Rode Hard, Put Up Wet (7 page)

The dark-haired man’s thick fingers pushed the inside of the blond’s thighs as far apart as possible so he could bury his face beneath the blond’s cock and balls. Wiggling his head as he dove deeper, he made wet, slurping sounds, sucking, moaning, grinding his hips and cock into the blond’s shin.

The blond watched, wild-eyed as the man on his knees pulled back and brought the furry blond balls completely into his mouth again. “Like that. Yeah. Use your teeth a little. Roll them together. Now suck them. Jesus, that’s so good. I love to watch you.”

After the dark-haired cowboy released the globes with an audible wet pop, the blond grabbed the brunette’s head and rammed his rosy meat into his lover’s mouth.

The dark-haired cowboy made a choking noise and backed off, releasing the cock until just the tip remained in his mouth.

The blond thrust his hips hard, keeping his hands clamped to his lover’s head.

“Deeper. Come on. Take me all the way down that throat. Don’t pretend you don’t love it when I fuck your face.”

The enthusiastic sucking sounds and the answering guttural demands mesmerized her. The blond would pull his wet cock out completely, circling the weeping purple head around the other man’s swollen lips before plunging back in to the root.

Saliva dribbled down the dark-haired man’s chin and neck. He kept up the frantic pace, digging his fingertips into his lover’s hips with enough force to leave marks.

Making greedy, happy hums that seemed to heighten the blond’s pleasure.

The unbearably erotic interlude didn’t last long. The blond cowboy muttered, “Fuck, here it comes,” as he clutched the man’s dark hair, and tipped his chin down so every inch of his cock was lodged in the man’s throat, his ass muscles flexing with every spurt.

Macie was surprised at their collective stillness as the dark-haired cowboy gruffly swallowed. She glanced over at the bound cowboy, who was fighting against his 48

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Rode Hard, Put Up Wet

restraints, his cock still hard as a railroad spike, yet, telltale wetness spread across his belly.

The blond man stumbled back as the dark-haired cowboy rose to his feet. A sexy, secret smile, followed by a gentle touch of the blond’s hands. Then they exchanged a sinuous full-body hug, cock to cock, their hands stroking, caressing sweaty, bared skin as they shared a hot, long soul kiss.

Sweat trickled between her breasts and her nipples tingled as if they were touching her.

After they reluctantly broke apart, exchanging soft murmurs and soft laughter, they moved toward the bound cowboy as one unit.

“See what you’ve been missing?”

“We know you like to watch us,” the blond said. “That’s why you’ve been sneaking in here.”

“Lucky for you we ain’t done yet.” They turned the bound man sideways and the dark-haired man disappeared into the shadows and returned with a sawhorse.

“And lucky for you, we’ll let you participate. Isn’t that what you’ve secretly hoped for, cowboy?” The blond circled the bound cowboy and plucked up his forgotten hat.

“Have you ever been sucked off by a man?”

The bound cowboy grunted, “Fuck no.”

Both men laughed. Then the dark-haired one said, “Then we’ll make it memorable.

No one knows how to suck cock better than another man.” He positioned the sawhorse close to the bound cowboy’s thighs. Then he slapped the blond hard on the butt. “You know how I want it. Bend over and spread those ass cheeks. I wanna see every inch of that hole.”

Where had she heard that before?

Without argument, the blond placed his chest on the sawhorse. His mouth was directly across from the bound cowboy’s straining cock. He smiled wickedly and the bound cowboy stopped squirming and seemed to hold his breath.

The dark-haired man reached into his boot and pulled out a condom and rolled it on.

He moistened his fingers with his mouth, then traced them down the blond’s crack and plunged them inside his ass.

The blond wiggled back. “Give me your cock or your tongue, not your fingers.”

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Lorelei James

“I’ve already tongued you, that’ll have to do for lube. It’s gonna be one hard ride.”

The dark-haired cowboy lifted the ass in front of him higher, pulling apart the cheeks as his cock prodded the blond’s dark hole. One thrust of his hips and his dick disappeared completely.

“Yes,” the blond hissed. “Harder.”

“Damn. No matter how many times I do this to you, you’re always so fucking tight.”

Macie focused on the blond circling his hands around the bound man’s ass, bringing that big, straining cock to his mouth and swallowing it in one greedy gulp.

As the dark-haired man’s cock reamed the blond man’s asshole, each hard thrust sent the blond man’s mouth further down the length of the bound man’s cock, until his nose was buried in dark pubic hair. Then he’d release the cock slowly, and bring it fully back into his mouth, each hungry stroke increasing in speed and suction The scene looked as smooth as a choreographed dance. Like these cowboys had fucked each other well and often. The blond bobbed his head. Grunts burst from the bound cowboy as he began to pump his hips into the blond’s face.

But the blond retreated and nuzzled the bound man’s quivering belly. “Do you want me to finish you?”

“Yes,” he hissed.

“You want to come in my mouth? In a
man’s
mouth?”

“Yes, goddamn you, finish it.”

With a loud slurp, the bound man’s distended cock was once again buried between the blond’s lips. Skin slapped skin. The sawhorse squeaked with the escalating thrusts.

The musky odor of sweat and sex and dirt permeated the air.

Macie was so worked up, she slid her hand down inside her underwear. She slicked up her finger with her own juices and frantically rubbed her swollen clit, aching for fast relief, sighing when the familiar throbbing began.

The dark-haired man panted, “Shit, Dooce, I can’t hold back.”

Dooce? Macie made a surprised noise. The dark-haired man looked over his shoulder briefly as he pounded his meat into Dooce’s ass like a man possessed. At that point she realized the dark-haired man was her ex-boyfriend, Dante.

Dooce turned and glared at her. “What are you doing here? He doesn’t want you. No one wants you.”

The bound cowboy finally looked up and his cowboy hat slid off his head.

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Rode Hard, Put Up Wet

Her heart stopped; the man was none other than Carter McKay.

Their eyes met and he said hoarsely, “I want you, Macie, in ways no man ever has. I want to give you everything you’ve ever wanted.”

She closed her eyes at the heat in his eyes and the perfection of his quiet declaration.

She slumped against the chute, finding it soft as a pillow.

A pillow?

Macie’s eyes flew open. She sat straight up and looked around. She wasn’t in a darkened barn, but in a darkened camper.

Dammit. It was another dream, a variation on the dream she’d been having the past two months. Except, it wasn’t really a dream since the scenario was very close to the real one she’d walked in on in Dante’s apartment. Dante on his knees, Dooce jacking off as Dante fucked Dooce’s ass like a madman. It’d been rough, and raw, and unbelievably hot. She’d stayed hidden in the shadows of the hallway, ashamed she’d gotten off at the sight of Dante’s sexual synchronicity with Dooce—a synchronicity she and Dante had never experienced.

No wonder. She hadn’t been born with a penis.

So why did her subconscious place Carter at that scene? Because he was an artist like Dante? Because she wondered if Carter was gay? The last two times she’d experienced this dream, she was the one tied up and forced to watch the two men fuck like animals.

Was Carter’s presence because she was afraid the situation with him would turn out the same as every other past relationship —with her on the outside looking in?

A therapist would have a field day with that one.

She glanced at the clock. The red numbers flashed five a.m. No use going back to sleep now—the alarm would ring in another half hour anyway.

Macie cleaned up, dressed, and braided her hair before she hopped in her SUV and navigated her way to work.

Late yesterday afternoon, after she and her father finished their meal at the local diner, he’d sped off to Gemma’s ranch to set up the camper. She’d sensed he needed to be alone with his thoughts and to gauge his new responsibilities without her chattering at him. So she’d lingered in the booth, thinking of her best friend Kat, wondering how she’d managed to be a third wheel again. Then she noticed the “help wanted” sign by the cash register and asked the waitress about the opening.

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Lorelei James

Velma—the sixty-something owner of the Last Chance Diner—needed a gal Friday to fill in part-time as a cook and waitress. The hours were sporadic, but the pay was decent for rural Wyoming. With Macie’s experience in restaurants, Velma seemed genuinely happy to hire her on a simple handshake.

Macie was glad her first day would be spent in the kitchen. Between the bizarre dream, and her father ignoring her, beating eggs and dicing veggies would be a productive way to channel her frustrations.

Inside the restaurant, the rich scent of coffee caused her steps to quicken and she poured a mug before clocking in.

Velma grinned. “Another caffeine addict, huh?”

Macie grunted.

“Well, I’ve already had four cups so I’ve shaken off the cobwebs and started the bacon.”

“What time do we open?”

“Six bells.” Velma dumped two packages of frozen hashbrowns on the griddle.

“Most of the early customers are construction workers. They like a big breakfast in a hurry. So I always have a bunch of potatoes and meat done ahead of time.”

“Good plan.” Macie donned an apron, lifted the metal press flattening the bacon to check on its doneness while downing her coffee. “Mostly egg specials?”

“Yeah. Some with pancakes, most with toast. You have any problems making omelets?”

“Nope. But I didn’t check to see if there’s anything fancy on the menu like eggs benedict.”

Velma poured her another cup of coffee. “No. No huevos rancheros either, no matter how much Diaz begs me to add ’em.” She confided, “Don’t seem worth it since Diaz is the only Mexican around here. Though he threatens to bring his cousins up from Denver all the time.”

“If he asks me, I might just surprise him and whip up a plate.” She added more oil to the sizzling potatoes. “Most folks assume I’m Mexican anyway.”

“I didn’t want to be rude and ask, but are you?”

Macie smiled. “No. I’m half Lakota Sioux.”

“Oh. So the man with you last night? Is he your…”

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Rode Hard, Put Up Wet

“Dad. Cash Big Crow.”

“He don’t look old enough to have a daughter your age.”

She’d fielded this question often enough it was second nature to her. “He was sixteen when he knocked up my mom.”

“I know how that goes. I had my first kid when I was seventeen.” She shrugged. “It happens. What’s your dad doing around here?”

“He’s the new foreman for Gemma Jansen’s ranch.” Macie froze. Maybe that wasn’t supposed to be common knowledge.

“’Bout damn time Gemma hired somebody decent. She’s been tryin’ to do it all since Steve died. Be workin’ herself into an early grave.” Velma seemed ready to settle in for a long chat. “Do you know Gemma very well?”

“No. I just met her yesterday.”

“Seems strange she didn’t offer you a job on the Bar 9.”

“To tell you the truth, Velma, I’m not much interested in ranching. I’m just tagging along with Dad for the summer, but I couldn’t sit around and do nothing. I don’t want to be accused of being lazy.” Macie knew her father still struggled against that racial stereotype—of being nothing more than a lazy, freeloading, boozing injun. An attitude she’d run into a time or two herself.

Velma chuckled. “You ain’t been here for more than twenty-fours hours, and you’ve already got a job, so I think it’s safe to say you ain’t lazy.”

“Thanks.” Macie flipped the hashbrowns. “Just so you know, I’d much rather be back here than out front.”

“We’ll get along just fine, Miss Macie, ’cause I’ve had enough years of cookin’ over this hot griddle. I do believe there’s more grease in my veins than blood.”

Macie laughed. “Must be why you look so young, Miz Velma.”

Velma snapped a dishtowel at her on the way to unlock the front door. “Yes sirree.

You and I are gonna get along just fine, squirt.”

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Lorelei James

Gemma woke alone. She’d gotten used to it in the last three years, but she still experienced a pang of disappointment.

Thank God Cash was conked out when she’d come to bed. But in her restless state she couldn’t sleep. When she’d quietly crept out to stare out the window, the tears started.

Unwanted tears, both happy and sad, as she said goodbye to her past and hello to her future.

An odd thought occurred to her. Cash hadn’t overheard her crying, had he?

Pointless to worry about now. She rolled her lazy ass out of bed, realizing she’d overslept by a good hour. Did Cash think she acted the lady of the manor, lolling around between the sheets all day while he was out busting his ass?

Places were sore on her body that hadn’t been sore in awhile, so she popped a couple of aspirin. She dressed in her usual attire of jeans, boots and a lightweight, long-sleeved cotton shirt to protect her skin from the blistering sun.

Cash wasn’t in the kitchen. A single bowl and spoon rested in the dish rack beside the sink. No coffee was left warming; the pot was still sparkling clean. Well. Shoot. This wasn’t what she’d expected. Would’ve been nice to share a cup before heading out to feed the cattle.

She stepped out onto the covered porch, shielding her eyes against the bright rays.

Cash’s pickup wasn’t parked in front where he’d left it last night, and the ranch truck was in its usual spot. Then Gemma remembered Macie. After devoting last night to her, Cash was probably hanging out with his daughter.