Nowhere Ranch (7 page)

Tears were leaking from the sides of my eyes. I wasn't crying. I was straining that hard. But it felt so good. So good, so good, so good.

He fucked me with it really slow, and he fucked my mouth with his tongue at the same time, swallowing my grunts and whimpers. I gave over completely to him, giving him everything in me, letting him in everywhere he wanted to go. I'd been trying so hard to escape everything Kayla had stirred up—I'd tried to push it down, tried to pull it out, but it just kept coming back. I felt like I could get rid of it all now, could give it to Loving.

Travis. I could give it to Travis.

The bad stuff would come back, I knew. But for a little while I could get rid of it. I gave it all to Travis, kinky Travis Loving who didn't know shit about sheep or soil. Who talked too much sometimes, but that was okay. I gave it all to him as he pushed his sex toy in and out of me and suckled on my bottom lip. I sank back inside myself, getting away from everything, until my mind was quiet and I was okay.

And then I shot out, flying, flying free into the dark. I didn't land so much as I drifted back down to where I'd started. When I was able to open my eyes, he was looking down at me with a funny look on his face, but when he met my eyes, he smiled.

He kissed my forehead. Then he stood up and walked away from the bed. I couldn't move. Well, I could wiggle my pinky, and my lungs were working. But that was it.

I hadn't even noticed that he'd pulled the dildo out until he lifted my spaghetti legs and started wiping at my backside with a washcloth. That was about the same time I noticed that I was actually pretty sore down there.

He looked embarrassed. “Sorry. I should have slowed down.”

No, he shouldn't have. But all I could say was, “Mmmm.”

He bent and kissed me again. “So you're feeling better than you were when I met you out in the pasture?”

“Mmmmm. Hmm.”

I thought he was going to kiss me again, but he nuzzled my cheek instead. His lips moved to my ear, and for a second I thought he was going to say something. But at the last second he seemed to change his mind, and he went back to cleaning the cum off my belly. It was good he didn't try to feed it to me. I think I would have just drooled it out. When he was done cleaning me up, he rolled me onto my side, spooned up behind me, and wrapped me in his arms.

Three hours later I woke up. Travis still hugged me against him, but now there was a blanket over me too.

My ass was sore. I mean, it was
sore
. I winced when I tried to roll over. I knew I wasn't hurt too bad, just stretched. Nobody was going to be fucking my ass for a few days, though, and I'd be taking laxatives to make sure we were nice and easy through the pipes. But Jesus God, it had been worth it.

I turned over and looked at him, watching him sleep. His lips were curled up at the corners, just a little. So soft. His lips looked so soft.

I touched them.

I traced them.

I ran my fingers over his chin, and I leaned forward and pressed my lips against the cleft.

When I drew back and opened my eyes again, he was looking at me. We stared at each other for about a minute in the dark, and then he reached up and stroked my hair. I leaned forward and nipped at his chin. His throat.

He made a soft sound, like a groan.

I pushed him onto his back and started undressing him, kissing as I went. I suckled his nipples, biting a little. I ran my tongue down the line of hair leading to his groin, and I swirled my tongue in his belly button. I kneaded his belly—he had a paunch. Just a little extra, my mom used to call it. I liked it. I made love to it, bunching it in my hands, biting at it, kissing it.

I sucked his cock.

As much as Travis is an ass man, I'm a cock man. I like to look at them. I like to touch them, smell them, run my tongue around them. I hadn't had much of a chance at his until now. It was a beauty, I'll tell you. About eight or so inches erect and plenty fat. Cut, which I am too. I like that because then you can see all the veins and play with them. Though skin's good too because it's like this built-in toy. It had that nice flat taste that all cocks do, but his had like this extra little zing. Not really spicy. More sharp.

I sucked him all the way into my throat. I have absolutely no gag reflex, so I can deep throat about anybody. I hummed around him, and I sucked so hard my lips went numb. My tongue played hockey with itself up and down the shaft, and I coated his nest and his balls with the spit that leaked out of my mouth. I made love to that cock like it was the last one I was ever going to see.

At some point his hand slid into my hair and started kneading. He took to pushing me farther onto his cock, and I let him, going with his tempo now. While he fucked my face, I played with his balls and pressed my fingers against his taint. I kept humming, because I knew it felt good to him when I did that, and because I knew he liked to hear me make noise. I was getting lost again. Every time I was with him, I could let go. Fucking, being fucked, sucking—I just felt easy with him.

Something bumped my hand, the one at his balls and taint, and I opened my eyes to look. He had the bottle of lube there, cap off, fingers on the tube ready to squeeze. I smiled around his cock. Oh yeah. That made sense. Ass man would like a little ass play with his blowjob.

You want to talk about tight. Tight and
hot
. God, he felt like a fever inside. Hot, soft velvet. Slick with lube and soft and smooth. Two fingers were hard on him, but I got it done, and I snaked them deep inside and brushed his prostate. He bucked into my mouth and groaned. I did it again. And again. And again.

I could have been all day at the cock, but I slid my way down and sucked on his taint and licked a little at his hole. Did not care for the bitter lube that snuck in there, but I just used more saliva to both coat my tongue and wash it away. And all of a sudden I wanted in there. I mean,
in. There
. With my fingers still working inside him, I lifted my head.

“I want to fuck you,” I whispered.

He lifted his head, panting, and he looked at me.

He was the one under me this time, all soft and pliant for me. Usually it's angry when I do the actual fucking. But I didn't want that with him. Not tonight.

“I want to fuck you,” I said. “I want to fuck you, Travis.”

He nodded, shutting his eyes. “Bathroom cupboard. Top shelf.”

I waddled a little on the way to the john. My ass was
really
sore. While I was in the cupboard, I put a little Vaseline on the outer ring of muscle. I tried not to think about my ass, tried to focus on Travis's instead as I made my way back to the bed, condom in hand.

He had been watching me and my waddle. “I did hurt you.”

“Don't worry about it.” I knee-walked over to him and stroked his thigh. “Can I do you on your hands and knees?”

What I wanted was to get a good hold on his ass. It was a little bit soft like his belly, and I had been thinking it would be nice to hold on to. I was scrawny and wiry, but Travis had a nice, plump ass. And oh yeah, it felt good in my hands.

I rode him slow. Even without the tightness, I could tell from his body language that he didn't give his ass to just anybody. Which was a shame, because he was a good ride. I bucked into him in a sort of slow-mo version of the bronc riders at the rodeo, rolling my hips and thrusting my groin, rocking back and curving my body to compensate. I even held on to his ass cheek like a pommel and raised my other hand like a rider a few times because it was fun.

Hot. Hot and slick and tight. Soft hot. Closed around me, sucking me in, taking me. I was not gonna be able to come, not a third time. Too tired, too sore. But I gave him a good hard ride, got him all ramped up. When I reached underneath him for that nice fat cock again, it was hard and leaking. I stroked it as I thrust, talking dirty again. “Oh yeah. Yeah. Yeah, baby. Like that. Oh yeah.” And it worked, because eventually he came all over my hand. He collapsed on the bed, and I rolled him over, spooning against his side. Then I kissed him, running my tongue along his jawline.

He stilled me with a touch, then let his hand slide to the back of my neck, drawing me into his shoulder.

“I want you to tell me,” he said quietly, “what you need from me so that we can do this again sooner than four months.” His fingers brushed my hairline. “Do you need it to be a secret? Is it that you want to be the instigator? Only on certain days?” His hand tightened, and I could feel his frustration. “Tell me there's something I can do or agree to.”

I had seen this coming in my peripheral vision all night, I guess. It didn't bother me so much because even though I knew it was trouble, I wanted it too. I didn't want to date, which was what I'd been afraid he was gonna ask. But he was focused on the sex, which was fine. He was right. It saved a trip to Rapid City. And it was first-rate stuff, this. This could be fine, so long as we kept it to just sex.

But there needed to be some rules.

“I don't want any of the crew to know,” I said. “Not Tory. Not anybody. I don't advertise my sex life.” I stroked his clavicle. “And work is work. No fucking around while either of us is working.”

“I can live with those terms.” He sounded relieved, like he was thrilled at the deal he was getting.

“I ain't done. It don't have to be just me that starts it. And you can set it up while we're at work, if you're discreet. Ask me if I'm free in the evening or whatever. I'll figure out what you mean. And you tell me about what your rules are too.”

“I don't really have any requests beyond, ‘As much of you in a bed as I can get.'”

“Well, I got one more.” I lifted my head and looked him in the eye. “I want access to your kitchen. Any time of the day.” That made him laugh. I didn't. “Yeah, you think it's funny, but you aren't working in my sorry excuse for one. The kitchen is crucial to this negotiation, Mr. Loving.”

He sobered a little. “All right. The kitchen is yours. Which you could have had without the sex, but you can't take it back now.”

Now I did grin. “We could have sex in the kitchen.”

He groaned. “Not now. If I had the energy to move, I'd go sit in the hot tub.”

My eyebrows went up. “You have a hot tub?”

“I have a hot tub.”

“We are having sex in the hot tub.” I laid my head back down. “Later.”

He pulled the blanket up over us and arranged us better on the pillows. Cuddling with this man was getting to be a habit. It should have been weird, but it wasn't. I wouldn't stay like this for long, because it would make my neck stiff, but it was nice.

Travis nuzzled the top of my hair, and I closed my eyes and let myself float on the sensations.

“I wish you could have seen yourself with that inside you,” he whispered, mouth still on my hair. “You were beautiful. You made my teeth ache just watching you.”

Right then I felt beautiful. Sore and tired and beautiful. And not lonely. Not lonely at all.

I did end up sleeping on his shoulder all night, and it did fuck up my neck just like I said it would. But much like my backside, the pain was worth it.

The next morning was awkward at first. Even in Travis's bed, I was aware I was on the ranch, which meant work and sex had mixed a lot closer than I cared for. I'd known that last night, but I hadn't made peace with it as much as I'd shoved it over because I really, really wanted sex with Loving.

Loving. Travis. It was getting hard to know what I wanted to think of him as. Which was why sex was always with guys in towns far away from where I worked. Which was why it was very infrequently with the same guy. And now here I'd agreed to regular sex with not just one guy but the guy who also signed my paycheck.

Though there was the kitchen.

Rubbing my stiff neck, I slid out of the bed, took care of business in the bathroom, and made my way naked down the stairs to hunt down my clothes. It was Saturday. None of the other hands worked Saturdays or Sundays, but I always checked the sheep when I got up.

I climbed into my clothes, thinking about hay and rain and yield and soil and sheep. But I saw the kitchen out of the corner of my eye and decided all that could wait a minute. I remembered Loving had been drinking coffee the night before, which meant he probably had some here. I headed to the kitchen.

After so long with my hot plate and tiny fridge, I felt like I was in a palace. And it kind of was, as far as ranch kitchens went. The floor was heavy gray tile. The counters were granite, and the appliances gleamed. You could have given a bath to a midsize sow in that sink. The cupboards were sturdy, heavy wood. But there wasn't a damn thing inside them.

He had a few cups and plates and the odd packet of noodles and sauce, and there were filters and coffee beans. That was about it. Normally I wouldn't snoop, but I couldn't stand it. I had to find out if the cupboards were empty all around, and by God, they were. I had more in my pantry than he did.

The coffeemaker stumped me for a few minutes. You could've launched a nuclear missile with the damn thing, there were so many buttons, and the grinder for the beans was
in
the coffeemaker. I frowned at it. It was fuss, and I don't care for fuss. Fresh beans are better, but they're expensive and troublesome, and the stuff in the tin gets the job done. But there was no can of Folgers here, just some bag of beans which I was pretty sure came from a local shop, like they roasted them there. Fuss. So much fuss for coffee.

But I figured it all out, and before too long I had the java brewing. I took a moment to prepare myself before opening the fridge door, and it was about as bad as I'd feared. Eggs but no cheese. Milk, but it was expired. Beer, plenty of that, and some diet soda. The freezer had ice cream with a layer of frost on it, a few bags of vegetables that had turned into bricks, and some steaks. They at least were from his own stock, so they were in butcher paper. I assumed he thawed them and ate them with the baked beans in the cupboard. The vegetables must've been a nice idea that hadn't panned out.

I stuffed my feet into my boots and headed out to check on the sheep while the coffee brewed.