by Samms, Jaime
“Please…”
My own body was twitching, now. I couldn’t move to meet his thrusts—he held on too tightly to allow that freedom, and he’d refused to let me touch myself. When I tried again, he slapped my hand away, then whacked my ass hard, making me yelp and shrink away from him. He just dragged my hips back up hard against his pelvis and held me there.
“Wait.”
This time, I couldn’t stop the sob, but I nodded. My balls drew up tight, my cock ached and I thought my entire body was going to explode with the fire ripping through me as he started to move again. He’d pushed my hips down slightly lower so each thrust grated over my prostate. It took three thrusts like that, dragging swears over my throat, raw from hard breathing and a garbled string of incoherency as release rocketed through me. I exploded. My back curled up, my entire body seized as cum spurted all over his bed, hitting my chest and chin. My cries ricocheted around in my head as the orgasm lashed back and pulled all my coiled muscles out, leaving me hopelessly limp. My legs shook and I began to topple.
Matt caught me, an arm around my middle, and eased me onto my side, away from the wet patch, never disengaging his own cock from my ass. Once settled, he pushed my upper leg against my side, held it there, and continued pumping, now straddling my lower leg.
I wasn’t exactly present for a few moments, while he settled into a new rhythm, though I did manage a few fumbling caresses of his face as he worked his way towards his own release. When it came, it was like nothing I’d ever seen before. His face went slightly lax, his eyes closed, and his bottom lip disappeared behind his teeth—fascinating and gorgeous, and I realised in all the times someone spewed spunk down my throat, I’d never looked at their face in that moment. I wondered if they all looked that amazing, or if it was just him.
“Fuck, Taylor…” He collapsed in slow motion until he was lying behind me. He carefully removed himself and his condom and tied it off, tossing it on the floor beside the bed. For a long while, we both lay still, remembering how to breathe. His hand, as it ran up and down my chest, shook slightly.
“I have to go open up soon,” he said after a while, pulling me close against his chest. “You can take your time. Shower. Come down for breakfast?”
“Three whole meals.” I twisted to look at him. “That good, huh?”
He ran one knuckle along my chin and contemplated my lips for some time before he answered. “I think you’ve gotten into this habit of selling yourself short. Did it occur to you I want to help because you need help, and that I wanted to sleep with you because I think you’re attractive and desirable?”
“Uh.” I frowned. In fact, it hadn’t.
“You came into town figuring someone, somewhere wanted a blow job bad enough to offer you a snack for your efforts.” He leaned in and kissed me, a long, slow dreamy kind of kiss that left me more flustered than his little speech.
“People are only going to think you’re cheap and easy if you think you are.”
“What would you know about it?” I squirmed, attempting to sit up, but he tightened his arm across my chest. “You don’t know me.”
“You’re Taylor Anderson. Youngest son of the most hard-assed, dip-shit rancher in the province, who just happens to have a lot of money and influence. He doesn’t have to have influence over you, though. You can be the scandal of the family, or you can be your own man. I’m not preaching because I think I know how you should live your life. I’m telling you there are ways out that don’t include giving up what’s important. I know.”
“How?” my voice shook more than I wanted it to. I wondered if he’d known who I was the minute I opened the door to his diner, or if he figured it out after.
“My daddy’s a preacher. A deacon in the Catholic Church. He was fine with me being gay. It was going to be his Cross. His Gay Son, punishment on him for the sins of all and sundry.” He let out a bitter little laugh. “I was more than welcome to stay in the fold and hold myself up as an example of how to virtuously fight the good fight against corruption and the devil. He never told me I had to be straight. Just that I couldn’t sleep with men. Or kiss them, or hold them,” he tightened his arm again, and I wrapped my fingers around his hand against my chest, “or love them. Like any good little Catholic boy who likes dick, I sucked and fucked my way through the entire school yard, high school, and culinary school.”
“And moved to this tiny backwater where you can’t even get a decent date.”
He chuckled. “I do all right.” I felt his lips against the back of my head, and a little puff of a sigh. “You’d be surprised what you can find in the little things, Taylor. Now.” He freed his hand from mine and slapped my ass through the sheet. “I’ve got to get to work. Danny does fuck all without his boss ridin’ his ass every minute. Old geezer.”
I giggled, maybe a little bit hysterically, as I watched him swagger across the floor to the bathroom. He showered, returned fully dressed, and kissed me before disappearing out the door. I listened to his footsteps storming down the stairs and heard him yell after Danny in a voice that brought on another smile. He knew what he was doing, all right. Master of his domain. For a few minutes, I lay there, wondering what it might be like to be a part of that domain.
Nice. For a while. You can’t be a kept man, and you know it. You’d be bored. Plus, he didn’t invite you to stay. Just to breakfast.
I had a feeling he didn’t want to keep me any more than I wanted to be kept. One thing I had learned from my father—I paid my way. I think Matt knew as well as I did, even shoot-me-to-the-moon sex wasn’t enough to satisfy either of us for very long.
Eventually, my stomach and the crusty coating of spunk across my chest got me out of bed. I showered and came out to find sometime while I’d slept, he’d washed the dusty clothes I’d been wearing. Another paper bag on the table had my name on it, along with a little note:
Take these. I mean it. Matt.
Inside was a care package of soap, shampoo, shaving and tooth care items, lube and two jumbo boxes of condoms.
“Fucker.”
He was being practical, I know. Still. It stung, because he was only looking out for me in the best way he really could. I had intended to skip out the back and leave without seeing him again, but I couldn’t. I hesitated at the Jeep, sighed, and cringed at the loud dinging of the bell as I entered the diner through the front door.
His eyes said he knew I had thought to sneak off, but his smile welcomed me back, and he pointed to a booth. “Be right with ya!”
In a few minutes, he was standing over me with a hot coffee and a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon and toast. He set the meal down and slid into the seat across from me.
“So. I was thinking.”
“Oh?” I stopped, fork in hand. He wasn’t going to ask. Was he? I couldn’t even tell if I hoped he would, or if I hoped he wouldn’t.
“There’s this ranch. Out Donagl Road a few miles. Tangled Hearts Ranch. Jim Travis owns the place now. I bet he could use a hand. Mend a few fences?”
I snatched up the salt shaker and doused my eggs, took a bite, and added pepper. “Oh yeah?” I couldn’t help that my heart sped up at the thought that he might be sending me away, but apparently, he didn’t want me to go very far. It was a tempting concept, and for a minute, I let myself forget about what might be coming down the road behind me.
“Yeah. Here.” He pushed a hand-drawn map and a sheet of paper across the counter to me. “I think—” The pause made me look up. He had his head tilted to one side, his golden eyes subdued. “I think you’ll find that kind of work more to your liking. If…” A sad little smile flitted across his lips. “If I’m any judge. And I think I am. I’d appreciate it if you’d at least give it a shot. There’s a note there. Give it to Jim. A kind of recommendation to let him know I sent you. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe it doesn’t work out. Then you can always come back and cuss me out.” The grin he gave me next had more staying power. “Yeah. This will be good.” He nodded, satisfied wi
th himself, and leaned across the table, planting his lips over mine, and delving his tongue deep.
I groaned and my fork clattered onto my plate, my fingers numb.
His hand snaked into my hair and he pulled my head away from his heady offering. “For breakfast.” Then he pulled me close again, renewing his efforts, adding a tender, comforting edge to the kiss before pulling away for what I knew was going to be the final time. “For me. There’s something about you, Taylor Anderson. I can’t say one night was really enough.”
Then he got up, walked away, disappearing into the kitchen without a backwards glance, and didn’t reappear before I was finished eating.
Danny came over to collect my plate and leave a to-go cup of coffee. “He won’t be back out.”
I might have challenged the old man on that, but he didn’t sound like he was trying to be cruel. He sounded, in fact, a little sad. He placed a card on the table next to my coffee. “You could call him. Sometime. Let him know you’re okay. He’d like that.”
I nodded, picked up the card and the coffee, pocketed the papers Matt had left for me, and stood. “Tell him…”
What? Sorry I can’t stay? Sorry you don’t really want me to?
“Thanks. Tell him thanks for everything.”
“Sure.” Danny nodded and slowly cleared my table as I went out and climbed into my Jeep.
I turned the key, and shook my head. He’d filled the tank. People like him just didn’t come along every day. I wished Matt’s father had been able to look past his own nose to see what a kind son he really had.
Chapter Five
I pulled my clanking Jeep to a dusty stop half-way between the front veranda of a big, white-clapboard farm house and a oncered barn now streaked liberally with the grey of exposed wood. A glance down at the paper with the map scrawled across it told me this had to be the place, if Matt had given me accurate directions. An air of lazy forgetfulness hung over the premises, adding its weight to that of the heavy bank of clouds scudding in from the west. Dust settled in a thin layer over the Jeep as I gazed around. The place had seen a heyday, but this wasn’t it. The house had a fresh coat of paint, and the barn’s tin roof looked newish, but the equipment just inside the big building wasn’t the latest, and the grounds had that slightly neglected look which said whoever had once tended the flower garden was gone.
I clicked open my seat belt, hopped down and wandered over to pick the spent day lilies off their stalks.
“Can I help you?” A deep voice shot a shiver down my spine and I whirled, fist closing tight around the wilted blooms.
Calm the fuck down.
The guy who’d addressed me was tall. A good head taller than me and broader in his shoulders. He walked with the swagger of someone who rode a lot of horses. A grease-covered rag did dubious cleaning duty as he wiped his hands with it, and he approached with an air of belligerent wariness. From the glimpse of bangs visible across his forehead, it looked like he had a lot of black curls hiding under his generous Stetson, and at ten in the morning, his five o’clock shadow had made a distinctly early appearance. Deep blue eyes flickered as his gaze raked over me, giving away nothing of what he thought about what he saw.
Reflexively, I ran a hand over my own smooth jaw, immediately and intensely aware of how that stubble would feel against my skin.
Yes. Good. Start out the job interview with this hard-ass with a stiffy. Perfect. Because he just looks the type to bend you over the hood and bang you. So not.
The guy crossed his arms over his chest, the movement slow, deliberate. His eyes went a shade darker. “I’ve got work, kid. You want something?”
Oh God, yes.
“A job,” I blurted, silently damning my blond pink-skinned complexion for showing my blush.
The guy shook his head and lowered his intense gaze to the ground. “Sorry, kid. Unless you work for free—”
“Room and board.”
Form a complete sentence, idiot.
A newly speculative look came over the big man’s face. “You runnin’ from somethin’?”
Fair question. If you considered threats of violence involving my ass and a heated branding iron something, the yes, most definitely on the run.
“No. Just looking for work. I heard at the diner in town you could use some help with some fence mending.”
“Among other things. Matt, from the diner. Keeps sending people down here. I’m warnin’ ya now, though. I ain’t got more ‘n three hot meals a day and a bed to pay ya.”
I’ll take the bed, thanks.
“All I need.”
Finally, the arms uncrossed and the man stepped forwards, arm outstretched. “James Travis.”
I took the offered hand in a firm grip. “Taylor Anderson. Thanks for this. You won’t regret it.” I handed him the slip of paper on which ‘Matt from the diner’ had written a short note to this prospective employer that he knew my father and would vouch for me.
Travis read the note and gave me curt nod. “Course I won’t regret it. Screw up and I fire ya.” He shrugged one shoulder and my mouth watered at the way his tight T-shirt didn’t hide the ripple of muscle. “Nothing to regret.”
Right.
“You can park over there.” He waved an arm towards a shaded area of drive beside the barn as he turned to head back inside.
“Sure, Mr. Travis.”
“Shit, kid, call me Jim.” He shot a swift glance at the house, then looked back to me. “Mr. Travis is my father.”
I quickly moved the Jeep, hauled my rucksack out of the back and hoped the shaking—my nerves telling me to not be the kind of confrontational asshole that led to people threatening me with branding irons—didn’t show. “Then call me Taylor. I’m not a kid.”
A wide grin spread over Jim’s face. “No shit.” He nodded, and I couldn’t help grinning myself, completely stoked by the implied approval, and aware Matt and his subtly commanding ways had primed me for that response. “You’ll do. Put that sack in the bunk room over there,” he pointed to a man door off to the right of the barn’s main entrance, “and I’ll show you around.”
The whirlwind tour included a fine view of his ass as I followed him around, as well as a detailed explanation of the stalls that were occupied, and by whom. He seemed to have a very set idea that horses were people, just more practical and easier to get along with. I couldn’t immediately find a flaw in his reasoning, so I didn’t bother to argue.
At the paddock gate, he pointed out which horses were to be kept apart. A big, grey gelding, apparently called Apollo, but answering equally to Ape or Dumbass, nosed at my shirt pockets. Eventually, he contented himself with letting me rub my hand over his spotted hide when he found nothing of interest on my person.
Jim shook his head and smacked the horse on his high, arched neck. “This shit doesn’t get along with anyone. If you can get a saddle on him, you can ride him. Just wear steel-toed boots. He’s a stomper.”
“Maybe you just don’t like to be called names, huh, boy?”
The horse nudged at my palm and I rubbed his forehead. “We’ll get along just fine, you and me.”
“Well aren’t you just the horse whisperer.”
“They’re in my blood. Just because I chose not to work for my father doesn’t mean I have anything against horses.”
“Fair enough.” He watched me commune with the horse for a few more minutes before speaking again. “I’m goin’ out on a limb here, and sayin’ there must be more to that story.”
“Knock yourself out.” I carefully kept my gaze on the horse. “Swing like a monkey from that limb, if you like.”
“You ain’t runnin’ but you ain’t talkin’?”
Finally, I met his dark, insistent gaze. “You figure my reasons for leaving home are going to affect how well I shovel shit?”
Half a grin twisted his face and his eyes took on a speculative glint as they swept down to my boots and back up.
I did not imagine that. He just checked me out.
When he met my gaze again, the glint had heat. Or I was projecting.
“Probably not. Come on. I’ll show you the rest.” He cast a worried glance up at the clouds, already moving back the way they had come and leaving behind sultry heat in place of rain. “Coulda used that.”
I followed the small puffs of dust he scuffed up as he moved across the yard.
The next half hour was a litany of feeding and mucking schedules, as well as numerous mentions as to where the shovels and manure pile were located.
Guess I know what’s first on my agenda, then.
I also got a flyby of the house, the vegetable gardens, which were as weed infested as the flower gardens, but yielding half decently, considering the dry conditions and the tangle. He waved an arm towards the hay fields—it would be upwards of a month before the first harvest was ready—and launched a rambling discourse on the lay of the grazing pastures and where the cattle were most likely to be found when.
The sun beating down raised a rivulet of sweat between my shoulder blades, and I found myself eyeing the pond off behind the house with longing. It had been a longer, hotter drive up from town than I’d expected, and the tour, under the mid-afternoon sun, had been extensive. Not the kind of tour you gave someone you didn’t expect things to work out with. It was a small thing, but an encouraging one. Maybe Matt’s recommendation carried more weight than Jim had let on.
“That’s just about it for the grounds. The fences that need fixin’ are those around the inner pasture. Been puttin’ that off too long.” He was quiet a minute as we trudged around the house towards the pond and a grove of apple trees. “You’ll meet Jeb, and his nephew, Rob, at dinner. We eat at the house.” He opened his mouth, like he might say something else, but closed it again, maintaining the silence.
I couldn’t help wonder what he hadn’t said.
We stopped by the side of the pond. “Jeb took the truck into town with Rob for supplies. He takes his time. Rob’s good with the animals, but pickin’ up a post auger would snap him half. It’s probably good you showed up.” He took off his hat and hung it on a hook on a post driven into the ground near the edge of the pond. “Here. This is the best place to cool off.” He looked me up and down. “You look like you could use a bit of a wake up.”