Love in Xxchange: Rory's Last Chance

by Bailey Bradford

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  knew the older man was such an expert with his mouth, Rory was sure he would never lack for fantasies again. Not that they could really compare to the real thing, because, holy shit!

  Rory was pulled out of his thoughts by a big hand slapping against his thigh. He met Chance’s gaze, felt his breath stop in his lungs. The need he saw in those almost-pitch depths sent all sorts of feelings crashing through Rory, every one of which he was afraid to look at too closely.

  “Think you can drive yet, ‘cause I would surely love to get back to the ranch.” Chance’s voice was low and gruff, threaded with desire that had Rory’s dick ready for round two.

  Chance noticed—his swiftly indrawn breath almost whistling as the air squeezed into the man’s lungs.

  Rory stroked his prick once, watching as the very skin seemed to tighten across Chance’s cheeks. The narrow look that move got him had Rory putting his parts back in his jeans. He was pretty sure if he didn’t quit teasing he was going to end up getting more than he bargained for right here in the parking lot.

  Chance grabbed Rory’s arm and half pulled him out of the truck before pinning him against the extended cab door. Their mouths collided in a tangle of aggression, biting and pushing against one another with a force that drew blood from them both. The coppery taste hit Rory’s tongue and had him pressing his head back against the truck in an attempt to soften the kiss. Chance followed suit, licking Rory’s lips gently in apology before sealing his mouth to Rory’s in a soul-stealingly sweet move that made the very ground shift beneath the younger man’s feet.

  “Christ,” Chance murmured against Rory’s lips, sending a shiver straight down his spine. Rory tried to speak, to agree, but his throat felt tight and words would not come.

  “Let’s go home.” Chance placed a chaste kiss on Rory’s swollen lips before nudging him in the direction of his truck.

  Managing a nod and a cocky grin of his own, Rory forced his heavy limbs to move. Part of him was afraid that in the amount of time the drive would take, Chance would find some reason to put the brakes on what was burning between them.

  Another part was equally terrified that Chance wouldn’t, and the teeming emotions that Rory was trying so hard to batten down would break through the surface. If that happened, he would end up shattered when Chance rejected his affections. Despite that very real concern, Rory reached his truck in no time. He could not turn away from whatever it RORY’S LAST CHANCE

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  was Chance would offer him, even if it meant risking his heart.

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  Chapter Seven

  “Goddamnit!” Chance’s hands shook as he steered the truck out of the club’s parking lot. He’d just blown Rory in the parking lot, much as he’d done other men, and had been done to him, numerous times in his misguided youth. Damn it, he’d worked hard to overcome that part of himself that treated sex like a game. He’d done so very well, for so many years—yet tonight he’d just reverted in a snap.

  All it had taken was for Chance to walk in the Xxchange and see Rory being mauled by the pretty dark-haired man. That sight flipped some switch inside Chance that made him want to possess and dominate Rory, and it scared the hell out of him.

  Therein lay one difference between the actions of his youth and those of tonight.

  Tonight wasn’t about having fun. What happened between him and Rory was tangled up in thoughts and feelings that Chance had never dealt with before. He wasn’t sure he’d dealt with them tonight, exactly. Chance had been unable to think about what he was doing—he only did it, couldn’t do anything but follow his body’s demands.

  This wasn’t a one-time thing, at least not for him, and he didn’t think it was for Rory, either. Grunting to himself, Chance could at least admit that much. He’d had an overpowering need to claim Rory, to mark him and imprint himself on the younger man. If the way the man had responded, all sexy sounds and hot skin, had been anything to judge by, Chance had done what he’d intended to do.

  The headlights from Rory’s truck grew closer in the rearview mirror drawing Chance’s attention away from his thoughts. Rory was driving pretty damn close to Chance’s bumper, which did funny things to his heart.

  “Looks like someone is in a hurry, though hopefully not too much of one.” Chance reached down and squeezed his dick through soft denim. He was so ready to go a pothole might set him off. Jesus, he wanted to take all night with Rory, but at the rate his dick was leaking, he’d be lucky if he didn’t come before the other man finished stripping.

  Chance slid his hand down a little lower and grasped his balls, clenching them tight enough to have tears stinging his eyes. It only helped a little bit—his dick didn’t soften any but at least he could focus on something other than reaming Rory’s tight ass—

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  “Damn it!” Chance squeezed again. “If this keeps up I won’t have any fucking balls left by the time we get home!”

  Contracts, he’d think about the contracts he was hoping to someday get with the SWGR. The Southwest Gay Rodeo was something Chance wished he’d been aware of when he’d been rodeoing—he might have been able to stay in the circuit for a few more years had he joined it when it started up. But no, he’d been a cocky young fool, and it had cost him.

  Chance pulled onto the dirt road leading down to the ranch and instantly, Rory was tight on his tail. If he had to break for a deer or any other critter, they were screwed. Chance gave the truck more gas, telling himself it was to create a little space between the two vehicles, but he couldn’t convince himself of that when he was burning to get home, to get Rory inside and strip the man bare.

  Rory’s truck zoomed past him once they pulled into the drive, drawing a pained laugh from Chance. Looked like he wasn’t the only one in a hurry. He opened his door just in time to have Rory reach in with both hands and half lift him from the truck. Damn, the man was strong.

  Chance was vaguely aware of two cowboy hats flying into the truck as Rory took his mouth with a hunger that matched Chance’s own. He couldn’t register the tongues and teeth, the fitting together of lips as any one individual act—instead, Chance’s whole body felt like it was being consumed by Rory. A hard tug had their bodies pressed together from chest to knees. Arms like steel bands clamped around Chance and tried to merge two bodies into one.

  All Chance could do was meet that kiss, hold on to Rory for dear life and hope like hell he wouldn’t be as changed from this one moment in time as he feared.

  Somehow, with this kiss, Chance felt that he was the one being possessed, and he’d given Rory part of his soul in the claiming. A bolt of fear shot through Chance, but he couldn’t find the strength to pull away. Jesus, if giving up a part of himself meant this powerful heat surging through his body would continue, he’d do it—again and again, until there was nothing of himself left without Rory.

  And that was something that sent a quiver throughout him, and he didn’t want to think about it anymore. Chance shut his mind down and let his body take over, sucking on Rory’s tongue and drawing a low moan from the man. Big hands clasped Chance’s ass and forced his cock to mash up against Rory’s.

  Chance would swear he could feel every protruding vein on the other man’s thick cock RORY’S LAST CHANCE

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  even through the layers of clothes. He ground his cock against Rory’s, friction and pressure making it give up beads of pre cum. He was so close…

  “Rory.” Chance pulled back just enough to speak, letting the name brush over the younger man’s kiss-swollen lips. Rory tried to dive back into Chance’s mouth with a single-minded determination that had Chance forcing his hands between them until he could shove against the hard wall of muscle that was Rory’s chest.

  It didn
’t budge the man an inch.

  “Rory!” Well, if Max hadn’t known they were back, he surely did when Chance yelled.

  Rory raised his head, a lust-glazed look on his face. Chance cupped Rory’s cheek, pressing his fingertips down with enough force to focus the man’s attention.

  “Inside, Rory. We need to go inside.” Rory grunted and grabbed Chance’s wrist, whirling around and tugging him towards the house.

  Chance dug in his boot heels and brought them both to a stop. He wasn’t sure he liked feeling like a caveman’s catch.

  Wasn’t sure he didn’t, either.

  He jerked his arm back hard, spinning Rory around to face him. The expression on the younger man’s face almost undid Chance. Fear, hurt, need—they danced across Rory before the man shut them down. He thinks I’ve changed my mind, turning him away again, Chance realised. Chance stepped up to his soon-to-be lover, keeping his eyes locked on the younger man’s. He noted the fine tremor working through the big blond’s body, the sheen of sweat on his upper lip and brow, the choppy breaths Rory struggled to regulate. Chance noticed it all, and felt a piece of his heart break right off and fall at the younger man’s feet.

  “Just wanted you beside me, baby, that’s all. That’s all.” Chance slid his free arm around Rory’s waist, aching for the man now in more than just a physical sense.

  Rory stared down at him, so still now that he was barely breathing and not batting an eyelash. Finally he nodded and released Chance’s other arm, muttering as he did so.

  “What’s that, baby? What is it?” He wanted to know so he could do whatever necessary to reassure Rory.

  Rory shook his head. “Thought you were changing your mind again, s’all. Just stupid, I guess.”

  The moon was full and bright enough that Chance could see the red slashes on Rory’s cheeks. It made him feel like shit, because he knew he’d done this to the man. He clasped a RORY’S LAST CHANCE

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  hand to Rory’s chin and pulled his head around, waiting for Rory to meet his eyes. When he did, the sadness in that melting midnight gaze hit Chance like a kick to the gut. Now Rory wasn’t the only one shaking.

  “You’re not stupid, Rory, never that. I wouldn’t expect you not to be wary after the way I’ve done you, and I’m sorry.” The worry in those gorgeous eyes slipped away as Chance leant in for a soft kiss. “Nothing is going to stop me tonight, I promise.”

  The smile that lit up Rory’s face made Chance want to make the man all sorts of promises but he clamped down on that real quick. He was old enough to know better than to go mixing up sex with some gentler feelings. That would be just plain foolish—never mind that a part of him was afraid he’d already done just that.

  “Come on.” Chance left his arm around Rory’s waist as the younger man draped an arm over Chance’s shoulder. The heat coming off of Rory’s body had to be the rough equivalent of molten lava. Chance didn’t know how he kept from going up in flames.

  Once inside, he fought back the need to slam Rory against the door and fuck him until they were both brainless. After the look he’d seen on Rory’s face, Chance felt an even stronger need to take it slow and show the man just how much he was wanted.

  He did something he’d never done before with another man—slid his arm from Rory’s waist and twined their fingers together. It was an intimacy that Chance had always avoided, even though it was such a simplistic and innocent one. He could fuck, he could suck and do any number of sexual acts in between—but they were all sexual acts, not this melding of palms and fingers that could bring comfort and peace to both people. It implied something other than sex, which had always terrified Chance but now, with this one man, seemed so necessary and right.

  But that didn’t mean there was anything more than sex between them .

  Chance led Rory to his bedroom, watching as the other man took in the colours of the room, deep greens and ripe burgundy, before settling on the king size bed covered in a multitude of pillows. The little smile that quirked up the corner of Rory’s lips had Chance’s heart beating a little faster than it should have been.

  “Like your pillows, huh?” Rory faced Chance, and stole his breath with his beauty. Pale blond curls clung to his forehead and temples, held against sweat-dampened skin. Large, heavy-lidded blue-black eyes framed with thick lashes watched as Chance visually scraped over Rory’s features, caressing the straight narrow nose, following it to the dip above a full, RORY’S LAST CHANCE

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  wide mouth set above a firm and stubborn chin. Chance could not find a single flaw in the man’s appearance, and the resounding jolt of insecurity he felt rush through him pissed him off.

  He had nothing to be insecure about. While there was no way he could match Rory’s beauty or youth, he could damn sure match him, if not teach him a thing or two, about fucking.

  “Take your clothes off.” Chance reached for his own shirt, watching as Rory followed suit. Then he remembered the younger man had his nipples pierced, and suddenly Chance was impatient and getting naked became a lot more important than things like finesse or proving any point.

  He jerked his shirt off half-buttoned and reached for his belt, unbuckling it only before working on his pants. Boots, damn, he’d forgotten about his boots. Chance felt his cheeks flare hot but let it go when he realised Rory was in the same predicament.

  They both sat on the bed to pull off their boots and the rest of their clothes, Chance struggling not to stare at the silver hoops on Rory’s chest. It was an equally difficult battle not to lean back and look at the tattoo he’d only got a hint of weeks ago. Kicking off the last of his clothes, Chance cursed loudly, startling Rory.

  “What? What’s wrong?” Rory had that wary look in his eyes again, the one that made Chance want to kick his own ass.

  “Stand up and turn around, Rory. Please. I just want to see…” Rory’s dark eyes suddenly gleamed. He stood and stepped close enough that Chance felt the heat rolling off his body, could smell the scent of the white drops beading the spongy head of his cock.

  Chance started to reach for that luscious cock only to have Rory spin around and give him his back.

  Or, more precisely, his ass. Chance let his hand continue on its path and filled it with taut, sleek cheek. Firm and perfectly rounded, Rory’s ass had Chance forgetting why he’d even asked the man to turn around. He kneaded the pale skin in his palm, then slid his hand over to the crease, letting his fingers brush over Rory’s tight opening.

  Rory shivered and twisted his torso to watch Chance, the movement causing a ripple in the tattoo on his back. Chance shot Rory a grin, meeting his questioning gaze.

  “Sorry. Wanted to see your tattoo but I got distracted.” Chance kept his hand on the firm flesh as he looked at Rory’s tattoo. Rory faced away, keeping his body straight for the RORY’S LAST CHANCE

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  inspection.

  “It’s beautiful,” Chance murmured, bringing his other hand up to trace the shapes of a horse and rider, who looked to be in the midst of dismounting to attend to a calf. The tattoo took up the majority of Rory’s back, and was intricately detailed from the colours of grass to those of the sun and sky. It looked like a painting, a piece of art rather than a tattoo, and Chance wondered what it would feel like to walk around wearing such a thing of beauty.

  He’d never really been into tattoos before—or, rather, it hadn’t mattered to him one way or another. But, like just about everything else, Rory was quickly making him rethink his ambivalence on the whole subject.

  “Jesus, Rory, I’ve never seen anything like it, or like you—” The words slipped out before he could catch them. Chance tried to think of a way to cover up the words or to hide them away, but Rory was already shaking his head and turning around.

  “There’s nothing special about me, Chance. I’m just a man…with an excellent tattoo.”

  Rory t
ried to make it a joke, but Chance could see the doubt in those wounded eyes. He stood up and forced himself to keep his gaze locked there in those blue depths rather than letting it wander to the glinting silver rings he wanted to tug on.

  “You’re wrong, Rory. I don’t expect you to believe me, not yet, but it’s true. I haven’t been with anyone in a long, long time until you grabbed me at the club. Would have ran out of there if I could have, but you caught me, and then I didn’t want to run.”

  Chance was afraid of revealing too much, setting himself up for a hurt he might not recover from. He couldn’t stand there and let Rory think he was anything less than extraordinary, though. He just couldn’t, and damned if he knew why. Rory opened his mouth to say something, maybe argue, but Chance was done talking. He was only digging himself a deeper hole and it was time to stop.

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  Chapter Eight

  Rory opened his mouth up to point out that Chance was probably just taken by surprise at the club, or maybe to ask just how long a long, long time was. He didn’t even get a word out before the man jumped up off the bed then his mouth was full of Chance—his tongue, lips and teeth, the taste of the man so seductive and sweet that Rory didn’t think he would ever get enough.

  He nipped at Chance’s lip, bowing his back when the other man nipped back harder.

  The pain from the bite shot straight to Rory’s cock. He had to thrust, rubbing his achingly hard dick against Chance’s straining length. He’d felt it, stroked it, and dreamt of it, but what he really wanted was to see it and taste it before he felt it again—deep inside him, rather than in his hand. Rory was sure he’d never see a cock like that again, not up close and personal, and he’d never seen one near to that size before—though, granted, his sexual experience was rather limited.