Page 47 of Burned & Bound

“Jackson—”

“It’s muscle memory at this point. Even if you haven’t been on one in the past seventeen years, it’s not that hard to get back on—”

“My dick is pierced,” West interrupted loudly.

His dick was… what?I choked on my sandwich, coughing hard. I slid off the fence as I sputtered and tried to regain my composure. My brain struggled to wrap around the words he’d just said. Maybe I’d heard him wrong?

That had to be it.

“I’m sorry, what?” I rasped when I had just enough of a voice to say something.

“My dick is pierced,” he repeated. The way he said it was as if it was the most casual information to give. “I want to get on a horse, but I’d like tokeep my dick where it is. I’m still figuring out the risk of ripping out a barbell.”

Jesus fucking Christ.

“Well.” I cleared my throat, nodding slowly because thinking about barbells in his dick wasn’t something I needed to be doing. “That makes sense.”

That made sense?What the fuck was wrong with me?

West’s expression was unwavering as he stared down at me. Just fucking waiting. For what I had no idea. The corner of his lips quirked—a habit I was starting to realize meant he was more than likely about to say some stupid shit.

“I have six barbells,” he continued.Oh.“You know, in case you were going to ask.”

“I wasn’t,” I said tightly.Nope, I definitely was not. Could not. Would not.I refused to think about what the hell his dick looked like pierced.

“I could’ve done eight,” he told me.This motherfucker.

“That’s just… yeah, I could see why you’d be more careful while riding.” I changed the subject. Lord fucking help me, I changed the goddamn subject, but that image kept trying to weasel its way back into the forefront of my brain. “I’m going to fucking… check in with Mickey and see how… things are going.”

“Enjoy, cowboy,” West called after me as I stormed away.Enjoy what?The demanding thought of what West’s dick looked like pierced? Because I refused to enjoy that.

No, no, I would not. I was better than that.

I absolutely wasn’t fucking better than that. West’s pierced dick was the only thing I could think about all day long—right up until I ended up in a cool shower at the end of the day.

Was he fucking with me?

Why the fuck would he tell me about his piercing? What did he think that would accomplish? There was no need for it. He could’ve made up some shit about fucking anything instead of telling me that.

Fuck me.

And what the fuck was that cowboy shit? Why had he called me that? The last time he said it, it was out of malice, but this time it came out as light-hearted and almost playful. It did things to my dick.

Which I probably should’ve felt guilty about.

Except I didn’t.

Instead, I leaned against the tile wall in my shower with my cock in my hand. I was so goddamn hard and ready to lose my fucking mind. All I could think about was West and his pierced dick as I stroked myself.

But imaginings of West’s piercings quickly turned into the things I’d like to do with those piercings. What sound would he make if I ran my tongue over them? Was he quiet? Loud?

The little wondering built with the heat wrapping around my spine as I fucked my fist, my pace picking up. I had no clue what the hell I was doing with West, but at that moment, I sure as hell liked the idea of making him come undone with just my mouth.

My breath came faster, and my head tipped back against the wall.

I wanted to taste him. I wanted to feel those goddamn barbells running over my tongue. How quickly could I make him lose control? How fast would his cum coat my throat?

That thought did me in.