The Fantasy Factor. Kimberly Raye

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СКАЧАТЬ sex video that had caused quite a stir back in his high school days.

      By today’s standards, the content seemed extremely tame. There were no below-the-waist shots, though the video had hinted at total nudity. It had been primarily an instruction video for couples who wanted to spice up their sex life. But to a bunch of giggling teens in a small town, it had been a veritable porn fest.

      The bootleg copy, courtesy of one of the football players who’d found the original in his parents’ bedroom, had circulated throughout the senior class. It had been passed from one hand to another until a teacher had confiscated it from someone’s locker.

      By then, however, practically everyone had seen it, including Houston.

      He’d caught his glimpse of it at an after-game party, the crowd made up primarily of seniors and a handful of freshman from nearby Kendall County Junior College. Sarah had been there, too, caught in a groping session with some junior college jerk who’d been pushing her too far, way too fast.

      Houston had stumbled upon them in one of the back bedrooms when he’d been looking for the bathroom. They hadn’t made it past second base, but the guy was quickly gunning for third despite Sarah’s struggles. Houston could still remember the fear in her eyes and the relief when she’d caught a glimpse of him standing in the doorway. He’d pulled the guy off her, tossed him on his ass, and then he’d offered her his jacket to cover her torn blouse.

      She’d taken his hand and, together, they’d slipped out the back door and headed for his souped-up Corvette. She hadn’t wanted to go home for fear of facing her grandmother while she was still so shaken up, nor had she wanted to go back to the party and face her friends. She’d been fearful that the jerk would run his mouth and blow her hot-to-trot image. And so they’d wound up down by the creek with a bottle of homemade strawberry wine, an ice chest and some 7UP. They’d poured the wine and soda into the chest and mixed up some homemade wine coolers. Then they’d sat on the hood of his car and talked for the rest of the night until the sun had come up.

      She’d admitted the truth to him then. Despite her ready, willing and able image when it came to sex, she was really only two out of three. She’d had only two sexual encounters and neither had been nearly as wonderful as she’d anticipated because they’d both been with assholes like the Junior College Jerk.

      She wanted great sex. Wild sex. Hot sex. The stuff fantasies were made of.

      She wanted Houston.

      Even then, he’d had a reputation for being outstanding in the sack, and so she’d asked him to help her beef up her sexual knowledge by playing out the Sexiest Seven from the video.

      He’d been a little shocked at her request, and a lot turned on because, like every other guy in school, he’d thought about being with her. Pleasuring her. Making her feel so good that she’d scream his name and come apart in his arms.

      He’d kissed her then and they’d started that very night.

      He’d expected it to be good. Sex was always good. But with Sarah, it had been phenomenal. She was so uninhibited when it came to her body, so vocal when it came to her feelings, and the combination had turned him on in a major way. Every time he’d touched her, kissed her, plunged into her, he’d seen the pleasure in her eyes and on her face, and he’d heard it in her loud, frantic cries.

      Unlike most other girls, who’d been more interested in having him as a boyfriend than a lover, she hadn’t been into playing games. She hadn’t worried about saying the right things or holding out or maintaining an air of propriety. She’d been straightforward and free and very, very improper.

      And he’d enjoyed every moment.

      But then Sharon had passed away and Sarah had withdrawn and Houston had done what he’d been planning to do for as long as he could remember—he’d left his desperately small town and his sorry excuse for a father, and he’d built his name and his reputation as one of the best bull riders on the pro-rodeo circuit.

      Houston was the middle brother of the notorious Jericho brothers. Austin was the oldest. Dallas the youngest. All had been as bad as a hot summer day was long. They’d been the town’s rebels, a legacy inherited from their hell-raising father and wild-child mother. His mother had died early on, just months after giving birth to Dallas. She’d been diabetic and the birth had been too much for her. There’d been complications and her kidneys had failed. She’d fought for her life on a dialysis machine, but it hadn’t been enough to save her. She’d passed on, and his father had crawled into a bottle and the three boys had been left to fend for themselves.

      They’d all grown up to be independent, none of them depending on anyone except one another to overcome their past and rise above the town’s expectations of them. Dallas had built a successful construction company. Austin was a rancher with the fastest growing spread in the county. And Houston was this close to breaking the national bull riding record of ten consecutive championships.

      He’d worked hard to get to this point. Over the years, he’d spent most of his time on the road, focused on the next practice and the next competition. Always focused.

      Except at night, when the exhaustion weighing on his muscles wasn’t enough to pull him into a decent sleep. Then he would close his eyes and sometimes—oftentimes—picture Sarah.

      They’d made it through the first three of the Sexiest Seven. They’d gotten hot and heavy on the bank of Cadillac Creek on a moonlit night, which had satisfied number one—sex outside in nature. They’d done the wild thing in her Grandma’s Impala, which had satisfied number two—sex in the back seat of a car. They’d set each other on fire in a cheap but clean room at Hotel Heaven just outside the county line, checking off number three—sex in a sleazy motel room. They’d been scheduled to fulfill number four—getting slippery and wet in the shower—when one of Sarah’s best friends had passed away.

      Sarah had changed then and he’d left, and they’d never made it into the shower for number four of the Sexiest Seven, or into a crowded movie theater for number five, or a public rest room for number six, or an elevator for number seven.

      No, they’d never had a chance to finish, but he’d often thought about it. Fantasized about it.

      “…there, sugar?” The voice drew his attention and he turned to see the sultry blonde to his right who had been coming on to him all night. He’d been trying to warm up to what she’d been offering, but then Sarah had walked into the bar and the blonde had suddenly lost all her appeal. Now she licked her lips suggestively. “This place is getting too crowded. What do you say we cut out of here and have a little private party of our own?”

      “I’d love to, honey, but I think I’d better stick around a little while longer.” He eyed the group of men at the bar, all arms raised in a toast to the groom, who wore a foam ball and chain around his neck. “Jack and I go way back.”

      What the hell was he saying?

      He wanted to get out of here. Out of the building, out of his clothes, away from the damned heat. He needed to sate the lust burning him up from the inside out.

      Unfortunately, the lust had nothing to do with this woman and everything to do with the woman he’d spotted only a few minutes ago.

      Correction—the woman he’d imagined only a few minutes ago.

      “Then how’s about an itty-bitty dance?” the blonde asked. She moved her hips suggestively, rubbing her pelvis against his СКАЧАТЬ