good girl.” She collared me first. The thick black leather band was heavy around my neck, engraved in gold with “Factory Cow #47 – Elena – Heavy Producer – Breeding Stock.” A large brass cowbell hung from the front, jingling with every movement. Next came the tail. She lubed a thick, flared butt plug and worked it slowly into my ass until it popped past the tight ring. A long, silky black-and-white cow tail swayed behind me, brushing the backs of my thighs. The fullness in my ass made me moan again, another low “Moooo” escaping my lips.

“Or, they might just eat the cows. Who knows.” “Damn, Shayne,” Cole says, smiling proudly at her. “Well sleuthed!” “Thank you,” she says, beaming at him and dropping into a little mock curtsy, pretending to hold up the edges of a non-existent skirt. “A cowgirl does what she can.” Tommy laughs as Cole and I smile at her. “Come on, milkmaid,” Tommy says, grinning and holding out a hand. “Let’s get out of this stinky barn –“

he groaned, before the darkness swallowed him. Sofia wiped the sweat from her forehead with her arm. As they prepared the room, Lucy whispered: "Welcome to Texas, dear. The first dragon has been tamed." But Sofia looked at Ethan's mangled leg, then at her own hands trembling slightly. She felt something more... and knew that this angry cowboy wasn't just a patient. He was a warning. Serenity Creek wasn't the refuge she had dreamed of. It was as harsh as Houston. She was there now, in that place that would be her home. But one thing was certain: Sofia would face everything head-on. She wouldn't run away again.

Its name was Daisy. The other one was the cowgirl, bow still strapped to its back, hand and face mask still broken, still covered in gore. “Behold! The Putto!” Tenniel shouted with all the gusto of a Shakespearean actor. “We've offered them larger forms, but they seem to prefer to remain children.” “Which I find quite splendid.” The cultist woman said. A spark of defiance rose in Tina and she found herself speaking, not in the sleep-quiet voice from before, but the voice she had used in school when she felt the teacher was full of crap.

She pulled her hair up again and then pulled her ponytail through her Wild Creek Ranch cap. When she arrived downstairs, she noted the boys were similarly dressed as well. They had taken to wearing Wild Creek Ranch shirts when they were working. They had made strides in building the website they had told her it was still a work in progress, but Kaleb handed her a disc that he said had all the pictures he’d taken on it. When she opened it on her computer she was stunned, he was seriously talented. He had edited them and had some dynamic photos of the ranch and the horses. The twins were prominent in his pictures; he’d taken a photograph of her on Shadow, while Jackson rode next to her on Samp

“Wrong. You’re ending your day with a massage.” He smiled over his shoulder at her. “Much as I appreciate it, I’m gonna ask you don’t massage my feet. They’re sore, they smell and they’re—” “Ticklish?” “That too.” “Huh. The tough cowboy does have a weak spot. I’ll have to remember that.” And exploit it at some point. She slapped his naked flank. “It’s time for you to turn over anyway. I need to get busy on your front.” ******** Cord wouldn’t survive those clever fingers.