Page 112

I ignored that little comment, and with a shaky breath, gripped the horn tight and let Sterling’s hands lift me into the saddle. Dante stood like a rock beneath me, while his palms lingered on my waist for a few seconds more than necessary before sliding away.

Then he swung up behind me, his thighs caging mine, and his chest pressed to my back while one thick arm locked around my waist like a seat belt made of pure muscle.

“Wait—what the hell?” I twisted to glare at him over my shoulder. “I didn’t think ‘riding lesson’ meant you climbing on like we’re in some cheesy romance novel. I thought you were going to lead her around or something.”

His lips brushed my ear, that chuckle rumbling straight through me. “It’s the best way to learn the right rhythm, Sienna. Trust me.”

There was that word again. And he was saying it no less intensely.

I opened my mouth to argue, because boundaries and because the man was already dangerous to my health, but he clicked his tongue, and Dante started forward at an easy walk out of the barn.

Dante’s rhythm was gentle and smooth…almost soothing.

Okay. I can do this.

It’s just walking. No big deal. I’m not going to die or humiliate myself.

I relaxed a fraction, letting my body settle into the sway. Dante’s steady gait rocked me forward and back, forward and back, the wide leather seat shifting under me with every step.

“I’m doing it,” I said excitedly. “I’m actually riding a horse.”

“Yes, you are,” he murmured, sounding proud of me.

My excitement lasted only a moment longer before I felt it. The gentle roll wasn’t just rocking me. It was rolling the firm ridge of the saddle directly against my clit. Slow and relentless, perfectly timed with each of Dante’s strides.

My breath caught sharply.

Oh, fuck.

Heat flared low in my belly, spreading fast. The seam of my jeans dragged over that swollen spot again and again, friction building with every lazy step Dante took. My thighs tensed on instinct, trying to ease the pressure, but Sterling’s arm tightened, pulling me harder against him until I was pinned, trapped between his body and the saddle’s unforgiving grind.

“Sterling…” My voice came out shaky, half warning.

“Shh.” His hand splayed across my stomach while his thumb stroked soothingly just under my ribs. “Just feel it, baby. Let it happen.”

Dante kept walking in that same easy rhythm, but now every sway felt deliberate. Erotic. The saddle rocked forward with building pressure, then back with a slow, teasing drag. Forward again—pressure. My clit throbbed, swollen and aching, wetness soaking through my panties and seeping into my jeans.

I bit my lip to stifle a moan, but it slipped out anyway, soft and needy.

He growled against my neck, rolling his hips subtly so I felt exactly how hard he was. “That’s it. Get nice and wet for me.”

The walk felt endless and nowhere near enough, and I didn’t even have the mental space to worry that this was happening out in the open, with the sky above me and possible witnesses nearby. All I could do was cling to the rhythm and how good it felt. My hips started chasing the motion on their own, tiny circles I couldn’t stop.

I needed more.

I needed skin.

I needed him to do something about the ache he’d started.

Sterling’s hand slid lower, popping the button on my jeans with a soft snick. I gasped but didn’t stop him. I couldn’t, not when my body was already screaming for relief. He suddenly pulled a knife from his boot and flicked it open.

The sharp sound made me jolt. “Sterling⁠—”

“Relax, baby,” he murmured as his lips grazed my throat. “I’m making this lesson perfect.”

Cool steel slipped under my waistband.

My heart slammed against my ribs, a sharp spike of fear slicing through the haze of pleasure. That was his knife. He had a fucking knife pressed against my skin. One wrong move and⁠—