Bulldozed (3 page)

Trey raised his brows in surprise, but Smoke was already on his knees, both hands grabbing for him. “Give me that breakfast treat,” Smoke growled.

Trey gasped at the sensation when Smoke took his entire length deep into his throat. Smoke must have sensed how close he was to the edge, because he backed off when Trey’s thighs started to quiver. He licked along Trey’s shaft lightly, staying away from the sensitive head.

“Suck it like you mean it.” Trey’s voice was a hoarse croak, but Smoke heard him.

He circled the base of Trey’s shaft with one hand, cupped his balls with the other, and closed his eyes as if getting down to serious business. His lips were lush and wet around Trey’s dick. Trey’s balls felt tight enough to explode, watching Smoke suck him.

Trey opened his mouth in a silent scream, and he pushed Smoke off his cock. A couple of twists with his fist and he came in a series of jerks. His orgasm shivered through his entire body as if he hadn’t had sex in a month rather than only ten hours ago. Shuddering spasms rolled through him in waves, leaving him drained and unsteady on his feet. Smoke grabbed on to his hips to hold him upright until Trey opened his eyes. Smoke looked up at him without his usual smile.

“Why won’t you ever let me get you off?”

Trey’s heart started thumping again. “Just this thing I have. It’s not you, it’s me.”

A flash of pain flickered in Smoke’s eyes but vanished so quickly Trey doubted what he saw.

“Yeah, that’s what they all say.” Smoke got to his feet and opened his arms. Trey didn’t want to lean against him, but he was still shaky and breathless. Feeling the rise and fall of Smoke’s chest against his, right now he wished he could have this every day, but even wanting this much was dangerous. He could have stayed this way forever, surrounded by clouds of steam and Smoke, but the water started to cool. Smoke laughed and pushed him away gently.

“Better get washed up before we run the river dry. After this I’m going to need a gallon of coffee and about six eggs to regain my strength.”

AFTER BREAKFAST
they headed for the arena. Whenever they walked together, they always stayed right in step, like a couple. Trey banished the thought from his mind and changed up his steps. Smoke was dessert, the fourth of July, the best present under the tree at Christmas. Something exotic to be savored on special occasions, but not for everyday use. At least not for him.

Smoke enjoyed the opening ceremonies, an experience Trey could totally have lived without. Pushing through the crowd was no big thrill. He was there to ride bulls, and he usually kept a low profile until that time came.

Smoke was a star, however. By the time they managed to actually enter the arena, he had already been stopped three times to sign autographs and pose for pictures. Trey left Smoke to his fans without a second thought and squinted up into the stands to find Dolly. When she spotted him, she stood up and waved her hat.

Trey actually preferred the outdoor arenas. He liked the smells, the way the sounds of the crowd dissipated into the open air, and the warmth of the sunlight. He especially liked this one in Oklahoma City.

Maybe he had sex on the mind, or the Gay Rodeo Association had taken the trouble to arrange for phallic symbols everywhere. Fountains spurted into the air in a macho display, columns of flame shot up on either side of the stage where the giant monitor hung, and vendors hawked long, curved hot dogs and chocolate-glazed frozen bananas on a stick.

Possibly some kind of estrogen-charged treats were available for the gals and he was missing them due to lack of interest. Being among his own kind reminded Trey how careful he forced himself to be in his daily life. Here he could relax. And the gay rodeo was a great place for visual bulge-looting. A total sausage-fest. All those cowboy denim-clad bulges and asses framed by leather chaps.

He climbed up into the second tier of the stands and took the seat Dolly had saved for him.

“Ooo-eee.” Dolly pointed. “Got yourself a pretty boy following you, Trey.”

“He’s not mine,” Trey said hastily, assuming she meant Smoke. He scanned the crowd and sure enough, there he was, stopped in the aisle and signing another autograph.

“Pity you can’t see he’s crazy about you. I can tell.”

“Ha. You’re the crazy one.”

“Not me.” Dolly rolled her eyes. “You don’t have to keep proving you’re a man over and over. We already know you’re too stupid to breathe.”

“Got no time for ro–mance, Dolly. You know I got plans.” Trey frowned, hoping the threatening aura of the male gender would make her back off.

Dolly seemed unimpressed. “You really gonna roll with that? No time for romance, my ass.”

“I go to some rodeo every weekend, do some riding, maybe do a little fucking, go home, get my work done, and then do it all over again next week.” He caught sight of Smoke wading into the row where they were sitting and desperately wanted to change the subject before he got there.

“Get your fierce on, beeyotch,” Dolly said. “Nobody admires a limp-dick cowboy.”

“Jesus, Dolly, I thought we were friends.”

“Chicken.”

That cut deep, but Trey wasn’t going to let on. He only hoped Smoke hadn’t caught any of it.

Dolly moved over one seat to make room for Smoke on the other side. “I call a spade a spade.”

Trey groaned. “Are we doing minority jokes again?”

“What in the hell are you two talking about?” Smoke laughed.

“Hey, pretty boy.” Dolly greeted him and turned back to Trey. She jerked her thumb at Smoke. “You know him?”

“Never saw him before,” Trey said.

“You gonna deny me three times before the cock crows?”

“Didn’t know it crowed,” Dolly said. “Tell me more.”

“It doesn’t,” Trey said. “And I won’t.”

“Aw, you’re no fun, my man.” Smoke grinned.

“That’s not what I heard.” Dolly’s face was completely deadpan, but her eyes were twinkling. “Says on the walls in the men’s room: For a good ride, call Trey.”

Trey had to laugh at the startled expression on Smoke’s face. “And the sad part is I wrote it there myself.”

“Damn, and I thought I washed it off.” Smoke snapped his fingers ruefully. “Don’t need the competition.”

“Don’t worry, Trey. Everyone knows you’re a volcano in bed,” Dolly said.

Smoke laughed. “You got that right. What’re you doing, T-man?”

“Earplugs.” Trey stuffed them in his ears.

“Can’t take the heat?”

Dolly giggled with Smoke.

Grateful for a plausible excuse, Trey said, “No, our painful national anthem is coming up.”

“They got a cute little 4-H chicky this year. She might not be so bad.” Dolly pointed at the girl approaching the microphone.

“Love my country, hate the song. Bad tune. Too many octaves.” Trey spoke loudly because of the earplugs. “No one can sing it right.”

“You don’t have to shout. We can hear. You’re the one wearing the plugs.” Smoke leered.

“Excuse me. Whitney Houston and Jennifer Hudson,” Dolly enunciated clearly.

To annoy her, Trey stared blankly even though he heard every word.

“Guess he can’t read lips,” Dolly said to Smoke.

“He has other talents with his lips.” Smoke snickered at his own joke. “Maybe now he can’t hear me coming, it’s my chance to swing a loop and tie him up.”

“Your rope ain’t long enough,” Trey said.

“Typical male.
That
he hears,” Dolly said.

“Never heard any complaints about my rope before,” Smoke cracked. “Especially the length.”

Trey rolled his eyes and resumed playing deaf. It was safer.

A drag queen with a tiny sequined cowboy hat perched on top of her big wig came out to the platform and grabbed the microphone. She wore a glittering minidress with a fluffy pink boa wrapped around her neck and white cowboy boots. “Welcome to the Gay Rodeo Association event in Oklahoma City,” she announced in dulcet tones. “I am Miss Demeanor, your announcer and godmoderator for the event. We’ll get to the good stuff in just a moment, but as usual we will start off with our national anthem. If you will please rise and”—Miss Demeanor dropped her voice to a seductive, throaty drawl—“
uncover
for our national anthem.”

Obediently the crowd shuffled to their feet and then fell silent when the color guard of retired military gay men and women marched in with the flag.

Dolly nudged Trey and they all covered their hearts with their hats while the cute 4-H-er sang her little heart out.

Trey removed the plugs when the 4-H-er smiled in relief and left the arena to polite applause. “How was it?”

“Okay, you were right, she’s no Jennifer Hudson.” Smoke looked at Dolly. “Speaking of which, where’s the beauty operator anyway?”

“Alex is backstage teaching the drag queen cheerleaders how to wrangle a pom-pom,” Dolly said.

“Ah, pro bono charity work.” Smoke laughed.

“She’s just a helpful girl.” Dolly pointed at an angelically beautiful young man in skintight skinny jeans and a semitransparent shirt approaching them. “Will you look at that? How pretty is that?”

The young man was sucking a frozen banana. The chocolate coating made it look obscenely like a dick, although oddly unarousing. Trey couldn’t look away from the kid’s pouty lips as they stretched to accommodate the fat shape.

“Well, he looks like an angel.” Smoke started to hum.

Smoke even sang well, Trey thought sourly, but maybe he was just pissed because the boy was so obviously looking only at Smoke with his big blue eye-fucking eyes, fringed with long, improbably dark lashes. Trey realized he was wearing makeup. His hair was blond and curled like a cherub’s, and his lips pink and full when they weren’t stuffed with frozen faux-dick. Those wide, innocent eyes drifted over Trey as if he were invisible and zoomed back to Smoke. Dolly might have been in Timbuktu for all the notice the kid took of her.

“Careful, Smoke. That one looks like he still has velvet on his horns, but he’s full growed,” Dolly said.

“Looks dumb as a box of hammers, you mean,” Trey muttered.

“At least those of us less favored with outward beauty might like to think so, eh?” Dolly snorted with laughter and whacked an elbow into Trey’s ribs.

At least she allied herself with him, but it was small comfort. Trey had seen a mirror before and knew he wasn’t all that and a bag of Cheetos. Certainly not in the same league with this golden boy. Or with Smoke.

“You’re Smoke, aren’t you?”

Smoke stood up when the blond kid addressed him.

“Smoke Carter.” Smoke offered his hand, and the kid grabbed it as if it were a life preserver and he was drowning. “And you are?”

“Rowdy Stetson,” the blond answered in a soft voice. He looked up at Smoke adoringly as they shook hands. “I’m a huge fan of yours.” He flicked a glance at Smoke’s crotch on the word
huge
.

Stifled gagging noises emerged from Dolly, but when Trey looked at her, she was staring down into the arena below with a rapt expression as if she hadn’t made a sound. “But he’s a rank one in disguise…,” she singsonged under her breath.

“Good to meet you, Rowdy. What can I do for you?” Smoke worked his hand loose from Rowdy’s grip.

“Everybody says you’re the best rider here. I was hoping you wouldn’t mind giving me a pointer or two.”

“Of course, no problem,” Smoke said.

That stung a bit. Trey might not be equal in talent to Smoke, but he didn’t much enjoy having it rubbed in his face, even while he acknowledged Smoke had him way beat in the looks department.

Smoke was smiling down at the kid. “You a bronc rider?”

“Maybe we could talk over there.” Rowdy put a hand on Smoke’s elbow and drew him away up the steps to a landing. They both leaned on the railing to talk. When Rowdy saw Trey watching them, he smiled and sank his sharp white teeth deep into the banana. Stung that Rowdy had caught him, Trey whipped around to look down into the ring as though something interesting was going on. Instead, a group of men with clipboards stood around conferring with each other. The emcee, Miss Demeanor, was nodding as she listened to a woman who pointed at the barrels clustered in the ring. Two cowboys crossed the ring and stood next to the gate. Scintillating.

“And first prize in chute dogging goes to Rowdy Stetson,” Dolly said. “Pointers, his ass! I bet he doesn’t even ride, at least not in public.”

“Yeah, he cut Smoke out of the herd really well,” Trey said.

“Like he has a blue ribbon in the event.”

Trey didn’t want to think about Rowdy. If the kid managed to lure Smoke into bed, Smoke was welcome to him. And Trey might end up needing to get another room to himself after all. There were no strings attached to their friendship. It was every man for himself, except Smoke got every man while Trey ended up in an empty bed.

“And that, ladies, is how you get a man. If you happened to be crazy enough to want one. Why didn’t you tell that blond himbo to back off, bitch, this one’s mine?” Dolly poked him in the chest.

“Well, look at you getting all Dr. Phil.” Defiantly, Trey crossed his arms over his chest and rubbed the sore spot surreptitiously. One of the problems with being friends from childhood was she could sniff out his weak points like a buzzard could pinpoint a carcass in a hundred miles of desert.

“Well, why’d you let him just drag your man off like he had a right to?”

Dolly was getting too pushy, even for a friend. “Smoke is not my man.”

“You afraid to put your brand on him?”

“Afraid. As if.” Trey decided to take the war into the enemy’s camp by changing to a sore subject. “So, girl, how’s the bull riding going?”

“You have to ask?” Dolly scowled ferociously at her boots.

“Why don’t you go back to the cowgirl bull riding event instead of the men’s? The bulls there are smaller, and you used to win big-time.”

Dolly turned on him, stubborn determination etched into her face. “I know I can do it one of these days! I’ve been working out like crazy in the gym. If I could just hold on—”

“You enjoying yourself out there, Dolls?”

“Do I enjoy falling off every single damn time in front of hundreds of people? If I were a masochist maybe. No, stupid. I want to ride and score, dammit! I’d gladly take a freaking 68-point ride if I could just last the eight seconds.”