A funny tickle started in my chest and I closed my eyes. Although he had the dominant position, I knew I was holding him up.
Neither of us spoke. Cres clung to me and I continued to hold onto his thigh, letting my thumb sweep across the curve of his ass.
Finally he heaved a huge sigh. “Thanks, man.”
“You okay?”
Another sigh. “I am now. It’s just…different.” His lips whispered across my skin. “That was fuckin’ awesome.”
I grinned and turned my head to kiss his knuckles. “For me too, buddy.”
“I didn’t think of him,” he confessed. “I was one hundred percent in the moment with you, Breck. I want to make sure you know that.”
“You feel guilty about that, Cres?”
“No. And then I felt guilty for not feelin’ guilty.” He paused. “That’s kinda fucked up, isn’t it.”
I didn’t answer because he just needed to say what he was thinking out loud. What a huge feeling of relief that he trusted that I could handle his honesty.
“Thanks for stayin’ with me during my little freak-out,” he murmured against the slope of my shoulder.
“Well, to be honest, it was a selfish reaction. Because I don’t think my ego could’ve handed it if you would’ve run out on me twice after we fucked around.”
Cres chuckled.
“You wanna get your cock outta my ass now?”
“Not really.” He sank his teeth into the spot on the back of my neck that made me goddamned weak in the knees.
Another chuckle vibrated across my back when I swayed against him.
I slapped his ass cheek.
“Okay. I’m goin’. But don’t go anywhere.”
I turned my head to look him in the eyes. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”
He kissed me with sweetness and surety and passion.
That’s when I knew I was already in over my head with this man.
* * * *
Cres insisted we climb under the covers after he dealt with the condom.
My body temp ran hot, so I welcomed the coolness of the sheets as I stretched out on my stomach. I knocked the pillows aside and folded my arms above my head, resting the side of my face on my right biceps, still floating on that post-orgasmic high.
Snuggly Cres wormed his way right next to me. Then his hands were all over me.
Somehow I’d forgotten how damn handsy the guy was after fucking.
He planted a kiss on the ball of my shoulder, his lips soft and sweet.
For the longest time, he was content to drag the tips of his fingers up and down my spine while he rested his cheek on the back of my left arm, his leg hooked over mine. So when his fingers ventured outward and connected with the scar, every bit of my relaxation vanished.
“What’s this?”
“A scar.”
“No kiddin’. A scar from what?”
“Someone figured they needed to teach me a lesson with a whip.” Why had I blurted that out? I should’ve given him some bullshit lie about a rodeo injury.
“It feels new.” His fingers connected with the raised edges of the two scars below it. “How many of these do you have?”
“Not sure,” I lied. “It’s hard to look at my own back.”
“Do you get distracted by your hot ass? Because I sure would.”
“You’ve already had my hot ass. I’ll need recovery time before you have it again.”
“While I’m waiting, I’ll check out these painful-lookin’ marks, tough guy.” Cres used the remote and cranked up the bedroom lights to full power, searing my retinas. I turned my head toward the wall to block out the light.
Right. That’s why you’re avoiding eye contact.
The heat of his breath flowed across my skin as he inspected every inch of my back. Every time he found a new mark, he counted it out loud.
I already knew I had twelve visible scars from that night.
Cres had found every one.
The mental scars…there were far more of them.
“How—where—did you get these?”
“They were a belated parting gift from a few guys on the circuit.”
“Jesus.” Cres swept his hand down my spine and back up. “You didn’t consent to this.”
“Who the fuck would consent to bein’ trussed up half-nekkid while some drunken dude whipped you hard enough to break the skin?” I snapped.
Soothingly he said, “Tell me.”
“How about we don’t go here because it’s one of the most humiliating things that I’ve been through.” Yeah, that’ll get him to drop it.
Then sweet Cres vanished. “I don’t give a shit. I wanna know how the fuck this happened to you. And I’m as tenacious as a damn bulldog, so start talking.”
I’d never told anyone this. I’d just dealt with it and then blocked it out. “After everything went down, and I had no place to go, I bought this motor home. I wandered the country, traveling the back roads.”
“No one knew you’d joined the ‘go RVing’ movement?”
I snorted. “Nope. Although this is a nice ride, it doesn’t stand out when you’re tooling down the highway or parked at a campground with 200 other motor homes. Paying cash for camping meant I didn’t have to register at any of the sites. For all intents and purposes, I disappeared.”
“You didn’t tell anyone your plans?”
“No one to tell, Cres.”
“That sucks.” He nuzzled the nape of my neck. “Were you lonely during your journey to the center of nowhere?”
“Solitude forced me to examine aspects of my life that’d been long overdue. I stayed in contact with a few people I trusted, like the Gradskys. I shut down all my social media. But because I’m also a creature of habit, I went to Vegas.”
“During finals?” he said sharply.
“Yeah.”
“Why the hell did you even care?”
“I went because I’d bought tickets and prepaid my hotel room a year in advance. When I didn’t dress like a cowboy or act like king of the damn rodeo, I wasn’t on anyone’s radar. I’d had two days of anonymous in the stands. On the third day—night—whatever, I hit this dive diner that’s off the strip. I sat up at the counter like I always did. Again, nothin’ about me said cowboy.”
I felt him smile against my skin as he pinched my ass. “Hate to break it to you, dude, but everything about you screams cowboy. Even when you’re nekkid. But go on.”
“So this hot young guy, probably your age, sits two chairs away and strikes up a conversation with me.”
“You didn’t think that was suspicious?”
“Nope. Bullshitting with strangers about random stuff is the hallmark of this diner. We kept talkin’ even after our food arrived and he moved over to the seat next to mine. Just from the way he looked at me, I knew he was interested. And I hadn’t gotten laid for six fucking months. I suggested we hook up and he immediately said yes.”
As I struggled to get through this next part, Cres waited, keeping up those tender touches I could easily get addicted to.
“I followed this guy outside and around the back of the building and found myself in a blanket party.”
My heart thundered remembering the scratchy wool saddle blanket being pulled over my head. The absolute darkness. The lack of air. The ball-shrinking fear I was about to pay the ultimate price for wanting a few hours of companionship and someone to touch me. “When they started to drag me to the empty field behind the restaurant, I fought back with everything I had.”
“Do you know how many guys were involved?”
“Around ten. Took every one of those fuckers to take me down.” Stupid point of pride for me, but there it was. I forced myself to take a deep breath. “Even with the blanket over my head I recognized a few of the voices as guys I’d known on the circuit. Some of the shit they said to me…they were seriously sick motherfuckers. I didn’t hear it all because they had the blanket around my neck too tight and I passed out. That part
“Breck,” he breathed in my ear. “You’re safe here with me. You don’t have to talk about it if you can’t.”
“I’ve never told anyone about this, Cres. So just…give me a second.”
“Sure. Take your time. I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”
Out of sheer mortification, I continued to face away from him. “One guy laid into me with the whip while his drunken cohorts laid into me about my perversions and bein’ an embarrassment to all decent rodeo cowboys. One dickhead called the open gashes a ‘bloodletting.’ Assholes laughed like fuckin’ donkeys about that. Another asswipe said our ancestors had it right. A sicko with my predilection would’ve been strung up as a warning to others.”
“These are the same ancestors that thought slavery was A-Okay,” he sneered.
“Right. Then they yanked me from the fence post and tossed me on the ground.” Bile rose in my throat. My stomach churned and no matter how rigid I held my body, I started to shake when I remembered the thick taste of my fear and the loathing they leveled on me. “Their final humiliation was they each pretended to fuck me. Grinding their groins against my ass, pumping their hips into my face. Tellin’ me I deserved to choke to death on a dick. Askin’ if that was how I liked to get fucked. Calling’ me a filthy butt fucker, a disgusting ass licker, a sinning sodomite, a cocksucking pervert…”
Cres rolled me over and wrapped himself around me. “Stop,” he said hoarsely. “Take a break. Jesus, Breck, you’re shaking like you’re about to go into shock.” He pulled the covers over us. “C’mere. For chrissake, let me warm you up.”
I pressed my cheek against Cres’s chest, letting the steady beat of his heart calm me.
That gave me the courage to skip to the end. “After these guys I’d once considered friends finished mentally brutalizing me, they kicked me a few times for good measure. My lip was split open. One of my eyes had already swollen shut. They left me tied up, helpless and bleeding in the dirt. I don’t know how long I laid out there, but eventually I wiggled around enough to free my head from the blanket. I managed to stumble to the back door of the restaurant. I refused to let them call the cops. I’d walked to the diner from my hotel, so no way in hell was I goin’ back there in case those fuckers had followed me. I called a cab to take me to my motor home I’d left at a campground outside of town. I guess I passed out after I crawled in bed.
“I woke up feverish. I went to one of those walk-in emergency clinics, got the infected wounds cleaned up, and they gave me antibiotics. After that…I must’ve slept for three damn days. But not long enough for the marks to scab over. I ended up with these scars.”
Cres didn’t say anything for the longest time.
But I wasn’t panicked he’d pass judgment on me.
Finally he said, “I know gay-bashing happens.” He pressed his lips to the top of my head. “I hate that it happened to you. Hate it.”
“But?”
“But I have to ask why you even considered takin’ this job. You’re training guys whose main goal in life is to compete in the CRA—the organization that supports fuckers like the ones who destroyed your career and physically attacked you. After all you told me about driving under the radar and steering clear of the rodeo life that turned you into a guy you didn’t recognize, why didn’t you tell the Gradskys to suck it?”
“I like your dirty euphemisms, Cres.”
“Answer the question.”
I sat up. “Sutton asked me the same question this mornin’.”
“What did you tell him?”
“It’s not like I have another skill set besides rodeoin’.”
Cres sat up too. “Bullshit. You have a college degree. There are a lot of other things you could do.”
“Name one.”
“Go to work for Stirling. You’re a farmer with an Ag degree. You’re perfect for her operation.”
“I’d considered that. But she needs someone full time and permanent. I already told you I’m not a permanent guy. Itchy feet, transient nature, remember?”
That startled him. “Yeah, I remember.”
“Spending three months in Colorado during the summer and bein’ able to leave when the snow starts to fly appealed to me. Havin’ a chance to mold a few of the guys in this younger generation appealed to me too. If they see me as a normal guy tryin’ to make a livin’, not the secretly gay former rodeo champion rocked by scandal…maybe I can make a difference and change their misperceptions.”
“Christ, you’re as altruistic as Mick.”
Had he meant that as an insult?
“When do you start teaching?”
“Next week. I’m nervous as hell.”
Cres scooted off the bed and started to get dressed. “I imagine you have set hours?”
“It’s pretty fluid. I have specific things I’m talkin’ about and then the other instructors and I are in group sessions with all the students. Berlin is emphasizing that we’re a team.”
“You don’t agree with that philosophy?”
I watched him zip his jeans and fasten his belt. There was nothing sexier than a man wearing just a pair of jeans, his chest and feet bare. And Cres epitomized sexy with his ropy forearms, and long and lean build.
“Breck?”
My gaze traveled up his body until my eyes met his. “I’ve got it bad for you, rancher. You slipped those jeans on and all I can think about is tearing them off again.”
He crawled across the mattress until we were face to face. “I’ve got it bad for you too, farmboy. So the point of all of my questions was to figure out when we’re gonna see each other.”
I said, “And?” because I knew there was something else on his mind.
“And if we’re keeping this 9 ½ Weeks just between us?”
“I’m not hedging, but a lot of this is a day-by-day, wait-and-see thing. My coworkers know I’m gay. If the students ask I’ll be honest with them. But to me there’s a difference between sayin’ I’m involved with a guy and havin’ a boyfriend who’s part of my workin’ life. Especially when I ain’t exactly sure what all that workin’ life entails.” I reached up and ran my knuckles down his jaw. “I want to see you, to get to know you better, take full advantage of the time I’m here. So I don’t have a problem with your truck bein’ parked at my campsite. I don’t care if the Gradskys know we’re spending time together. If you wanna tell your brothers, I’m fine with that too. My natural reaction is to admit I want to keep you here in my bed and to shut out the world. That’s the way I’ve always done things. So this bein’ out and proud thing…I’m more inclined to take baby steps than a giant leap.”
Cres beamed at me. “Right answer.”
I let out a relieved breath.
“Now get dressed. You promised to cook supper and I worked up an appetite fucking you stupid.”
Chapter Six
Cres
As I entered the gates of the Grade A complex, I waved to Tammy and Trent, who were out for their pre-dinner walk.
I stopped to let Annie and her black lab, Shadow, cross the road.
Bill flagged me down and asked if my hardware store had a decent parts department since he was having a devil of a time getting what he needed from his local Mom and Pop place.
I slowed when I reached the recreation area.
Two groups of boys were shooting hoops on the basketball court.
Half a dozen girls played sand volleyball.
Most of the boys were more interested in watching the girls’ parts bounce than they were in bouncing the ball.
I waved to Mitzi and Bob in the feed truck, who were making the rounds and feeding the stock.
Breck and I had been involved for four weeks. Since I was here almost -->