Strung Up: A Blacktop Cowboys® Novella (6 page)

“I’ve hit a gay dance club a time or two. Slow dancin’ is easier with a guy because there’s no fighting about who’s gonna lead.”

I smiled. “True. So if you don’t mind me asking…how’d you get this job workin’ for the Gradskys?”

“Macon Gradsky contacted me. We’ve stayed in touch over the years.” A funny look must’ve crossed my face because he clarified, “Macon isn’t gay. He and I were competitors. We met for the first time at the National High School Rodeo finals. He was the All-Around champ for Colorado and I was All-Around champ for South Dakota.” He flashed that megawatt grin. “I whupped his ass in tie-down ropin’ and bulldoggin’. He beat me in saddle bronc ridin’. We both ended up attending University of Wyoming and were teammates on the college circuit. I went pro after I graduated and he went to law school.”

“Sounds like you’ve known the Gradsky family for quite a while.”

“Rodeo is a small world.” He smiled sadly. “A small-minded world too.”

“So was it your decision not to go on the podium and introduce yourself tonight? Or did your bosses ask you to hang back?”

“Fully my decision. The focus tonight needed to be on them, not on me.” He blocked the path so I couldn’t race away. “The Gradskys know you’re gay?”

“Kind of a hard secret to keep with London as my sister-in-law.” I said dryly. “But yeah, they know.”

None of the yard lights were on around the buildings. Probably to keep guests from wandering. A tiny sliver of moon did little to slice through the darkness. I wondered if that darkness made it easier for Breck to take my hand.

My heart jumped into my throat. It’d been so long since I’d had that simple connection it felt foreign.

That’s because it’s not Mick’s hand.

Breck’s hand was bigger. Rougher. Stronger from years of handling coarse ropes. He locked his fingers more tightly to mine. Mick’s hands had always been cold and clammy—and it bothered him enough that we rarely held hands. Even when we were home alone.

Why are you thinking about that? Every comparison you make will add to your uncertainty. If you can’t follow through with simple handholding, let him know now.

Fuck that. I could do this. I
had
to do this.

And I’d take it far beyond handholding.

As soon as we cleared the corner of the next building, I dropped Breck’s hand and pushed him against the bricks. “Take off your hat.”

He removed his hat with his left hand and let it fall to his side, holding it lightly against his thigh. Automatically his right hand came up and he ran his fingers through his dark hair, trying to get rid of the mark the hat band had left.

It shouldn’t have been a sexy move, but with him, it was. Because I knew even when it was dark, Breck retained his pride that he wanted to look good for me.

“Aren’t you ditching your hat too?” he asked in a raspy tone.

“Not yet. Keep your right hand by your side too.”

“Fuck, Cres, I wanna touch you.”

With me standing on the cement curb, we were eye to eye. Mouth to mouth. I flattened my palms beside his head and leaned in until we were groin to groin. “You’ll get your chance, just not right now.”

A soft grunt escaped him and gusted across my lips when I rocked my pelvis into his.

His cock was already hard.

So was mine.

I pressed my lips to his and held them there. Then I slowly started to move them. A little to the left. A little to the right, keeping up that easy glide until his lips were fuller. Softer. Wetter. I dipped my tongue in the seam, licking the inside edge of his upper lip and then his lower. Getting a taste of him.

Like smoke and whiskey. Not the minty taste I associated with Mick.

That’s good. Keep going.

I convinced myself I was anticipating, not stalling. That I was treating this tease as a test to see if Breck could control his dominant nature and let me set the pace.

Are you sure it’s not a test for you? To see if you freak out when you remember that the lips clinging to yours aren’t Mick’s?

Stop.

Breck deserved my full attention.

When I allowed our tongues to touch, he growled, “Fucking kiss me already.”

That’s all I needed. I dove into his mouth like I owned it.

Greed overwhelmed me.

Yes.
Yes.
This.

Fuck. I needed so much more of
this
.

My head spun as I went at that lush mouth from every angle. My hand cupped his jaw so I could open him up wider, get deeper. Our tongues stroked. Our lips pursed and pressed and glided and teased.

Harsh panting breaths echoed around us and mingled together. Soft groans. The click of teeth. The sounds of passion.

I could not get enough.

I’d missed this urgency. Craved it.

How had I survived without it? It hadn’t ever been this way with Mick. Not even in the beginning.

It’d only ever been this way with Breck.

Seemed I’d forgotten that too.

I broke my mouth free, sliding across Breck’s smoothly shaven skin to drag my teeth down his jaw, nipping at his chin and the tender flesh of his neck.

Breck let out a muttered, “Christ.” Then he tilted his head to the side, giving me full access to his throat, and I nearly snarled with satisfaction. I’d never had his surrender.

Now I did.

Now I wanted it all.

And I’d take it all.

Pushing back on my heels, I reached for his belt buckle, my mouth continuing to maraud his neck and jaw as I unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. Hooking my fingers inside the waistband beside his hipbones, I tugged his jeans and briefs down to the middle of his thighs.

He hissed in a sharp breath when I lowered to my knees.

I didn’t tease. I brought the stiff length into my mouth in a single, greedy gulp.

Then I froze.

That’s when the “this is wrong, this isn’t Mick” voice became louder.

My thoughts warred with reality. The unfamiliar—yet it was familiar—taste on my tongue. The additional girth stretching my lips. The musky aroma filling my lungs that was all man…but wasn’t my man.

My eyes watered.

Not because I wanted to cry.

I gagged.

Not because I didn’t want to do this.

I fisted my hand around the base of his shaft and slid my mouth up, my lips catching on the rim of his cockhead. Then I twisted my hand up that meaty cock as I bobbed my head down, hollowing my cheeks with every suctioning pull.

A surprised, “Jesus,” exploded above me, followed by a rush of ragged exhales.

Lean hips pumped away from the wall toward my mouth.

Then strong fingers curled around my throat, stopping all motion. His dick slipped free when those fingers latched onto my jaw and tilted my head back.

My gaze collided with Breck’s as he squeezed his shaft in the middle, creating a makeshift cock ring. He continued to drag the wet head of his cock across my lips.

“If it hadn’t been so long since I had my dick sucked I’d tell you to slow down. But when I’m this close I need to know if I’m coming in your mouth.”

I nodded.

“Take your hat off, Cres,” he murmured huskily. “Keep your eyes on mine.”

A shiver worked through me as I set my Stetson on the ground.

Just like that, he’d taken charge.

Just like that, I’d let him.

For now.

Breck tenderly ran his fingers across my scalp before grabbing a fistful of my hair and directing my head to where he wanted it. His eyes glittered with lust as he began to fuck my mouth, each measured stroke faster and faster until that moment when he shoved in so deep my teeth dug into the root of his cock.

Breck groaned and his dick jerked on my tongue.

Thick bursts of come coated the back of my throat. He didn’t have to tell me to suck hard and swallow; I knew exactly what he needed.

That’s what I needed too. The heady rush of power. The give and take of control. Of surrender. The suspense of whose will to be on top would win out.

He released my hair and pulled out of my mouth, slumping back against the bricks, eyes squeezed shut, his chest heaving.

In the distance I heard music. In my peripheral vision I saw headlights sweep across the tall grass bordering the fence. Whoops and hollers drifted from someplace.

Resting on my knees in the dark, with my painfully hard dick pressing against the button-fly of my 501s, my jaw sore, I felt entirely disconnected. An overwhelming urge to escape had me blindly reaching for my hat and pushing to my feet.

“Don’t run off,” Breck said gruffly, when I took a step back off the curb. “I ain’t close to done with you tonight.” He situated his hat on his head and righted his clothing, never taking his eyes off mine. Then he reached for me. “The tour can wait.”

“Okay.”

“I can’t.” Breck loomed over me. “Christ, I want you.” He shoved his left hand in the front of my jeans and latched onto me by my belt, his knuckles brushing my erection as he held me in place. He angled his head above mine without banging our hats together—a trick I’d never managed when I locked lips with another cowboy. This kiss was all sweet seduction and gratitude.

My free hand landed on his chest. I was bowled over by his tenderness—something I never expected from a guy who considered fucking an endurance sport.

He murmured, “Come to my place. Even for just a couple of hours.”

I slowly licked his lower lip. “If that’s what you want.”

“Oh, I want all right.”

His wicked grin sent my pulse tripping.

We walked hand in hand up the road and cut through the last open area before the tree line. The path grew steeper. By the time we crested the hill, we were both breathing hard again.

That’s when I noticed we were in a campground, complete with electrical hookups for each unit space and a private picnic shelter.

“What’s this place?” I asked.

“Campground for staff.”

“You live in a camper?”

“Yep. The one on the end is mine.” Breck stopped in front of a motor home too damn fancy to be called a camper. I’d seen rock star tour buses on TV that were trailer trash compared to this.

“You win the lottery?” Or maybe he’d won a lawsuit. Since he indicated he was buddies with Macon Gradsky, it was a possibility they’d sued the magazine for damages and gone after the CRA for discrimination. From listening to London talk about her brother, Macon was one sue-happy motherfucker.

“This isn’t mine from lottery winnings—either from the state or a lawsuit lottery. When I decided to wander, I needed someplace to call home. I bought this with the money I had left.” He opened the door and a motorized step popped out. “Go on in.”

The inside was ten times more impressive than the outside. I sort of stood there with my mouth hanging open.

A
whoosh
sounded after I watched Breck poke a button that shut the door. The blinds were already down, obstructing the view out the windows. But no one could see in either.

Breck stalked me. “Tell me what you want, Cres.”

I stood my ground, even when my heart jackhammered and the first flutters of panic made breathing difficult. Then we were chest to chest, groin to groin. “What are my options?”

He removed my hat and set it on the table next to his. “You want seduction? Rolling around on my bed naked for an hour of foreplay before I fuck you?” He brushed his lips across the top of my ear. “Or should we skip that and I suck you off before I bend you over my table and fuck you?”

“Maybe I want option C. You already got yours; I take mine by bending you over the arm of the couch.”

“You are more assertive than you used to be,” he murmured in my ear. “I like that. It’s hot as hell. Means you’re gonna make me work for it. I love a challenge, so let’s see where this goes.”

I didn’t argue as Breck propelled me backward, his mouth plastered to mine, his hands on me everywhere. Making me hard. Making me dizzy.

We stopped when the backs of my knees connected with a solid surface. He broke the kiss and placed his hand on my chest, pushing me until my ass hit the mattress.

“You look good on my bed, Cres.”

When Breck leaned over, I grabbed ahold of his shirt and pulled him on top of me. Yeah, he was a big guy, but I wasn’t exactly a 98-pound weakling.

Still, the move surprised him.

It really surprised him when I rolled him beneath me and nestled my ass against his groin. Keeping my gaze on his, I said, “Still wanna see the aggressive side of me?”

“Fuck, yeah.”

I rocked against the thick length of his erection pressing between my butt cheeks.

Breck groaned and reached for my hips. “Shift back. I wanna feel your cock rubbing on mine.”

I laughed softly. “Topping me from below ain’t happening.”

A devilish gleam entered his eyes. “I already got off once. I just wanted to even things up, but whatever. You’re on top.”

“Damn straight. Now unbutton your shirt,” I said, still grinding against him.

His hands went to his throat and he undid the first button. “You did have a thing for my chest.”

“Let’s see if I still do. Hurry up.”

Once he’d reached the last button above the waist of his jeans, I lifted up so he could untuck his shirt. Then he spread the two sides open, gifting me an unobstructed view of his upper body.

My dick went harder yet and a growl of approval rumbled out.

A thick mat of dark hair furred his chest. He’d lost some of the bulk, but his pectorals were still beautifully defined, as were his abs. The flat brown nipples—almost invisible unless he was aroused—poked up, as if begging for my mouth.

“Jesus, Cres. Stop licking your lips like that. You’re gonna make me shoot my load in my damn jeans.”

I pressed my thumbs on his nipples, spreading my fingers outward, digging the tips into his sides between his armpits and his ribcage. As I angled forward I had to shift down his lower body so we were nose to nose. “Touch me.”

Breck clamped his big mitts onto my butt. He squeezed the flesh and pressed down, adding more pressure to our cocks grinding together. A confident grin tipped up his lips before he fused them to mine. His voracity pulsed through our bodies like a sonic wave each time he sucked on my tongue. My mouth throbbed when he slowed the kiss and tasted the underside of my top and bottom lips with lazy sweeps of his tongue.