Strung Up: A Blacktop Cowboys® Novella Page 7

  “Mangent?”

  “When you don’t shut up about the guy in your life.”

  I chuckled. “Never heard that one before.”

  He smirked. “Because you’re old.”

  “Hilarious. Guess I’ll toddle off to the old folk’s home, sonny boy, and drink my Metamucil before Wheel of Fortune comes on.”

  Cres laughed. I liked to hear it because I suspected there hadn’t been much humor in his life in recent years.

  I fished my phone out of my back pocket. “Hit me with your number.” As soon as I had the info saved, I sent him a text. “Now you have mine.”

  “Good. I’ll be there about three.”

  “That’ll work. Text me if anything changes.”

  Chapter Five

  Breck

  Patience—a trait I’d never had much use for.

  Practicing restraint? Not a natural reaction for me either.

  But I had no choice but to implement both from the moment Cres had shown up for his personal tour of Grade A Rodeo Academy.

  When I’d shown him the empty classrooms I’d exercised restraint, even when my brain kept replaying the image of me on my knees between Cres’s legs, my head bobbing as I noisily sucked him off as he braced himself against my desk.

  I filed that away as a future possibility. That counted as patience, right?

  Hour two into the tour, after I’d introduced him to the other instructors as Sutton’s brother and we’d chatted with Berlin and Chuck Gradsky, I decided I deserved a fucking medal for patience, restraint, and circumspection for not dragging his sexy ass into the boiler room and fingering his prostate until he jizzed all over my chest.

  Yeah, that scenario would shock the stuffing out of Bill, the groundskeeper. But I’d put a note in the suggestion box that maybe the boiler room door needed a proper lock.

  I was getting the hang of this “being a team player” shit.

  By hour three—Cres’s patience had worn thin.

  And that tested the fuck out of my restraint because we were near the end of the tour.

  In the first arena, he’d grabbed me by the shirt and kissed the sense out of me.

  I’d kissed him back because I sure as hell wasn’t shooting for sainthood.

  In the second arena, he’d stood behind me and started rubbing his groin into my ass, suggesting a hand job to relax me.

  My cock had pouted when I resisted the temptation.

  In the third arena, Cres warned me if I didn’t end the tour in the next seconds he was going home.

  It might’ve been the only time in my life I gave in to an ultimatum with zero resentment.

  He asked, “How far is the campground from here?”

  “A ten-minute walk.” Or a four-minute run.

  Then again, running with a hard-on sucked.

  When my motor home came into view, I clicked the key fob that unlocked and opened the door.

  My eyes were on his butt as he jogged up the steps.

  As soon as my boot hit the top step, Cres was on me, his mouth ravenous, his fingers at the hollow of my throat as he undid all of the pearl-snap buttons on my shirt with one vicious tug.

  I circled my hand beneath his jaw, breaking free from that tempting mouth so I could think. “Hey, horny toad, how about you let me close the door before you tear off my clothes?”

  “Then hurry the fuck up. You’ve been shaking that tight cowboy ass at me the last three hours and I want it now.”

  I shut and locked the door and darkened the blinds, while Cres attacked my neck.

  He peeled my shirt down my arms, carelessly tossing it to the floor. He groaned with frustration. “Why are you wearin’ another shirt?”

  “I always wear an undershirt.”

  “Next time don’t. I hate havin’ to strip another layer off you to get to the good stuff.”

  In the back of my mind I wished I could take the time to bask in Cres’s lust for me. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been wanted with such near desperation.

  Then he hooked his fingers in my belt loops and towed me down the hallway to my bedroom so fast we nearly tripped.

  He laughed. “Keep up.”

  Normally I’d be the one urging us to get naked as I assumed the dominant role.

  So it was a fucking rush to let go and follow Cres’s lead.

  Once we cleared the doorway to my bedroom, Cres shoved me against the wall and held my arms by my sides, plastering his body to mine. His lips grazed my ear. “Fast and dirty, Breck. That’s how I’m gonna fuck you.”

  “Whatever you want.”

  He pushed back and dropped his ass to the mattress, keeping his molten gaze on mine as he grabbed the heel of his right cowboy book and yanked it off. A smirk curled his lips when he tipped the boot upside down and two strips of condoms fell on the bed.

  I laughed. “Interesting place to keep them.”

  “Too many to keep in my wallet. Didn’t want to run out.” He lifted his left foot.

  “Got lube in that one?”

  Cres tugged his boot off and tipped it on the bed. Individual packets of lube landed on top of the condoms.

  I laughed again.

  Then Cres was back on his feet. The hunger in his touch, in his eyes, undeniable.

  He rid me of the pesky T-shirt. He braced one hand beside my head. “Take off your boots.”

  Damn difficult to do with his lips leaving wet trails across my collarbones, but I persevered.

  He went into full-on attack mode after the first touch of his tongue to my nipple.

  My head thunked against the wall. The hours working out were worth it to get this reaction out of him. He kept at it, rubbing his face in my chest hair, licking and sucking my nipples, biting them, turning me inside out.

  He dropped to his knees and had my jeans around my ankles and my cock in his mouth while I still reeled from his expert nipple play.

  I glanced down and cupped his gorgeous face in my palms. “You look really fuckin’ hot with my cock in your throat. But I don’t wanna come in your mouth, Cres. I wanna come with your cock in my ass.” There was power in admitting that I wanted to let go of the fierce control I maintained in every aspect of my life—especially sex—and I trusted him to give me what I needed. Keeping a tight grip on his head, I pushed him back, letting my dick slip out so just the tip rested on his lower lip. Then I thrust in deep, fucking his mouth with fast, confident strokes so he understood that while I had no issue with him fucking me, I’d never be a fucking bottom.

  When I released him, he said, “Get on the bed. Hands and knees.”

  I brushed the condoms aside and looked over my shoulder to see him striding forward, buck-ass nekkid.

  Whoa. Fifteen seconds ago he’d been fully dressed.

  And I saw no sign of the playful man who’d dragged me into my own bedroom. I saw a primal male, oozing raw sexuality and pulsing with conquering greed.

  Holy hell. I nearly nutted right then.

  Cres rolled the condom on and stroked himself. “Face forward and move your knees closer together.”

  The bed jiggled as he climbed on.

  Immediately he caged me beneath his body—something I wouldn’t have believed possible since I had more height and breadth. He nested his cock into the crack of my ass and peppered hot kisses from my left shoulder to my right. Then his lips found my ear and he taunted, “Fast and dirty.”

  Christ. I was already dangling on the edge and he’d barely touched me.

  His tongue followed the line of my spine down.

  And down.

  And down.

  And surely he wasn’t going there.

  Please, please be going there.

  Then his hands were spreading my ass cheeks and his tongue lapped at my hole.

  Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.

  Don’t come yet, don’t come yet, or he’ll stop.

  I could hold off if he didn’t…and then he did.

  Cres gently sucked on the ring of muscles a
nd alternated between soft kisses and tender licks on the clenching pucker. His grunting growls of pleasure vibrated across my skin, sending tingles straight up my spine and down to my balls. His fingertips dug into the globes of my ass with enough pressure to leave bruises.

  I’d never wanted the marks of a man’s possession as much as I needed his.

  Then he plunged his tongue into my ass.

  The edges of my consciousness went a little hazy.

  Cres must’ve sensed I couldn’t take much more before I’d blow, so he backed off.

  I felt a cool smear of lube and the slow press of one finger inside me. I groaned and pushed back, signaling I was ready for more.

  He added more lube and another finger, his breath hot in my ear as he prepared me with the patience and surety that kicked my anticipation even higher.

  Then the head of his cock rested against my hole.

  He didn’t ask if I was ready. One hard snap of his hips and his cock was fully embedded in my ass.

  My dick slapped against my belly from the driving force when he started to fuck me.

  It’d been a dry spell the last year and I should’ve been wincing in pain. But he’d prepared me well enough that all I felt was the sweet ache of pleasure.

  “Gonna have to jack yourself this go,” he panted. “Because fuck…I’m almost done in.”

  I had a moment to bask in the sense of satisfaction that he already teetered on the brink of unraveling—that he’d needed this as much, or maybe more than I did. Balancing on my forearm, I fisted my cock, too far gone to do anything but watch my hand between my legs as I beat off.

  I had a zip of warning before my balls tightened and I was spurting into my fist.

  Cres grunted and stopped moving completely. The rhythmic squeezing of my anal passage was intense enough to pull his orgasm from him, and he shuddered above me.

  Fuck, yeah. That’s what I needed.

  As I attempted to level my breathing, I snagged the undershirt I’d left on the bed and wiped my sticky hand.

  That’s when I heard it. An odd-sounding, wounded noise.

  A panicked noise.

  No fucking way. He wasn’t running out on me again. We’d deal with his guilt or sadness or whatever together.

  When he started to pull out, to pull back, to pull away, I reached around and clamped my hand behind his quivering thigh. “Don’t,” I said gruffly. “I need a sec.”

  That brought him out of it. “Sure. Sorry.”

  I slowly pushed up onto my knees, keeping his cock—which hadn’t seemed to have softened at all—lodged in my ass.

  Immediately Cres slid his hands up the front of my body, over my abs, ribs, and chest. He curled his fingers over my shoulders, flattening his palms to my collarbones. He pressed his lips to the nape of my neck and squeezed me tight.

  A funny tickle started in my chest and I closed my eyes. Although he had the dominant position, I knew I was holding him up.

  Neither of us spoke. Cres clung to me and I continued to hold onto his thigh, letting my thumb sweep across the curve of his ass.

  Finally he heaved a huge sigh. “Thanks, man.”

  “You okay?”

  Another sigh. “I am now. It’s just…different.” His lips whispered across my skin. “That was fuckin’ awesome.”

  I grinned and turned my head to kiss his knuckles. “For me too, buddy.”

  “I didn’t think of him,” he confessed. “I was one hundred percent in the moment with you, Breck. I want to make sure you know that.”

  “You feel guilty about that, Cres?”

  “No. And then I felt guilty for not feelin’ guilty.” He paused. “That’s kinda fucked up, isn’t it.”

  I didn’t answer because he just needed to say what he was thinking out loud. What a huge feeling of relief that he trusted that I could handle his honesty.

  “Thanks for stayin’ with me during my little freak-out,” he murmured against the slope of my shoulder.

  “Well, to be honest, it was a selfish reaction. Because I don’t think my ego could’ve handed it if you would’ve run out on me twice after we fucked around.”

  Cres chuckled.

  “You wanna get your cock outta my ass now?”

  “Not really.” He sank his teeth into the spot on the back of my neck that made me goddamned weak in the knees.

  Another chuckle vibrated across my back when I swayed against him.

  I slapped his ass cheek.

  “Okay. I’m goin’. But don’t go anywhere.”

  I turned my head to look him in the eyes. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

  He kissed me with sweetness and surety and passion.

  That’s when I knew I was already in over my head with this man.

  Cres insisted we climb under the covers after he dealt with the condom.

  My body temp ran hot, so I welcomed the coolness of the sheets as I stretched out on my stomach. I knocked the pillows aside and folded my arms above my head, resting the side of my face on my right biceps, still floating on that post-orgasmic high.

  Snuggly Cres wormed his way right next to me. Then his hands were all over me.

  Somehow I’d forgotten how damn handsy the guy was after fucking.

  He planted a kiss on the ball of my shoulder, his lips soft and sweet.

  For the longest time, he was content to drag the tips of his fingers up and down my spine while he rested his cheek on the back of my left arm, his leg hooked over mine. So when his fingers ventured outward and connected with the scar, every bit of my relaxation vanished.

  “What’s this?”

  “A scar.”

  “No kiddin’. A scar from what?”

  “Someone figured they needed to teach me a lesson with a whip.” Why had I blurted that out? I should’ve given him some bullshit lie about a rodeo injury.

  “It feels new.” His fingers connected with the raised edges of the two scars below it. “How many of these do you have?”

  “Not sure,” I lied. “It’s hard to look at my own back.”

  “Do you get distracted by your hot ass? Because I sure would.”

  “You’ve already had my hot ass. I’ll need recovery time before you have it again.”

  “While I’m waiting, I’ll check out these painful-lookin’ marks, tough guy.” Cres used the remote and cranked up the bedroom lights to full power, searing my retinas. I turned my head toward the wall to block out the light.

  Right. That’s why you’re avoiding eye contact.

  The heat of his breath flowed across my skin as he inspected every inch of my back. Every time he found a new mark, he counted it out loud.

  I already knew I had twelve visible scars from that night.

  Cres had found every one.

  The mental scars…there were far more of them.

  “How—where—did you get these?”

  “They were a belated parting gift from a few guys on the circuit.”

  “Jesus.” Cres swept his hand down my spine and back up. “You didn’t consent to this.”

  “Who the fuck would consent to bein’ trussed up half-nekkid while some drunken dude whipped you hard enough to break the skin?” I snapped.

  Soothingly he said, “Tell me.”

  “How about we don’t go here because it’s one of the most humiliating things that I’ve been through.” Yeah, that’ll get him to drop it.

  Then sweet Cres vanished. “I don’t give a shit. I wanna know how the fuck this happened to you. And I’m as tenacious as a damn bulldog, so start talking.”

  I’d never told anyone this. I’d just dealt with it and then blocked it out. “After everything went down, and I had no place to go, I bought this motor home. I wandered the country, traveling the back roads.”

  “No one knew you’d joined the ‘go RVing’ movement?”

  I snorted. “Nope. Although this is a nice ride, it doesn’t stand out when you’re tooling down the highway or parked at a campground with 200
other motor homes. Paying cash for camping meant I didn’t have to register at any of the sites. For all intents and purposes, I disappeared.”

  “You didn’t tell anyone your plans?”

  “No one to tell, Cres.”

  “That sucks.” He nuzzled the nape of my neck. “Were you lonely during your journey to the center of nowhere?”

  “Solitude forced me to examine aspects of my life that’d been long overdue. I stayed in contact with a few people I trusted, like the Gradskys. I shut down all my social media. But because I’m also a creature of habit, I went to Vegas.”

  “During finals?” he said sharply.

  “Yeah.”

  “Why the hell did you even care?”

  “I went because I’d bought tickets and prepaid my hotel room a year in advance. When I didn’t dress like a cowboy or act like king of the damn rodeo, I wasn’t on anyone’s radar. I’d had two days of anonymous in the stands. On the third day—night—whatever, I hit this dive diner that’s off the strip. I sat up at the counter like I always did. Again, nothin’ about me said cowboy.”

  I felt him smile against my skin as he pinched my ass. “Hate to break it to you, dude, but everything about you screams cowboy. Even when you’re nekkid. But go on.”

  “So this hot young guy, probably your age, sits two chairs away and strikes up a conversation with me.”

  “You didn’t think that was suspicious?”

  “Nope. Bullshitting with strangers about random stuff is the hallmark of this diner. We kept talkin’ even after our food arrived and he moved over to the seat next to mine. Just from the way he looked at me, I knew he was interested. And I hadn’t gotten laid for six fucking months. I suggested we hook up and he immediately said yes.”

  As I struggled to get through this next part, Cres waited, keeping up those tender touches I could easily get addicted to.

  “I followed this guy outside and around the back of the building and found myself in a blanket party.”

  My heart thundered remembering the scratchy wool saddle blanket being pulled over my head. The absolute darkness. The lack of air. The ball-shrinking fear I was about to pay the ultimate price for wanting a few hours of companionship and someone to touch me. “When they started to drag me to the empty field behind the restaurant, I fought back with everything I had.”