The sun was just starting to dip low over the Texas plains, throwing gold across the fields and the white picket fences that lined the Demeter ranch. Maddie leaned against the old wooden post, a strand of hay between her lips, her eyes hidden beneath the brim of her wide cream-colored hat.

She was all curves and attitude—tight-fitting jeans hugging her hips, a flannel shirt tied just beneath her chest, letting her bronzed, busty figure bask in the humid air. Her long blonde hair fell in waves down her back, picking up the scent of saddle leather, wildflowers, and the heat of the day.

She’d been riding hard since morning—checking fences, breaking in the new filly—but now, the quiet of the dusk had her itching for a different kind of release.

That’s when she saw him.

A stranger, leaning against the barn, dark jeans dusted with dirt, boots planted firm. He watched her with that slow, lazy gaze—like he was undressing her one thought at a time. His shirt clung to him from the heat, muscles shifting beneath every breath. And Maddie wasn’t shy. She liked a man who knew how to take control, but could handle a woman who liked to ride the reins herself now and then.

She walked toward him, hips swaying with a confidence that came from years in the saddle—and plenty of men who couldn’t keep up.

“You just gonna stand there,” she drawled, voice like warm whiskey, “or are you gonna say something useful?”

He smirked, pushed off the wall, and stepped in close—real close. “Wasn’t sure if I should tip my hat or drop to my knees.”

That made Maddie’s smile curl slow and wicked. She reached up, slid her finger down the buttons of her shirt one by one, her breasts nearly spilling free as she leaned forward.

“Baby,” she whispered, “I don’t need you on your knees. I need you strong enough to hold on.”

And just like that, the barn doors shut behind them, and the night air filled with the sound of creaking wood, low moans, and the rhythm of something wild and unbroken.

The barn was thick with the scent of hay, sweat, and something heavier—something primal. Maddie backed him up until his shoulders met the wall, her hands on his chest, fingers trailing over the hard muscle beneath his damp shirt. She liked the way he stood still, letting her lead—for now.

“You ever been bucked off a wild one?” she murmured, fingers slipping beneath his collar. “Cause I don’t come with reins, cowboy.”

He grinned, slow and hungry. “Good. I don’t break easy.”

Maddie’s hat hit the ground with a soft thud, and her golden hair spilled down her back like sunlight caught in a storm. She straddled him with a confidence that came from years of handling both beasts and men, grinding her hips just enough to make him groan—low and rough, like thunder rolling in the distance.

Her shirt was undone now, barely clinging to her shoulders, her full breasts straining against the tight lace of her bra. He reached for her, but she caught his wrists and pinned them to the wall.

“Not yet,” she whispered, lips brushing his ear. “You don’t touch a cowgirl until she says so.”

She rolled her hips again, harder this time, her jeans tight between her thighs, riding the friction between them with a slow, deliberate rhythm. His breathing quickened, his eyes dark with need—but still, he held still, letting her take what she wanted.

When she finally leaned in to kiss him, it wasn’t gentle. It was a claiming—teeth, tongue, the taste of heat and hunger as her hands slid down, tugging his belt loose with a practiced flick.

“Let’s see if you ride as hard as you talk,” she growled, pushing him down onto a hay bale like she’d done this a thousand times before—and maybe she had.

Because Maddie didn’t just ride horses. She rode storms.

Maddie Page