A Hard Ride Home (5 page)

"Might as well have swooned on him, friend," Roscoe said, lips twitching.

Jesse covered his face in his hands and groaned.

"I'm good for the money, but my salary won't be arriving for another month or more," Emmett said, holding his hat and standing in the door of Evelyn's bedroom above the saloon.

Four of the girls hovered behind him, nudging each other and whispering and giggling. He could only tell Josephine apart from Rose on account of her sour expression. He'd gathered that Beatrice was the one with a strange hairstyle and a penchant for asking prying questions. Delia, the little serving girl, broke out of the gaggle and dodged through the doorway to stand beside Evelyn, eyeing Emmett with her wide, unsettling eyes. There was something perceptive about her, and Emmett didn't want her peering at him like that right now when he was trying to pay his own sister for sex. With a man.

"Of course you're good for the money," Evelyn said dismissively, waving her ink-tipped quill. "We've always had a discount for lawmen as it is. Just pick one of the girls, or all of them, for that matter, so they'll stop begging for it."

"About that," Emmett started nervously, nearly twisting his hat in half.

She glanced up at him and blinked. "Really?"

"It's not unusual! I've, well this is your establishment, so you very well know, it's not unusual."

Delia started to giggle until Evelyn swatted at her backside.

"No, of course it isn't unusual," Evelyn said, leaning back in her chair to study him.

"Is that it, then?"

Evelyn snorted. "This was the easy part, Sheriff. Now you've got to go back downstairs and tell Jesse you've secured his time for the afternoon."

The girls groaned and trudged away behind him, sighing out unpleasant rumblings as they distributed themselves back into the curtained-off rooms along the hall.

Emmett decided to get himself a drink first.

"Resuming your investigation, Sheriff?" Roscoe asked as he pushed Emmett more whiskey than he'd asked for.

"Not exactly."

"I hear it's a sad day for the girls." Roscoe's mouth quirked. He had a thin scar on his chin. "Misses Rose and Beatrice have taken to bed with headaches."

"Ah." Emmett drank the whiskey faster than he should have, nearly choking on the hot blur of it. "Damn! How does their gossip travel faster than I can travel down the stairs?"

"Women, Sheriff. I don't pretend to know their ways."

Emmett grunted out a noncommittal sound and looked around for Jesse.

"Didn't figure you for the type," Roscoe said casually, wiping the bar top with a dirty rag.

"The type?" Emmett asked, distracted as he glanced at the mostly empty saloon to see if Jesse was tucked away in some girl's bosom or worse, already asked-after by some cowboy.

"To come here chasing after that boy and not a skirt."

Emmett scrubbed his knuckles across his mouth and felt his throat go hot. "Oh." He coughed. "I…"

"You don't have to explain." Roscoe gave a quiet chuckle. "It's not the way I lean, but if I did, I'd lean on him, if you know what I mean."

"Right. Well." Emmett pushed his glass away. "Is he around?"

Roscoe looked up at him, hesitating for so long Emmett started to feel like he was asking for a virgin's hand in marriage. "He's out in the barn. Mail came through today."

Emmett glanced up at the second floor balcony, where Josephine and Delia were watching them and whispering. "Should I come back another time?"

"I suppose if Miss Devaux sent you after him, you'd best go on out there." Roscoe splashed another amber-colored finger of whiskey into Emmett's empty glass. "Here you are."

"I'm not heading to the front lines," Emmett grumbled, drinking the whiskey anyway.

*~*~*

The barn behind the Weeping Willow only housed one horse and a goat, and smelled mostly of sunny hay and clean dirt. Mottled shadows lined the hard-packed floor. The wide open door sent a bright beam of light into the dusty air inside.

Jesse reclined in the back of a rickety old wagon with two wheels, reading a letter. When Emmett cleared his throat, he folded the letter in a rustling hurry and sat up, shoving it into his pocket.

"No law against reading your mail in private, you know," Jesse said, frowning. His short hair rose in uneven tufts, like he'd just washed it and it wasn't quite dry.

"Evelyn sent me to find you." Emmett swung the heavy barn door shut behind him. The latch snapped together with a loud clack.

"Why's that?"

Emmett drew in an unsteady breath and set his hat down on a barrel beside him. He wished Jesse looked a little tarted up. Instead, Jesse had on a tight, threadbare undershirt and suspenders that were barely holding up what looked to be the oldest pair of trousers in the country.

He looked like a skinny, disgruntled young man shirking work.

So it felt odd to say, "On account of how I have purchased, well… some of your time. If you'll have me."

"If I'll have you?" Jesse echoed, breathing out like somebody had thumped on his back. He opened his mouth again, closed it, and looked away.

Emmett grabbed his hat and dusted it off, needing his hands to be busy so he didn't find something to pound his knuckles on. Foolishness. This was foolishness. "Then I'll leave you to your letters," he said, pride snagging on the boy's sharp edges.

Jesse snorted and climbed out of the wagon. "Don't you know a whore can't say no? You don't have to be gentlemanly about it, Sheriff."

He smiled, but not really. It was an odd sight, like rain shimmering down on a sunny day.

"You've been right flirtatious." Emmett gestured at Jesse with his hat.

Jesse walked right up to him, wearing his elbows like weapons. "City folk call that advertising."

"It's not like the girls," Emmett started to say, trying to explain that he could take any one of them home, make her a wife even, get her with child, start a family, or just fuck her in one of those big canopied beds up at the Weeping Willow. It wasn't like the girls, because Jesse wasn't one of those girls, he was something more: he was something wild, and something strong, and something about him made Emmett's blood pound. He made him angry, too. Jesse made him feel all manner of things he didn't have the time or inclination to be feeling when he had plenty of important things to do and a whole damned town to look after.

"No. I don't think it is," Jesse said, slinging his hand around the back of Emmett's neck to pull him into a kiss.

Emmett had never kissed a man before. There was no heave of flesh against his chest, no fine little waist to grab hold of or meaty rump to palm. Jesse was hot and hard all over, thin and tall and strong and sweaty. He kissed with his mouth open, kissed with his tongue sweeping past Emmett's lips like he was lapping up honey.

It wasn't a sweet peck at the end of a picnic. It wasn't even a soft, wet kiss like the kinds Rose and Beatrice teased him with. This kiss felt like a hot mouth on his prick. It made him growl and drop his hat to grab onto Jesse and hold him there so it wouldn't stop.

They just went on kissing like that for a while, until Jesse pushed at him, and Emmett hung on, and they started tripping and stumbling around until they got to the big pile of hay in the corner.

"There," Jesse gasped out, nudging Emmett down toward the hay. Normally Emmett wouldn't take to being bossed about, but he dropped and sank onto his back and hardly did more than stare as Jesse dipped between his knees and started working his trousers open and yanking them down.

"Here?" Emmett asked, breath stuttering into low, grunting noises as Jesse pulled his hard prick out and grabbed a hold of it firmly.

"Looks like it!" Jesse met his gaze as he started licking his prick like it was made of rock candy.

"Do you like that?" Emmett asked abruptly, the question sliding out of his mouth before he could think better of it.

Jesse stopped and sat up a little, his fingers still curled around Emmett, white against the blood-pink flesh. His lips were slick from kissing and his face was flushed all over and bright with a thin sheen of sweat. "Do I like cock sucking?"

The vulgarity made Emmett stutter. "I've never. Do-do you like it?"

"You're serious," Jesse said, a shy grin chasing the shadows off his face. He laughed and dry-stroked Emmett's prick fast, like a fidgeting child. "Yes, mostly."

"Why?"

"You wanna ask questions or empty your balls, Sheriff?"

"Both, I suppose. If I can."

"Fine." Jesse shifted around to lie on his stomach, his legs sprawling out onto the dirt beyond the hay. He returned his attention to Emmett's prick, kissing and licking it until Emmett nearly forgot what he'd asked him.

Then Jesse said, "Because it's easy. Breaks a man right down. And you can grab him here." He gently squeezed Emmett's balls and gave them a slow, long tug.

"Fuck! Don't—"

"Hush, I won't hurt you." Jesse kissed and licked where he'd tugged, like he was apologizing to Emmett's balls as they tightened up and drew back in retreat. He looked up again, his eyes gone darker, his lips and chin wet.

"Let me kiss you some more," Emmett said.

Jesse pumped Emmett's prick, his fingers slipping in all the wetness from his mouth. "Why?"

Tired of Jesse being so contrary, Emmett pushed up and grabbed him by the shirt collar and hauled him up into another kiss. He liked this kiss more. Jesse started to make soft noises and huff into his mouth. He held Jesse's wrist and guided him to keep stroking him so his prick wasn't neglected.

But not too fast. He wanted this to go on. He closed his eyes and thought about undressing Jesse and kissing and suckling on his prick to see what would happen.

"Damn." Emmett groaned into the kiss, feeling his body coil up. It was too soon, but he couldn't stop it. His prick went bone-hard and spurted, making his vision go sunblind and fuzzy.

Jesse ducked out of the kiss and scraped his messy hand in the hay, making a face as bits and pieces stuck to Emmett's release. "Quick to draw, aren't you, Sheriff?"

"Gimme that," Emmett said, grabbing Jesse's hand and wiping it clean with the underside of his shirt.

"Stop—you don't have to."

"I can wash the damn shirt, Jesse."

He felt Jesse watching him as he fussed and wiped, spending more time than he needed to on Jesse's long fingers. By the time he was done, Jesse's eyes were gently closed and he was breathing shallowly. Encouraged, Emmett drew Jesse's hand to his mouth and suckled on one fingertip carefully.

"What are you doing?" Jesse asked in a whisper, his eyes still closed.

"Don't know." But he kept doing it, planting small kisses on Jesse's fingertips and playing with his fingers and the delicate webbing between them. He turned Jesse's hand over and traced the calluses and lines and the shallow furrows behind his knuckles.

Jesse watched him again. "Are you reading my palm?"

"Admiring it."

"It's just a hand." He didn't pull it away as Emmett rubbed his thumbs at it, kneading the warm skin.

"You've worked. Not just here," Emmett said, feeling the edges and tension in Jesse's hands. They were slender, nearly-womanly in their paleness, but they were strong too.

Jesse spoke like he was dreaming, his body rocking gently with each motion of Emmett's fingers against his own. "Born on a farm. And I ride. Spend time up at the stables when I can."

Emmett knew which stables he meant. It gave him a hollow feeling that he chased away by kissing Jesse's hand again, right in the middle of his palm.

"I like that," Jesse whispered, sounding surprised. He jerked his hand away abruptly. "Don't you want me to do something else? You got time, still."

"Would you take your clothes off?" Emmett asked, his hands feeling empty without something to hang onto and play with. The straw below him was itchy and dry, but it didn't make him crave the beds up at the Willow. There was something natural about this. They were just two men getting intimately acquainted.

"You gonna fuck me?"

The breath sputtered out of Emmett. "I—well."

Jesse rolled his eyes and stood, shucking out of his clothes like he was about to jump into a creek. Emmett expected something like the tease of the burlesque girls in the city, some slow unraveling to give him enough time to decide what to do with a naked man.

But Jesse stood there with his arms crossed and his cock swaying soft and long and his belly heaving with quick breaths. A thick trail of dark brown hair stretched from Jesse's navel to the thatch around the root of his prick. It contrasted with his pale skin. Emmett just stared.

"What?" Jesse scratched at his sharp hipbone and frowned.

"May I kiss you, there?" Emmett asked, nodding and directing his eyes to Jesse's crotch.

"Ain't kissing that you're s'posed do, exactly," Jesse said, grinning. "But you can, if you want. You're in charge, Sheriff." He ambled right up to Emmett as Emmett pushed up on his knees.

"It's all right?" Emmett asked, looking up.

"Some men come to me just for this." Jesse shrugged and threaded his fingers into Emmett's curls. He gently directed Emmett to push his nose against his belly. "Been privately hungry for it, or curious. They go about it all wrong, like they're trying to suckle at their ma's teat. Open your mouth."

"But you're not—"

"I will be."

Emmett opened his mouth and let Jesse feed him the salty tip of his prick. It was hot against his tongue, and soft as a horse's nose. He closed his lips around it cautiously, and nearly jumped back when it started to change, creeping up his tongue and filling his mouth, rigid and silky all the same.

"See?" Jesse asked, gone breathless. His hands fluttered at Emmett's hair, fingertips tapping as they trembled. "Do you like it?"

Emmett couldn't say that he liked it exactly, but he didn't dislike it either. It was strange to taste another man's private place like this. He gave Jesse's prick a solid suckle, expecting liquid to fill his mouth, but all it did was make Jesse shudder and swallow on a sweet, quiet sound.