Riding the Wild

Chapter 1: The Untamed Challenge

I leaned against the kitchen counter, a sly grin creeping across my face as I watched Isabell, all 170cm of her fierce, toned frame, eye my Saint Bernard, Brutus, with a mix of curiosity and defiance. At 29, with a body that could command any room—65kg of pure, unapologetic strength—she wasn’t one to back down from a challenge. Her dark hair spilled over her shoulders, and those sharp green eyes locked onto mine, daring me to push her further.

'You’re insane, Nate,' she said, crossing her arms, her voice dripping with that biting wit I adored. 'You seriously think I’m gonna climb on your 80kg beast and play rodeo queen?'

I chuckled, stepping closer, the heat of her presence already stirring something primal in me. 'Oh, come on, Isabell. I saw this video online—a woman, just like you, riding a Saint Bernard. It was… mesmerizing. I can’t get it out of my head. You, up there, owning it. Tell me you’re not just a little curious.'

She arched a brow, her lips curling into a smirk. 'Curious? Sure. But I’m not some damsel looking to be your fantasy puppet. If I do this, it’s because I want to dominate that furry tank, not because you’re begging with those puppy eyes.'

'Fair enough,' I shot back, my voice low, teasing. 'But imagine it—your thighs gripping his sides, that powerful arch of his back under you. It’d be a damn sight to behold.'

Her eyes flickered with something dangerous, a spark of intrigue. She stepped closer, her breath hot against my ear as she whispered, 'Fine. But if Brutus bucks me off, you’re the one I’m riding next, and I won’t be gentle.'

My pulse quickened at her words, a rush of heat flooding through me. 'Deal,' I growled, already picturing the raw energy of her in control.

The first attempt was a disaster. As soon as Isabell swung her leg over Brutus, her weight settling on his massive frame, the dog plopped down with a dramatic huff, looking at me like I’d betrayed him. Isabell laughed, a sharp, infectious sound, as she slid off and patted his head. 'Looks like your boy’s got more sass than stamina, Nate. We’ve got work to do.'

Over the next few days, we coaxed and trained, her determination as unyielding as ever. She’d lean down, whispering to Brutus with that commanding tone, 'Come on, big guy, don’t make me look bad.' And slowly, he started to get it. The day he finally stood, bearing her full weight, I couldn’t tear my eyes away. There she was, perched atop him, her posture regal, his back arched beautifully under her. It was a sight that burned into my mind—pure, untamed power.

'Look at that,' I murmured, stepping closer, my voice thick with admiration. 'You’re a goddamn queen up there.'

She glanced down at me, her smirk wicked. 'Damn right I am. And I’m just getting started.'

That night, the air between us crackled with unspoken tension. We’d moved past just training Brutus—there was something electric, something hungry building. I caught her by the waist as she stepped into the living room, pulling her close, my hands firm on her hips. 'Seeing you up there today,' I rasped, 'it’s got me all kinds of messed up. I’m hard just thinking about it.'

Her eyes darkened, a predatory glint in them as she pressed against me, feeling the truth of my words. 'Oh, I can tell,' she purred, her hand sliding down my chest, teasing lower. 'You’re practically dripping with need, aren’t you?'

I groaned, my grip tightening on her ass, the heat of her body driving me wild. 'Fuck, Isabell, I want you. Right now.'

She laughed, low and dangerous, her fingers curling around the waistband of my jeans. 'Then take me, Nate. But remember—I’m the one in charge.'

Our lips crashed together, a battle of heat and hunger, her tongue demanding as much as mine. We stumbled toward the couch, clothes shedding in a frenzy, her skin hot and slick with anticipation under my touch. I could feel her wet heat as I pressed against her, her breath panting in my ear, and I knew this was only the beginning of the wild ride ahead.