Love in Xxchange: Rory's Last Chance

by Bailey Bradford

  “Are you sure? I mean, after what…well, I acted like a jackass.” Bo took a deep breath and stood up straight, hands at his sides. “I am sorry.”

  He looked sincere. Rory nudged Chance with his hip.

  “Apology accepted, before I get hip-checked into the desk,” Chance teased, winking at Rory. “Now, enough of this girly emotional stuff, let’s round up Max before my stomach gnaws a hole through my spine.”

  Rory couldn’t resist. He brought his mouth to Chance’s ear, brushing his lips over it and enjoying the shudder that went through his lover’s body. “I plan on doing some nibbling of my own tonight,” he promised, then lightly nipped the edge of Chance’s ear.

  “Shit,” Chance stammered, eyes sliding almost shut as he trembled again.

  “Guys, that’s just cruel,” Bo whined, but he had a big grin on his face. “Now, come on and introduce me to this Max.” He left the office, calling out over his shoulder, “If you two aren’t out in two minutes, I’m coming in with a water hose!”

  Chance turned and pressed his body against Rory’s and jerked their hips together, grinding hard. Rory thought the top of his head was going to blow off as his cock rubbed against Chance’s. He heard his lover mutter something but couldn’t make out what he said.

  “What’s that? I can’t hear you with the sound of all my blood from my brain rushing south so fast it makes my ears ring.” Rory swiveled his hips again and moaned. His cock twitched and Rory knew he was going to have to change jeans because sure as shit he had just got a wet spot on the ones he was wearing.

  Chance moaned and rocked his hips one more time then stepped back. “I said I should have just thrown the little fu—guy out, then we could have taken care of these.” Chance looked at Rory’s cock, then his own and started laughing.

  Rory checked Chance’s jeans and his own—yep, two pairs of clean jeans were definitely needed.

  “Think the hose will stretch far enough?” Bo’s voice rang out from the kitchen.

  “Coming,” Chance yelled back, gaze on Rory. “Almost, anyways.”

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  Bailey Bradford

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  Chapter Fourteen

  Dinner passed in a surprisingly pleasant manner. It had been so long since Chance had company over, other than his lover, that he felt a bit rusty with his people skills. Still, he enjoyed it and he thought everyone else did, too.

  Since Rory had come into his life, Chance had come to realise he had cut himself off from everyone. People who had known him when he was younger—specifically, the ones who had known he was gay and promiscuous—were the people he had wanted to avoid.

  Seeing Bo again had brought up feelings of shame that Chance had thought he’d buried.

  The fact that he hadn’t, made it suddenly obvious to him he shouldn’t bury it. It sounded like some new age-y crap to him at first, but he was coming to believe he needed to forgive himself and let it go rather than hiding away and trying to forget he’d ever been young and dumb. After all, hadn’t those experiences that he wasn’t proud of helped make him into the man he was today? Yeah, he was going to have to admit they did.

  So, enough skulking around hiding from his past. He wasn’t going to go telling the world he was a reformed slut, but he was through being ashamed about it. He’d fucked up—

  and around—but he was done being that man, had been for years now.

  “You’ve got a self-satisfied smile there.” Rory touched his finger to Chance’s lips and rubbed lightly.

  Chance took Rory’s hand in his own and placed an open-mouthed kiss on his lover’s palm. “Just plumb satisfied, baby, all the way around.” He nipped Rory’s palm then brought the younger man’s hand to rest against his heart.

  Rory’s pupils dilated until his irises were just thin deep blue rings around the pupils.

  Chance felt himself falling into those dark depths, the sound of Max and Bo talking and laughing across the room fading out until all he heard was the beating of his heart.

  He felt a moment of panic when he realised his brain had sent the signal to his mouth to speak. Chance hadn’t planned to say anything, not yet, but…

  “You know I love you, Rory.”

  It was easy. He’d worried he would stumble over the words, wouldn’t know how to say them since he’d never said them before.

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  Rory’s eyes widened with surprise—Chance heard his lover’s breath rush out like someone had kicked the man in the diaphragm, his mouth dropped open and stayed that way for a few seconds. Long enough that Chance was about to reach out and push Rory’s chin up.

  Instead he brushed his fingers along the square line of Rory’s jaw, watching as Rory’s skin heated up with a flush and a brilliant smile formed on that wide, sexy mouth.

  “God, Chance, you know, I wanted to tell you before that I love you but…” Rory’s words were rushed together like he was afraid Chance would cut him off before he could get the proclamation out. “You told me to think about it, but I didn’t need to, Chance. I’ve loved you for a while and knew it before we ever even—and I need you inside me. Now.” Rory stood and tugged on Chance’s hand.

  He didn’t need any more encouragement; Chance got off the couch and tore his gaze from his lover’s heart-melting eyes. He looked at Max and Bo who were watching intently.

  With a sheepish grin, he shrugged his shoulders. The other two men grinned back.

  “Go on, me and Bo here will be all right.” Max tipped his head towards Bo. “Might be best if we head over to the bunkhouse, play some poker if ya have a mind to.”

  Bo’s eyes were lit with mischief. “Yeah, I have a feeling it’s gonna get noisy in here.” He stood and looked at Max. “Lead the way, buddy.”

  Chance and Rory didn’t stay to watch them leave. Together they walked to the bedroom, closing the door softly behind them. The first kiss was tender and sweet—an exploration of their newly admitted love. Rory opened for Chance like a gift, soft lips parting to let Chance’s tongue sweep in and brush across the roof of his mouth.

  The scent of Rory, man and soap with a hint of sweat, filled Chance’s senses as he twined his tongue with his lover’s. He gripped Rory’s hips, felt him tremble then Rory’s arms were wrapping around his shoulders, those big hands cupping his neck and the back of his head. Chance pulled Rory’s hips in and ground their cocks together, and the kiss went from sweet to scorching in a flash.

  He stepped back and reached for Rory’s shirt, carefully unbuttoning it as his lover stood trembling before him. He pushed the shirt down Rory’s broad shoulders until it hung on his wrists. Chance trailed his fingers down Rory’s arms, the skittering breaths from the man making Chance’s cock throb with anticipation. The buttons that held the shirt on at the wrists were frustratingly smaller but Chance finally worked them free and tossed the shirt RORY’S LAST CHANCE

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  aside.

  He walked Rory backwards, stopping only when the bed hit the back of his knees. Rory sat and Chance kneeled down on the floor. He tugged off Rory’s boots and socks then unfastened his jeans.

  “Lay back, baby.” Chance grabbed the sides of Rory’s waistband and briefs and pulled, heart beating a little faster when Rory lifted his hips up and his pretty cock was freed. He leant down and ran his tongue from the base of Rory’s cock to the spongy head, swiping over the leaking slit to lap up the glistening pre cum gathered there.

  Rory groaned and reached for him but Chance stood up and finished stripping the jeans from his lover’s body. Rory was so perfect Chance thought his heart might just break from the beauty of him, but he wanted more. “Scoot up to the centre and spread out for me.”

  Rory did as he asked, arms and legs spread wide and now it was Chance’s turn to feel like someone had kicked him in the diaphragm. Golden skin and chiseled muscle a god would envy was laid out before him, thos
e dark blue eyes black with passion. Chance studied Rory, wanting to memorise every detail of this moment, from the top of his angelic blond head, to the proud, thick shaft tapping against his lover’s hard stomach. The heavy sac with its light coating of hair made Chance’s mouth water with need, then there was the tight pink hole that clenched as he looked at it.

  Need so strong he thought it would bring him to his knees shot through Chance. He made himself finish, taking note of the defined muscles in Rory’s thighs and calves, and the long, narrow feet that held such a strong man.

  Bringing his gaze back to Rory’s, Chance began removing his clothes, feeling his lover’s stare like a physical caress. He’d planned to be smooth and steady, but anything that kept him from being inside Rory suddenly seemed foolish.

  Chance kicked off his boots and peeled down his jeans and underwear. He unbuttoned his shirt far enough to get it over his head then pulled it off, cursing when the buttons at the wrist kept him from removing it easily. Chance got them undone, though he thought he heard one or two of them hit the floor. He toed off his socks and climbed onto the bed between Rory’s thighs.

  Reaching behind him, he grabbed Rory’s calves and tugged until Rory’s legs were bent at the knees and his feet flat on the bed.

  “Damn, baby, you are so perfect, your cock hard and dripping.” Chance couldn’t pull RORY’S LAST CHANCE

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  his gaze away from the vision before him. “Your balls already pulling up tight, and here—”

  He ran a finger from Rory’s perineum to his pink hole. “Here you fucking take my breath.”

  Rory moaned and started to sit up, reaching for Chance. “Please, Chance, I need you to fuck me.”

  Chance chuckled and evaded Rory’s grasp. “I am. I’d wanted to do more, but not this time, not with you looking at me like that. It’s going to be hard and fast.”

  Rory was nodding vigorously, the movement jerky enough that it made his cock bounce. Chance rubbed his finger over Rory’s hole, pressing firmly but not penetrating.

  “Lube. Rory, I need—” Chance snatched the tube out of the air. Rory must have tucked it under the pillow last night, Chance thought, then let his brain shut off and his body take over.

  He popped open the cap and poured a thin line lube straight onto his dick. He rubbed it in quickly, too eager and needy to trust himself. Another dollop for his fingers, then he poured some right below Rory’s balls, letting the liquid slide down to Rory’s puckered opening.

  Chance couldn’t wait, didn’t have the strength to play. He rubbed a knuckle over Rory’s hole then pushed the tip of his index finger in. Rory jerked his hips and pushed down trying to take more. Chance thrust his finger in Rory’s clenching heat and twisted his wrist, dragging his finger across the spongy gland and causing Rory to gasp and writhe on the bed.

  He pumped his finger into Rory until he felt the little ring of muscles loosen enough for him to slide a second finger in. Chance worked Rory’s ass, corkscrewing his fingers and rubbing Rory’s prostate until Rory was almost sobbing with need.

  He pulled his fingers out and grabbed Rory’s legs. Chance put his hands on the back of Rory’s thighs and pushed his lover’s legs up until they nearly lay on Rory’s chest. Rory reached down and held his legs, spreading himself. Chance lined up his cock and began pressing in. He leant over Rory, holding himself up on his forearms as Rory locked his legs around Chance’s waist and squeezed.

  Chance got the hint. He lowered himself and slid his hands under Rory’s back, latching on to his shoulders from the underside. Then he thrust hard and sunk balls-deep into his man. Rory’s back arched and his inner muscles clamped down hard and Chance knew he wasn’t going to last long at all. He started to push himself up enough for Rory to slip a hand between them and jack himself but Rory shook his head and pulled Chance down firmly RORY’S LAST CHANCE

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  against him. Chance looked into Rory’s slitted eyes and felt the heat from those midnight depths skitter down his spine.

  “Just like this, it’s all I need.” Rory licked Chance’s lips and Chance decided his lover knew what suited him best.

  Chance drew his hips back, almost withdrawing entirely before slamming back into Rory’s tight ass. He tried to get a rhythm going but he was too far gone and Rory was too damn intoxicating. Chance’s thrusts were erratic and rough and Rory met him each time, hips rising to take as much of Chance’s cock as he could.

  The sudden widening of Rory’s eyes was all the warning Chance got before his lover cried out and wet heat spread between their bodies. Rory’s channel squeezed painfully tight around Chance’s cock, milking it of spurt after spurt of cum.

  Rory was panting as hard as Chance was by the time their orgasms passed. Chance let himself lay on Rory, knowing the bigger man could handle his weight for a while. He sought a gentle kiss from his lover and got it, revelling in the fact that this man loved him and was his. His eyes burned and he clamped his lids down tight until he got his emotions under control. Chance rested his head on Rory’s shoulder and murmured soft words of love in the younger man’s ear, smiling when he realised his lover had fallen asleep.

  Rory had opened up and given Chance everything. Despite the trauma of his past, he loved Chance and wanted to be with him. He didn’t know how or why he’d got so lucky as to have a man like Rory by his side, but Chance was going to do everything he could to keep him.

  Rory understood the whole cup running over thing now. Ever since Chance had said those three little words, Rory had felt like he was floating, his head in the clouds and his heart spilling over with love and so much happiness—

  He snorted almost as loud as one of the horses. Gushing like that, even to himself, reminded him of one of those happily ever after stories. Still, as farfetched as those tales seemed, Rory believed he and Chance had a good shot at their own happy ending. It wouldn’t always be easy, but it’d be interesting, and more rewarding than anything else ever had been.

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  Chance had proven his integrity to Rory more than once, and he’d been nothing but supportive of Rory. If he hadn’t had Chance with him, literally holding his hand, Rory didn’t think he would have been able to make the phone call to Annabelle earlier in the day. Rory had left her several messages, all of which Annabelle claimed she never got. Rory believed her; it would be just like their old man, or Art, to sneak Annabelle’s phone away and delete Rory’s calls and voicemails. He’d been on the verge of heading to Montana if he didn’t get hold of Annabelle when she’d finally answered his call.

  Telling his sister the full truth about what had happened between Art and him—

  No, Rory cut his thought off right there. It hadn’t been about what happened between them, but rather about what Art had done to him. Rory had tried to keep that information as bare as he could, but Annabelle hadn’t ever been anyone’s fool, and when her questions caused Rory’s throat to tighten and his jaws to clamp down against answering, Chance had murmured comforting words for Rory’s ears only.

  Then he had taken the phone from Rory’s stiff fingers, and spoken quietly with Annabelle. Rory hadn’t listened—had, indeed, deliberately blocked out what was said between his lover and his sister. Still, he knew that Chance had answered Annabelle’s questions, and made certain she knew what kind of sick fuck their dad had running the ranch. He’d also managed to talk Annabelle out of killing Art and getting her to agree to act as if she didn’t know about what he’d done to Rory, something Rory himself didn’t think he could have managed to do.

  Afterwards, Chance had held Rory for a long time, soothing him until Rory felt the ground under his feet was stable once again. He had the feeling Chance would always carry him when he stumbled, and that meant as much to Rory as the words of love spoken between them the night before.

  “Ain’t that a love-struck
look you’re wearin’. Musta been some special night to have ya mooning over the stall you’re muckin’.”

  Rory bit back a yelp of surprise at Max’s teasing words. He’d been so lost in his own mushy thoughts that he hadn’t even heard the other man approach. Rory’s cheeks heated, but he glanced over and arched a brow at Max.

  “Do you really want the details, Max?”

  Max startled Rory even more when he shrugged. “Heard plenty ‘hands talkin’ about what they did and with who before. Comes with bein’ a man, I guess.”

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  Rory sputtered and turned to face Max, sure his friend was messing with him. He cocked his hip and shook a finger at the smaller man. “You better watch what you joke about, Max, you never know when I might decide to share, and once you hear stuff like that, you can’t exactly unhear it.”

  “Yup,” Max agreed. “That’s rightly true, but like I said, been plenty of times I had ta listen to one guy or another talk about what he did with one woman or ‘nother.” He shrugged. “Didn’t bother me with them, won’t bother me if ya do the same.”

  Rory was dumbstruck for all of a full minute, then he shook his head and went back to mucking out stalls. That whole conversation was just too bizarre to continue.

  It didn’t occur to him until much later that Max might have had an ulterior motive for offering to listen to stories about Rory’s sex life—a motive that might just involve a certain aging twink. Maybe what Max had really wanted was information about the mechanics of what went on between two men.

  That was an intriguing yet disturbing idea, but Rory decided he’d do some poking at Max and see if his hunch was right.

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  Chapter Fifteen