He closed his eyes, distracted by the rhythm of Clint‘s breath, the pitch of his voice, the feel of his hand still pressing against Tyler‘s denim-clad thigh, the fingers brushing carelessly close to his groin.
He opened his eyes and their gazes collided. When Tyler spoke, his voice came out gruff. He cleared his throat and tried again. The image of submission, of the horse giving over its power to its master. I felt like maybe you were saying something more… Tyler swallowed, unwilling to go on, afraid he‘d already exposed too much of his closely held feelings.
You‘re very perceptive. Clint tilted his head as he tightened his grip on Tyler‘s thigh. I could be wrong. Lord knows it wouldn‘t be the first time. But I sense by your reaction that you identify with the wild stallion, the one who longs to be tamed by a real master.
Oh, Tyler said, the word pulled from him. The night air was almost cool but Tyler felt a sweat break out on his upper lip and beneath his arms, as a shudder moved through his body in a snake of pure, raw lust.
I take it that‘s a yes? Clint covered Tyler‘s throbbing crotch with his large, strong hand.
Grateful for the semi-darkness that blanketed the courtyard, he thought about pulling away from Clint‘s forward touch, but found himself rooted to the spot. He opened his mouth to answer, but no words came.
~*~
They stood in the parking lot, their mutual decision to leave the bar together tacit but clear. Tyler followed Clint to a pickup truck, unable to deny the magnetic, almost overpowering pull of his attraction to this man who had somehow honed right in on his most secret thoughts and desires.
Not since the mess with Wayne Hurley that had sent Tyler running had he even allowed himself to think along these lines. …tamed by a real master…Those fantasies, fueled by the quiet desperation of a lifetime of vague longing, had flared into a brief but powerful reality with Wayne. What they‘d shared had been forbidden and, for Tyler, filled with shame, but charged with power just the same.
I‘m stayin‘ at the Motel Six, just down the road, Clint said. I could use some company.
Tyler didn‘t reply. He felt like he was burning up, desires he thought he‘d left behind at the ranch six months before fanned into flame by Clint‘s compelling presence. Though he wasn‘t sick, he could feel the flush moving over his skin like a fever. Clint stood loose and easy, as if he had all the time in the world. He waited a long beat before adding, I knew it, before you even said a word. You‘ve got that wild stallion inside you. But I can see it gives you no peace. You‘ve been mishandled, I‘d wager. You need gentlin‘ by a firm, sure hand.
Tyler tried to laugh but it came out hollow. I don‘t know what the hell you‘re talking about. He‘d meant to add a sneer to his voice, but heard instead the defensive protest in his tone, which even to his own ears lacked conviction.
Sure you do. No cause to deny it. Not with me. Clint opened the passenger door to his truck and nodded an invitation toward the empty cabin. He walked around the front of the truck and climbed into the driver‘s seat.
Tyler stood a moment, trying to tell himself he should bid this stranger who assumed way too much a good night, or at the very least tell him that he‘d take his own car, thank you very much.
Clint started the engine, the barest hint of a smile moving over his face.
Tyler climbed in.
Chapter 2
Tyler stood in the middle of motel room, which was lit by the eerie glow of the neon vacancy sign just outside the window. The air was hot and close in the small room. Tyler could feel the sweat breaking again beneath his arms and down his spine. He watched Clint move around the room, turning on a lamp, switching on the air conditioning unit, removing his cowboy hat and placing it on the bureau. There was a coil of rope beside the hat, the kind used for roping horses.
Clint approached him, standing so close Tyler could feel his breath on his cheek. I want you, Clint murmured. He stepped back with that same maddening half smile he‘d offered when they‘d first met, and sat down on the only chair in the room, spreading his legs wide, cowboy boots firmly planted on the floor. He leaned back, putting his hands behind his head. Tyler resisted the primal impulse to fall to his knees between those long legs.
Get nekkid, Clint ordered, his voice gentle but firm. Tyler hesitated a moment, but decided that‘s what he‘d come for—some casual sex with a hot cowboy. Why shouldn‘t he get naked? He was young and strong and had nothing to hide. With a shrug and a smile, he kicked off his boots and shucked out of his pants.
When Tyler was stripped bare, Clint got to his feet and walked around him in a little circle, trailing his fingers so that they were always brushing Tyler‘s skin. His touch left lines of heat as it moved over Tyler‘s chest, back, abs and stomach, inching downward toward Tyler‘s bobbing erection.
Oh my, Clint said with a wolf‘s smile as he gripped the hard shaft. Tyler groaned, leaning into Clint‘s hold, his balls tight with need. He hadn‘t had sex in over a month, the last time being yet another casual, empty encounter with someone met over a beer, someone named Jeff or James, something with a J, he could no longer recall.
Clint stepped back, unbuttoning his shirt and tossing it aside, his agenda clearly the same as Tyler‘s. As he pulled off the rest of his clothing and kicked off his boots, Tyler could see that his body was muscular and compact, with a cowboy‘s dark tan over his face, neck and arms. His chest was powerful and covered in dark curls that moved in a V down his sternum. He reached for Tyler, pulling him close. Their cocks collided as they moved, before lining up against their bellies, one beside the other, both hard as steel.
They were about the same height, just at six feet, though Tyler was broader where Clint was lean though muscular. When Clint leaned his head forward, Tyler expected their lips to meet. He found his own parting in anticipation, but instead Clint dipped his head. He nudged the skin at Tyler‘s neck with his teeth, biting just hard enough to get Tyler‘s full attention. At the same time, Clint reached for his bare ass, gripping and kneading the cheeks with strong, sure hands.
Tyler reached for Clint as well, pulling his body hard against him, a light sweat mingling between them despite the window unit‘s wheezing efforts to cool the room. Tyler‘s body was humming in anticipation, his cock throbbing, his fingers tingling as they moved over Clint‘s skin, feeling the flexed muscle rippling beneath.
There was something about this man—he‘d felt it the moment he‘d begun speaking on the stage and its grip hadn‘t left him the whole evening. He exuded a kind of quiet, confident power—not the sort that shouted, but the kind that only needed to incline the head to make others pay attention and obey.
They fondled each other, fingers stroking, cocks pressed hard against bellies, feet planted firm as they pulled each other closer. Tyler tried to tell himself this was nothing more than a quick, easy fuck with a hot near-stranger. He‘d had a couple of beers and that, combined with the hot summer night and the near constant of his loneliness, had made his blood flow faster, that was all. Tonight was about sex for its own sake, without emotional involvement or commitment or any ulterior motive. That‘s all he needed, he told himself. That‘s all he wanted.
And yet Tyler couldn‘t seem to catch his breath. His heart was beating fast, a steady tapping against his ribs, and his knees almost felt wobbly, as if he‘d just received shocking news. When Clint pressed against his shoulder, it seemed only natural to sink down to the floor at Clint‘s feet.
Impulsively, he wrapped his arms around Clint‘s thickly-muscled thighs and rubbed his cheek along the man‘s rigid shaft. He turned his head, licking a line down the smooth skin, tracing a long bulging vein with his tongue.
Clint gently pushed Tyler away from his hard cock, angling his body in such a way that his heavy balls were thrust toward Tyler‘s parted lips instead. Show me how much you want it. Go on. Tyler leaned forward hungrily, tonguing the silky skin. Eagerly he sucked each ball into his mouth, taking his time as he savored Clint‘s spicysw
eet scent. He felt Clint‘s hand on the back of his head as he pressed his balls against Tyler‘s open mouth, his cock still out of reach. His hand was strong and sure as he held Tyler in place.
Tyler pulled back, disconcerted, unwilling to admit how hard it made his cock to be held in position like that. To distract himself, he ran his lips over Clint‘s right thigh, licking the salty skin. Lowering his head and closing his eyes, he licked down Clint‘s leg. When his tongue touched the thickened, raised skin just above Clint‘s knee, he opened his eyes, feeling the dense ridge of scar tissue with his fingers, recalling Clint‘s limp.
What happened?
Amateur rodeo back when I was a kid. Bull ridin‘. An image of Clint astride the back of a powerful bull, and then tossed down onto the hard packed dirt, gored by the bull‘s sharp horns, the blood gushing, the crowd letting out a chorus of shocked dismay, rippled through Tyler‘s imagination.
You got gored? he whispered in horrified awe. Clint shook his head with a self-deprecating grin. Nah, nothin‘ so glamorous. My third time out I got pinned to the wall by a pissed-off steer before I even got to mount him for my eight seconds of glory. Tore up my leg on a wooden post and that was the end of my rodeo career, such as it was.
Tyler ran his fingers over the smooth, ridged scar tissue and leaned forward, lightly licking the flesh with his tongue. His cock was aching. Still on his hands and knees, he lifted his head, craning toward Clint‘s bobbing shaft and swaying balls with parted lips.
Clint was watching him, a strange fire behind his eyes making them glitter beneath the hooded lids. Then he bent forward, and Tyler felt the older man‘s calloused hands moving along his spine, his long arms reaching steadily downwards. Tyler was nearly shaking by the time those hands finally moved over his ass, stroking the flesh, circling toward the center. Clint pressed the fat head of his engorged cock between Tyler‘s willing lips as his fingers played along the cleft between Tyler‘s ass cheeks.
Tyler moaned against the shaft, unable to stop himself from pressing against the finger poised at his entrance. It eased inside him as Tyler sucked eagerly on Clint‘s cock. He alternated between sucking Clint‘s cock as deep as he could and thrusting back toward the hard digit pressing its way inside him. He was momentarily dismayed when Clint pulled his cock from Tyler‘s mouth and the finger from his ass. He forgot his dismay, however, as Clint pressed his head, gently but firmly, toward the floor, which in turn forced Tyler‘s bare ass up like an offering.
Keeping one hand firmly on the back of Tyler‘s neck, Clint‘s other hand returned to his ass, spreading the cheeks and inserting one and then two fingers into Tyler‘s stretching orifice.
This is what you need, he said in his low, laconic drawl. Tyler groaned, his cock throbbing between his legs. As much as it disconcerted him, something about being held down in this way, forced into such a submissive posture, was almost enough to make him come on the spot. He realized his mouth was resting on the top of one of Clint‘s bare feet. Without consciously thinking about what he was doing, Tyler began to kiss the top of Clint‘s foot.
Despite promises to himself to keep this encounter light and easy, Tyler could feel the pull of Clint‘s powerful presence. He felt himself drifting into that secret, dark place, pulled down by Clint‘s sure touch and the unspoken power that shimmered between them and settled over Tyler like a finely spun web. As Clint continued to finger and fondle Tyler‘s spread ass, Tyler let go, losing himself in a deep sensual slide.
You look good down there on your knees, boy, Clint said in that low, sexy rasp. When the words penetrated the sensual fog that had filled Tyler‘s brain, it was as if the door to a secret room had been pulled suddenly open and the lights flicked on, harsh and unwelcome.
Tyler sat back abruptly on his haunches, wrapping his arms protectively around his chest. I‘m not into that stuff, he muttered, angry at himself. Hadn‘t he sworn to steer well clear of this kind of man? Danger signs flashed in his head. Somehow he needed to move the action back to sex, pure and simple. Hadn‘t the disastrous relationship with Wayne taught him that?
Clint stepped back, his arms falling away from Tyler‘s body. He lifted his eyebrows, offering a sardonic smile.
Tyler closed his eyes, consciously pushing away the memory of Wayne slamming him against the wall in the tack room. Yeah, the sting of the whip against his bare ass had been exciting, but he could have done without the hard punches to his chest and shoulders and the careless slaps to his face afterwards. Though he‘d come to hate the man, he‘d still loved the rough play, as much as he wanted to deny it.
But despite his powerful reaction to what Wayne had offered, in the six months since he‘d been gone he‘d managed to keep those feelings at bay, hidden away even from himself—until now.
Tyler could feel his face burning. The damn thing of it was, he loved being there at Clint‘s feet. No, love wasn‘t the word. He craved it. The shrouded embers of his lust had burst into flame once more and it was raging beyond his control. When he felt like this, common sense just flew out the window, even when he knew better.
He looked away, blowing out a breath, angry at himself and his weakness. He needed to get out of there. This had been a mistake. He looked toward the pile of clothing, his legs tensing beneath him in preparation of rising. He owed this man nothing.
He glanced at Clint, who was watching him with a bemused expression. What‘s goin‘ on between those ears of yours? Ain‘t no shame in being somebody‘s boy, Tyler. In fact, with the right man, there ain‘t nothin‘ finer.
Tyler drew in a sharp breath. Who the hell was this cowboy, who seemed almost privy to his secret thoughts? He‘d seemed so fine and upright, but Tyler had learned from experience men were not always what they seemed.
Wayne had acted much like any other hired hand on the ranch, a little swagger, a little bluster, but no real hint of the cruel streak hidden beneath the surface. Who was to say Clint Darrow was any different? Better to get while the gettin‘ was good.
Look, I‘m sorry but this is a mistake. I need to go. Tyler rose, his eye on his jeans as he turned his back on the cowboy. He heard Clint moving behind him, but continued forward, determined to dress and leave before things went any further.
He was reaching down for his clothing when suddenly sturdy rope was slung over his head and quickly tightened around his body, pinning his arms to his sides. What the hell— he cried, confused and flustered.
You ain‘t goin‘ no place, Tyler Sutton. Not till you prove to me this ain‘t what you need. Clint was behind him, pulling the strong, soft nylon rope tight around Tyler‘s upper body before he even realized what was happening.
Goddamn it, Tyler cursed, jerking hard against the restraints, but Clint had been quick, and the knots he was tying were at Tyler‘s back. Let me go. You can‘t keep me here by force.
Clint‘s voice was low and sexy in Tyler‘s ear. Well, I can, but I don‘t plan to. No. Whatever you give me tonight, you give me because you want to. I‘m just slowin‘ you down a little, is all. Giving you a chance to stop running and take stock of just what it is you‘re runnin‘ from.
Tyler wrenched away, twisting to view his captor, his heart beating high in his throat. This is crazy. What the fuck do you think you‘re doing?
Nothin‘ you don‘t want. Clint glanced down at Tyler‘s cock, which Tyler realized to his dismay was harder than ever, a bit of pre-cum leaking from its tip. Clint had a second piece of rope in his hands, and before Tyler could stop him, he‘d stepped behind him again and, grabbing Tyler‘s wrists in a surprisingly strong grip, pulled them behind his back. In seconds he‘d looped and knotted the rope around them.
Clint moved around to face him again, his cock as hard as Tyler‘s own. He swept Tyler‘s bare body with a long, appraising gaze, his tongue appearing between his parted lips. You look mighty fine, boy. Tell me now that you don‘t like it. Tell me you weren‘t born to kneel at somebody‘s feet, ready and willin‘ to take what they give you. Tell me you
hate to be tied up. Tell me all that and I‘ll let you loose.
Tyler opened his mouth to say just that, but somehow the words stuck in his throat. Clint chuckled softly. They were standing close by the bed, and a single push made Tyler lose his footing. He fell heavily against the mattress. Clint gently rolled him onto his stomach, climbed over him and straddled his hips.
He stretched out over Tyler, pinning him with his solid weight, his cock hard against the small of Tyler‘s back. Tyler felt his teeth again at his neck, and then his tongue, soft and warm as it licked upward toward his ear. Clint reached beneath Tyler, finding and gripping his cock, which was throbbing despite his predicament.
Tyler tried to jerk away. You let me up, goddamn you! he cried breathlessly, twisting beneath the strong man on top of him. I don‘t do this. I told you, I ain‘t nobody‘s boy. Damn it, let me up.
You sure? Clint‘s voice was a low purr in Tyler‘s ear. He kissed a line down Tyler‘s neck with soft but insistent lips. As he stroked his cock with one hand, the other found Tyler‘s right nipple, which he pulled and rolled between strong fingers.
Oh, god, Tyler gasped, aware he was seconds away from orgasm. He tried to hold on to the outrage at what Clint had done, trussing him up like some kind of stubborn colt, but it burned away before the liquid fire roiling in his veins. His heart was pounding so hard he thought it might lift him clear off the bed.
He wanted to deny how good it felt. Damn…, he managed. Don‘t…, he struggled to catch his breath, his cock near to bursting. Clint… he gasped, trying to draw on the last remnants of his righteous anger to give weight to his words. But the lust boiling in his gut, coupled with the steady, perfect grip of Clint‘s strong hand on his cock and the insistent fingers teasing his nipple were too much to fight.
Please… he gasped, no longer certain what he was pleading for or against, …please…yes…please…
The Cowboy Poet Page 2