Just Ask (3 page)

They finished up the ride, the horses ambling through the dusty corral to the back of the red stable that housed a few stalls, the office, and a saddle storage place that Megan, the guide-ette, called a tack room. Jordan dismounted, his ass and inner thighs aching although they’d done little more than walk each way. But it was worth every minute of pain he’d suffer and he fully intended to go again, tomorrow, if his butt could take it. He wanted to see the other rides, other parts of the island.

A part of him wanted more of Ryan’s time, too, and not just to get a sale hammered down. That need was unnerving, because Jordan didn’t usually crave company unless it was for business or sex. But he wanted that, maybe because that part of him that wanted to please hoped to shut Blake’s ghost the hell up. Spending time with Ryan would make the sale go easier and connect him further to Blake’s memory. Nothing uneasy or weird about that.

Megan came and took Brownie from him. Jordan turned and watched Ryan interact with the Murphys. There was a note of familiarity as Ryan chatted, noticeable in the way he leaned in to laugh, his fingers briefly touching Mrs. Murphy’s shoulder. The easy banter between them led Jordan to believe the Murphys were return guests, confirmed when Mrs. Murphy leaned in and kissed Ryan’s cheek. A moment later, Ryan tousled the younger boy’s hair as he returned from petting the brown goat staked out on the tiny lawn in front of the barn.

The Murphys left, and Ryan turned to him, hands in his pockets, his deep-blue gaze assessing him, sizing him up. That look told Jordan that Ryan knew damned well who he was, why he was here.

Another first, because Jordan thought he had the upper hand on that one. The man was smooth. Maybe Ryan was closer to Blake than he guessed, because he hadn’t given more than his first name to reserve the trail ride.

But he had signed his life away on hold-harmless forms, so maybe he recognized his name from there. In any case, Blake hadn’t mentioned Ryan more than in passing, which he found odd, especially since Ryan was a good-looking guy, the exact type Blake went for.

“We need to talk,” Ryan said. For someone that had shown such compassion and emotion saying farewell to the Murphys, he was virtually unreadable, his gaze guarded, no hint of a smile on those firm lips.

“I suppose we do. Would you like to meet for lunch? Dinner?”

“Dinner, but you can come to my place. I don’t go to the hotel unless I have to. Are you allergic to anything?”

Jordan blinked, surprised that Ryan would sweep in and assume control that easily. That was his job. “No.”

“Then come for five-thirty, dress casual.”

There was something biting in Ryan’s voice that said if Jordan wore a suit, he was slamming the door in his face. “How casual?”

“Hawaiian print shirt and khaki shorts. Sandals or flip-flops. It’s too hot for jeans.” Ryan’s lips curved into the hint of a naughty smile. “They sell those at the resort shop, too.”

“Any certain color for the shirt, or will you allow me to choose that?” Smart ass, tossing the gauntlet like that, assuming he didn’t own casual clothes.

A quick mental tour through the suitcase told Jordan that he didn’t, which pissed him off. He had stuff for the gym, a swim suit, casual slacks, suits. Which meant another trip to the hell that was the resort shop.

Fuck you, Blake, thinking you know me better than I know myself
.

Ryan’s gaze thoughtfully slid down and then up Jordan’s frame. Jordan’s skin heated with a tingle that had nothing to do with the humidity. He shifted, appalled that his cock would stir even just a little as Ryan’s perusal ended at his mouth, hesitating there for a nanosecond that Jordan surely read wrong. But stir his dick did, his body obviously okay with being checked out.

Ryan cocked his head, a slow smile spreading across his lips. “Blue. Or Green.”

“And if they don’t carry one?”

“You’re coming to talk to me about selling your portion of the island. It would be wise to humor me if you want me to listen to what you have to say. I can make this deal sit in court for years and years, so if I want you to show up naked, I suggest you do.” Ryan’s tone was soft, but his eyes glinted with blue steel.

Jordan couldn’t remember the last time he’d been given an ultimatum, so this was another fucking first.

The sizzle of anger paled in comparison to the jolt of desire singing along his nerves, one that joined with the fierce need to run right out and buy that blue shirt and khaki shorts.
Holy fucking shit.

“Well?” Ryan asked softly, shoulders squared over lean hips.

Jordan nodded, dropping his gaze for a moment to hide the fact that he found that deep, commanding voice to be…exciting? He breathed deep to still the raggedness, every sense heightened. Ryan took a step closer, and the scent of horses and leather with a hint of light aftershave washed over Jordan.

“Unless you’d rather be naked,” Ryan said in a low voice. “My side of the island is clothing optional.”

Jordan’s gaze snapped to Ryan’s, the other man’s dancing with amusement though the challenge was still present. So, so wrong of his cock to jump at that. But for some reason, as much as testosterone and adrenaline wanted him to fight it, something about Ryan called to a secret part of him. A deep yearning only tapped on occasion by one other person.

“How about I surprise you,” Jordan managed through his tight throat, wanting nothing more than to run. And though the little voice that belonged to Blake whispered,
chicken
, in his ear, he turned and beat feet.

“I’ll see you at five-thirty,” Ryan called behind him.

Ryan had won this battle. Jordan would be better prepared for the next one.

****

Jordan bumped along the sandy dirt road on Blake’s motorcycle, feeling a hell of a lot more comfortable as the distance between him and the stable grew and the ache in his pants lessened. Over and over, Jordan replayed Ryan’s words in his mind, his ultimatum, and the instant reaction his dick had to Ryan’s dominance. He hadn’t sprouted unbidden wood like that since he was in high school.

Jordan didn’t believe he was gay. But he did run on the submissive side.

The submissive tendencies he knew about. It was what drew him to his friend with benefits, Samantha Melbourne. He’d known Sam since college, and they often turned to each other for hot, kinky sex. At first, it was to fill the need, but eventually it became something they did because it was easy, not because there was deep love in the romantic sense. He could relax around Sam, let her take control, let her unleash the pleasure his body craved under her dominant hands.

It didn’t make him feel any easier to know he’d spiked a hard-on in front of Ryan, because if he had seen, then any sense of upper hand he had on this deal was dead in the water. He’d be Ryan’s bitch for the entire sale, damn him. He didn’t do bitch status. He didn’t even want to contemplate what it meant in the bedroom, because he didn’t plan on going there.

Jordan reached the hotel and returned the bike to its parking spot until later when he made the ride out to Ryan’s. He went up to his room and spent the afternoon on the phone, trying to get information on Ryan McCale. The news emailed back wasn’t good.

Well, if one wanted a partner, it was great news. Ryan had been an attorney in Houston at a large firm, specializing in corporate law, had gone to college with Blake, also a lawyer. He had moved here about five years ago to partner up when Blake decided to expand the tour options offered to his resort clients.

Ryan could indeed stall the sale if he so wished, tying the whole deal up tighter than sailor’s knots. From the brief glance at last quarter’s earnings, Ryan also knew business, which meant that, though he’d given the morning off to his hungover employees, he had everything under control. All of the accounting added up thus far. Bendura was making Ryan—and now Jordan—a hell of a lot of money.

So Jordan slunk down to the resort shop for the second time that day and invested wisely in an obnoxious, blue Hawaiian print shirt, khaki shorts, and sandals. And though he chose the ugliest shirt just to piss Ryan off, he couldn’t hide the intense pleasure building, sizzling through his veins as he added the items to his purchase pile on the counter.

Jordan frowned and added two of everything to the pile, just in case. He wasn’t shopping again. The neon-green flip-flops were just too weird, that piece between his toes annoying, as was the noise they made as he tried them out, winding around the racks of shorts. He also bought a pair of aviator-styled sunglasses and print swim trunks he liked better than the plain board shorts he had. He pictured himself wearing those shorts in a hammock, sipping a manly drink with a touristy but manly umbrella in it. Maybe shopping wasn’t so bad.

Jordan went back up to the hotel room, restless, unable to concentrate. He needed to investigate more, see how the hotel ran, what it offered, look at the books again. He needed to tour the island, see what the local village had to offer. But his mind kept going back to Ryan, his ass in the saddle, his thighs straddling that golden horse…that deep, commanding voice.

Fuck.

His cock stirred, lengthened, and finally Jordan decided he needed to just jack off. Really, because why else would a straight guy be thinking about another guy, unless he had so much pent up sexual energy that he’d fuck anything that wandered by? He’d never been this horny before, but it made sense.

He’d been so busy lately, exhausted by the time night hit, still tired when he woke. No time for sex, dirty thoughts, jacking off, nothing. So it was high time to see to his needs. Jordan stripped down, his cock working on steely hard. He grabbed a tube of hand cream from the bathroom and lay on the bed. He lubed up his palm and started in.

He tried to picture Samantha as he stroked his length. Huge breasts, pert nipples, but the curves he saw weren’t the least bit feminine and seemed to fit better in a saddle.

Jordan frowned. No, it was Samantha’s tight ass he wanted…there we go. He used two hands, one to work the shaft, the other to caress his balls and sac. He loved his balls handled, touched, kissed. He bet Ryan could take both nuggets into his hot mouth at the same time.

Jordan stiffened, and said nuggets tightened. He fought it and steered the imagination back on track. Samantha, that’s right, she could love his balls with her hot mouth. Jordan loved fucking her ass, so tight, hot… Her ass grew rounder, firmer, dusted with light brown hair, thighs corded, balls heavy, cock so fucking hard, begging to be touched, sucked. He could do that, blow Ryan, but not now, Jordan wanted to fuck his ass.

God, he could just sink in, Ryan’s ass would be so tight, hot and wet with tons of lube. One gentle thrust and those anal muscles would be gripping him tight, a warm hug from tip to root. Jordan stroked his hand up and down faster, imagining Ryan’s cock in his hand as Jordan gently pumped in and out, Ryan’s back pressed to his stomach. He could grab that shoulder-length hair of his—maybe he’d wear it in a ponytail?

Jordan liked that but wanted Ryan to grab his hair and whisper that he wanted to blow Jordan after he came. He’d love to fill a condom or two. Three. Deep in that tight, squeezing ass.

Jordan’s toes curled, and he came, shooting all over his hand, belly, up his chest in a tsunami of pleasure. His balls sang, skin tingled, cock still throbbing as he shot one last time in the best orgasm of his life.

Jordan’s eyes flew open, taking in the vaulted ceiling of his suite with growing horror. He’d just fantasized about a man while jacking off. A man. With a cock and balls, one that smelled of spicy aftershave and made riding a horse look like child’s play.

Oh, shit.

Was he gay? He didn’t think so. He liked women. Well, he got off with women. But he didn’t get off with just any woman, just as he hadn’t imagined just any guy. He had imagined Ryan. There was no denying it; he was drawn to the man.
A man
.

Jordan couldn’t blame the fresh air on this one, since he was inside, inhaling recycled hotel air. Shit. What could he do? He pondered this for a bit, wondering if this was a key to why he’d never married or settled down. He had always just assumed he hadn’t found the right woman, one who could love him the way his mother loved his dad despite his limiting disabilities. Women like that were few and far between, and Jordan wouldn’t settle for second best in any area of his life.

Blake knew this, all of this. He’d joked with Jordan often that maybe he was batting for the wrong team and needed to come on over to the team with lots of bats. Jordan grinned at that memory. It was a favorite Blakeism—“Dude, I bat for the team with tons of wood and not a single tree harmed in the making.” But the fact remained Jordan wasn’t drawn then to anyone in particular. Male or female.

Until now.

Jordan rose and went in to the bathroom to shower. He should be freaking out at this, shouldn’t he? How often did straight guys go to paradise and fantasize about a hot cowboy? Probably never. But still, it’d been one of the best fucking orgasm of his life and his cock twitched at the images he’d entertained as he lathered up. He didn’t have a girlfriend. Hadn’t had one in ages because no one seemed to excite him.

But Ryan did. He was handsome, smart, an outstanding businessman and rider, and his dominance sparked a need that called to Jordan. If Ryan were a woman, Jordan wouldn’t be having this mental discussion. He’d be at that dinner with a bottle of expensive wine, hoping he spent the evening relinquishing his power.

Maybe that was the problem. He’d met so few people not intimidated by him, his power. Few people, male or female, dared to challenge him like Ryan had today. Not in the boardroom, definitely not in the bedroom. Jordan spoke and they jumped, and the powerful, manly part of him liked it that way. That part of him liked going for the jugular to close a business deal, liked having his every desire catered to, despised anything remotely relaxing because then the power would diminish.

He rinsed off and realized Blake had known and disliked that side of him. But Blake had loved the real Jordan, hidden deep inside, the one who dreamed of dropping it all and let someone else drive for a change. That part of him wanted a vacation, needed to escape and pretend his world wasn’t full of stress and decisions. Blake had seen that side of him often as kids because Jordan hadn’t any issue with following along behind Blake until he went a little wild as a teen. Jordan just couldn’t go there.