02-Let It Ride
Authors: L.C. Chase
Riptide Publishing
PO Box 6652
Hillsborough, NJ 08844
http://www.riptidepublishing.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Let It Ride (Pickup Men, #2)
Copyright © 2014 by L.C. Chase
Cover Art by L.C. Chase,
lcchase.com/design.htm
Editor: Danielle Poiesz
Layout: L.C. Chase,
lcchase.com/design.htm
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher, and where permitted by law. Reviewers may quote brief passages in a review. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Riptide Publishing at the mailing address above, at
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, or at
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.
ISBN: 978-1-62649-147-2
First edition
May 2014
Also available in paperback:
ISBN: 978-1-62649-148-9
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Pickup man Bridge Sullivan is the kind of cowboy everyone wants—as a brother, a friend, a lover. People think he’s straight, but Bridge isn’t one for labels, and when a sexy male paramedic jump-starts his heart, he charges in with all guns blazing.
New York City transplant Eric Palmer grew up in foster care. While he always had a roof over his head, he never felt love or a sense of belonging . . . until he joined the California rodeo circuit as a paramedic and found a band of brothers who took him in as one of their own. Now, one in particular is making Eric’s pulse race.
When things heat up between Bridge and Eric, Bridge has to prove to Eric he’s not just experimenting with the rougher sex, while Eric must overcome his fears of being unwanted and cast aside. He knows that trusting Bridge may be the key to his happy ever after, but getting in the saddle is much, much easier than learning to let it ride.
For all those still searching for the other half of their heart.
May you find it, embrace it, and cherish it, regardless of the package it comes in.
For Danielle, who has the patience of a saint. Thank you.
For my dearest friends, who stood by me and helped me through. I love you.
The lips on his were firm, demanding, and sent a blazing fire raging to every corner of his body. Calling it a kiss was too simple for something packed with such intensity, something so far beyond Bridge’s imagination but also everything he’d always wanted. He opened his mouth, and the invitation was accepted with impassioned fervor. A tongue pressed in, slid alongside his, wrapped around it, and teased it out. And hell if that didn’t turn him on even more. He angled his head to deepen the kiss, to take more, give more, burn more. Noses bumped, a stubbled chin rasped across his, and a deep groan vibrated between them, heating the blood pounding through his veins.
The fire grew, branding his skin from the inside out, burning deeper, and he wanted more. So much more. He pulled the solid body in his arms tighter against his chest until hot, sweaty skin slid against his equally hot, sweaty skin. Dense muscle rolled and flexed under the caress of his hands, hairy legs wrapped around his, pulling him closer until their hard groins met. Every rocking motion and press of flesh had him shaking uncontrollably from the ecstasy of loving and being loved so fully and so freely.
“
Bridge
.”
The familiar voice whispered his name like a prayer. Deep, resonant, and wholly masculine. And like a can of gasoline tossed into the core of a bonfire, it ignited an orgasm that exploded through him, stealing his sight, his hearing, his breath. But what really sent his heart stampeding blindly for escape was the name he shouted in the throes of passion. A name that continued to bounce off the walls of his bedroom.
Eric
.
Bridge’s eyes snapped open, and he stared hard at the ceiling while the faint, bittersweet odor of cum tickled his nostrils and his chest rose and fell in double time. His heart continued to pound as the fading remnants of the best wet dream of his entire life left him feeling more than a little unbalanced. A dream featuring a man—and not just any man, but one man in particular. Eric Palmer, the paramedic he’d met on the rodeo circuit the previous season who’d become fast friends with Bridge and his two best friends since childhood and fellow rodeo men, Marty Fairgrave and Kent Murphy. Eric had been on his mind too often over the past months . . . and as far more than just a friend.
He sucked a ragged gulp of air. “Oh my God. I’m gay.”
It wasn’t the first time he’d questioned his sexuality, but it had been a long time since he had. He’d fooled around with a guy in college because he was the typical horny kid and sex was sex. Plus, it was all part of the college experience, right? So, why not? He’d also been a little curious about what it would be like and had to admit it had been one of the hottest blowjobs he’d ever received.
But then Silvie DeSantos showed up on campus. He’d fallen madly in lust with her at first sight and decided he must be straight and that had been the end of it.
Until now.
“But . . . I like women,” he said aloud, closing his eyes to recall the first day he’d seen Silvie, only to snap them open again when his mental vision filled with Eric’s smiling, handsome face. The strong jaw, high cheekbones, and straight nose were wholly masculine, yet striking blue-violet eyes outlined with thick, black lashes and those full, red lips softened his features, making him the most beautiful man Bridge had ever seen. He definitely liked that face—and apparently everything else that went along with it. And he did like women, but then it dawned on him he hadn’t really noticed any since he’d met Eric back in the spring when Marty had been injured and Eric had been the on-site paramedic.
Now that he thought about it, he’d always admired an attractive man, too, hadn’t he? He’d never been afraid of what anyone would think if he complimented a man. Human bodies were simply beautiful, and he’d always let his appreciation be known. He freely showed affection to the people he cared about, too. Shit, how many times had he kissed Marty and Kent? And in public? Granted, it was only cheek bussing and generally not in big crowds, but still, most men didn’t do that to other men. Certainly not the rugged cowboys he worked with on the rodeo circuit.
But Eric . . . that man had tweaked something inside of Bridge from the moment they’d met. Had called up a desire for something he’d thought had been nothing more than a one-time youthful curiosity. And the more time he’d spent around the man, the more he realized how much he enjoyed his company. Looked forward to it.
He turned to stare out the window as the first hint of sunrise bled into what would be a clear day—deep oranges and warm yellows faded into a full spectrum of blues, steadily swallowing the darkness of night.
He inhaled slow and deep, holding his breath for a three beat before exhaling just as slowly, and then he kicked off his bedclothes and looked down at himself. Maybe he wasn’t really gay. Maybe he was . . .
“Bisexual, then?” He half expected his dick to stand at attention and answer him. But the member in question lay semi-erect against his thigh, somewhere in that orgasmic afterglow of having just had really great sex . . . Only there hadn’t been any
real
sex going on.