Catch Me A Cowboy

By: Jacquie Underdown

Chapter 1


Emily Wolfe should have known after the first round between the sheets that he was a selfish lover. But no, she stupidly gave Mr Hotshot Lawyer a second chance, hoping he’d beat his score of one minute and fifty-seven seconds of embarrassing grunting and one orgasm—his.

Never again. From now on, one strike and they were out, because her fragile state of mind couldn’t handle it anymore.

With the sheet covering her bare breasts, she stared up at the ceiling—beige-like Mr Lawyer was snoring next to her in bed. At least he tried something a little different last night, she’d give him that much, but slapping a girl’s vagina with your penis, because you think it’s hot, makes you a porn-watching loser, not a sex god. Her mood went from hopeful to hopping mad in three slaps flat. She was glad when he ended up finishing quicker than the previous date, one minute and thirty-three seconds and zero foreplay, apart from the penis slapping, that was.

Emily wasn’t looking for a sex god, instead, someone who was generous, knowledgeable of what “real” women wanted, and capable of giving her an orgasm. It had been two long years since she’d met anyone who fit that criterion, and it really, really wasn’t a target set too high.

Fisting the bedsheets, she squeezed hard and bit back a long, angry groan. Two years without an orgasm was not good for any woman’s state of mind.

Randall stirred after one of his snores made him choke. Emily’s belly twisted, knowing she had to prepare herself to deal with an awkward morning-after moment. She didn’t mind the discomfort if it was worth it, but he wasn’t. She rolled her head to the side and looked at the long, lean man. He was handsome, sure, but good looks didn’t make up for where he lacked—and that was in most departments.

Emily needed more qualities in a man, like humour, a moral compass, generosity, and adequate in bed.

See, she wasn’t reaching too high.

She wasn’t asking for mind-blowing or sensational, just adequate. Capable of getting the job done. A man who could distract her from how many seconds were passing during the big act and take the time so she would finish with an O.

Randall smiled languidly and shuffled closer. The sticky wet head of his erection pushed against her thigh. Her eyes widened. He grinned. No way was she going near that again. The nerve of him, to leave her Oless twice now, and expect she spread her thighs and let him at her again.

‘You know what I love?’ he asked squeezing her nipple, too hard, but at least, he found it. She had assumed he wasn’t a breast man or had no idea where they were located. ‘A morning blowjob.’

Emily turned away from him, suppressing the snarl teasing her mouth. An angry roar sat in her throat, demanding release. So, after his poor performance, he now wanted her to suck his dick. And going by his vagina slapping technique, he’d probably ask if he could ejaculate on her face, just for kicks.

She took a deep breath for calm and looked at him again. As evenly as she could, she said, ‘I think you should leave.’ She may have even pushed at his shoulder, she was too livid to notice.

‘What?’ he asked, rolling out of bed, that big useless erection prodding out in front of him.

What a damn waste.

She tugged at the sheet until it came loose from her bed, wrapped it around her, then climbed out on the opposite side. ‘Go! I want you to leave.’ Her voice cracked with emotion. It wasn’t right he was wearing the brunt of the other men who had let her down before him. The others she found on dating sites who wanted sex, but only to satisfy themselves. The others who treated her kindly until they got what they wanted. But she couldn’t help how she was feeling—Randall was the dick that broke the camel’s back.

Randall huffed as he picked up his trousers and stepped into them. ‘Did I do something wrong?’

She nodded, done with hiding the fact that it was an important role to be a generous lover, to actually care about the girl you were screwing, and not treat sex like it was made solely for the satisfaction of men.

Emily’s anger wasn’t totally because he didn’t make her orgasm, she wasn’t that shallow. She was also upset by the guys who would make her pay for half the date, even when she didn’t drink anywhere near as much as them, then take her home for sex only to leave her wanting and dissatisfied, then never call her again.

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