She dips her tongue into the hollow of his throat, moaning softly. He tastes like salt and the faintest tang of metal, all copper and iron and dirt. She lips her way back up the column of his neck until her mouth is steaming up his hairline, latching onto his earlobe.

"Honda."




Her lips twitch.

"Bridle catch. Half-hitch. Dally. Green-broke."


She feeds him every term she's spent the better part of today teaching him, in a voice just as lusty and wicked as you please.

Did he really think he was going to get off that easy?

(No pun intended.)


"Clove hitch. Earmark. Remuda. Riding drag..."