When it’s over, he stands so close to me as we straighten out our clothes. His hips bump mine, his elbows nudge me, and when he looks my way, the slow smile spreading across his face ignites his eyes like twin pools of oil smoldering in the hot summer sun. “I feel like I should pay you,” he says, buttoning his jeans.
“It was worth it to me.” I lean back against the side of the stall, the mare nickering behind me. I don’t yet trust my legs to support my weight. My whole body feels like a fired gun, hollow but ready to be reloaded and fired again. At four dollars a f**k, though, I don’t expect to get another one again any time soon. I could run through my life savings for this man, I know, my dream of a ranch of my own one day dissolving in a haze of s*x and smoke.
Delfino places a hand be
