Love in Xxchange: Rory's Last Chance (10 page)

“Never said you were a pussy, boss. Or I guess if you are, so am I because this is hard for me, too.”
But maybe, even after I tell you what needs to be said, you’ll still want me.
“I’m sorry about your parents.”

Rory didn’t know what else to say, words seemed inadequate in the face of his Chance’s loss. He felt Chance nod, felt his lover’s hand clasp tightly before locking their fingers together and resting them on Rory’s stomach. He stroked Chance’s back softly with his injured hand, as if seeking to relieve the pain from the man.

When Rory felt they were both ready, or as ready as he could be, anyway, he closed his eyes and continued, letting the memories play out in vivid detail behind his heavy lids.

“So, I knew that I was gay. Pretty much just kept to myself, though. There weren’t a lot of…opportunities, I guess you’d say, and I wasn’t interested in fucking for fucking’s sake.”

Chance tensed against him, and he wondered what he had said that had already put the man off.

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Nothing jumped out at him, but if his lover was going to react like that already, it damn sure didn’t bode well for the rest of the conversation.

“About a year ago, I, uh, my dad hired a foreman—I tried to convince him I was ready for the job. Hell, I’d been working the ranch since I was fifteen—eight years of doing everything that needed to be done. It didn’t matter—he didn’t believe I was mature enough to handle it.”

Chance muttered something Rory couldn’t understand against his neck. He waited, hoping for some clarification, but it didn’t come. “He hired a guy older than me, not as much experience, but older. Seemed to be all that mattered to my dad. Man had a couple of years’

experience as a ranch hand and”—Rory drew a steadying breath—“several years on the rodeo circuit.”

As he feared, those words had Chance stiffening so much Rory was surprised the man’s spine didn’t snap. “I was prepared to hate the man on sight, but he…somehow he knew.

About me. Any time he caught me alone, he’d flirt and flatter me.” Rory couldn’t hold back the bitter laughter as he opened his eyes to block out the images that had sprung up as he spoke.

He felt Chance watching him, made himself look and accept the anger burning in his lover’s eyes. “He worked me like a skittish colt, until the day he bent me over a saddle and made me wonder that I’d ever thought sex could be enjoyable.”

The memory of that violent penetration, of hard flesh tearing through dry, unprepared tissue still sent a shiver down Rory’s spine. He knew now of course that sex didn’t have to be something that left you hurt and bleeding, wishing you’d just die. Rory shook his head when Chance started to speak.

“No. I was blind and a fool. I let him use me because I wanted to believe the words he told me. After he finished, he slapped me on the ass, pulled off the condom and told me it could have been better and that next time he was going to teach me how to suck his dick.”

Heat flamed over Rory’s chest, crawling up his neck until it covered his face and the tips of his ears. He’d been such a dumbass, and got what he had asked for, even if he hadn’t asked out loud.

Rory nearly jumped out of his skin when Chance let out a string of foul words before sitting up and giving Rory his back. Instead of the pain he had feared at Chance’s rejection, numbness washed over Rory.

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“Tell me who the fucker is, Rory.”

Rory really didn’t want to do that, but when Chance moved to sit half on the couch facing Rory, he couldn’t deny the demand. Stomach clenching and burning, he tried to get his voice to work around the knot that had lodged in his throat. Some of the anger left Chance’s dark gaze, softening his whole face as he looked at Rory.

“Please, baby.” A rough hand cupped his cheek, comforting rather than condemning.

“Tell me who it was so I can beat the shit out of him for hurting you like that. You’re wrong—you didn’t do anything to deserve what he did. Nothing. Being naïve doesn’t mean you deserve to be… Christ, Rory. What he did was violent and wrong, and tantamount to rape.”

“No.” Rory meant it to come out firm and sure instead of the wavering raspy sound it was. “He didn’t, I knew what—”

“Bullshit, Rory. Did you know he was going to hurt you, rip into you without a fucking care for what you felt? Hell, that son of a bitch had to know—”

“He called me, right after I finished brushing Rama out.” The words burst from him without warning, surprising himself as much as Chance. “He said…”
Oh God, I’m going to be
sick
. “He said he’d let Annabelle stay on if she could s-suck—” Rory stuttered, unable to get the last word out.

Then Chance was there, closer, his dark eyes filled with a mix of sympathy and anger.

He cradled Rory’s cheek and softly kissed his lips. The gentle touch penetrated the fear clogging Rory’s throat. “I can’t let him hurt her, Chance, not like he hurt me.”

Chance nodded and brushed another kiss over Rory’s lips. “She can come stay with us—”

“She won’t.” Rory knew that without having to give it any thought at all. “Annabelle is the most stubborn person I’ve ever met. She wants the ranch, even though our dad will never let her have it. He just uses it to manipulate her, keep her dangling and under his thumb.”

Chance leant back and seemed to give the situation some consideration for several moments before looking at Rory. “Does she know what happened to you?”

“No.” Rory flexed his injured hand, watched fresh blood ooze up from the torn skin. “I was too ashamed to tell anybody, and I didn’t think he’d be—I thought he was gay, you know?” And that Annabelle wouldn’t be in any danger from the man. Rory had been a mess over what had happened, still was apparently, but that was no excuse for not thinking about RORY’S LAST CHANCE

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the depths of Art’s depravity. Rory had endangered her with his silence.

“What’s his name?”

Rory raised his eyes to Chance’s even though he’d rather keep looking away. His stomach roiled and clenched as Art’s last words replayed in his head. He didn’t want to believe there was any truth to it, but Art had sounded so smug it was impossible to believe he was lying. Rory took a deep shaky breath and muttered, “Art…”

Chance went from red with anger to white with shock then back through mad to out and out furious. Rory tried to get up. He needed to leave while he could still make himself walk away but Chance planted a hand on Rory’s chest and shoved him back down.

“No way, Rory, you’re not walking out on me now. I don’t know why you’d think I’d let you. Why you would think I’d be angry at anyone other than that asshole.”

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Rory watched as Chance struggled to get himself under control. He couldn’t process the fact that Chance didn’t want him gone—the man didn’t seem to blame Rory at all. He just couldn’t understand it.

“I—I…” He what? Did he really want to point out he was every bit the young fool Chance had once thought him to be? Rory bit his lip, drawing blood as his teeth dug into tender skin.

“Stop, baby. Don’t.” Chance tugged at Rory’s chin until Rory let his lip slide from between his teeth. Chance swiped at the abused flesh with his thumb, brushing off the blood welling from the wound.

“Does he know who you’re working for?” At Rory’s nod, something shifted in Chance’s eyes, replacing the anger with worry. “And did he tell you, then, that he fucked me?” Chance didn’t blink, just focussed on Rory, watching intently. “Yeah, I can see that he did. It was a long time ago, baby. He’s what put me off pretty young things, and the reason I had to drop out of the circuit.”

“I’m not like that, Chance, I’m not some horny slut—” Rory needed him to know, to believe that if nothing else. Chance sighed and looked so weary that it broke Rory’s heart.

“But I was, when I was your age and for a few years more. When my parents died, I just lost myself the only way I knew how, fucking around with whoever was there. It was the only way I could escape the pain for a while.” Chance stood and walked to the window, staring out at the starless black night.

“Did that for a few years, then I finally gave in to having a drink with Art and we…he must have slipped something in my beer, because I woke up confused all to hell, sore and hurting in ways I couldn’t understand.” Chance walked back over to Rory.

“Sound familiar at all, baby? You wake up alone and scared, pain screaming through your body, couple of pictures somewhere close by letting you know that something out of a nightmare had happened and it wasn’t over yet?”

Rory struggled to get air in his lungs as he saw his own pain reflected in Chance’s eyes.

He knew the anger was building inside him at the knowledge Art had done to Chance the RORY’S LAST CHANCE

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same thing he’d done to Rory, but shock was keeping everything at bay, or so Rory thought.

It wasn’t until Chance reached out and brushed away the moisture on his face that Rory realised he’d been crying. He wanted to crawl into a hole and hide, but Chance held firm and wouldn’t let Rory turn away.

“I will kill the son of a bitch.” Low and mean, the words vibrated with promise and knocked Rory out of his stupor.

“No.” Rory grabbed Chance’s shoulders, ignoring the burst of agony that shot up his arm from his injured hand. “No, you won’t. I’ll beg if I have to, because I couldn’t stand to see you spend the rest of your life in some prison. I couldn’t.” No, he loved the man too much for that, and even though he couldn’t tell him, admitting it even to himself brought Rory a measure of peace he hadn’t ever expected to feel again.

Chance fought back the waves of anger crashing in his head as he looked at Rory. What he saw he dared not believe—he’d done nothing to warrant the love shining in Rory’s brilliant blue eyes. All he had done was hurt the man numerous times before finally giving in to the scorching attraction between them—and if he had done something years ago, Art wouldn’t have been able to brutalise Rory.

Instead, Chance had packed up his things, ignoring the taunts and threats hurled his way and left the rodeo circuit, figuring he deserved every bit of what had happened to him for being such a slut. Much like Rory believed he deserved what Art had done to him. They were both wrong to have ever believed they had deserved such abuse.

It had taken Chance years to realise that, despite consenting to go out with Art, he’d been a victim. Looking at Rory, angelic face wet with tears, bottom lip smeared with blood, and his hand beat to hell tore something up inside of Chance. He would do whatever he could to make sure the man came to the realisation he was an innocent victim of a twisted piece of shit a whole lot sooner than Chance had.

The need to hold and comfort, to find a way to heal Rory was so overpowering that Chance shook with it. He wasn’t sure how to do what he wanted to do, but Chance knew where he would start.

Gathering Rory’s battered hand in both of his own, Chance leant down and placed RORY’S LAST CHANCE

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feathery kisses to every bit of bruised and torn skin, careful not to squeeze or put anything but the lightest of pressure on Rory’s hand. Chance was keenly aware of the hitch in his lover’s breath, felt the shudders that rippled through the man one after another without cessation.

The damage to Rory’s hand probably looked worse than it actually was, but Chance would make sure a doctor looked at it tomorrow despite all the arguments he knew Rory would give him. But until then… Chance ran the tip of his tongue over the worst looking of Rory’s knuckles.

“Ch-Chance.” Rory’s voice was breathy and low, slicking over Chance’s dick like a velvet caress.

The man had no idea how much power he wielded over Chance. The idea of him ever finding out should have been terrifying, but for whatever reason, Chance didn’t care if Rory discovered how he felt. He trusted his lover as he had not trusted anyone.

Chance slid his tongue between two of Rory’s fingers, licked up to the tips, then sucked both digits into his mouth with a strong pull. The resultant gasp that slipped from Rory’s lips was filled with so much heat and need that Chance’s balls tightened and pressed close to his body. He looked up into his lover’s heavy-lidded gaze and felt a burst of satisfaction that he had put that look of wanton need in those midnight eyes.

“What do you want, baby? What do you need?” Whatever the answer, Chance would give it to Rory without hesitation. He waited while Rory digested the question and was unsurprised when the man didn’t answer immediately. Chance had learned that Rory was a thoughtful and intelligent man. He would want to carefully consider the question and answer thoroughly.

Rory closed his eyes while he thought about what he wanted, needed, unsure if there was a difference at this point. Comfort, love, commitment—Chance. That was what it came down to—he wanted and needed Chance. He didn’t think Chance would want to hear that, though, which left Rory with one option his fevered brain and throbbing cock both heartily approved of. Decision made, Rory sat up and wrapped an arm around Chance’s neck.

“This, Chance. I want and need this.” Rory slanted his mouth across Chance’s parted RORY’S LAST CHANCE

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lips, sealing their mouths together in a brutal kiss. He had wanted to be gentle, loving, but the urge to own and claim was overpowering.

He needed Chance to give himself over, submissive, willing and open to whatever Rory demanded of him. He tried to hold back some of the aggression pounding in his veins, to nip when he wanted to bite and to hold when he wanted to squeeze until his fingers were burrowed so deeply Chance could never escape. Rory didn’t understand it and couldn’t fight it—the most he could do was temper it with what little restraint he’d managed to hang onto.