Love in Xxchange: Rory's Last Chance

A Total-E-Bound Publication

www.total-e-bound.com

Rory’s Last Chance

ISBN # 978-0-85715-546-7

©Copyright Bailey Bradford 2011

Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright May 2011

Edited by Claire Siemaszkiewicz

Total-E-Bound Publishing

This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing.

Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

Published in 2011 by Total-E-Bound Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL, United Kingdom.

Warning:
This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has been rated
Total-e-melting.

Love in Xxchange

RORY’S LAST CHANCE

Bailey Bradford

For all y’all who make the blog such a fun place, this one’s for you—

Trademarks Acknowledgement

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

Stetson: Stetson Hats

Viagra: Pfizer Inc.

Dodge: Chrysler Group LLC

RORY’S LAST CHANCE

Bailey Bradford

5

The noise blaring in the Xxchange was almost obnoxious enough to have Chance turning away from the bar and heading back to his truck. How anyone could call the clattering racket in the place music was beyond him, and that was without taking into account the caterwauling that someone was trying to pass off as singing. Sounded more like two bobcats going at it than anything he’d ever considered singing. Nah, the cats had more talent, to be honest.

He let his eyes adjust, determined to give this a shot, because it’d been way too long since he’d got laid and he needed this something fierce. Problem was, he’d long ago grown tired of bathroom blowjobs and one night stands. Maybe he’d just grown up—then again, maybe not—he was out trolling. Not the same, he decided. When he was younger, he’d fucked for the fun of it. This, tonight, wasn’t going to become a habit, or a challenge. It’d just been too long and something inside him yearned for the comfort of another body close to his for more than the time it took to get off.

“Sappy fool.” Chance glanced around the bar, taking in the bodies grinding together on the dance floor and the forms huddled in pairs or groups in dark corners. God, he felt old—

he
was
old compared to most the people here. No way was he going to get out on that dance floor and flop around or dry-hump until he jizzed his jeans. And he was for damn sure not going to put on a show in some corner, or a table, or a booth.

This whole idea was stupid to begin with. He wasn’t interested in a twink, which seemed to be the majority of the bars’ patronage—he didn’t have anything against them, simply wasn’t his thing. He’d always preferred his men built more like himself, not body-builder cut but firm rangy muscles and rough around the edges, and definitely closer to his own age.

Yeah, this was not the place for him. Chance started backing out, noticing that a couple of cute young things were staring at him—too cute, too young. Looked like a good hard fuck would break ‘em. He shook his head to let them know he wasn’t interested, but it only seemed to have the opposite effect. The two pretty boys were soon making their way across the bar in Chance’s direction, determination evident in their every move. Memories Chance RORY’S LAST CHANCE

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would rather keep suppressed swirled to the forefront of his mind—there was a reason he didn’t care to mess with young, pretty-looking men. He narrowed his eyes at the two men, hoping they would take the hint.

“Like spoilt kids who can’t stand being told no.” Chance didn’t care who heard him.

Matter of fact, if he got really lucky, one of those little boys would be able to read lips. He’d give them a hand signal but he was pretty sure they’d just take it as an invitation. His pride wouldn’t let him back out and run now—he’d feel like a wuss. Chased off by two boys—

well, they were boys to him, and it was not going happen. He’d drop them both if they got grabby on him. Probably make him feel like a puppy-kicker, but he would deal with it.

“Why don’t you let me help you out here, cowboy,” a low voice rumbled in Chance’s ear as a pair of strong arms wrapped around his waist, pulling his back up against a firmly-muscled chest. He savoured the feel of corded strength surrounding him, the pinpricks of lust that shot through at each point where their bodies pressed together.

Hard to miss the press of an engorged dick that close, and if Chance was any judge of that particular piece of male flesh—and he had to believe he was—it was quite an impressive dick that nestled against his ass. His own cock took only a beat before firming right up and pushing uncomfortably against the zipper of his jeans.

“Jesus.” Chance shot his cock a glance, surprised at the immediate response. That hadn’t happened in a while—he couldn’t remember the last time he’d perked up quite so quickly. A soft chuckle tickled his ear and rumbled from the chest behind him into his back, vibrating throughout his body. “Looks like those boys decided to give up the chase,” that deep voice purred, all sex and fire and smug masculine strength. Chance watched the scowls flitter across the boys’ faces before they turned and walked off.

“Huh. Guess so.” Chance started to turn only to stop when the hold around his waist tightened. He didn’t know whether to be more turned on or irritated all to hell. When soft lips started nibbling along the side of his neck, finding their way to the sensitive patch of skin right behind his ear, Chance gave it all up and let out a low moan. God, when had anyone, including himself, taken the time for such a thing?

Better yet, why hadn’t he taken the time—remembered that sex was about more than who put whose cock where—the sharp nip of teeth tugging at his earlobe slapped all rational thought out of Chance’s head. Every muscle in his body tensed and vibrated with need.

Large hands began stroking his stomach, working their way down until fingers feathered RORY’S LAST CHANCE

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7

across the tip of his prick, dancing over the wet spot where pre cum had seeped through his jeans.

“Them boys not your thing, cowboy?”

Chance opened his mouth to answer only to snap it shut against a shout of pleasure building in his chest as the hand teasing his cock suddenly gripped hard, sending a bolt of pleasure-pain to his balls. A brush of fingertips across a nipple, then a firm twist and Chance knew he was dangerously close to losing his load as his back tried to bow. All he succeeded in doing was shoving his ass even harder up against the stranger’s steely cock—a move he swore left singe marks on his denim-clad cheeks. The heat coming off the other man was palpable and heady, stirring something inside Chance that was burning and needy, almost overpowering in its intensity.

“PYTs—pretty young things. Too pretty and way too young,” he finally managed to answer, though he couldn’t quite hide his disdain of those two attributes. “Either one alone is bad enough, but put the two things together…not what interests me.” It took Chance a minute or so to realise the hands that had been tormenting him in the best possible way had stilled and the big body behind him had filled with a different kind of tension. He tried to formulate a coherent thought, and once he did, it dawned on him that he must have offended the other man some way or another.

“Look, I didn’t mean any insult, if those boys are to your liking. They just aren’t to mine. I don’t like feeling like a cradle-robber.” Or a dirty almost-old man. Chance tried again unsuccessfully to face the stranger. Now he was getting irritated. He slid his hands, one up and one down, wrapping his fingers around thick wrists, prepared to pull the man’s hands from his body. A grunt at his ear told Chance the mystery man wasn’t happy about having his hands tugged away from their resting places.

“Don’t care for those boys myself. You, now—you’re to my liking.”

Well, that was too damn bad because Chance was past irritated now and quickly reaching a full-out mad. This time when he tried to turn, the hands holding him in place actually helped. He spun around with every intent of telling Mr Grabby Hands just what he thought of him. A blur of movement was all the warning he had before those soft suckling lips swooped in and stole the anger right out of Chance. His eyelids dropped shut and his mouth opened wider at the insistent demand of scorching tongue, lips and teeth. Hard hands grabbed his ass and jerked him in tight, grinding and pumping.

RORY’S LAST CHANCE

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“God, I want you.”

Chance could barely make out the words that were murmured against his lips, didn’t get time to respond before his lips were plundered again. He let go of himself, not caring if they were in a bar and on display anymore. All that mattered was meeting the other man’s nips and licks, the sucking and thrusting of tongues and the rubbing of two thick, hard cocks.

“Want you too,” he finally managed between panting breaths, and he meant it. No one had ever built up a fire in Chance like this man was doing, least no one he could think of right now. Not that he was in any shape to think. The stranger’s groan was long and loud, full of a frustration that Chance was feeling himself. Somehow he found himself pressed into a shadowed corner, mouth still under assault and battling back. He faintly registered the snap of his jeans and groaned into the stranger’s mouth. Could feel but not hear the rasping of his zipper, then long, callused fingers were stroking his dick, slow, hard tugs that were close to painful and better than any stroke Chance had used on himself.

The stranger’s lips left his, sliding down and latching onto the skin right below his ear, nipped and sucked hard as a thumb pressed into the slit of his dick. Chance’s knees tried to give and he grabbed on to the other man’s stacked biceps, registering his own large hands barely covered more than half the width of those bulging muscles. Jesus, the man was huge and it turned Chance on as much as the handjob he was getting.

“Ah, God! Fuck! So close.” Chance’s voice came out through gritted teeth, gruff and smoky and sounding utterly foreign to him. The hand jerking his cock tightened and tugged faster as the stranger’s other hand slipped down and forced its way between Chance’s thighs.