Dreamspinner Press Year Six Greatest Hits

by JD Ruskin

  “Oh yes, ma’am,” I smiled at her. “I have a storage space in Abilene that I used my brother’s life insurance money from the army to pay for. It gets paid automatic every month and will for another ten years or so. But at least I know it’s all safe.”

  She nodded. “And if, heaven forbid, anything should happen to—”

  “I have the address,” Cy told her, “and the spare key.”

  “Your son is my emergency contact in my wallet.” I smiled at her. “If I get trampled or shot or gored or—”

  “Stop,” he cut me off. “She gets it.”

  She nodded fast.

  “Well, if I die, someone’ll call Cy, and he can dispose of things as he sees fit.”

  “And your profession is that of a ranch hand? Is that correct?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “What did you do before that?”

  “Rodeo. I was a bull rider.”

  “Which accounts for the injuries.”

  How did she know I’d been injured? “Ma’am?”

  “Cyrus told us earlier that you had been hurt not too long ago, but he didn’t say how. Bull riding must be very dangerous.”

  I shrugged.

  “You don’t think so?”

  “It’s takes a toll, but so does workin’ a ranch or bein’ out on the road.”

  “And you’ve been on the road a long time, haven’t you?”

  “Yes, ma’am, I have.”

  Her lips were pressed together tight as she stood up. “Okay. I’m going to bed.”

  I didn’t expect her to walk around the coffee table, bend down, put a hand on my cheek, and kiss me on the other. She bolted from the room right after that.

  “Me too,” Rachel echoed her mother-in-law, darting over to me, leaning over to kiss my forehead before she too nearly ran from the room.

  Fuck.

  “Good night, everyone.” Mr. Benning smiled, and then he too walked by me, patted my shoulder, squeezed it, and followed after his wife up to bed.

  I couldn’t stifle my groan.

  “What?” Cy asked me

  “They all think I’m some sad sack now. For Pete’s sake Cy, why’d you have to go and tell ’em that I’m a damn orphan and get all maudlin on me?”

  “I—”

  Carolyn caught her breath and then leaned over and hugged me tight.

  “Oh for crissakes.” I groaned louder the second time, and Cy chuckled softly.

  After a minute, I ordered Carolyn to get the hell off me, and I went to take a shower. Cy and I had a small room at the end of the hall on the second floor, and we had to share a bathroom with others. When I was on my way back to our room, sleep shorts hanging off my hips, hair sticking straight up, too hot to put on my T-shirt yet, I heard someone call me. Turning, I found Ross.

  I tipped my head and squinted, sizing him up. Usually, I didn’t make snap judgments about people. I took my time deciding if I liked them or not. But Ross was different. I hated him. And I wasn’t stupid; I knew why. He easily deserved the man I was crazy about, and I did not, plus he looked like a damn fashion model. He and Cy fit. Me and Cy were a train wreck that continually happened.

  “You heard me and Brett talking earlier, didn’t you?”

  I nodded.

  He took a breath. “I’m sorry. That was rude. I mean, I won’t lie and say that when you’re gone that I’m not going to ask him out, but for now…. I’m leaving in the morning. I can’t compete with the whole orphaned cowboy bullshit.”

  I moved to walk around him.

  “It’s crap, though.”

  I stopped and looked back at him.

  “You don’t leave a man that looks like that or works that job or has the financial portfolio he has alone. You just don’t. You keep thinking that you can ride off and he’ll just be here when you get back each time, and that’s idiotic. You should not even have a choice. A man like you, lacking in prospects and everything else, where do you get off even being here or—”

  “Oh.”

  We both looked to the end of the hall where the gasp had come from, and there was Cy, standing in the bedroom doorway, wrapped in a big fluffy brown robe, hair tousled, smiling, his bare feet poking out from under the flannel pajama bottoms.

  “Hi.” I heard Ross exhale.

  Cy forced a smile, and then his eyes flicked over to me. “Web?”

  Dear God.

  Really, you would have had to be blind to miss the open joy on the man’s face or the carnal heat in his eyes. Without thinking, he licked his lips, clenched his jaw, and took a deep steadying breath. No doubt about it, the man liked me just a little bit.

  “Are you coming to bed?”

  “Right now,” I assured him, striding down the hall fast, brushing against his robe on my way into the room and hearing him call out a goodnight to Ross before he closed and locked the door behind me. I turned to face him. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “Wantin’ me instead of the guy who’s better for you.”

  He shook his head.

  “It’s true,” I said, rushing him, hands on his face, tipping it up, smashing my mouth down over his, kissing him deep but slowly, gently, not hard, finally alone with him and loving it.

  “Oh God, Weber, you’re the only one who’s good for me.”

  We didn’t fall on the bed; we sort of sank down into it, collapsed, and continued making love with our mouths. And I wanted to attack him or have him ravage me, but I just could not for the life of me stop kissing him.

  First I was on top and he was under me, and then he pushed up and I was rolled fast to my back. He started plundering my mouth, and the pace changed, got frantic, as he bit me and I sucked on his tongue. His moan was so sexy, and I was so hard and just certain, down to the depths of my soul certain, that if I didn’t get my hands on his bare skin that I was going to die.

  “God, I fuckin’ hate you,” he whispered, the words hot on my face.

  I put him flat on his back and found myself staring down into turbulent brown eyes. “Cy?”

  “You belong to me, you stupid sonofabitch!”

  I sighed deeply. “Cy, we’ve been over—”

  “What is so wrong with letting me stake you in a business?”

  “Doing what?”

  “I don’t know, whatever you—I could sponsor you and you could—”

  “No sir,” I said, rolling sideways onto my back, staring up at the ceiling. “My body can’t rodeo no more. I may be stupid, but I ain’t suicidal. I’ll find a ranch where I can—”

  “I don’t want you on a ranch somewhere in Texas! I want you right here!”

  I turned over, moving further away from him, and went face down into the pillow. Fighting was not what I wanted to do. This was what had happened the last time, and I remembered his ultimatum, how angry he’d been, trembling with rage, furious at himself and his tears, livid that I had any power over him at all.

  “This was a mistake,” I muttered, moving the pillow as I rolled my head sideways. “I’m so sorry, Cy. Just when the damn thing was healin’, I show up and tear off the bandage and make it start to bleed all over again.”

  He was silent, and I cursed myself for saying anything.

  “Weber,” he growled my name, surprising me with his body on mine, pinning me under him to the bed. “Did you ever think that the only thing you’re supposed to do is just love me?”

  I went still and silent, because wanting me around was one thing, love was a whole other undertaking. We had never, ever spoken about or brought up the concept, much less the word.

  Jesus.

  “Oh, he’s scared now.”

  I shifted under him. “Get up.”

  “And if I say no?” he asked me, hand in my hair, tipping my head sideways, his lips on the curve that connected neck to shoulder, kissing, his other hand running down my flank.

  I shivered, feeling my response roll through my body. He felt so good, and the emotion surging through me was even
more acute because I knew him, trusted him, and didn’t have to guess how he felt. And it was stupid to deny what we both knew, that it wasn’t just sex between us or friendship, but what the hell was I supposed to do in his world? What was I even supposed to do in a city? I didn’t know how to do anything but break horses and ride bulls and saddle and ride and… day labor? I would have the world class brain surgeon do what with me?

  “Fuck!” I ground out, “Get off me!”

  “So you can do what?” he whispered into my ear. “Run away?”

  I got my palms flat on the bed, ready to push up, but his mouth closed over the back of my shoulder and he bit down hard.

  God, I loved to have him put marks on me.

  Bruises, teeth imprints, the rash from the stubble on his face, scratches: I loved it all and only ever allowed Cyrus to leave evidence on my skin, on my body.

  The moan that tore out of me sent him into a frenzy of motion. Kissing, licking, nibbling, hands pulling, yanking, and when his mouth closed on my right ass cheek, I bucked forward into the mattress.

  “You don’t get it yet, but you will,” he said, his breath catching as I felt the hard length of him slide over my crease.

  In the manic fumbling, I had not felt him pull off my sleep shorts, but when he moved, lifting off me, I felt how naked I was and exposed.

  “Web,” he growled low, hands on my hips. “Please let me have you. I will take such good care of you.”

  I had never thought that I would want to submit to another man. To be me, I figured, I would always need to top. Lately though, the idea of him being inside me had filled my thoughts as I jerked off at night.

  “Web,” he murmured, and I felt his hands kneading my ass, spreading my cheeks.

  My cock was already hard, and as I ground down into the mattress, I felt his warm breath ghost over my skin.

  “You’re all flushed,” he rasped, and I could tell that looking at me, seeing my reaction, was turning him on.

  My breathing was shallow; I could hear it.

  “Cy.”

  “Yes, baby,” he said, and I felt the first swipe of his slick tongue over my puckered hole.

  I jolted under him as I heard him flip open the cap of the lube at the same time.

  “I’ll trust you if you trust me.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “You fuck me without a rubber.”

  “What?” He was shocked, and even though I couldn’t see him, I knew his eyes had to be huge and round.

  “You heard. If you’re gonna come in my ass, I wanna feel it. I wanna be drippin’ with you.”

  “Oh fuck, Weber,” he groaned. “I can’t do—”

  “You’re a doctor. I know you have safe sex, and we’ve never done it together without one, and I ain’t never done it with nobody else without one.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Oh,” I said sadly, realizing that he didn’t want to. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pressure you into doing—”

  “You’re such an idiot!”

  Not the response I had been expecting.

  “Weber Yates, turn around.”

  I looked over my shoulder at him at the same time he slid two fingers deep inside of me. “Oh God,” I gasped, loving the burn, loving the stretch, the roughness of it, and the look in his eyes when he did it. He wanted me so badly.

  “You say things like that and offer me your virgin asshole with nothing between us at the same time you’re making plans to leave me in two weeks. Is there anyone on the planet as stupid as you?”

  I was really trying to make sense of what he was saying, and I heard the words, but dear God in heaven, his fingers were… were… his fingers….

  “Are you listening to me?”

  I pushed back as he turned his hand and curled his middle finger forward and dragged it across my gland. “Oh fuck,” I groaned, and it was guttural and gravelly, and I felt my body erupt in goose bumps as I flushed with a chill.

  “I have a test done every six months, so I know there’s nothing wrong with me.”

  “I had to have one done four months ago for a dude ranch I was working on, and it all came back negative.”

  “Because you’ve always used a condom, as you said.”

  “Yes, Cy, I swear,” I moaned because he’d added a third finger to my ass.

  “Feel good?”

  “Oh fuck yeah,” I whispered as he pushed and shoved his fingers into me, stroking deep. I was suddenly having trouble breathing.

  There was more lube. I felt the chill of it and the slide, and then he reached under me for my throbbing, leaking cock. His fingers tugging, fondling, twisting, pushing gently at the slit, rubbing the pulsing head, made me buck under him.

  “I wish you could see yourself trust me, open for me… Weber… this is so honest, your need right now… you’re breaking my heart.”

  “Fuck me,” I begged him. “Please, God, just do it.”

  “I’ve never barebacked with anyone,” he told me. “But if you swear that it’s only me, ever, without a condom, I’m going to believe you, because you’re an honorable man.”

  Three years between us, three years of trust that had been built on.

  “In this respect, I am,” I promised him. “It will only ever be you, I swear.”

  “You’re making a vow here, Web,” he said, easing his fingers from my stretched, lube-slicked, fluttering hole.

  I needed him. I craved the feeling of fullness, the line between pleasure and pain, the overwhelming desire to be taken and used.

  “You don’t know what you’ve done yet,” he assured me, shoving me face down into the comforter, lifting my ass high with his other hand, grabbing my hip, the hold almost painful. “But you will, you so will.”

  I fisted my hands in the material as I felt his mouth on the small of my back.

  “Do you trust me?”

  “Yes.” I trembled under him.

  “Only me?” he asked gently.

  I nodded.

  “Say it!” he snarled, and the power of his demand slammed through me.

  “Just you,” I barely managed to get out, grabbing hold of my heavy, dripping cock, stroking myself.

  “You trust me not to hurt you, never to hurt you.”

  “Yes,” I said huskily, my voice going in and out on me.

  “Remember that,” he ordered me, and I felt his hands on my cheeks, spreading me fast, roughly, even as the head of his cock pressed against my furled entrance.

  The thought of what he was about to do had consumed me since the last time I had seen him. We had been so close that time. I had been on the verge of begging him for it right before I left. But he had been so angry, so possessive and frustrated, that at the end I was afraid that if I asked him he would think it was more than it was and I would regret that.

  But now, he was claiming me, taking what he wanted, and I didn’t care, couldn’t be made to. It felt right, and I had no idea why.

  “This will change everything,” he said, and because of that, because of his very last word, I should have said wait. I should have said no, but all that passed my lips was “please.”

  Please.

  And then as he pressed inside of me, “Oh God, Cyrus, please!”

  But it changed so fast, and I wanted to take it back, scream at him to stop, because it started to hurt, and the pain built and burned and stung. I was full, so full, and stretched, and it was just too much. The second that I thought to yell, though, my body stopped fighting the invasion and embraced it. He pulled back a fraction, tilted his angle, and rammed in deep and hard and fast.

  Until that moment, I had no idea that all my yearning, all the pressure and pain and everything else just needed Cy, inside of me, to finally be released. Knowing that I wasn’t in control, that it was all him, freed me like nothing ever had. The surrender was absolute, overwhelming, devouring bliss.

  “Cy!” I gasped, lost in the undertow.

  He lifted my hand to my dick, remin
ding me of what I should have been doing, and I took direction, squeezing and tugging, the two sensations at once all there was.

  “You’re so tight, so hot. You need to come, baby, because feeling you, looking at you, I’m not…. Oh God, please, Weber.”

  The last was spoken so softly, so gently, so full of tenderness but also wanting, that my body was flushed in heat.

  “You’re so mine,” he chanted, and I felt him swell inside of my slick, clenching channel, felt his hand on the small of my back pushing me down, holding me still, the other clutching my hip as he thrust into me, over and over, relentless and hammering as I writhed under him. “Web!”

  My body tightened, balls, muscles, everything squeezed at once, and I spurted onto the comforter, shuddering with my roaring climax as Cy fucked me through it. When he collapsed on top of me, twitching with the last of his own orgasm, I was finally able to breathe. Even his added weight was of no consideration.

  Never in my life had I been filled with cum, felt it hot and slick inside of me as well as sliding down my thighs in sticky, slippery rivulets. It felt like being branded, and the smell of it, of sex and sweat mixed together, was intoxicating.

  The urge to get up and run away was as powerful as the one to roll over and pull the man down into my arms.

  I was terrified and sated and sore and joyful. What the hell?

  He eased out of me slowly, carefully, and was gone seconds later. I heard the door open and close, and I was left alone in the room that was rapidly cooling. I couldn’t get my muscles to unclench enough to lie down, and I didn’t want to drop onto splattered semen, so I just stayed there, frozen, until I had feeling in my thighs again.

  The door opened—I heard it, felt the blast of cool air—and then he was there, chuckling, crooning at the same time.

  “Good, you didn’t move. You knew I’d be right back.”

  “I can’t move. My muscles are locked, here.”

  “That’s because your whole body tightened all at once.” He sighed, kissing my back, between my shoulder blades, the base of my spine. “You felt so good. Jesus, Weber, you were amazing.”

  I grunted as his hands, as warm as the washcloth, slid over my sensitized skin.

  “You were,” he told me, his touch reverent, gentle, tender as he cleaned my ass and the inside of my quivering thighs.