I almost fall back under as a rich, earthy smell fills my lungs. One that will forever be branded in my lungs. That’s when everything from the night before comes flooding back. I remember that someone once told me that lack of sleep can actually make you feel drunk and a bit out of it. That has to be what happened last night. It’s the only thing I can reason after everything from the night before plays through my mind.

When I open my eyes, I stare up at a white vaulted ceiling with pretty crown molding. Obviously, this is not my trailer. I jolt up from the bed and glance around the dimly lit room. The only light that peeks in comes from under the heavy curtains that keep the sun out the best they can. What is this place? It can't be a hotel, but I didn’t think when Bronco carried me out of my trailer in my orgasm-induced coma we’d gone too far. Whose home is this?

My eyes dart to the other side of the bed, and I see an outline of where Bronco slept. He was pressed right up against me as he held me in his arms. I remember he whispered something to me, something about taking care of me? It’s all so fuzzy now.

I pull the sheets back to glance between my thighs, and I see I’m still a wet mess from my orgasms. I put my hands over my face as I recall Bronco going to town on me down there. You’d think the man had been starved with the way he ate me.

My hips start to wiggle as more details come back. His thick fingers stretched me, and when I move, I can still feel it. It’s not painful, but there’s a reminder that he was there last night. I bet I’ll feel it all day.

“No!” I hiss at myself when I drop my hands from my face. My fingers go between my thighs as my clit starts to throb with need. Normally I get myself off maybe once a week, but Bronco has awoken something inside of me.

Had it been mind-blowing? Yes, but that’s not the point. As badly as I’ve wanted Bronco, he's not the man I thought him to be. I can’t masturbate to him or let myself think this is going to happen. Nope. I’m taking a stand. I’m not going to be a notch on his beautiful wood bed frame—probably custom made. Stay on track, Tracy! I remind myself.

Of course all of my thoughts about Bronco are fantasies because there isn't a lot of information on his personal life out there. He’s always kept it that way in interviews. No one has ever caught him hooking up with a buckle bunny, but I heard one of the girls whispering that he makes them sign non-disclosure agreements.

That paper seems to work well then because I’ve never seen any of it online. He was a good old boy in the true sense of the word that’s been lost over the years. Or so I’d thought. I think with the lack of information on Bronco, I’d made up my own version of him. One where he’s a good man and does what he does because he loves it and just hasn’t found a woman to call his own. I’m sure it’s not easy with how much they have to hop around from city to city. Not that it ever stops some of the others. Some of those guys are married and still running around the arena chasing tail.