Ride Me Dirty: A Cowboy Romance: Get Dirty, #4

By Parker Grey

I'm in love with the boss's daughter.

 

Emmy Winchester's completely off-limits. Not only do her parents own the ranch where I work, she's not the kind of girl I should be with.

 

She's too sweet, too untouched, too pure. Emmy deserves a gentleman, and I'm anything but gentle.

 

But I can't deny that her wide-eyed innocence makes me want her. Her sweetness makes me want to take her until she screams my name with those perfect, plump lips.

 

I need Emmy to be mine. I need to dominate her, control her, have her in every single way that I can.

 

I should resist, but I don't know if I can.

 

I've always had a thing for cowboys.

 

Colton True has been my crush for longer than I want to admit — and now he's here, working at my parents' ranch again.

 

He's rough, rugged, and beyond handsome, with a body carved by wrangling horses and sweating in the sun. But then, I know a man like that would never want a girl as inexperienced as me.

 

But when he finds me in the barn, puts his hands on me, and whispers filthy things in my ear? Things that no one's ever said to me before?

 

Well, I'm not that sweet.

 

Ride Me Dirty is a complete, standalone novella about a rough, dominant man who falls hard for a sweet, innocent girl - complete with tons of cheese and a super-sweet Happily Ever After ending.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Complicated Octopus Press
• Release date: Oct 2, 2022
• ISBN: 9781957049144

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

EMMELINE

The woman on the other side of the check-in counter laces her fingers together, her long pink nails clicking against each other softly, and looks at me.

"You should know that I'm one of the top reviewers on Travel After Fifty Dot Com," she says, giving me a significant look.

Should I? I think.

Ma'am, I'm very sorry, I say, hoping that I actually sound sorry. There's just no way that I can upgrade your cabin this weekend, we're fully booked—

Can I speak to your manager? she says, interrupting me.

I smile at her.

Sure, I say. Let me just give her a call.

I punch in the extension and wait while the phone rings, fighting the urge to roll my eyes at the woman with the rhinestone-covered cowboy hat. Behind her, an older man — I'm assuming it's her husband — tucks his thumbs into his belt and looks around at the decor.

The decor is mostly taxidermy.

Annie here, a voice answers.

Hey, Mom, I say. One of our guests wants to talk to you about getting her room upgraded this weekend.

On the other end of the line, my mom snorts.

We're booked, she says.

I told them that, I say.

The woman purses her lips. I smile sweetly.

They think we're gonna kick someone else out just because they're pitching a tantrum? Tell them to go suck a frog, sweetheart, she says into the phone. I'm not coming down there to tell them.

I can almost see her, rolling her eyes, cowboy boots up on her desk.

Thanks, I'll pass it on, I say.

People, I swear, my mom says, and then we hang up.

The lady at the desk looks like she's smelling a fart.

I'm afraid I can't upgrade you because we're fully booked this weekend, I say, my voice so sweet it could give me a toothache.

She harrumphs, grabs the keys off the counter, and shoots me a glare.

Come on, Bill, she says, and stomps off toward the cabin.

Bill follows, dragging both their suitcases. Poor Bill.

When they're gone, I look in the mirror behind the desk and adjust my cowboy hat, frowning. It's a little too big, but my mom insisted that I had to wear it while working at the front desk, so here I am.

Wearing a giant, goofy ten-gallon hat and working at my parents' dude ranch in Wyoming. I know there are worse things you can do with a brand-new bachelor's degree in Visual Arts, but that doesn't really make me feel better.

The front door opens again, letting a blast of hot air into the lodge, and a tall, broad man in jeans, a button-down plaid shirt and a cowboy hat steps through, his face too backlit to see.

Howdy! I force myself to say brightly. Welcome to the Saddle and Spurs Dude Ranch.

He stops short for a second. Then he starts laughing, and I can feel my face turning pink.

I didn't name it, I think defensively. I just have to say it.

Emmy Winchester, is that you? he asks.

My heart does a flip at the sound of his voice, my mouth popping open in surprise. He walks up to the counter, takes off his hat, and runs one hand through his hair.

Afternoon, darlin', he says, leaning his elbows on the counter. Sure is nice to have your pretty face around here again.

Oh my God. Oh my God.

My entire body is blushing, and my face is frozen in an awkward half-smile. I put one elbow on the counter too, trying to act natural, even though I think my insides have liquified completely.

Hey, Colton, I squeak out. It's been a while.

Sure has, he says, a teasing light in his blue eyes. You went and got all grown up.

He flicks his gaze down my body, just for a split second, but I think I might explode out of my skin.

Yeah, well, you know, I fumble. It happens.

He grins at me, dimples sinking into his cheeks, visible through a few days of scruff.

My parents didn't tell me you were working here again, I say, grasping at conversation topics. How long... is it for a while now?

That was not a sentence, I think.

Just started again a few months back, he says, his eyes locking with mine. Your mom and dad needed someone to manage the place, and I was lookin' again.

I glance down at his left hand. No wedding ring. My stupid heart skips a beat.

Cool, I say. That's great.

He laughs, standing up straight.

You comin' to the bonfire tonight? he asks, the drawl in his rough baritone like molasses.

Yes! I say, a little too eagerly. Yes, sure, I was gonna stop by.

Good, he says, nodding once. I'll see you there. Meanwhile, I'm around. Find me if you need anything.

Then he winks at me.

I turn to jell-o all over again.

Sure thing! I say, my voice still too high-pitched.

See you around, Emmy, he says, walking out the back door.

I stare at him at he goes, practically drooling on myself. If there's actually a perfect physical specimen on Earth — powerful arms, broad shoulders, handsome as hell, nice ass — it's Colton True.

The door shuts behind him. I put my forehead on the cool counter and take a deep breath, trying to stop blushing fire-engine red.

I can't believe Mom and Dad didn't tell me he was working here again, I think.

Before this place was the Saddle & Spurs Dude Ranch, it was the Winchester Cattle Ranch. Colton was one of our hired hands for about four years. When he started, I was just a kid and he was twenty-two.

I had a huge crush on him.

My first crush. My hardest crush. My biggest crush.

As far as Colton was concerned, I was never more than some kid, but my God if only he'd known the times I'd doodled Emmeline True on notebooks.

Or, as I got older, how I used to hide in the barn and peek between the boards while he chopped wood with his shirt off.

Or how, even after he had left for another job, he was still the main fuel for my fantasies as I got older and... discovered things. Secret, under-the-covers-at-night things.

Nothing ever happened, of course. The most we ever touched was when he taught me to shoot a rifle, and — to my great teenage-crush disappointment — he was a professional and a gentleman.

But Colton True looks exactly the same. I'm the one who's changed... and now, just watching him is making a river of pure molten heat run through my core as I try not to imagine him, shirtless chopping wood.

Grabbing me by the waist, pushing me up against the side of the barn...

The door opens again. I straighten instantly and adjust my hat, hoping I don't look like I was just lusting over my girlhood crush.

Howdy! I say to the middle-aged couple entering, as perky as can be. Welcome to the Saddle and Spurs Dude Ranch!

CHAPTER TWO

COLTON

Ilet the door slam shut behind me. It's not good manners, but manners are the last thing on my mind as I stride toward the horse barn, my hands jammed in my pockets. My heart's pounding a mile a minute and my ears are ringing, because I can barely believe what I just saw.

Emmy Winchester grew up.

Good Lord Almighty did Emmy grow up. I could barely believe my own eyes, that the girl at the front desk with the wicked-but-shy smile and the killer curves hidden beneath a flannel shirt was Emmy.

The last time I saw her she was an awkward, gangly teenager — a nice enough kid, but a kid. I was totally unprepared for her now, almost a decade later, to be so...

Pretty? Gorgeous?

Sexy as fuck?

I slide the barn door open and walk in, the horses nickering at me softly. There's no one else in here right now, so I head into an empty stall, sit on a three-legged stool and lean against the wall for a moment.

Then I try to think about anything except Emmy, because I'm halfway to a raging hard-on, and the last thing I need is to run into the ranch's owners — her parents — with a massive tent in my pants due to their daughter.

Make a list of all the horses that need new shoes, I tell myself. Chester, Bicycle, Buzzsaw, Shark...

I wonder what she'd do if I came behind that registration counter and pinned her against it. My hands on her hips, pressing her backward, my thumbs on the soft skin of her belly as she looks up at me, lips barely parted.

Quit it.

Cheerio needs a new shoe for her right hind foot...

Emmy on the counter, a sighed moan escaping her lips as I tug her jeans off and bury my face between her thighs, my tongue tracing the outline of her lips through her thin panties...

Jesus, my dick's getting harder while I'm just sitting in here, thinking about the things I can never do to sweet Emmy Winchester, because it only gets worse from there.

Way worse.

I've known for a long time that what I want isn't what sweet, innocent ranch girls do with their cowboy boyfriends. It's not just making out in the horse barn or sex in the back of a truck.

My desires are better left for bad girls. The ones who are happy to get a little dirty and depraved, who've been around the block a few times before they meet me.

Not fresh-faced, just-out-of-college sweet things like Emmy. She deserves someone wholesome, someone gentle, someone nice.

Not me.

Don't look so glum, Foster says, sidling up next